“I believe that would be you,” Reaper replied as he shook his arm. The knife he had concealed in his sleeve appeared in his hand and he lunged forward. If it hadn’t been for a patch of ice beside a Dumpster, he would have slashed the man’s arm. Instead, he started to fall and grabbed the edge of the Dumpster to keep from landing on his ass. The punk took a stab at Reaper’s hand, leaving a bloody gash across the back of it, before someone twisted the punk’s arm behind him. With a shout of rage, he spun halfway around, stabbing at whoever had snagged his wrist. The homeless teen who had been the target of his assault jumped back against the wall next to his companion.
By then, Reaper was in motion again. Coming up behind the attacker, he wrapped his arm around the man’s neck and pushed the blade of his knife into his side. “Drop your weapon, or else,” he growled.
“Make—” The man never got to finish his sentence. Reaper tightened his chokehold until the man went limp. Dropping him to the ground, Reaper turned to see how Wrath was doing.
Wrath had managed to subdue one of the punks, but apparently, in the process he’d given the other one a chance to grab a stick from somewhere. Now Wrath was backed up against the alley wall, blood flowing from a wound on his forehead. He dodged one blow, only to have a telling one land on his bicep. He hissed in a cry of pain, but managed to avoid being hit again as he kicked out, aiming for his attacker’s groin. He missed, his boot landing on the man’s thigh instead. That only seemed to enrage Wrath’s attacker further. He lunged toward Wrath, using the stick like a sword.
“Some people ain’t got no couth,” Reaper muttered, snagging the stick, pulling it free of the man’s grip. Then he used it effectively to knock the man out cold.
With all of the attackers down for the count, Reaper turned his attention to Wrath, who had slid down the wall onto his ass. “Nasty cut you have there,” Reaper told him, taking the small first-aid kit he always carried with him from his coat pocket. “Hold still and let me see.”
By then the teen and his companion had joined them. The old man asked, “You want we should tie them up?”
“It might help,” Reaper replied while wiping away the blood on Wrath’s brow. When the wound was clean, Reaper said, “I think you’ll live.”
“But will you?” Wrath asked, looking at Reaper’s hand. “Seems like you took some damage yourself.”
Reaper was surprised to see he was bleeding profusely. “Hope the punk’s blade was clean,” he grumbled.
The teen came back, kneeling beside them. “Let me see,” he said. When Reaper held out his hand, the kid nodded before tearing open a packet holding an antiseptic wipe that he took from the first-aid kit. “This might hurt,” he said with a ghost of a smile. “That’s what my ma used to tell me when I’d cut myself.” He gently cleaned the cut then covered it with a piece of gauze, using two Band-Aids to secure it. “Now you,” he said, turning his attention to Wrath. He dealt with Wrath’s wound the same way he had Reaper’s then sat back on his heels, grinning. “Now I can say I doctored up the two baddest asses in Uptown.”
Reaper snorted. “There goes our reputation.”
“Not even,” the kid replied. “We’re gonna tell everyone how the two of you saved our lives.”
“For which we greatly thank you,” his companion added. “Are you going to call the cops to pick up those punks?”
Wrath glanced at Reaper and chuckled. “After we put them where they belong.” He thumbed at the Dumpster.
“Woot,” the kid exclaimed, pumping his fist. “Can we help?”
“You bet,” Reaper told him.
Five minutes later, the attackers were safely in the Dumpster with the cover down.
“Okay,” Reaper said taking out his throwaway. “I suggest the two of you pull a vanishing act before the cops show up.”
“We’re out of here,” the old man replied fervently. “And thanks again.”
Reaper made the call, telling the nine-one-one operator where to find the attackers and why they were there. Then he suggested to Wrath that they pay a visit to the local clinic to get their wounds checked. Being a smart man, and wise to what could happen if they didn’t, Wrath had no problem with that.
Chapter Eighteen
For the next week, Zack and Dallas took things slowly, letting the damage they’d suffered heal. Mike teased Dallas the day after the fight, suggesting he should stay out of the clubs if he couldn’t hold his liquor well enough not to fall on his face. “Or, find a man who’ll catch you when that happens,” he added with a leer.
Dallas decided, since everyone who had been at the gala now knew about Zack, it was time to let Mike in on the not-so-secret secret. “He does catch me,” he replied with a grin. “He catches me when I come home from work, and when we get up in the morning and, well, you get the picture.”
“Okay. You’re trying to tell me something,” Mike said, one eyebrow cocked in question. “Like, you’ve finally found someone?”
“More like I’ve had someone for a long time now, but we were keeping quiet about it.”
“And you couldn’t tell me? Your partner? The man you spend half your time with? I think I should be hurt.”
“Sorry. It’s…complicated.”
“Why?”
“We’re not living in the city proper.”
“Ah. I see.” Which he undoubtedly did, since officers were required to live within the city boundaries.
“I have an address here, you know that, and it’s legit. I just… When I first moved in with him, I wasn’t willing to take the chance someone would find out I was living there and not here, so keeping quiet about it became a habit.”
“Okay. I get it, but you don’t have to announce to the world you’re living together. Just tell everyone that you and this man are exclusive, and leave it at that.”
“That’s what I’m thinking. I’m tired of keeping us a secret.”
“And how does he feel about it? Will it affect his job?”
“Actually, not at all. You know the gala for the new shelter?”
“Yeah. I almost bought tickets to it, but with Carol due any time now, I decided it wasn’t such a great idea. What’s the gala got to do with anything, though?”
“He—Zack’s his name—was responsible for pulling the whole thing together.”
“So the two of you went to it as a couple?”
“Got it in one. And no one seemed to give a damn that he was with me and not some woman.”
“Wasn’t the chief there?”
Dallas nodded. “He was… Well, surprised is the best word for it. Not that he doesn’t know about me, but I don’t think he expected me to attend—especially with someone like Zack.”
Mike tapped his fingers on the steering wheel then glanced at Dallas. “Would this Zack be Zack Ward?”
“Yep.”
“You’re flying in good company then. He’s one of the movers-and-shakers, even if he does have a reputation for being very reclusive.” Mike chortled. “And now I know why.”
Not really, but what you’re thinking works.
Dallas didn’t voice that thought, just nodded with a sly grin. “That would about cover it.”
“I’m glad you told me, except…”
“Umm?”
“Now I won’t be able to rag on you about finding a man to help you relieve your stress.”
Dallas laughed. “Sorry. But I’m sure you’ll find something else to tease about, knowing you.”
“Oh you can bet on that.”
* * * *
Zack and Dallas followed Brian into the ground floor of the building Brian now owned, lock, stock and barrel. All the paperwork had been completed to finalize the sale, building permits had been obtained and contractors had already begun work.
“Bet that was the first thing you had the carpenters fix,” Zack said, pointing to the new flight of stairs leading to the second floor.
“Yep,” Brian agreed. “That and having the elevator brought up to code. That cost a pretty penny, but it was necessary since I seem to be spending more time in the wheelchair than on these.” He waved a crutch. “Today is one of my good days.”
Zack patted his shoulder, knowing he wasn’t looking for sympathy, just stating a fact. “How soon will things be finished enough for the kids to start doing a real cleaning then painting?”
“The electricians are finished. The plumbing for the kitchen and bathrooms will be complete by tomorrow, according to the supervisor. The carpenters are working on the third floor now. When their work is done, we’ll have ten rooms up there, plus the two baths. I figure if we use bunk beds again, as we have now, we’ll be able to sleep forty kids up there, and another twenty on the second floor. I’m turning the biggest area on the second floor into a classroom and having them break the other two on the same side of the hall into accommodations for the counselors. The bathrooms are ready to use, other than needing to be cleaned and painted, as are the ones on the third floor.”
“Sounds great to me,” Zack told him.
“What’s going in down here?” Dallas asked.
“As you can see, they’re in the process of dividing the front space into two parts with an archway between them. The smaller one will be for admitting and the other will be used for distribution of clothes, sleeping bags and such that we give the kids who need them.”
“Is there going to be a recreation area?”
“You bet. And a full kitchen-dining room. Come on, I’ll show you.”
Brian took them into what had been one of the two large rear rooms on the ground floor. It was now an open space that was being shortened by a wall two-thirds of the way in that, at the moment, was just framework.
“There will be two counseling rooms back there, as well as one for the nurse. The rest of this will have sofas, bookshelves, a TV and what have you,” Brian explained before going through one of the doorways on the side wall into another large room. At the rear of it, there was a kitchen with a long serving counter, although there were no appliances. When Dallas asked about that, Brian told him they’d bring over the ones from the old Off-the-Street.
“Have you planned how you’re getting everything over here?” Zack asked.
Brian nodded. “I found a moving company that can do it all in one day. That way it’ll only be a couple of days between when we close the old building and open this one.”
“Are you doing anything with the basement?”
“Yep. Thanks to one of the shelter’s donors, I’m getting industrial washers and dryers, not the home type we have now. The lockers for the kids who want to leave some of their possessions here will be down there as well, and the rest will be storage for the shelter itself.”
“You could also turn a small area into a workshop,” Zack suggested. “Use it for classes in wood and metal working.”
“I remember those from high school,” Dallas said. “I ended up making Mom a nice jewelry box. She still…” He paused suddenly, looking at Zack. “I’ll have to take you out there sometime soon to show it to you.”
Brian chuckled. “Is that your subtle way of saying you want Zack to meet your family after all these years?”
“Yeah, I guess it is,” Dallas replied, still watching Zack as if to gauge his reaction.
“It’s about time,” Zack said, giving him a hug. “I was beginning to wonder if you sprang fully formed from a cabbage leaf.”
Dallas laughed. “You know damn well I didn’t.”
“I know. Maybe we can plan a trip to visit them after the grand opening here.”
“I’d like that.”
“Then it’s a go. And speaking of going, we’d better head home and get some sleep.”
“I’ll give you a call as soon as the place is ready for the kids to get to work,” Brian said. “I have several older guys and girls, who’ve already volunteered, but if you run into any more on your…excursions, send them my way. Okay?”
“You bet,” Zack told him. “The more the merrier.”
Chapter Nineteen
“This may not be a good night,” Wrath muttered, a week after their meeting with Brian at the future home of Off-the-Street.
Reaper had the distinct feeling he was correct.
They were inside a one-story, abandoned warehouse in Uptown, looking for Raven and Zip, who were supposedly hanging out there with a couple of friends. The interior walls were covered with graffiti. A couple of dirty mattresses lay in far corner of the rubble-strewn floor. The only light came through a few filthy windows along the street-side wall.
Raven, Zip and their friends weren’t there. In fact, when Reaper and Wrath first entered through the unlocked rear door, they were the only humans in the building.
They were halfway down the room, intending to check what they figured had been an office at the front of the building, when the door behind them slammed open. Spinning around, they saw five figures standing there. The men, or teens—it was hard to tell which in the dim light—held weapons such as bats and pipes. One even had what looked like a golf club.
“See, told you we’d get lucky,” the tallest of the males said.
“Yeah, Mike,” one of the others said.
“Shut your yap, Johnny. No names,” Mike said angrily.
“But you just…” Johnny shut up.
“Define ‘lucky’,” Reaper called out. He pulled back the ragged coat he wore to get his knife from the sheath at his waist.
“Finding two bums who need to be gotten rid of—maybe permanently.” As Mike spoke, the man nodded to his companions to spread out.
They strode across the room toward Reaper and Wrath.
Reaper stood his ground with Wrath right beside him. “Think you can deal with the two on our right?” Reaper asked tensely.
“I’ll give it a shot,” Wrath replied.
A guy in his late teens swung the bat he was carrying. Wrath danced back, ducked then lunged forward, slashing his knife across the teen’s leg.
“They got knives,” the teen cried out.
“Not for long,” one of them said, bringing the pipe he was holding down on Wrath’s arm.
Reaper was doing his best to avoid the weapons the three other men held. He sidestepped one, grabbed it and managed to yank it from the young man’s hand. Instantly, he used it against his foe, landing a hard blow to his side that had the guy shouting in pain while backing away to avoid another hit.
Mike, who appeared to be the leader, swung the golf club he was holding. Before Reaper could move or defend himself, it struck his shoulder. His arm went numb momentarily, but he managed to switch his knife to his other hand. Spinning quickly to avoid being hit by the third of his assailants, he kicked out, hard. The attacker screamed in pain when Reaper’s boot connected with his groin.