Chapter 2
Travis
I guess you could say I’m a little different from most of the Night Ops Guard, certainly when it comes to life outside of missions.
While the other guys love nothing more than hitting the gym, grabbing some beers, or finding their next extreme sport to take up as a hobby, I’m all about the slightly more cerebral things in life.
Reading a good book? Superb.
Reading a good book with a perfectly roasted and prepped coffee? Even better.
All the above, but in a late night diner with just me and my thoughts? Perfection.
I love culture, whether it’s books, films, art, even the opera.
If I can immerse myself in a piece of work, I will do—and over the years I’ve found that nothing else comes close to being able to take me out of my thoughts and memories of missions gone wrong, the difficult decisions I’ve had to make, and some of the genuinely upsetting things I’ve seen.
The other Guards deal with all this in their own way, and that’s great.
But as far as I’m concerned, I like to use my mind as a tool to help work things out.
That’s not to say that when it comes time for a mission I’m any less of a Guard than the others.
When it’s business time, I can be the most ruthless, decisive, and physically explosive Guard of them all… and I’ve got the scars to prove it too.
And maybe that’s why I’ve been allocated a slightly different mission this time.
Fresh from a jungle manhunt that resulted in one large narcotics lab being shut down, child slaves being freed, and a whole pile of drug dealers being killed, I’ve been given a somewhat more relaxed operation.
But more on that in a minute.
“Espresso, and keep them coming,” I say, a hint of a smile on my face as I place a bill down on the counter and slide it over toward the waitress. “Any change, you keep it.”
“Got it,” the waitress replies, a look of appreciation on her face—but a hint of intrigue too as I turn and catch her watching me walk toward the third booth over by the window. “Have a nice evening.”
I slide into the booth and feel the worn, soft leather against my arms as I position myself just right. I place my Kindle down on the immaculately clean tabletop and nod my thanks as the waitress passes my table and places the first of what is sure to be a few espressos next to me.
As I click the button to turn my Kindle on, I glance around the diner.
All the typical cast of characters are here.
Young hipsters excitedly talking about the revival theater’s latest screening, couples sobering up after a night on the booze, lonely folk passing the night with a coffee and their own thoughts. And then there’s him.
The boy is cute, that’s for sure. Way too cute to be having anything to do with the Guard. He’s in his late twenties but has an innocence to him that makes him seem younger. It’s disconcerting, but not in a bad way.
I’ve been doing this for too long though to let appearances get in the way of taking a target seriously.
If someone is on the Night Ops Guard’s radar as a threat, then that’s enough for me to be giving him the exact same treatment I would anyone else, even if his perfectly plump lips and slender physique are ticking all my boxes.
Fuck. Focus your mind.
Target in place.
Observe.
I sip on my espresso and make another subtle glance toward the target. His name is Miles Nadal, and apparently he’s a lawyer who likes to stick his nose in places where it doesn’t belong. With his sights set on exposing the Night Ops Guard, I’ve been given a very clear brief…
Assess the threat. Do what is required to neutralize it.
Now this might sound like I’ve been told to take the boy out.
Well, I hope it doesn’t come to that. But I know that if there’s one thing that simply cannot happen, it’s the Guard being exposed to the public.
Not only would this be ruinous for the Guard itself, but it would be a death sentence for each and every Guard, past and present.
Not only would the law be chasing us down with all their reach, but so too would the many cartels, war lords, and corrupt politicians we’ve crossed over the years.
As it stands now, the Guards are protected by anonymity, the organization running so efficiently in the shadows that to this day not a single one of us has ever been exposed or put in a danger outside of a mission.
But if this veil was to be lifted, all bets would be off.
The Guard simply cannot let that happen.
And it’s fallen on me to make sure it doesn’t.
I watch as the boy sips on his drink—a hot chocolate that looks suspiciously like it’s been overloaded with marshmallows—and something isn’t adding up.
I know Miles is a lawyer, and I know too that he has a history of digging up injustice and criminality. So far, so good. But I also know that the law firm he works for has some less than savory clients too.
I’m talking about the kind of client who the Guard would typically retain more than a passing interest in. Is Miles aware of this? Could it be that him justice seeking is simply a cover-up for all the evil assholes that Knox & Rain protect?
The reality of the situation is that whether Miles is in on Knox & Rain’s game or not, there’s no way I can allow him to keep working on making the Night Ops Guard a known entity.
It’s simply not happening.
But I am going to give the boy enough credit to know that there’s no way I can sit here and not expect to arouse his suspicions. So that’s why I’ve called for a little help…
“Guys, guys, keep the noise down,” I chuckle as I watch Cole and Max enter the diner, laughing with their boys Richie and Billie. “If I’d known you were all tipsy, I wouldn’t have invited you!”
As I greet my fellow Guards and their rambunctious Littles, I notice that a departing Miles is taking a quick look, his eyes running us over, no doubt dismissing us as nothing more than a group of friends bringing some unwanted extra volume to a late night diner.
That’s perfect.
Any thoughts he would have had about me—a late night loner in his regular diner—will be put on the backburner and no doubt totally out of his mind.
Sometimes, it pays to be a little more obvious, to drop your guard and draw attention to yourself.
It’s what they call hiding in plain sight, and it’s actually a pretty damn cool maneuver to bring out of the bag from time to time.
“So… that’s the target?” Max asks, sliding into the booth.
“Damn. Rather you than me,” Cole chuckles.
“Hey, listen,” I say. “We’re still at the early stages of this. I might not need to take it all the way to…”
I let my words trail off as I’m conscious that Richie and Billie could be listening to me and my fellow Guards as we talk. Although in reality I think the pair of them are far more interested in scanning the diner’s menu for the sweetest and most sugary late night snacks they can find.
“Fun night?” I ask, happy to see that both Cole and Max are seemingly enjoying some well-earned rest and recuperation with their boys.
“It was a lot of fun,” Max replies. “We were actually only a few blocks from here. There’s a café run by a Daddy and his Little. They do late night events from time to time.”
“Yup. It got pretty wild,” Cole says, casting a look of pure lust over toward Richie. “You would have loved it. Maybe next time?”
“Maybe,” I say, my mind still whirring over Miles and the look he gave as he left—it was almost like he recognized the vibe between Cole and Max and their boys. “It’s not always great to be a single guy at these things though. Being the third wheel isn’t exactly a barrel of laughs.”
“Well, two things,” Max says. “One: there were plenty of single boys there. Two: you need to find yourself a Little. Seriously. It’s time, man.”
I shake my head wearily.
Prior to meeting their own boys, both Cole and Max were the same as me. They enjoyed their single life, always maintained that they would ride solo. The thought of settling down was about as alien to them as anything you could imagine—they were Guards and that was the sum total of their lives.
But that all changed when they met their boys.
And I don’t blame them, and I’m certainly not resentful or jealous either.
I can see how happy they are with Richie and Billie.
Part of me wishes that I could have the same thing.
But I’m just not the kind of guy who wants to meet his boy in a club or via a dating app…
so all these invites to club nights and Daddy & Little cafes just aren’t going to wash.
To be fair to Cole and Max, I think they know this about me too…
“Thanks guys,” I say. “But you know me.”
“We sure do,” Cole laughs. “But if you ever do change your mind about coming out with us, then the invitation is always open.”
“Got it,” I say, a wry smile on my face. “But, listen. About this mission…”
As the waitress brings over a round of coffee, plus two milkshakes with extra toppings for the boys, I explain to Cole and Max how I’m going to lure Miles into a trap, a trick that he won’t see coming but will give me definitive proof as to his intentions.
“He’s not dangerous like our other targets,” I say.
“I mean, you saw him on your way in. He’s no automatic rifle expert or sniper-trained cartel assassin.
But he’s got the one thing that none of those others do…
he actually thinks he’s fighting for justice.
Well, I think that’s what he thinks. Without firing a single bullet, he could bring us down.
And that’s a scary fucking thought. But, like I said… I’ve got a plan.”
“Yup, that’s why Mr. G chose you for this one,” Max smiles, a knowing look on his face. “But enough business talk. Boys, come over here. Your milkshakes are ready. Don’t make me steal all the toppings!”
“Daddy! No way!” Billie protests, sliding across the booth and taking his place next to Max. “Stealing is bad!”
I smile and watch as Max puts his arm around Billie.
Cole and Richie have got two straws to drink from his shake.
And here I am… alone with an espresso and a plan to bring down quite possibly the most dangerous boy I’ve ever come across in my time as a Guard.