Thirty-Five Tobias
One second I was grinning, thinking about how Abel looked as I left him in the woods to find my cell phone. The next had me sprinting to rip that scumbag’s hands off my Abel.
I wished I could kill that fucker a hundred times, but I was in such a rage seeing him with Abel—the second time I’d felt that kind of wrath in my entire fucking life. It was a shame I killed him so swiftly, I would’ve had a great time making him suffer, making him pay for all the terror he’d inflicted on the guys, on Abel. I shrugged all thoughts of him out of my head because he didn’t deserve to occupy space. My protectiveness and possessiveness, if I was being honest, had kicked up a notch. And if it was up to me, Abel would never leave my side again.
Abel’s arm brushed against mine. The warmth of his skin reminded me that he was safe. It was a relief, like a cool breeze on a scorching day. Abel is fine. For now. I splayed my fingers, itching to intertwine them with his—a gesture so foreign I didn’t know how to even begin. Catching sight of him in my periphery, he looked down at our hands then his eyes shot back up to my face. His knuckle delicately grazed mine and a burst of electricity surged through my body, sending my skin ablaze.
Magnetic forces drew us closer. My body hummed with anticipation, fighting the overwhelming urge to reach out and grasp his hand. But, unlike the many other times I had battled with my senses where Abel was concerned, I surrendered and linked our fingers together.
Time stood still. My chest tightened. I held my breath, unwilling to disturb the peace I felt holding Abel because I knew this was short-lived. I was involved, after all. Nothing beautiful and promising ever came my way for long. You’re a worthless piece of shit, the nagging voice in my head screamed, but it was silenced when Abel squeezed my hand tighter.
He guided me away from where his comrades were. I tugged his hand, halting his progress. “Where’re we going?”
“I need to clean you up.” He nodded to my face before lifting my arm that was blotched with Napoleon’s blood.
“I’ll be fine. Let’s just—”
“Will you let me take care of you?” he said. “It won’t take long.”
I raised an eyebrow but didn’t protest when he pulled me away.
“Allowing someone to look after you once in a while is not a sign of weakness,” he said, as though he could read my mind.
He was wrong. Letting people in was a sign of weakness and I wouldn’t let him in close enough to find the chinks in my armor. “Fine.” I gave in for now, following him to wherever he was leading us.
The soft murmur of running water signaled a small brook up ahead, nestled within the compound. Abel turned to me, a glint of determination in his eyes. “Come on,” he said. He dropped my hand and rushed to the brook, his T-shirt in hand.
I hesitated for a moment, glancing around the premises and trying to ignore that my hand felt empty all of a sudden. We were wasting time by being here. He waved me over, his expression pleading. With a resigned sigh, I joined him and sat down on the grassy bank, keeping a wary eye out for any guards. This unfamiliar territory put me on edge.
A rustling in the bushes nearby caught our attention. I stood, pulled Abel up, and positioned myself in front of him, ready to strike.
“It’s just an opossum,” Abel said from behind me, pointing at the ball of fur scurrying away. His breath tickled the back of my ear, the warmth traveling from my neck down to my cock. “Come on.” He kneeled and dipped his shirt into the water, the fabric soaking up the liquid. He looked up at me, a small smile playing on his lips. “I’ll be quick.” he promised.
Clear your mind and focus. Aroused as I was, I nodded, allowing myself to relax. Abel’s touch was gentle as he reached for my hand, his fingers tracing over the dried blood and grime that had accumulated on my knuckles. Comfort spread through me at his tenderness. I swallowed hard, pushing down the fluttering in my chest. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on how his touch affected me.
He tilted my chin up, his eyes meeting mine. I held my breath as he wiped away the splatter from my face. “Almost done,” he whispered.
I sat still and let Abel dab the wet cloth on my face, washing away the dirt and blood that marred my skin. His attention shifted to my neck then back to my hand, his lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m sorry you had to kill him,” he murmured. Sorrow and anger weighed down his words.
Our closeness began to feel suffocating, almost oppressive. It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate his gestures and concerns. I just wasn’t accustomed to them. I was becoming used to Abel being around, and that was a slippery slope—a potentially deadly situation.
“That’s enough,” I said and stood. My voice came out sharper than I intended. Years had passed since the last time I felt this all-consuming terror of wanting another person. Without a second thought, I pulled my shirt off and handed it to him. As much as I wanted to stare at his impeccable chest all night long, he must be getting cold again. “Wear this so you don’t freeze.”
Abel extended his hand, and I pulled him off the ground. “Thanks,” he said. “Wait.” He grabbed my arm, his concern palpable in the air between us. “Are you okay?”
I blinked, taken aback by his question. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
His eyes searched mine, as if trying to read the thoughts swirling in my mind. “You know, with what happened,” he clarified. “I mean, we just killed a man.”
“No, we didn’t kill him. I did,” I said. “You don’t have to worry about anything.” I hadn’t given much thought to what happened, because killing Napoleon was a piece of cake compared to what I’d done in the past. Years of killing people caused callouses to form around my conscience. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “Still shocked.” Abel was subtle, but he sniffed my shirt before putting it on. “You gotta feel something ending someone’s life like that.”
“Nope,” I replied.
“Anything?”
I shook my head.
“Not even a little?” His brows knitted together, his lips parting slightly when his mouth formed soundless syllables. It was clear that my reaction had caught him off guard, and I couldn’t blame him. It was not every day someone came face-to-face with a cold killer like me. Especially Abel, who’d been a prisoner in these walls.
My mind flooded with doubts and insecurities. Could I trust him? Would he understand, or would he see me as the monster I’d become? As I watched Abel, his concern etched into every line of his handsome face, a battle raged within me. Part of me wanted to confide in him, to unburden myself of the truth that weighed on my conscience. But another part recoiled at the thought, dreading his judgment and fearing the way his perception of me might shift irreparably.
Abel’s gaze never wavered. I wondered if he could sense the turmoil churning in my head, the struggle to keep my darkest secrets hidden. I didn’t have a problem burning demons lurking around the earth’s surface. But after finding out The Firm’s real identity, I knew we’d taken innocent lives, which created orphans like me. I kept the remorse at bay because I didn’t know how to handle the guilt. Could I deal with it? The uncertainty gnawed at me, but for now, I had to focus on keeping the turmoil locked away, hidden from sight, lest I be consumed entirely. The longer I hesitated, the more I hated myself for it.
“There’s something you need to know about me,” I began. Why did I care so much about what he thought of me? Why did his opinion matter so damn much? “But you might not like what you hear, and you’ll probably hate me afterward.”
His expression softened before he reached out to touch my arm. “It’s okay,” he reassured me. “Whatever it is, you can tell me anything.”
Confessing proved to be much tougher than I had anticipated, especially considering this was the first time I’d ever told a soul about my job, my past. “What I did to that man …” I pointed deep into the woods where we’d dumped Napoleon’s body. “That was nothing compared to what I’ve done before; compared to what I’m capable of.”
“What do you mean?” he asked with a puzzled look.
“I’m an assassin,” I blurted. There was no sense in prolonging the inevitable.
“What?” His eyes widened, mouth agape.
“I kill for a living, Abel.”
***
My stomach growled as the waitress set our order of cheeseburgers and golden fries in front of us. Her eyes assessed me, probably judging, but I didn’t give a shit. I ignored her presence and focused on the delicious smell of charred meat wafting from my steaming dinner, the first proper meal I’d had in weeks. I was out of place among the fancy crowd of late-night regulars that visited this place after partying at the nightclubs scattered within a ten-block radius.
The waitress stepped back, her nose wrinkling. She tucked her long brown hair behind her ears, and I didn’t miss the disgust in her glare when she studied my shirt that was once white but was now a dingy shade of brown after weeks of being unwashed.
I ran my fingers over the rough fabric, feeling the grit of dirt beneath my fingers. It’d been far too long since I’d had the luxury of a hot shower, but it was the least of my concerns since I’d been living on the street. A few years had passed since the fire that took my family reclaimed my freedom from the thumbs that controlled me, and I’d never once looked back. The unforgiving life on the streets was a million times better than the hell they put me through. They’re gone. They can never hurt me again. I brushed my leg on my backpack—my only possession—ensuring I knew exactly where it was in case I needed to make a dash out of here when this evening went south. Because it always went south.
“Anythin’ else I can getcha?” the waitress asked, her attention shifting to the burly man sitting across from me.
He wore sunglasses despite the late hour. What a tool. His arm was casually draped over the red cushioned seat of the booth we occupied. “Nah. We’re good,” he said, waving her off. It was hard to tell because of his shades, but I could sense that his eyes were directed at me. I’d seen this man a couple of times before, watching me from afar. He appeared a lot older than me, maybe in his mid-thirties. He was probably one of those gay men some of the guys on the block used to talk about. The ones who liked to watch young homeless men jack off. I was so fucking hungry when he approached me that I’d jack my meat for a chance to have something to fill my empty stomach. As long as he doesn’t touch me. I needed to be resourceful. I had to start somewhere, and tonight might be the night.
“Okay,” the waitress said, popping the chewing gum in her mouth. “Holla if you need anythin.’” She turned away, leaving me alone with the stranger and my hot meal.
I grabbed my food with my filthy hands and wasted no time in devouring the burger, relishing the juicy meat and crisp fries. Ketchup never tasted so good. I should’ve ordered a milkshake. Who knew when the next opportunity like this would come. Beggars (literally) can’t be choosers.
The man didn’t speak after the lady left, and I was one hundred fucking percent fine with that. He wasn’t here for a chit-chat, after all. He probably couldn’t wait until I was done eating so he could get the show he wanted. Would I be able to get my dick hard in front of a man? I guessed we would have to see.
“When was the last time you ate?” he asked finally, breaking the silence.
I eyed him warily, still unsure of his intentions. But hunger had a way of dulling my instincts. I shrugged, trying to play it cool. I didn’t want to appear desperate, although one glance at my sorry ass would reveal that I was. “A couple of days,” I lied and took another bite of my cheeseburger before chasing it with a handful of fries.
He nodded, his expression unreadable behind his sunglasses. “Well, you’re welcome to finish mine if you want,” he offered, pushing his plate toward me.
What was his endgame? I could be way off with my impression of him, but he didn’t appear to be the kind who wanted to see my cock, and that made me uneasy because what else could I offer him? I’m not worth anything. Was he a serial killer? I slurped a mouthful of soda after another bite, wondering what ulterior motives lay behind his seemingly generous offer. Living out here had taught me that no one did anything out of the kindness of their heart. It didn’t matter, I could leave this fool in the dust if I needed to. I’d outrun plenty of cops before. And with a full stomach, I’d be unstoppable.
“Thanks,” I said, sliding his food onto my plate. I would never say no to free food.
When we left the diner, I stayed six feet away from him as we walked, tightening my grip on my backpack. The crowd had thinned, and only an occasional car passed in the mostly empty street. I cornered an alley and dropped my bag on the ground. I took a deep breath and unbuckled my belt.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he asked, raising a hand to stop me.
“Isn’t this what you want?” I pointed to my crotch.
“I don’t wanna see your dick. Jesus fucking Christ.”
“You don’t?” I looped my belt then reached for my bag. “What do you want from me, then?” I was embarrassed and a little pissed off. Did he think I wasn’t good enough?
“I want to talk to you and maybe offer you a job.” The guy pulled a small card from the pocket of his shirt and handed it to me.
“Oh,” I said, taking it. “What kind of job?” I didn’t have any skills, aside from fighting off gang members and guys who thought they could take advantage of me.
“I need you to be on my … security team,” he answered, taking off his sunglasses.
“I don’t know how to do shit.” I glanced at the white card. It had a set of numbers but no name. That was odd.
“You can call me El Jefe.” He extended his hand to shake mine.
I stared at his clean hand. It was the first time someone had treated me with respect since I left the orphanage.
“It’s okay, son. I don’t bite,” he added.
Son. It sounded right coming from him. It didn’t sound like he pitied me, like Father Nathaniel from the orphanage, nor did he mean the word to mock me, like my adoptive father. “Tobias,” I said, matching his strong grip. “Why me?” I was a master at reading people—a skill I’d sharpened living on the street—and my gut was telling me to trust El Jefe.
“Because I see potential in you. You don’t have to answer me now. But think about it,” he said before walking away.
“I’ve never had a job before,” I yelled.
He stopped walking but didn’t look back. “You can learn. I saw you fight those guys. You’ll be fine.”
Two days passed and I found myself staring at the card with El Jefe’s contact. What was the worst thing that could happen if I couldn’t do the job? He could fire me and I’d end up on the street again. I decided to take my chances with him. I fished my last two quarters from my tattered jeans and jogged to the last remaining working phone booth in the city square. This better work. I dropped the two coins in the slot and dialed the number.
“Tobias,” he greeted after a couple of rings.
“How did you know it was me?”
“I had a hunch, and I’ve always been a great judge of character.”
So, did he think I was good enough? My chest filled with warmth at the thought of someone recognizing that I was more than a street rat. “I thought about your offer …” I closed my eyes to keep my excitement at bay. This was my way out of homelessness. I envisioned my life ahead. I would save every penny so I could get a roof over my head. I’d go to school and maybe, just maybe, I could have a normal life. And if I was lucky, I could have a family of my own. I’d never abandon them the way everyone discarded me like I was nothing.
But as I dared to imagine such happiness, a bitter pang of reality pierced through my optimism. YOU ARE WORTHLESS!
“And …” El Jefe’s voice on the receiver brought me back to the present.
“I wanna learn how to do the job.” I prayed he hadn’t changed his mind. He was my last hope. “I’ll do anything if it means a life away from here.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
Relief washed over me at his response. “When can I start?
“Look to your left.”
I did what I was told and spotted a black SUV. The tinted window slid down, revealing El Jefe. What the fuck? Has he been watching me the whole time?
“Wanna start now?” he asked.
I hung up the phone and approached El Jefe’s car. He was seated in the back. I tried to open the back door, but it didn’t budge.
El Jefe studied me. “Once you’re in, there’s no turning back.”
That was a bit dramatic. It was a security gig. How hard could that be? Whatever. “I’m all in,” I said.
“Let him in,” El Jefe ordered his driver, who was wearing an all-black suit.
The lock clicked and I climbed into the back seat of the SUV. My eyes traveled to the driver—he had a gun resting in his lap. I swallowed hard and shot a glance at El Jefe, my heart hammering in my chest.
“He’s good,” El Jefe said. He leaned forward and tapped the driver’s shoulder.
The driver looked up at the rearview mirror to study me. He nodded before tucking his gun in his shoulder holster under his suit jacket.
I exhaled a shaky breath, running my fingers along the door handle.
“So, we gotta get you cleaned up first,” El Jefe said. “Then we train. Welcome to The Firm, son.” Again, he extended his hand.
Without hesitation, I shook it. “Thank you. I won’t let you down.”
***
Abel listened as I told him how I became entangled with The Firm. He didn’t judge. There was nothing but genuine curiosity on his face.
“El Jefe was the first person who didn’t treat me like the loser that I was. He was the father I never had.” My heart squeezed at the reminder of him. “They didn’t give me an assignment right away. They trained me first. Similar to what you’re doing here,” I said, nodding to the barracks.
“Then what?” Abel asked.
“I chose the life of comfort over a life on the street. Besides, we only took down the worst of humankind. We didn’t kill innocent people …” I took a lungful of air. “Or so we thought. But we were so fucking wrong, Abel.”
“What do you mean? What happened to El Jefe?”
“He died for us.” My blood boiled at the memory of The Firm’s betrayal. I was reminded of what needed to be done once this mess was over. We had to make them pay, even if it killed me.
“What? I’m so sorry, Tobias.” He lurched toward me and wrapped me in his arms. “Did Dad know?”
He was taking the news a lot better than I’d anticipated. “He didn’t, but that doesn’t matter,” I answered. “It’s in the past.” My past that I couldn’t wait to bury in the ground. “I know you have a lot of questions, but for now, we have to go.”