Absolution (The Protectors 1)

I’d like to say that my phone ringing at that exact moment was the reason I let up on the trigger and flipped the cover down over the scope, effectively obliterating my target from view. But I knew that was complete shit because I’d already made the decision long before the Blue Oyster Cult ringtone started playing on my phone. I lowered the rifle and leaned back against the wall as the sounds of Don’t Fear the Reaper chimed through the small room. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the phone and swiped to answer it without looking at the caller ID because I already knew who it was.

“You fucking changed my ringtone?” I snapped as I dropped my head back against the wall and turned so I could keep an eye on my mark.

“It’s a classic,” the voice on the other end said. “And it beats the hell out of that classical shit you listen to.”

I didn’t bother arguing because I’d likely end up with a boy band song next if I made too much of an issue out of it. I also didn’t ask what the caller wanted because I already knew that he wouldn’t bother wasting my time or his if he didn’t have something of value to share. It was one of the many things I respected about Mav. It was also the reason I chose Mav as my second whenever he wasn’t out on his own assignment.

“Since your mark posted an online ad a few minutes ago, I’m guessing you still haven’t done it,” Mav said.

“What kind of ad?” I asked, ignoring his not so subtle dig.

“He’s looking for help. Handyman type shit. Painting, electrical work, plumbing.”

“Pull it.”

“Already did,” Mav drawled and I heard my phone ding a moment later and saw the ad flash on my screen.

“Can you intercept any calls he makes to the site to check on the ad?”

“Yeah. I’ve already hacked his computer too, so if he tries to reach customer service that way, it’s covered.”

“Anything interesting pop up on his PC?” I asked, hoping against hope that Mav would be able to give me the proof I needed that would let me pull the fucking trigger so I could get my ass out of this shithole.

“No, it’s clean. Only pictures and sites he’s interested in are for artsy shit.”

Fuck. I bit the bullet and said, “That make sense to you, Mav? A pedophile with not even one pic on his computer?”

Silence on the other end, then, “Could be he’s got another PC stashed somewhere. Or he’s old school and doesn’t like digital.”

I glanced back across the street at my mark and cringed when I felt my cock stirring in my pants. The young man had stripped off his shirt and while I couldn’t see as much as I wanted, I still felt my mouth water at the sight. In a perverse move, I put the phone on speaker and set it on the window sill and then raised my rifle back up and flipped up the cover on the scope. I was greeted with the sight of pale, firm flesh that had smatterings of color all over it from the spray of paint that would occasionally fly off the end of the paintbrush as the young man’s arm and wrist stroked lovingly over the canvas in front of him. I lifted the gun enough to take in the dark brown hair that was threaded with streaks of gold. I sent a telepathic message to the guy hoping he’d turn enough so I could get a good look at the crystal clear blue eyes I’d so far only seen in pictures but no such luck, so I settled for imagining what it would feel like to trail my fingers over the hard line of his jaw before tracing them over his full, pink lips.

“You about done visually molesting the guy?”

I bit back a curse and lowered the rifle as I reached for the phone. Mav knew me way too fucking well. I should probably take that as a sign that it was time to get the hell out of this business.

“Anything else?” I asked as I willed my cock to settle the fuck down. No way in hell was I going to be fooled by the veil of innocence this guy had managed to cloak himself in. My conscience might need a little more convincing before I could let myself pull the trigger but I wasn’t about to let something as inane and useless as lust be the deciding factor as to whether this guy deserved to keep breathing or not.

“No. But Grisham’s getting impatient. Says you haven’t been sending in your reports.”

I wanted to say Grisham could go fuck himself but figured Mav would take just a little too much pleasure in delivering that message to our team leader so I merely said, “Anything else?” again.