2- At the rymes of the waves

“This is really good,” he purred.

“You putting on a show just tells me you really are a child.” “I’m nineteen.” Morrison pouted.

Well, that was a relief. He was too young for me to be interested in anything more than a bathroom blow job, but at least my cock wasn’t a criminal pervert. Omegas that young didn’t even know what to do with an Alpha dick yet, and I wasn’t interested in running a preschool. Or was I? My treacherous cock was painfully engorged at that point, and Morrison’s sweet cinnamon scent was overpowering my ability to make rational decisions.

I had to admit that the knowledge he was at least legal changed things a bit in regard to his business proposition. I normally wouldn’t consider an offer like his but I was desperate for cash. I wouldn’t fuck him, but I reasoned that perhaps I could work for him. Having him in my control after I’d “kidnapped him” gave us plenty of opportunity for Morrison to practice his cock sucking skills. Hey, I’d just vowed not to fuck him. Letting him dick dive a few times was totally different.

Getting out of town was my first priority. The problem was that I was nearly broke and I couldn’t stop thinking about having my cock swallowed. Over the last two weeks, I’d gone from being wealthy beyond anything I’d ever imagined to having almost nothing. You’d think that would keep my mind off Morrison’s mouth, but the way he kept putting his pretty lips and pink tongue on display meant that it wasn’t my fault that I had to grip the tablecloth to keep from jumping out of my chair and skull fucking

him in front of the entire restaurant.

Okay, I had to get my mind back on my survival. My last job had done me in. The client didn’t tell me the hit was on an entire family. I was shocked when I snuck into the house and found the target’s wife and young son in the room where I’d been instructed to kill the mark.

There was no way it was a mistake or accident. The client had given me painstakingly specific instructions about how the target was supposed to die and in what room his body should be left for the authorities. This wasn’t unusual. People often wanted to leave a message.

But I didn’t mess with kids. Everyone knew that. Not all my rules were public knowledge, but some of them were for the specific reason of avoiding situations like the one I found myself in that night. I didn’t want to kill the wife either, but when she saw me, the bitch came after me with a knife she had stashed in a hidden sheath under the coffee table. She left me no choice. A double tap to the brain is what she bought herself for making a stupid move.

I did the husband without blinking an eye. He was scum so I wouldn’t shed a tear over his death. That left me with the kid. He just stood there in the hallway, staring off into space at first.

He began to cry when his mother tried to attack me. It was only later, after the father was dead too, that I discovered the bruises on the little boy’s neck and arms. His parents were monsters, and I’d saved him.

I guess I should have known there was something wrong with that household when the wife took out a knife strapped to a coffee table. Some of these motherfuckers had families that were clueless about the shit my marks were into, but in this case, the wife was part of it. I didn’t even want to think about what the kid had seen or been through up until that point.

There was no part of me that could kill him. I took the boy with me that night. I had one friend in law enforcement that I could trust. Detective Manuel VC was the only police I knew who wasn’t tied in some way to the mob. I took the boy to him.

He met me at our usual rendezvous point. It was an old, abandoned barn out in the middle of the country. I could never risk being seen with him in the city.

When I arrived with the child, Manuel VCwas shocked. He knew who I was but my work wasn’t something we discussed. Ever. His job was to put criminals behind bars and my job was to kill them. Our acquaintance was based on my feeding him information on the rival families. The rest was unspoken so that Manuel VCdidn’t have to attempt to arrest his star informant and I didn’t have to kill the one good cop in town.

This particular situation was different. I told him the kid needed to go into witness protection and that there was a price on his head. That may not have been true in that moment, but it would be as soon as it got back to my employer that the kid had lived through the night.

“I can’t put him in witness protection unless he witnessed something,” Manuel VCsaid.

“His parents are dead. He saw his mother killed by a hitman. They were both criminals. I’m sure he witnessed a great deal more than their untimely demise,” I responded. “This kid probably has information on his parents’ entire operation. Information their rivals and successors would kill for.” “Who is he going to tell us killed his parents?” Manuel VCasked.

“I’m leaving the country. Please don’t try and contact me again. Forget you knew me,” I said as I walked away. That was the end of my career and the beginning of the end of my life. I’d signed my death warrant when I handed that terrified, battered Omega over to Lenny.

“Hey, jackass. I said I’m not a kid.” Morrison’s voice brought me out of my thoughts. I felt him kick my shoe under the table. That was another spanking. I’d decided to keep a tally in my head.

“Wow, you’re a brat. I should take you into the bathroom and paddle your ass. Maybe that would shut you up,” I said, and again my traitorous cock hardened at the thought. If I’d thought a good ass whipping wouldn’t send Morrison running for another would-be kidnapper, I’d have done it too.

Something made me leery of letting Morrison put his life in the hands of another criminal. Most of them wouldn’t have the restraint I’d built using my rules.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he asked and licked his lips. “You want my bare ass across your lap.”

“This conversation has become unproductive,” I said in a clinical tone.

“Do you even care why I want you to kidnap me. You never asked,” Morrison said as he crossed his arms across his chest and leaned back against the chair. I studied him for a moment, and for the first time, I saw the slight cracks in his bravado. He was scared.

“Fine, but I’m going to finish my dinner while you tell me your little story,” I said. “Go on.”

“My father is a monster. A lot of men in his position are monsters at work, but they leave it there. They do what needs to be done, but when they come home to their spouses and children, they are loving and devoted husbands and fathers,” Morrison began. “That does not describe my father. He is a real fiend. It’s inside him. It’s who he is.”