Free Reaper by Edward Kendrick

sometime? Here or…wherever?”
    Zack had seemed to think about it then nodded. “When are you free?”
    “Next Sunday.” Dallas had smiled ruefully. “I work nights, six to six, if I’m lucky. Later, if I’m not. But I’m off Sundays and Mondays.”
    “How about lunch, then?”
    They’d set a time and place. That had been the start of what at first had been just a friendship with good sex thrown into the mix. In time, they had realized they were falling in love. That was when Zack had finally and fully opened up to Dallas.
    They’d been at Zack’s house, eating supper on a Sunday evening after having spent the day together.
    “I know,” Zack said, seemingly out of the blue, “that we have strong feelings for each other.” He smiled. “I don’t think that’s a big secret anymore. But…”
    He’s going to break it off. Despite what he just said, he’s going to end it.
    As if he read Dallas’ mind, or more probably his expression, Zack shook his head. “I’m not calling it quits—no way, no how. But there are things I haven’t told you about myself that I need to if this is going to continue.”
    “Like…” Dallas tried for a joke. “You secretly spend your nights, while I’m working, roaming the streets looking for victims, because you’re really a serial killer?”
    Rather than laughing, Zack replied as he stood, “Not quite that bad. Let’s go into the living room where we can be more comfortable.”
    When they were settled on the sofa, Zack remained quiet for so long that Dallas began to wonder how horrible whatever he was going to tell him was.
    “I’ll start at the beginning. When I was twelve, I left home. Typical story I guess. My father was an angry man and an alcoholic. He took his anger out on me. My mother…” He shrugged. “I guess she thought better me than her, so she kept out of it.”
    “Damn,” Dallas said quietly.
    “With nowhere to go, I ended up on the streets. It didn’t take me long to realize two things. One, I’d need money to survive. Two, I was still a kid and small enough that I couldn’t defend myself.” Zack fisted his hands.
    Dallas reached to take them, only to have Zack pull them away.
    “Let me get through this. Long story short, I learned the ins and outs of survival. The only thing I didn’t get involved in was drugs—selling or using. I grew older and bigger. Life became a little easier. I learned how to protect myself and put that to use helping other kids who needed my…skills with my fists.”
    “In other words, you kept them safe?” Dallas liked that idea. He was less happy with the thought that Zack had undoubtedly sold himself the way some of the kids did who he saw when he was on patrol. Kids so young they shouldn’t even have known what sex was. Kids who grew up knowing the dangers of getting into a stranger’s car, or going into an alley with them, to give blow jobs—but did it anyway to stay alive.
    “As much as I could,” Zack replied. “Then, when I was twenty, I met a man who helped me get off the streets.”
    “A sugar-daddy?” Dallas asked in dismay.
    “Good Lord, no. His name is Brian and he runs a shelter. He took me aside one night when I was crashing there. Told me it was time I decided to do something about my life. It took a while and a lot more talks, but in the end… Well, here I am. A successful businessman.”
    Dallas slid over to hug him tightly. “Thank you for feeling you could trust me with your story.”
    “I should have told you a long time ago,” Zack said, kissing Dallas’ temple. “The thing is…” He pulled away, gazing at Dallas. “There’s… Well, I guess you could call it a follow-up to the story.”
    Something in Zack’s expression put Dallas on alert. Warily he asked, “What?”
    “Do you know how many homeless kids and adults there are out there who become victims of predators? Not just men who want sex and use them to get it, but the punks who get their jollies from beating up