Free Reaper by Edward Kendrick Page A

on those who are weak and alone?”
    “Given that I’m a cop, I’m well aware of that. I’ve intervened more than a few times to stop an assault.”
    “And what happens to the assailant?”
    Dallas’ mouth tightened. “They walk because their victim is afraid to press charges. I’m sure you know that. The vics are kids who don’t want their family to find them. That’s why they’re out there in the first place.”
    “Exactly.” Zack blew out a long breath. “I’d ask if you can keep a secret, but that sounds so juvenile. Still, it’s the best way to put it, especially since you are a cop.”
    “This doesn’t bode well,” Dallas replied with a small smile. “Still…unless you’re going to confess to breaking the law, I can.”
    Zack gave him a wry grin. “Define ‘the law’… Okay, here goes. About a year ago I decided I had to do something to stop the predators.” He took Dallas’ hands, holding them tightly. “I spend the early morning hours out looking for them. I step in when I see some bastard attacking a victim and teach them what it’s like to have the shit beaten out of you.”
    Dallas looked at him in shock. “That’s vigilantism.”
    “I know,” Zack replied shortly, locking his gaze on Dallas’ face. “But it does the job.”
    Dallas pulled his hands free and got up. He began pacing, occasionally looking at Zack.
    Now what do I do? By rights, I should arrest him. He’s just confessed to a crime. Multiple crimes, in fact.
    “Why don’t you call nine-one-one when you see that happening?” Dallas asked.
    “To what end? By the time the police get there, if they even do, the assailant is long gone. I suspect you know as well as I do that the homeless are on the bottom of the list when it comes to what cops have to handle.”
    “Not true,” Dallas protested. But he knew Zack was correct. Given the choice of stopping a break-in or a convenience store hold-up, or making a run to some alley to try to catch a thug attacking some homeless person… “All right, I see your point,” he admitted. “But damn it, Zack.”
    “Do you think what I’m doing is wrong? Because I don’t.”
    Dallas dropped down beside him on the sofa, slowly shaking his head. “Legally, yeah, it’s very wrong. Morally though… No, it’s not. You’re protecting people who can’t protect themselves.”
    Zack put his arm around Dallas, drawing him against his chest. “I hoped… Hell, I prayed that you’d see it that way. Of course, now I’ve put you in a tight spot. As a cop, can you deal with all this or will you feel the need to walk away, even if you don’t turn me in?”
    Turning his head to look at Zack, Dallas replied, “I’m not walking away.”
    “Thank God!” Zack said. “I was so afraid you would, but I had to be honest with you. It’s the only way to make what we have work.” He smiled ruefully. “Besides which, I’m sure in time you’d start questioning why I slept such weird hours, or had bruises that I couldn’t—or wouldn’t, I guess—explain.”
    “How often does that happen?” Dallas asked.
    “Coming home looking like I’ve been through the wars? Not too often. I learned a lot, living on the streets, and I’ve kept in practice since then. But shit happens—especially when I have to take on more than one punk.”
    “Do you carry a weapon?”
    “A knife, but I try not to use it as more than a threat. I’d rather use my hands and feet. Although if they have something, a lead pipe or a baseball bat, I have no problem taking it away from them then using it to give them a taste of their own medicine.”
    They talked some more, before going to bed. Their lovemaking that night had held special meaning for both of them, Dallas realized. A bond of trust had been made between them. Trust that neither of them had ever broken.
    Now, with his new hours, Dallas wanted to be a part of what Zack—well, Reaper—did. All he had to do was convince Zack to let him.

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