Sins of the Father by Fyn Alexander Page A

mathematics skills, so Kael had ordered Angel to join the chess club at Redmond and had been practicing with him once or twice a week for the last year.
    Romodanovsky looked across the room at the beautiful, modern-styled silver and gold chess set on the rosewood half-moon table beside the door. Kael didn’t move. If the man thought he was going to fetch it, he was mistaken. The Russian was no sub. He was as dominant as Kael. If they spent too much time together, they’d kill each other.
    The momentary standoff ended when Romodanovsky rose and set a small round table between them. Then, crossing the room, he brought the chessboard and placed it on the table. With an aggressive gesture, he snatched two pawns and hid them in his hands. “Choose.”
    Kael pointed at the man’s right hand. It was the silver.
    For more than thirty minutes, they played in silence. Romodanovsky obviously played chess far more often than Kael. He was a much better player, and Kael found his resentment building toward the man. When he played Angel, they were pretty evenly matched, and both won at the same rate. In fact when they’d first started playing, Kael let Angel win more often than not in order to build up the boy’s confidence.
    But at that moment, he felt like punching Romodanovsky in the nose.
    “Checkmate.” The silver queen was knocked on her side, and the Russian’s gaze met Kael’s.
    Calming his breathing to betray no emotion, Kael said, “Well done.” He sat back comfortably, and for a long moment, they looked at each other, until Romodanovsky rose and brought two glasses of brandy back to the table. He sat one in front of Kael.
    “Are you going to bed?” Kael asked. “It’s after one.”
    “No, I need very little sleep. When I was younger, perhaps your age, I slept a little more. How old are you?”
    On the few bodyguard jobs he’d done, Kael had never shared information about himself and rarely spoke to his charges. Usually he stood outside their rooms at night. But there was something about this man. “Thirty-three.”
    “And your name?”
    “I’m sure you could find out if you want, but I won’t tell you.”
    The Russian chuckled. “Mr. Kael Saunders. Yes, I already know. Are you married?”
    “No personal information,” Kael said.
    “I am married.” Romodanovsky got up and began to walk about the room. The old caged-animal analogy sprang to Kael’s mind. The man’s energy was remarkable for his age. He looked like he was spring-loaded and ready to fly. “I have five children, all boys.”
    Kael watched him but did not respond. A barely discernible noise outside the door brought Kael to his feet. In a few long strides, he was at the door, his hand up to silence Romodanovsky and keep him away from the door. He opened it silently to find one of his team whispering to Mattie. When he saw Kael, he said, “Just passing on the message that everything is fine, sir. There’re so many bobbies and security guards around Number 10 at the best of times that having us here is probably overkill.”
    “That’s true, but make sure you stay awake.”
    “Is everything all right?” the Russian asked when Kael closed the door again.
    “Yes, it was one of my team patrolling the house.”
    “I heard nothing. How did you hear that?”
    “It’s my job. I’m very good at it. And you’re better than me at chess.”
    That lopsided smile tilted Romodanovsky’s mouth again. An aggressive sexuality emanated from the man that Kael understood because it matched his own. Only Angel had kept his desire to roam at bay this last fifteen months. His love for his beautiful boy.
    “You like to win. You hate to lose. You’re like me,” Romodanovsky said.
    Sitting down again, Kael did something he never did on a job. He took the brandy and drank it, enjoying the sudden headiness and the heat going down his throat. Romodanovsky went over at once with the decanter and refilled his glass, but Kael would not touch another. This man