His internal celebration was cut short however, when he looked up only to find himself face to face with the barrel of a gun. He dropped the wallet with an undignified squeak, holding his hands up and trying to sputter out an apology.
“I—I’m sorry, man, I was just—” he began.
“Yeah, kid, I know what you were doing,” the man said. “You just happened to cross the wrong man. Have you ever heard the name Jim Hawthorne?” the man said with a smug little smile, not bothering to lower his gun as he spoke.
“Big Jim Hawthorne? Y-you mean,” Rick sputtered out, eyes wide and fearful.
Of course he had heard the name Jim Hawthorne. Everyone in the damn city had heard that name, and not for good reasons. Jim Hawthorne was the head of the biggest crime syndicate in the city. It was a wonder that Big Jim hadn’t blown Rick’s brains on the sidewalk already.
“I’m sorry,” Rick said, taking a hesitant step back.
Big Jim considered him with a curious quirk of his lips, lowering his gun by a margin. Taking that as his cue, Rick bolted from the scene as quickly as his legs would carry him. He heard the older man screaming for him to stop, but he dare not turn back. When the crime lord’s voice faded into the distance, and it was clear he wasn’t being followed, Rick paused and gasped for breath. He had gotten away this time, and he could only hope the crime lord would be generous enough to forgive his indiscretion.
However, he had a feeling he would not be so lucky.
***
Daryl was due back on traffic duty, but the cases he had sorted through were still at the forefront of his mind. He couldn’t shake the thought that some of the dropped charges seemed inexcusable, especially with of the abundance of murder charges he’d seen. Repeat offenders, in most cases, the files containing mention of ties to a man named Jim Hawthorne. Though Daryl had never heard of this Hawthorne character, he had a feeling he was missing the piece of some larger puzzle.
Perhaps the feeling he got from perusing the files shouldn’t have felt as nefarious as it did. There was always the possibility that he was overthinking this. Still, he couldn’t shake the thought as much as he tried. In spite of his bad first impression with the police chief, he mused that bringing it to the older man’s attention might resolve some of his anxiety.
Daryl shuffled in the direction of Chief Franklin’s office, sipping the poor excuse for coffee served in the break room. He had heard jokes about the poor quality of break room coffee, but he had never expected it to be this bad. He gave it a swish in the Styrofoam cup, taking the final swallow before tossing the cup in the trash and knocking on Chief Franklin’s door.
He lingered for a long moment, wondering if his knocks had been heard. Just when he was about to try again, the police chief’s voice boomed through the door.
“Come in, but make it quick. I’m busy,” the older man called out.
Daryl steeled himself, not looking forward to the encounter but hoping that his interest in past cases would show initiative. He opened the door, offering the chief a strained smile.
Chief Franklin paid him little mind, absorbed in something on the screen of his cell phone. His lips were quirked in the vaguest of smiles, and it was only when Daryl awkwardly cleared his throat that the chief looked up at him.
The older man’s amused expression faded, and he narrowed his eyes. “Can I help you, Darren?”
Daryl fought to keep his composure. It was obvious the chief was purposefully not using Daryl’s correct name to get under his skin, and he was determined to not let it work.
“Yes, Chief. I was sorting through some old case files.”
“Well, that’s strike one, newbie. But go on,” the chief said in haughty tones.
Daryl couldn’t help feeling taken aback, suddenly rethinking how he was approaching the situation. Still, he couldn’t let himself fret over the case files for the rest of the day. It would put him off of his game, and though it seemed his first impression had been ruined, he was determined to prove himself to the chief and the other officers.
“I, uh, I was sorting through some old case files, and I noticed a lot of cases where the charges were dropped with little explanation. I saw the name Jim Hawthorne mentioned several times, and I was wondering if this was someone I needed to keep an eye out for, or if perhaps he’s an informant.”
Daryl watched as the Chief’s expression grew increasingly irate. The older man inhaled a deep breath, steepling his hands atop his desk. After exhaling what Daryl supposed was a calming breath, the chief began to speak.
“Newbie, I’ve been awfully patient with you. I thought I made it very clear that I didn’t want some know-it-all kid running in here, thinking he can change the world. What’s contained in those files is frankly none of your concern, and you’ll end up counting yourself lucky when you don’t make it long enough to know who Jim Hawthorne is.”
Daryl found himself shrinking away from the larger man in spite of knowing he could easily overpower him. Was the entire department that sure he wouldn’t make it here? As far as he could tell, they seemed so ready for him to give up that they were likely placing bets.
He narrowed his eyes at the police chief, biting back the sharp retort that threatened to explode from his mouth. On one hand, he could go out in a blaze of glory, middle fingers thrown to the sky as he stormed out of the chief’s office. On the other, that’s exactly what his superiors wanted. For reasons he couldn’t discern, he was unwelcome here. He wouldn’t let that throw a wrench in his plans, however. If anything, he was more determined to prove himself than ever.
His mouth was set in a straight line as he pondered his thoughts, and he hesitated only briefly before speaking. “Forgive me for the insubordination, Chief. But I plan to last a fair bit longer than you expect.”
The chief looked faintly surprised by Daryl’s defiance, but only responded with a cruel twist of his lips. “Get back on the streets, newbie. I’m sick of looking at you.”
Daryl squared his shoulders, giving the slightest of nods before leaving the office. He marched out of the police station, exhaling an angry growl once he was outside. There were no veteran officers to mock him, thankfully. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to control himself.
No. He couldn’t be thinking like that. He couldn’t let his anger get the better of him. His cool persona and strong moral code were what separated him from the scum on the street. If these officers didn’t care to differentiate themselves from criminals, that was their prerogative.
At any rate, Daryl refused to lower himself to such levels. He forced a stoic expression, trying to allow the anger to slip away from him. It was of little consequence, ultimately. If he had his way, he’d work up through the ranks and be chief of the dingy little station before long.
He stalked down the sidewalk, not particularly eager to shove himself back in a police cruiser for the time being. If nothing else, he’d check the meters. It wasn’t his job, but he felt he was more likely to catch a criminal in the act than if he were in the cruiser. The cruiser was too large, too bulky. Too easily spotted, and while it served its purpose for catching petty criminals going a mile or two over the speed limit, he wanted to clean this town up. Crime was crime, granted, but even he had his limit of tolerance for busywork.
He shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible in the crowd of people. To his surprise, they seemed to care very little about his presence, simply carrying on with their day to day lives. He didn’t expect to be feared, but he did expect a bit of respect at least. It wasn’t as if these people knew he was entirely new to the area.
He was so lost in thought, he nearly tumbled to the ground when a man shoved past him and raced ahead. The man seemed oblivious that he had even touched Daryl. It seemed remarkably suspicious. Daryl breathed in a calming breath before darting after the man.
“Stop! Police! You, stop,” he called out, narrowing his eyes as the obviously homeless man hesitated. The man slowed and turned to c
onsider him, and his eyes widened only marginally. He seemed altogether nonplussed, though it seemed clear that he realized he was the one being called out. He stopped, shoving his hands in his pockets as Daryl approached him.
“Hands where I can see them, sir,” Daryl snapped, and the homeless man merely rolled his eyes before removing his hands from his pocket.
“How can I help you, officer?” the man asked, smiling what was likely intended to be a charming smile.
While Daryl could admit to himself that the man was rather attractive, he was more concerned with the man’s obvious vagrancy and other potential lawbreaking. He paused, looking the other man over before crossing his arms over his chest.
“Can I get your identification, sir,” Daryl said coolly.
The man quirked his lips in an obviously entertained smile. “You sure could, if I had one on me.”
Daryl failed to see the humor, narrowing his eyes dangerously at the other man.
The man shrugged. “I can give you my name, if that would suffice. I do have a bit of a record, but no outstanding warrants as far as I’m aware.”
Daryl hesitated, not expecting the man to be so compliant. He drew a notepad from his pocket and flipped it open. “All right, I’ll take your name.”
He expected some sort of pun, like Ivanna Luvyoo or something of the like. The man before him seemed the type to lay on the charm, though Daryl was more than confident that he wouldn’t fall into such a trap.
“Richard Lamaar. You can call me Rick,” the guy said, bouncing on his heels.
Daryl’s eyes widened in faint surprise at receiving an actual answer.
“Give me a moment,” Daryl said, and raised his radio to run the man’s name. “Yeah, can I get you to run a check on Richard Lamaar.”
His radio crackled in response, and a dull voice spoke in condescending tones. “Has a few minor theft charges, nothing too dangerous. No warrants either, so, if that’s all?”
The voice trailed off and Daryl narrowed his eyes at the lack of respect he was receiving.
“Ten-four,” he replied icily, before slipping his radio back into his belt. He raised his eyes, considering Rick with a slight sneer. He struggled to remind himself that the man before him wasn’t the reason he was so upset, but it was hard to contain his irritation. “So, what has you running the streets looking so nervous, sir? Is there something you want to tell me? If I end up getting a call on a robbery, and it leads me to you, I’m only going to make things worse on you.”
Rick quirked a curious brow, looking entertained and almost enamored with the police officer. Daryl tried not to roll his eyes at how obviously the criminal was checking him out, and instead kept his stern countenance.
“Oh, just eager to get home after a long day of work. My boyfriend will chew my ass if I’m not home soon. Not that I’m against that sort of thing, but…” Rick grinned.
Daryl cleared his throat, and felt the tips of his ears reddening. “That’s enough. Well, if that’s the case, carry on your way. Behave yourself, Mr. Lamaar.”
Rick saluted, and Daryl edged past him, continuing on his route.
Well, that had certainly made for an interesting first day of work.
***
Rick watched the officer leave, pleased that he had managed to get underneath the man’s skin. It was obvious that the new officer was trying to paint himself with a hard-ass persona, but Rick’s gaydar never failed him. The officer’s reaction to Rick’s boyfriend comment was all the confirmation he needed.
Rick drew his lip between his teeth as he watched the way the officer moved in his uniform, before forcing himself to look away and continue in the opposite direction. Getting a gun shoved in his face should have been enough to make him turn in for the day, but he still needed to get some cash. Years ago, getting stopped by a cop might have made him rethink pickpocketing, but he’d been stopped by cops dozens of times in this damn town. He’d been marked as a mere nuisance, and one day he would show that he could be so much more. He’d live a respectful life, get a nice job, maybe bang that cop a time or twelve. He just needed to land this apartment, and he’d be walking the path to a new life.
He darted ahead with renewed vigor. He kept his face friendly, which wasn’t particularly difficult, considering the good mood he was in. The last thing anyone would expect was the cheerful hobo to snag their wallets out of their back pockets.
He considered his actions with a new perspective, if only vaguely. He would be more cautious around men who seemed as if their pockets were a bit too deep.
Thoughts of the city’s biggest crime lord knocked around in the back of his mind, but he wouldn’t allow himself to get caught up in fear. If the rodent of a man had let him escape, perhaps that was all that would come from the encounter. He could have easily blown Rick’s brains out, splattered them on the pavement as Rick had run away. A daring escape.
Rick’s lips quirked in spite of himself, and he fancied himself one of those storybook heroes for a brief moment. A crook with a heart of gold, the sort of thing ladies would eat up—handy if he were interested in women. All the same, he couldn’t help but hold his head high at the thought of surviving such an ordeal. A story to tell the grandkids, certainly. The story would likely be dismissed as an old man’s senility, but he seemed to be getting ahead of himself. In order to make it that far, he had a long road ahead of him.
Still, he could picture the little children gathered around his rocking chair, his husband considering him with an exasperated grin from the other side of the room. His husband, oh yeah, his husband. They’d known each other for many years, since a much younger Rick helped put a stop to the biggest crime syndicate in the city. Their other grandpa, the one that shared their blood, he had been the saving grace in Rick’s life. Picking the vagrant up off the streets, though they would leave the tales of wild and crazy sex out of the conversation. Not for young ears, you understand. Yeah, yeah, Rick and their other pops, they’d hit it off at the first conversation. Love at first sight.
Rick grinned at the thought, allowing his imagination to distract him from his task. Sure, he should have been robbing people blind. He should have his rent money already, but what was the harm in entertaining ideas of a brilliant future? He certainly could see himself sharing a bed with the police officer who had stopped him. The other cops in town had never been so handsome. The other officers didn’t have pale, almost luminescent skin that Rick longed to mark with his tooth and tongue. Was it a bit flighty to be thinking of a future with the other man, when didn’t even know the officer’s name? Probably. Rick preferred to be flighty than boring, preferred to be fantastical. After all, how far of a leap was it from the bedroom down to that old church downtown? What was a kiss, be it a first kiss, or sealing years of commitment? Love was love, and though Rick couldn’t be sure if what he felt was love, the thought didn’t put him off as much as it might have in the past. Love was a beautiful thing, and in spite of the painful life he’d had, this street rat had learned to give his love fully and completely.
He vowed that in their next meeting, he would learn the new cop’s name. No big deal, just with the intent of being a friendly guy. No ulterior motives, nothing sinister. If he planned to properly sweep the cop off of his feet, however, it would take a bit more effort than a few sweet words.
Shaking of the titillating thoughts, Rick decided to get to work. He darted through the alleys, making his way through the innermost confines of the city, to find himself on the opposite side. Officer Wonderful would likely take his time making his rounds through the city, which gave Rick plenty of time to loot as much as he could before the dark-haired man made it that far.
Rick grinned as he walked, the odor of the back alleys not even cutting into his mood. It had been a long time before Rick had been so struck by his flights of fancy. Not since he was a kid, not since he first fell in love. Whether that love had been true or not was arguable. He wasn’t one to second-guess his feelings, but he had been m
uch more careful since that first instance. He could allow himself to get swept up in the thought of not being good enough. Sure, he was certain the pretty boy cop thought he was just some worthless vagrant as it stood.
He was equally certain that he could prove his worth.
He recognized the signs of vague mania, but couldn’t find it within himself to dampen his mood. Better manic than chronically depressed like most people. He felt emotions particularly strongly, and he would rather feel elated than the alternative. It was something his parents had tried to medicate him for when he was a kid, but he stopped popping the pills when they made him feel like a zombie. He never felt the south pole of his apparent bipolar attitude, and had always felt cheerful. Perhaps inappropriately so, on some occasions.
For instance, he shouldn’t have been grinning from ear to ear as he snagged the wallet hanging out of a heavyset man’s pocket. However, as he cleanly plucked it away, he could scarcely contain his glee. He darted away, feeling as if he could erupt into song. He swung his hips from side to side, as if dancing with some invisible partner. In his arms, he pictured a pale-skinned, dark-haired lover.
Emptying the wallet of its cash, he tossed it behind the plump man, tapping him on the shoulder with a beaming grin. The man turned to him with a quirked brow, and Rick gestured to the wallet on the ground.
“Excuse me sir, I saw you drop this! You should really be more careful,” he said sweetly, not feeling the slightest bit of remorse as the man’s eyes widened and he shuffled to grab his wallet.
Arrested by the Dragon: Gay Police Paranormal Romance Page 2