Arrested by the Dragon: Gay Police Paranormal Romance

by Clearwater, Julian

  “Hurts, don’t it? Imagine how hurt the boss was, when we told him you’d been hanging around with some pretty boy cop,” Mickey said.

  Rick’s heart thumped erratically in his chest. “How did you…?” he trailed off, watching as the crime lord’s right hand man swung the bat experimentally.

  “Please, kid. We got eyes all across this city,” Mickey muttered. He hesitated for a long moment, abruptly shifting his stance and slamming the baseball bat down against Rick’s knees.

  Pain gripped him, fiery hot, and Rick cried out. He needed to escape, but it was impossible to scramble away without the use of his legs.

  “Strike one was trying to rob the boss,” Mickey announced, allowing Rick to put a bit of distance between them. He smirked, lunging forward and bringing the bat down against Rick’s ribs. “Strike two was nearly getting busted by the cops,” Mickey continued as Rick fell limp to the ground. The pain in his ribs was nearly unbearable, and he could feel that they had likely broken in several places. Knowing that he wouldn’t escape this situation alive, he resigned himself to his inevitable death. Forget his golden brick road, forget the future he’d envisioned with a husband someday.

  Mickey continued, “Strike three was betraying the boss. Would you look at that? Seems like you struck out.” Mickey slammed the bat against the front of Rick’s face.

  Rick felt his nose break on impact, teeth shattering from the blow as well. Blood spilled from his lips and his breathing become so shallow he could scarcely tell if he was drawing breath or not. Had his skull been crushed? His brains scrambled? It seemed the most likely case. He kept his eyes shut, and could hear Mickey drop to his knees beside him.

  “You take care of it, Mick?” a voice called out.

  Cool air hit Rick’s chest as his shirt was torn open. It was all he could do not to scream as he felt a knife pierce his skin, slicing some pattern that was unknown to him.

  “Of course. We’ll drop off the body, then report back to the boss,” Mickey called back.

  With a start, Rick realized that Mickey thought he was already dead. Not a far cry from reality, but Rick wasn’t eager to tell him otherwise. He kept his breathing shallow, and he kept quiet even though his body screamed in pain as he was scooped up off the ground.

  His mind felt foggy, and he knew it was no small wonder that he had managed to retain consciousness. The sensation of falling overcame him for the slightest of moments, before he slapped against something slightly scratchy.

  “Aw, hell, Mickey. You’re getting my ride all bloodied up,” a voice said.

  Mickey simply snickered, and Rick heard the sound of a trunk slamming. When he was certain it was safe, he managed to blink one of his eyes open, only to be greeted by darkness. He was in the trunk of someone’s car, and if his suspicions were correct, they’d likely be lobbing him off the side of a bridge. He had survived this far, but he knew he wouldn’t survive that impact.

  A tear streamed down his cheek, both from the pain and the reality of his situation. He fished his phone out of his pocket, reading the text that had been sent. He smiled as he thought of the handsome police officer, and he wanted that text to be the last thing he saw.

  He shoved his phone back in his pocket as the car came to a stop, and he squeezed his eyes shut. He felt himself being lifted once more, and his attackers murmured to themselves as they carried him.

  “Too bad we won’t be able to see pretty boy’s face,” Mickey chuckled before unceremoniously dropping Rick.

  Rick was unable to brace himself for impact, finding himself hitting the ground much quicker than he expected. Once again, extreme pain engulfed him. It was no drop off of a bridge however. He heard the familiar sound of someone knocking on a door, and listened as the two men darted away.

  “Coming,” a voice called out from the other side of the door.

  Rick blinked his eyes open carefully. The brightness of the sun nearly blinded him. He was in front of some house, a rather nice one all things considered. The voice he’d heard sounded vaguely familiar, but his brain was so scrambled that he couldn’t quite place it.

  He stared at the door he had been placed in front of, his heart clenching in anticipation. Then, the door opened, and there stood Mr. Wonderful. Daryl looked around for a moment before his eyes fell upon Rick’s battered body. He gasped before crouching at Rick’s side to feel for a pulse.

  “Trying to get a feel while you still got a chance,” Rick managed weakly, smiling at the other man. Daryl’s eyes widened in shock, and he quickly gathered Rick into his arms before carrying the him inside.

  “I’ll call an ambulance,” he said quickly, settling the bloodied man on the couch and drawing his phone out of his pocket.

  “W-wait,” Rick managed, struggling to sit up. “What if they’re in on this whole thing, too?” He fell back against the couch with a groan of pain.

  “Well what do you want me to do, Rick?” Daryl cried, an odd desperation in his tone.

  “C-come on. You’re a cop. You gotta know some kind of first aid,” Rick said, meeting Daryl’s gaze. Daryl’s eyes were the softest he had ever seen them, and his heart gave a painful pang at the sight. “Come on. Please,” Rick said, reaching out for the phone in Daryl’s hand.

  Daryl hesitated a moment before handing it over reluctantly. “I’ll grab my first aid kit. You’ve got a lot more damage than I know how to handle but…you could be right. Don’t worry, Rick. I’ll take care of you.” Daryl brushed Rick’s hair away from his face before slipping away. Once he was out of sight and he was certain he was safe, Rick allowed himself to fall blessedly unconscious.

  ***

  Daryl cursed to himself as he sorted through the boxes stacked in his bedroom. He hadn’t had much time to unpack between moving here and starting his first shift at the police department. For all he knew, Rick could be bleeding out on his couch. For all he knew, he was helpless to save the other man. He could recognize broken bones from the visible dents in Rick’s ribcage, which had already been far too distinct. He’d have to pull some of the broken teeth, but that was only if he could sort out the rapidly bleeding cuts on the front of Rick’s stomach.

  It sent his own stomach rolling with sickness at the thought, the clear message being sent. Though it was jagged and difficult to make out, the words carved in Rick’s skin were unmistakable. You’re next.

  If Daryl had stayed far away from Rick, Rick would probably be okay right now. Daryl bit his lip, swallowing the remorseful cry that threatened to spill free. This was no time for him to feel sorry for himself, and though he knew he had only a fraction of a chance of saving Rick, he was going to do his damnedest. He ripped open another box, relieved to see his first aid bag sitting neatly on top. He grabbed the bag and rushed back into the living area, only to find Rick lying silent on his couch. He gasped, lurching forward to feel for a pulse again. It was faint, a slight fluttering beneath the skin of Rick’s wrist.

  He moved quickly. The bottle of antiseptic was cool against his palm, and he splashed some out to wash out what he could of the wounds. It was something of a blessing that Rick had fallen unconscious, as the agony from cleaning the wounds would likely be too much to bear.

  Daryl worked steadily and efficiently, repairing what damage his small amount of knowledge would allow. He could have likely done more if he had the proper supplies, but there was no denying that what Rick really needed was a hospital.

  He weighed the options of simply carrying the unconscious man to the nearest health facility, but the thought of the crime lord who had caused this injury gave him pause. He had only been seen in public with Rick for a fraction of a moment, yet somehow Jim Hawthorne knew about their budding friendship…if it could have even been called that. Now, however, now he didn’t know if he’d ever get the chance to truly know the man lying bleeding on his sofa.

  He closed his eyes, inhaling a shaky breath before going about sorting his supplies back in his bag. There was little more he could do regarding
the injuries—the cuts had been cleaned and stitched, the bones set as closely as he could manage. All that was left to do was wait for Rick to wake up, if he ever did.

  Daryl shook off that thought, rising to his feet and shuffling into the bathroom. He washed the other man’s blood from his skin and pulled his shirt off over his head. He would have to thoroughly bleach his clothes, but that seemed unimportant for the time being. He slipped out of the bathroom, glancing to Rick for the briefest of moments before continuing to the kitchen. At the very least, he could have a warm meal prepared for the two of them if Rick woke up. When. When Rick woke up, he mentally corrected himself.

  He grabbed a couple of steaks from his freezer, popping them in the microwave to thaw. While the microwave did its work, Daryl opened the door to his back deck, moving to start up his grill. He hadn’t had the chance to use the grill yet, really hadn’t had any reason. He twisted the knobs to the correct settings, busying himself with the menial tasks of preparing food to distract himself from the sheer travesty that had taken place. He felt as if he were worthless, as if nothing he could do would make the situation any better. All he could do was slap a bandage on Rick and carry on with his own daily routine.

  The reality of the situation had settled unpleasantly in his stomach, however, and it was impossible to ignore. If Rick survived, he had a long road of recovery ahead of him. Daryl also held little doubt as to whether the crime lord would follow through on his vow to kill him next. At the very least, attempt to kill him.

  He couldn’t help but quirk a bitter smile, knowing they would have a much harder time than they anticipated. He glanced inside, making sure Rick was still settled on the couch. Rick was beginning to stir, and Daryl’s heart pounded almost painfully in his chest as he swiftly shuffled away from the grill.

  He stepped back into the house, rushing over to the sofa and helping Rick sit a bit more upright. Rick groaned with every movement, seeming only vaguely aware of Daryl’s presence. Once he seemed to get in his right mind, however, his eyes widened as he looked Daryl up and down.

  “And I thought you looked good in the uniform,” Rick muttered to himself.

  Daryl felt his cheeks redden, but otherwise pretended not to hear the comment. He straightened, awkwardly rubbing his neck as he considered his words. “I made food. It probably would have made more sense to make you something soft, but this was what I had.”

  “I smelled steak. I think…I think it was steak. Was it? Please tell me it was steak,” Rick said, his eyes alight with excitement.

  Daryl was slightly put off by how quickly the other man’s mood had recovered, but he supposed he would be rather thrilled by the prospect of a steak dinner, were their roles reversed.

  “It’s steak. I have potatoes baking in the oven, and some corn on the grill as well. I hope you’re hungry.” Daryl grinned.

  “Yay!” Rick clapped his hands together, only to wince immediately after.

  “Save the theatrics, I can tell you’re excited,” Daryl teased, slipping away from the couch. He could feel Rick’s eyes following his every move, and he couldn’t help but put the slightest bit of saunter in his step. He knew the morality of the situation was growing vaguely skewed, but he couldn’t miss the obvious desire radiating from Rick’s body. Truth be told, he would be lying if he didn’t admit that he was harboring a slight crush of his own, but he knew he couldn’t act on it. It was bad enough that he had gotten Rick into this situation; pursuing Rick could only make things worse for both of them. Still…

  He fixed a plate for Rick, humming to himself as he worked. There was something nice about the thought that he was preparing dinner for a boyfriend. He had been alone for so many years, had never let anyone grow particularly close. He always thought his emotions were stunted when he never developed crushes on girls. Then he thought there was something entirely wrong with the crush he’d had on his undeniably male mentor. He’d come to terms with his sexuality some time ago, but he’d never had feelings for someone. Though he couldn’t pursue them, it was nice to actually feel, for once.

  He carried the plate into the living area, setting up a dinner tray in front of Rick. Rick stared at the food, seeming to nearly salivate at the sight.

  “Dig in, and get used to my wonderful cooking skills. You’re going to be staying with me for a while.” Daryl smiled as Rick looked at him with obvious disbelief.

  “W-what? Staying here? But, wouldn’t that be dangerous?” Rick fidgeted with his fork.

  Daryl chuckled, reaching out to mess up the other man’s hair. “Oh, you don’t think you’d be safe in the company of a big strong policeman?”

  Rick smiled and his cheeks turned a cute shade of pink. “I meant, dangerous for you. I couldn’t stand the thought of you getting hurt because of me.”

  Daryl moved his hand from the top of Rick’s head to his shoulder. He waited until Rick met his gaze, then spoke firmly to indicate that there was no room for argument. “I told you that I would take care of you, and I very well plan to keep my promise.”

  Rick struggled to speak, managing to sputter out some words of thanks.

  Daryl quirked his lips in a grin, realizing just how adorable Rick was. He knew it was a dangerous road to go down, but it couldn’t hurt to play house just for a little while. “Eat up. Then I’m giving you a bath.”

  Daryl went into the kitchen to fix his own plate, but he watched from the corner of his eye as Rick hesitated a moment longer before digging into the feast that had been laid before him. A sensation of warmth settled in Daryl’s chest, and he knew all at once that he was making the right decision. Though this arrangement had the potential to be dangerous for both of them, he was confident that he could take care of any trouble that reared its ugly head. Rick deserved to be taken care of, he knew that much for certain. It also helped that until Rick recovered, Daryl would be the one giving him baths. Daryl’s cock grew hard at the lewd thought, and he averted his gaze when Rick glanced toward him.

  After the troubles the two men had experienced, Daryl couldn’t help feeling that there could be nothing wrong with finding comfort in each other.

  The days following found the men growing closer and closer, but it was only a matter of time before Daryl had to return to work. He was reluctant to do so, knowing that he would have to fake ignorance regarding the situation with Big Jim Hawthorne. However, when the day came, he dressed in his freshly ironed uniform. He turned to Rick before stepping out the door.

  Rick watched him from the sofa, having made a rather remarkable recovery but still nursing his wounds somewhat.

  “I’ll be back tonight. I—” Daryl paused, cutting himself off mid-sentence. Though his feelings had only grown in the time they’d spent together, he was still reluctant to give voice to them. Especially considering that Rick may have only felt lust for him. “Be safe,” he finally said, then slipped out the door.

  He made his way to the police department, a feeling of unease settling over him as he drew nearer and nearer the station. The veteran police officers who usually greeted him seemed caught up in something—they were agitated and bickering. Daryl walked past them, stepping into the station to grab his keys and set off on traffic duty.

  “Newbie,” Chief Franklin called out, actually out of his office for once.

  Daryl hesitated, narrowing his eyes at the chief. In spite of what he knew, he had to remain cordial until he figured out how to solve this situation peacefully.

  “Chief,” he said amicably.

  The chief grinned, reaching out to rest a hand on Daryl’s shoulder. Daryl struggled not to fidget under his grip, and met the older man’s gaze with feigned confidence.

  “You did so well on traffic duty, we’ve decided to bump you up the ranks a bit,” Chief Franklin said with a sly quirk of his lips. “There’s a drug house on the outskirts of town that we’d like you to bust up. We’ve been doing surveillance, and there should only be one or two meth cooks in the place now. Simple enough to take on yours
elf, right?”

  Daryl hesitated, weighing his options. Though it was likely that this was some sort of trap, there was still a chance that the chief was oblivious to the information Daryl had been given.

  “I’ll do my best, chief. Thanks for the case,” he said, taking the keys to a cruiser from the chief’s hands and shuffling back outside.

  The veteran officers watched him with wary expressions, looking as if they very much wanted to say something. He nodded in their direction, then walked to the side of the building where the cruisers were kept. He got into his usual car, then shifted it into reverse and pulled out of the lot.

  The drive to the drug house was an uncomfortable one, but he knew he could handle anything a few druggies could throw at him. He parked several blocks away, drawing his gun from his holster as he ventured the final distance to the house. It was a rather nondescript building, and as he approached it, he was startled to hear a fearful cry from the next house over.

  “Help,” a feminine voice screamed.

  He whipped in the direction of the neighboring house. He rushed forward, not even pausing before he kicked the door in. The house seemed empty at first glance, but another scream echoed from the back of the house.

  “Please help me,” the woman cried out.

  He swiftly moved through the house. He made his way to a back bedroom, kicking that door open as well. He was relieved to find the woman curled up in the corner, looking fearful but otherwise unharmed.

  “What’s going on, miss?” Daryl asked, stepping closer to her.

  She continued to quake and sob, and he dropped to a crouch beside her, reaching forward.

  All at once, she jerked upright, aiming a gun at his chest. His heart stilled, and his eyes widened in fear. Her eyes flickered to the doorway behind him, and he realized with a start that they weren’t alone. Though it was painfully clear that he had been set up, there were very real tears streaming down the woman’s cheeks.