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 consider 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 h
usband. 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 much 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.
“Thanks, man. The wife would have bitten my head off,” the overweight man muttered, not checking his wallet before shoving it back in his pocket.
“I know the feeling,” Rick lied. In his fantasy marriage, there would be no disagreements or bickering over money. He would love and be loved, and money would be secondary. Maybe he’d work from home for a call center or something while he watched their kid. There was no question that there would be a kid in the picture, because Rick had always wanted a child of his own. Their first would be adopted, no doubt, and later they’d talk about finding an egg donor for a child of their own blood. Maybe they’d find some punk kid like Rick and take them in off the street. They’d give the kid a home, and the love that Rick had never known.
He paused, flipping through the wad of bills he’d managed to make off with. It looked as if the plump man had just walked away from the ATM, judging from the amount of cash Rick had been able to make off with. With a start, Rick realized that this was the last bit of cash he would need to put the down payment on an apartment.
He let out a loud whoop, and various people on the sidewalk looked at him with either fear or amusement. He was too far gone to care.
“Sorry, sorry. Nothing to see here,” he announced carelessly, darting down the street. He had to disappear from sight before the overweight man figured out what had happened.
He needed to find his stash, then make his way to the apartment complex. He’d put the money down, and it would be the first brick in his yellow brick road.
He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t notice the burly man in sunglasses approaching until a hand came down on his shoulder. He looked up, tilting his head curiously.
His eyes widened in recognition, and his happiness came to a screeching halt. Panic laced through his blood. He tried to back away from the man, looking for assistance from someone, anyone. The sidewalk was almost suspiciously empty, though Rick had little doubt that the people had cleared out upon spotting the suit-clad man. At least, upon seeing the gun on his hip.
“Rick Lamaar, yeah?” the man said, hand falling to the gun at his hip.
Rick made no attempt to deny it, knowing he was trapped. He nodded.
“You owe Big Jim Hawthorne an audience, bucko. Come along real easy, and we won’t make no extra trouble.” The man grinned toothily.
Rick took another hesitant step back, planning any possible escape route. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken.”
He felt the presence of someone close behind him, too close. As he turned around to face the new assailant, something hard and metallic hit the back of his head with a loud clang. He lurched forward, nearly knocked off of his feet. He struggled to keep consciousness, even as his vision went blurry. He might have screamed for help, but before he could fight it any further, he was consumed by darkness.
***
Daryl would be lying if he couldn’t confess that he was at the very least intrigued by the vagrant. It was just a fleeting thought, an idea that perhaps the man would be rather handsome if he were to clean himself up a bit. Daryl’s fascination would never amount to anything more than thoughts, however, as Daryl was extremely reluctant to commit to any sort of relationship, let alone one with a known criminal. The primal attraction was there, but there was little more than that.
He had felt the other man’s eyes upon him as he walked away, and he’d struggled not to walk any more stiffly than usual. He had more important things to concern himself with than cute vagrants.
He breathed a calming breath as he continued his route around the city, examining each alleyway with a disdainful expression. He could only wonder which alley that Rick fellow would be calling home tonight. At least if Daryl had locked Rick up, Rick would have a place to spend the night.
Ultimately, however, it wasn’t Daryl’s decision. He had very little sway in how things were done, especially in this city. It still irritated him that the veteran officers seemed all too eager for him to give up, and he could only wonder what he had done to invoke such a response from
them.
He knew he was dwelling on the issue too much. Sometimes it was as simple as not being likeable. He had never cared an awful lot what others thought; being a DNA experiment gone all too right never helped matters. Even those who had known his odd circumstances treated him more kindly than anyone in this entire city. Well, aside from Rick.
This city seemed so unlike the small town he had grown up in. There was no respect for the law, no respect for common courtesy. He had made an effort to be friendly, but perhaps it was a waste of time. No one seemed particularly receptive to his attempts. It seemed he would have to get used to the loneliness that accompanied his move, but somewhere in the back of his mind there was an odd thought he couldn’t shake. In spite of his certainty that he wouldn’t see Rick Lamaar outside of work, he couldn’t simply dismiss all thoughts of him. Perhaps he would offer him a nice meal, if he were to see him again. Certainly Rick would appreciate that. It wasn’t as if Daryl was soliciting him for anything illegal, just thanking him for the simple measure of kindness he had shown.
Resolved on that issue, at the very least, Daryl focused on his task of working the streets. He kept on high alert, eyes darting from person to person in an attempt to gauge their intentions. Everyone seemed remarkably normal, but he knew better than to fall for appearances alone.
He spotted a heavyset man in the distance, watching as he frantically flipped through the contents of his wallet. His eyes narrowed curiously, and he approached the man. The man looked absolutely crushed, as if some devastating blow had been made on his life; at least, on an emotional level. Physically, he looked healthy enough. Something had shaken him to his very core, however. As the man looked up and spotted Daryl, his fears seemed to sag away. He rushed to meet Daryl halfway, and Daryl waited for an explanation.
“Someone—someone stole a grand out of my wallet! I had just stopped at the ATM and was on my way home, and some guy told me I’d dropped my wallet. When I looked through it, all my cash was gone.” The man huffed and puffed as he spoke.
The Dragon’s Flight: Gay Paranormal Romance Page 19