Naked Dragon (10 page)

Indicating he was okay, Robbie set back from him, pecked his lips in thanks, then whispered, "You want a drink?"

"Sure." Dave removed his waist pack and set it on the kitchen counter, then sat on one of the chairs near the table.

When he noticed Robbie's hands shaking as he poured some hard liquor he grew very concerned. "What happened?" he asked as a glass of scotch was handed to him.

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First Robbie downed the shot of booze, then he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. In a hoarse voice he said,

"It was horrific this time, David."

Dave's expression hardened.

"The coroner said the poor boy may have been alive for some of it. Oh, Christ..." he moaned.

Setting the glass down on the table, Dave stood up and held him again. "All right. Please calm down."

"Worst thing was..." he swallowed down a dry throat, "It was my fault."

"Shut up. You know that's crap. This guy's completely insane."

"No. When I spotted him, and he knew I knew, it made him very angry. I knew it would have consequences if we didn't find him right then and there. I knew it."

"Stop. Stop blaming yourself. You did an amazing job finding the guy at all. You shouldn't be upset. You should be proud of yourself."

A low sad chuckle came out of Robbie's throat. Dave reached for his full glass of scotch and handed it to him, taking the empty from his numb fingers. "You need it a hell of a lot more than I do." Hating the way his lover's hands shook, Dave bit his lip as Robbie downed the glass quickly.

Setting that one next to the other empty glass, Dave then led Robbie to his bedroom. He sat him down on the bed and knelt in front of him, removing his shoes, then unbuttoning his cotton shirt. When he had stripped him of his top half, he nudged him to face down on the bed. As if he had no will power or mind of his own, Robbie complied silently.

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Removing his own shoes first, Dave then kneeled on the bed and began massaging Robbie's back and neck, trying to comfort him.

"I fucked up. I let him slip away. I should have run faster, but I was across the fucking street. I had to cross four lanes of heavy traffic—"

"Robbie..." Dave whispered, "Stop. Stop torturing yourself."

"Torture?" he roared, turning his head around to show Dave his crazed blue eyes. "You want to know what real torture is? What that young boy endured for my mistake?"

Gripping both of Robbie's shoulders in his strong hands, Dave shouted back, "You didn't do it! You had nothing to do with it! The man is psychotic! He's playing games with you!

Don't let that lunatic get to you!"

As they stared at each other in suspense, Dave gasped as Robbie spun around on the bed and wrapped around his neck.

Planting his mouth on his and kissing him passionately, Robbie's tongue found its way inside Dave's mouth, sucking on his lips. It was frenzied, mad, chaotic. Robbie was tugging at Dave's shirt, then his jeans, desperate to get them off and feel his warm skin against his, all the while he refused to release the connection of their lips.

Each time Dave tried to make some space to take off his things, hands gripped his cheeks and drew him back. His shirt hanging off his arms, his jeans open but still on, Dave tried to slow Robbie down long enough to strip off his clothing, but Robbie would have none of it. His grip on Dave's neck and head were as if a python had hold of him. Giving up, Dave 92

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just wrapped around him and dropped down to the mattress with him, allowing those breathless kisses and whatever else this suffering soul needed to heal himself.

The intensity of the kissing slowed to a soft adoring pace.

His fingers spun around Robbie's long locks of hair as that masculine tongue explored his teeth, his lips, and his own tongue. Dave was content to just lavish in the make-out session and squirm on the bed as a hand would occasionally make its way downward and inside his jeans for a feel. After what seemed like an hour of necking, they parted to gasp for breath. With his chest rising and falling rapidly, Dave yearned for satisfaction and couldn't remember the last time he was this hard for this long without coming.

"Take those off," was finally whispered in his ear. Dave wiggled out of his jeans and briefs, then helped Robbie do the same. When they were both naked, they wrapped around each other again, moaning at the fire. Another seductive whisper soon followed, "Fuck me. Fuck me hard, lover."

His skin feeling as if it broke out in a rash of goose bumps, Dave sat up and reached for the rubbers and lube, still having a hard time catching his breath. Quivering with anticipation, like Robbie had in the kitchen when his hands shook, Dave couldn't control the trembling in his arms and wondered if he had worked out too hard earlier or it was just his excitement.

Robbie watched him prepare himself. When he was done, Dave sat back on his heels and waited. After a good long stare at his body, Robbie rolled over and raised his hips in the air.

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Once he had penetrated him, closing his eyes from the flash of fire, Dave grabbed that lovely cock and squeezed it tightly in his palm. The sound Robbie made was worth its weight in gold—lovely hissing gasp of absolute pleasure. It sent the hairs to rise on the back of Dave's neck. Thrusting into him, loving the tight heat, he gritted his teeth and came, all the while stroking Robbie's cock until he felt it ripple with life. A deep guttural grunt emerged from both of them simultaneously. Dave's hips shuddered and pushed in deeper in reflex as his hand once again filled with liquid lava.

Hanging his head as he recovered, Dave felt Robbie's body begin to shake. Pulling out, removing the rubber, and moving so he could see Robbie's face, he found him struggling to control his tears. "Oh no ... baby ... don't do this to yourself..." He crushed him in his arms and squeezed him so tightly he thought he would meld into him.

As if the flood gates had finally opened, Robbie let loose a torrent of tears.

Rocking him back and forth in his arms, his own emotions about to pop into hysteria, Dave bit it back with everything he had. "It's not your fault. It's not your fault," he cried.

"Oh, god!" he wailed, "I had him and I let him go!"

"Shush. No. We'll get him. We'll get him."

Then as quickly as it started it stopped. Dave felt a light tap on his arm. Releasing his death grip, he allowed Robbie to lie back on the soft pillows. His eyes were glazed and red, his cheeks were smeared with salty tears, but he was calm, serene.

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Dave reached down for the blankets and hauled them up to cover them both. Twisting back, he set the alarm clock and then very gently petted Robbie's cheek until his eyes closed and he fell asleep.

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"Yeah ... I heard he threw up. Tossed his cookies."

Sitting on the bench in the west precinct's gym, Dave cringed at the retelling of the tale about the poor cop who got sick after seeing the crime scene. Cops were nosy. Cops were insensitive. Or were cops just afraid of their own frailties?

"You didn't get sick, did ya, Harris?"

The same scrawny cops who were in there yesterday were back. He should have gone at a different time. "What the hell is your name, man?" Dave asked in annoyance.

"Me?" he asked pointing to his chest as if he were insulted.

"Pyle. Jim Pyle. And that's Oliver Duffy."

"More like a pile of shit!"

"Hey!" he shouted in anger.

"Look, asshole, if you haven't been to one of those scenes, don't judge another cop who has, all right? Just shut up!"

Pyle looked over at his friend to see his expression. He was eating crow. Dave knew they should be aware of how bad the scenes were. There was no excuse for their callousness.

"Sorry, man," Duffy mumbled. "We just were kidding. We know it's hard to stomach that shit."

"Believe me, the guy feels bad enough. So, don't fuel the stupid comments." Dave went back to his work-out, infuriated with the conversation. This spree was affecting everyone who came in contact with it. And he knew that better than anyone.

* * * *

Naked Dragon

by G.A. Hauser

"Let me off here."

Agent Green shook his head in annoyance. "What do you mean, let you off? Where the hell will you go on your own?"

"Just sit tight, Taylor. We'll find him again," Agent Green said.

"I said, let me off here!" Robbie roared.

Swerving the steering wheel in anger, Agent Green jerked the car to a stop and threw it into park. Before Robbie climbed out, Agent Skinner asked calmly, "What frequency are you monitoring?"

"Both, east radio and ours."

"Call when you want us to come and get you."

"I will." Robbie climbed out, checked that his radio was on so he could hear both transmissions by scanning two channels, then touched his gun lightly as it sat in his shoulder holster as if for some reassurance.

The sedan left with a tiny chirp of the rubber on the tarmac, almost as a last word on them being shunned. It didn't matter. Robbie never worked with them before, and wouldn't again after this case.

Getting his bearings, he began strolling down South Main Street passing butcher shops with skinned greasy ducks hanging from hooks, herbal shops with Chinese symbols on their windows, restaurants with the scent of cooking fat wafting out into the warm muggy drizzly air, and doors to apartments in between them, scarred or tagged with graffiti.

It was early. He must be still deciding on a victim. Two cops on bicycles passed Robbie not realizing who he was.

They were in brightly colored jackets, yellow and blue, and 97

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looked young, trim, and handsome as they chatted to each other, scanning up and down the allies simultaneously.

Several other police officers were walking the beat, more were cruising in unmarked cars, obvious to his eyes, and certainly obvious to the killer's. The streets were crawling with officials. It didn't seem possible they could miss him.

But, only he knew his face.

As he turned a corner he noticed a small park with only three tall shady trees and one bench. A group of Asian teens were all hanging around, smoking cigarettes and laughing.

Staying back from them, he positioned himself against the wall of a building and watched. In his ear the drone of dispatched calls ran on and on; traffic accident on Broadway and Pike, shoplifter being held at Safeway, transients annoying passersby on Fifteenth Avenue East, gang members loitering at Dick's Deluxe.

An hour passed. The boys started to leave, spreading out in all directions. Robbie rubbed his exhausted face and yawned. Moving his stiff legs, he walked to a tiny café and ordered a coffee. Thanking the man behind the counter, he sipped it, found it was scorching hot, and then stood outside the doorway to relax as it cooled off before he drank it. He felt someone watching him.

Darting his eyes across the busy boulevard he just missed someone ducking in-between buildings. "Oh, no, you don't."

He dropped the coffee and it splashed in a brown steaming puddle at his feet, then he took off, swerving around beeping cars, after the man. Fumbling with his mike, he depressed it and shouted, "X-ray 440 Adam in foot pursuit!"

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The dispatcher acknowledged him. "Location, X-ray 440

Adam?"

Robbie looked up for a street sign. "Shit, shit..." He just caught sight of the tail of the man turning another sharp corner.

"Location X-ray 440Adam?" was requested with more urgency. When he didn't answer, the dispatcher asked if anyone knew his last location. Agent Green was heard telling the dispatcher where he had dropped him off. Instantly the air was overloaded with cops offering to find the missing FBI agent.

Robbie couldn't get a word in edgeways any longer as cop after cop cut him off as they offered assistance. "Screw it!" he growled, giving up, and tried to increase his speed as it seemed as if he couldn't catch up to the rat.

Sirens wailed once again throughout the city.

"Stop running you fucking coward!" Robbie screamed in fury. "Pick on someone your own size!"

When a bullet whizzed by his head he dug in his heels and halted, pressing against a brick wall and took out his gun.

Again he keyed the microphone's button only to be cut off by someone asking for an update. "Shut up you idiots!" he snarled. His heart pounding, he moved away from the wall and crept with his loaded gun aimed and scanning the area.

He still had no idea where he was. As he craned his neck looking for some landmark or sign, another bullet ricocheted off the wall above him.

* * * *

Naked Dragon

by G.A. Hauser

Dave was going completely insane. Sitting in his living room with the police radio in his fist, he was dying. The last thing he'd heard was Robbie on a foot pursuit, then nothing but the morons on the streets offering to find him. His skin crawling with fear, Dave knew Robbie had found the bastard.

"Shut up and let him back on radio!" he screamed at the thing. Beads of sweat began to appear on his lip. "I can't stand this!" He strapped his gun on, grabbed his truck keys, and ran out of the condo.

* * * *

Adam."

Radio answered him anxiously.

"I'm being shot at. I still am unsure of my location, but I know I am north of Main Street."

"Shots fired. Somewhere north of South Main Street," he echoed.

"What cross street?" someone asked over the air.

"Cross street, X-ray 440 Adam?"

"Shit, shit, shit..." he breathed. "Unknown," was all he could say. It wasn't his city. He hadn't a clue. Pausing another minute, he moved off the wall and waited, his gun and eyes scanning every window, every movement. In the eerie silence he inched along a dirty brick building. He needed to get a location out over the air if he was to get any back up. Nearing a corner of the wall, he paused, caught his breath, then spun around it brandishing his gun. It was empty. "You fucker! I'm 100