The Dragon Protector

by Noah Harris

  “I don’t think that’s my place to tell.”

  “Oh, now you’re serious,” he grumbled, and she leaned forward. The pretend voice had fallen away, and now she sounded more genuine. She sounded like Portia.

  “I’m just saying it’s not my place.”

  “He’s told me Perry used to take advantage of him,” Jack prodded, and she bit her lip. The lipstick came off on her teeth. “I need to know these things.”

  “Okay.” There was a silence, and light rain started up, plinking against the windows. He turned on the windshield wipers, and in the reflection of the rear-view, watched Lucy’s eyes follow them thoughtfully. “He did take advantage of Ronnie. He didn’t give you specifics, did he?”

  “No, he didn’t.” She nodded, biting one of her thumbnails.

  “Okay. Well, I mean, I only walked in on it a few times. It was…shocking,” she chuckled humorlessly and then stopped herself. “I’m sorry. It’s just sometimes I forget that it’s real.”

  “What was it like?” Jack asked against his better judgment, his stomach feeling like it was filling with cement or sand or heavy rocks being thrown in one by one, clacking together.

  “Well, as I said, I only walked in on it a few times. But the times I saw were…there was this one time where, um, Ronnie was tied to the bed by his wrists, and Perry was just…he was choking him, really. He had his dick so far down Ronnie’s throat his face was blue. He kept kicking his feet. I still see his kicking feet when I think about it.” Jack swallowed hard, felt his hands grip the steering wheel so hard he thought he might break it. “Poor Ronnie,” she said, her voice cracking. “There was another time, it was so awful. He had blood all over the backs of his thighs, he was on his hands and knees, and there was just blood running all over his legs from his…his,” she broke off and took a long, shaky breath. “I pulled Perry off him, that time. And after that, Perry started making comments to me, like, threatening me. Like he could do it to me, too. I never walked in on them again, though. It’s like Perry hid it better, after.”

  Jack felt his jaw starting to hurt from clenching his teeth and released, sucking in a breath. The dragon inside him seemed to have burst into life, after being in stealth mode for so long. Protect, protect, protect. Just like when he’d seen Perry walking on the street below, his dragon chanted for Ronnie’s protection.

  He wanted to talk to Ronnie about it, promise he’d get his revenge, promise him that he’d never be in danger again, not after they found out who was sending the letters, but he knew, deep down, that Ronnie was like him. No matter what he’d been through, he didn’t want the attention, didn’t want people to focus on his pain. That must’ve been why he’d been so vague when he’d first discussed it.

  And it also must’ve been why he’d completely shut down when they’d brought Perry in. He remembered Ronnie, the way his animated face had closed in on itself, the emotion retreating back inside him. The stiff way he moved, the way he’d stared at the floor every time Perry looked at him.

  He could see, now, even more than before, why Fiona was so close to a social media influencer and former child star from LA, he wasn’t just that. Clara had clearly trusted Fiona when she’d explained why the case was so important, why he needed to come to Drake Street versus Jack traveling to him. Despite all his first impressions, he belonged there, with all the other misfits and broken, bruised people. With him, maybe. He shook his head, looking back self-consciously at Lucy. She was picking at her nails.

  Clara had clearly trusted him, too, to see that, eventually, to understand Ronnie. He hoped this revelation hadn’t come too late, he felt a surge of guilt over forcing Ronnie to tell him back in the bunker. Had he ruined it all, before it had even gotten a chance to start?

  “I didn’t know about all that. If I had…” he began slowly, and Lucy looked up at him and nodded. She leaned forward between the seats again, then paused.

  “Can I come sit up here?”

  “What?”

  “Up here, in the passenger’s seat.” He looked at the empty seat beside him, imagining Lucy talking his ear off, but found he’d developed a soft spot for her in these past few minutes. She’d told him the truth about Ronnie, something that had clearly been hard for her because of her love for him and her involvement with it, herself.

  “Yeah, I guess. I’ll just pull over,” he said, but she was already climbing over him into the seat. Her foot connected with his shoulder and she squeaked out an apology before settling herself in and buckling her seatbelt.

  “Safety first,” she chirped, giving him a smirk. “You said if you had known all that…”

  “I would’ve killed Perry, probably. He showed up on Drake Street for some business with one of the guys that were harassing him. Lucky I spotted him, well, unlucky for him. I let him go, though, when Ronnie kicked him out,” he said regretfully, his voice smooth and steady despite his seething.

  “Ronnie kicked him out?” she asked in surprise, and then leaned back. “I’m impressed. Little Ronnie’s all grown up and defending himself. No, I’m proud. Although it would’ve been nice if you’d killed Perry for us.”

  “Well, I still could,” he said darkly. It was roiling inside him, that bubbling fury.

  “You’re a very protective guy,” she noted approvingly, and he shrugged.

  “I can be.”

  “Phone call from Frankie J,” came the robotic voice of his car’s Bluetooth, and he cleared his throat with a look back at Lucy, then answered it.

  “I’ve got Ronnie and Portia. We just left,” she said, voice crackling over the speakerphone.

  “Hi, Ronnie, darling!” Lucy called, and they heard chuckling over the phone.

  “Hi, Luce. Sounds like you got out okay,” he replied, and just the sound of Ronnie’s voice, sounding like his usual self, gave Jack an intense feeling of relief regarding the mind-numbing rage and guilt he’d been feeling moments before.

  “We’ll be there soon,” Jack said loudly, and he heard Portia laugh on the other line.

  “You don’t have to yell, Dad, we can hear you,” she said, then muttered, “Old man.”

  “I heard that,” he warned, and Portia and Ronnie giggled. He held back a smile. “Frankie, you get us rooms?”

  “Two. One for you and the clients, one for Portia and me.”

  “Mom, I want to room with Ronnie,” Portia whined in the background, and he heard Frankie whispering irritably at her. Then a drawn-out, dramatic sigh.

  “Okay, well, see you there,” Jack said, ignoring the giggles coming from Lucy.

  “So how far is it, now?” she asked as he pulled into the parking lot of Angel’s Inn.

  “Not far at all.”

  “This place is…cozy,” Lucy tried, and Jack rolled his eyes.

  “It’s off the grid. It’s what you need,” he said, and she blushed warmly, clearly only a little bit embarrassed. It had taken longer than he’d anticipated to check in, the woman at the front desk was new and not very good at her job. It hadn’t been until Angel himself, a stag shifter, had sloped out of the office upstairs and heard the commotion that they’d been able to get into their room. Jack found him greasy, friendly with the wrong people, and wholly trustworthy.

  “Whatever,” she sang, falling onto the bed. He kicked his boots off and placed them neatly by the door, eyeing her dirty wedges. “You’re not sleeping next to me, are you?” she asked, wiggling her feet at him. He pursed his lips and walked to the window, peering outside. Nothing. The only other cars in the parking lot had been here when they arrived and were getting hammered by the rain just like his.

  “I’d probably kill him too if I saw him again.” Jack turned around abruptly, surprised. Her face was set, staring emptily at the ceiling. The scent of cherries and vanilla was now masked lightly by the spiced, musky scent of anger. He neared the bed and hesitated, and she lolled her head over to nod at him to sit beside her, so he did. “I hate that motherfucker.”

  “Me too, and
I’ve only met him once.”

  “I’d kill him with my bare hands,” she insisted, sitting up. Her curls were looser now, frizzy from the rain. Her makeup was smudged ever so slightly.

  “I don’t know about that, Lucy.” He turned and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, and she mimicked him, scooting closer.

  “I would. He deserves the worst possible death after what he did.” The rain slammed in sheets against the window, the only sound besides their breathing. Her anger seemed to fill the room as if she’d let it loose after holding it inside and letting it fester for years.

  Then the doorknob jiggled, and they froze. Jack watched it, muscles tense, and Lucy seemed to float behind him, breathing harshly in his ear. Peppermint breath.

  “Fuck,” Ronnie said, finally appearing in the doorway as it swung open a little harder than he’d obviously intended. Jack bolted off the bed, away from Lucy, who he realized had been clutching his shoulders. Ronnie looked up at him in shock and laughed.

  “Well, hi,” he said, shutting the door carefully behind him. His hair was wet, shaggy, and his face was covered in rain droplets. His wet clothes clung to his body, and Jack could see his nipples through his soaked t-shirt.

  “You’re wet,” Jack said dumbly, then regretted it. He felt his dragon stirring, puffing clouds of smoke from its nostrils.

  “I am,” Ronnie grinned in amusement, looking down at himself. Jack followed his gaze and then thought about that same body in the way Lucy had spoken of it in the car, and felt his throat close up and his eyes burn.

  “Did anyone follow you here?” Jack asked suddenly, stepping forward. “Are you all safe? Did anything happen on the way here, or before you left?” He put his hands on Ronnie’s shoulders instinctively, and then looked out the window again. No more cars except Frankie’s.

  “No, we’re fine, Jack,” Ronnie said, smiling up at him oddly and shrugging his shoulders like he was nuzzling himself into Jack’s hands. “Don’t worry.”

  “Now he’s talkative,” Lucy grumbled teasingly, and Jack lifted his hands off Ronnie like he’d been burnt, feeling exposed. He ran his hand through his damp hair and walked over to the window, keeping his back to them as Ronnie gave Lucy a hug and they talked about the chaos back at Fort Anaheim.

  “I heard there’s pink marble floors in almost every room,” Lucy moaned. “I wish I’d gotten to see them.”

  “You will after this is all over,” Ronnie assured her, and Jack felt a surge of pride. After this is all over. Despite it all, Ronnie still had faith in him to take care of it.

  “We should head to bed,” he said a few moments later as they talked, noticing the time on his watch. It was nearly four in the morning. Portia wouldn’t be going to school the next day, he knew that, but the rest of them needed to be ready for what tomorrow might bring.

  “Good thing I had my bag when you snatched me out of the car, Jack,” Lucy teased, and then pranced into the bathroom, leaving Ronnie and Jack standing across from one another.

  Ronnie stepped forward, looking up at him bashfully. The closed distance made the back of Jack’s neck feel hot. “I just wanted to apologize for what a mess this was. I shouldn’t have invited Lucy without asking you guys if it was okay first. I know what a drama queen she can be.”

  “You don’t need to apologize. I’m just glad you’re…I’m just glad everyone is okay,” he said gruffly. Ronnie noticed his slip-up and smiled at him. Was he batting his eyelashes on purpose?

  “Oof,” Lucy said, hopping out of the bathroom in a tiny nightgown. “I am exhausted.” She launched herself onto the bed and then shimmied under the blankets, pulling on an eye-mask. Then she popped out small flesh-colored earplugs and shoved them roughly into her ears. “Goodnight, boys. Behave yourselves,” she said, and they both flushed, looking away from one another.

  “I don’t know what she’s talking about,” Ronnie said under his breath, grabbing his bag and disappearing into the bathroom. He didn’t close the door, keeping it cracked, and Jack cleared his throat and ducked his head.

  There was a mirror, across from the bathroom on the wall, that Jack could see Ronnie through. He’d just barely caught Ronnie slipping his shirt off so slowly it seemed intentional before he’d caught himself. Unprofessional, he reminded himself, sitting down heavily on the other bed in the room. He’d be sleeping on the chair tonight.

  “Sorry I took so long. I wanted to rinse off really quickly,” Ronnie said when he emerged, wearing form-hugging sweatpants and a thin t-shirt. Jack shook his head and shrugged soundlessly, unsure how to respond and trying not to stare. He wasn’t sure what had happened. It was like he’d had this revelation about Ronnie, the baggage he carried, just like Jack did, and now the draw between them was even harder to ignore. His dragon paced.

  “That’s a good idea,” he said awkwardly, clearing his throat.

  “Frankie packed you some clothes, they’re in here.” Ronnie passed him the duffel bag, and he took it with a stiff nod before heading into the bathroom. His hand hovered on the doorknob as he subtly watched Ronnie climb into bed, realizing he’d be able to see him in that same mirror. He thought about that first night, Ronnie at the end of the hallway, Jack undressing in sullen silence. Their eyes meeting. Jack closing the door on him.

  He left the door cracked, slightly more than Ronnie had, and then faced himself in the mirror. He could see Ronnie settling into bed in the other mirror’s reflection. Don’t be a fucking coward. He’s probably not going to look. And if he does…would that be so bad?

  He peeled his shirt off and then dropped his trousers with some difficulty, as they stuck to his legs. Standing in just his wet boxers which clung to him uncomfortably tightly, he looked back at Ronnie’s reflection and his breath caught in his throat. Ronnie was lying in bed, but he had adjusted himself, so he was watching Jack undress. His eyes were prowling up and down his body, and Jack looked away before Ronnie noticed he’d caught him.

  Heart beating quickly and unsure why, he’d never felt like this with Frankie, never, not once, he slid his boxers down and stood back up, flexing his muscles a bit and pretending to check himself out in the mirror. Really, he was watching Ronnie’s eyes take in every inch of his body, Ronnie’s hand sliding down beneath the covers and moving rhythmically.

  Feeling himself harden immediately, he swallowed thickly and tried not to look back at Ronnie. How long could he stand here, basking in Ronnie’s gaze, until it got strange? Not much longer, he decided, and he turned to rummage around in the bag for his clothes. He found a pair of his underwear, some athletic shorts, and a t-shirt in a zipper pocket of the bag and pulled them out, standing up straight and looking out of the corner of his eye at Ronnie, whose hand was moving quicker underneath the bed clothes as he stared at Jack’s exposed cock.

  Ronnie bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut, and Jack watched him orgasm under the blanket, his hips jerking and his head rolling backward. He hadn’t made a sound, and it drove Jack crazy. He wanted to touch himself there and then, in Ronnie’s sight, to let the image of Ronnie pleasuring himself drive him over the edge, to imagine the sounds he might have made if they were alone, but he didn’t. Something held him back, maybe the thought of Perry abusing and taking advantage of Ronnie. He wanted everything that would happen, if it happened–God, he wanted it to happen–to be on Ronnie’s terms. And it couldn’t happen now, not while he was a client. He had to get control of himself.

  Getting dressed slowly, he willed his erection to go away, steadying his breathing. When it was less noticeable, he exited the bathroom stealthily, listening to Ronnie’s still-racing heartbeat as he settled into the armchair in the corner of the room.

  He fidgeted for a moment, struggling to get comfortable with the scent of Ronnie’s orgasm-induced sweat filling his nostrils. He covered his face with his shirt, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to ignore it.

  It was going to be a long rest of the night.

  Bittersweet Memories
/>   Ronnie

  They’d spent nearly the entire day in the motel while Jack had flitted in and out to talk to Frankie. Despite his absences, though, Ronnie felt like he couldn’t relax, couldn’t get his heartbeat to slow. Just when he thought he was calming down, Jack would burst back into the room to make sure they were okay, or to give them some vague update about Frankie’s search.

  Lucy, comfortable with doing nothing, was enjoying watching daytime television and ordering food delivered to the motel room, something Jack had not been happy with when he’d found out about it. And although about half the time it was just the two of them, him and Lucy, Ronnie felt like there was a wall between them. The anxiety of having the same stalker, but not wanting to discuss it.

  Arriving last night to Jack bounding off the bed and over to him, checking to see if he was alright…the obvious relief on Jack’s normally passive face had been like a love letter signed and delivered into his hands. He’d felt his head spin as he looked up at the hulking man, wondering, among other heady and lust-filled thoughts that had severely clouded his judgment the night before, what it all meant. Was this relief at Jack’s client being safe, or Ronnie being safe? Was it happiness to see him, or happiness that they’d all gotten to the motel intact, Frankie and Portia included? They were his family. It was delusional for him to think Jack would prioritize Ronnie, or even view him as equally important. He only hoped Lucy and Jack hadn’t noticed his labored breathing last night, the squeaking of the mattress as his hips had convulsed beneath the sheets. Neither of them had said anything, but he still felt on edge. He couldn’t believe he’d been so reckless, but that was part of it. He seemed to lose all judgment when Jack was around.

  “Frankie just finished scouting all the nearby CCTV cameras,” Jack said as he entered the room, a breeze coming in after him. It was late afternoon, and he’d been gone for a few hours, his longest disappearance of the day. “We weren’t followed, so that means we can relax.”