Children of the Knight, Michael J. Bowler [classic book list txt] 📗

blushed again—man, he had to break that habit!

Jack gazed sadly at the redhead. “You know you don’t need to be out here anymore, Sam. Arthur will take you in.”

The boy smiled a desolate, hopeless smile. “Maybe. But I’m kind a addicted, you know?”

“To drugs?” Lance asked.

The boy shook his head. “Sex.”

Jack nodded, clearly understanding. “You seen Blue Eyes out here tonight?”

“Thought he was with you.”

“Long story. Listen, you wanna join up, you’re welcome any time. Arthur don’t judge us the way most people do.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Jack patted him on the back, and he and Lance strolled off down the street. The other two boys told pretty much the same story, except they were relatively new to the street, and didn’t even know Mark except from the news. But they genuinely seemed excited about joining Arthur’s crusade.

“All you gotta do is just show up and you’re in. Tell ’im Lance and Jack sent you,” Jack informed them distractedly.

Lance found himself drawn to one of the boys, a well-built, longhaired Latino named Ricky, who looked remarkably like him in size and appearance, and who bashfully asked for an autograph.

As Lance hesitantly signed the front of the teen’s white muscle shirt, Ricky gushed quietly, “I’ve wanted to meet you for so long.”

Stepping back, Lance wasn’t quite sure how to respond. Unlike all the girls who’d flirted with him so shamelessly, this wide-eyed boy seemed genuine and sincere. His open, expectant face, and homeless plight, touched Lance to the heart.

“Uh, thanks, man. I hope you join us.” Lance felt oddly connected to this boy he’d only just met, as though they’d known each other forever.

Ricky looked both joyful and miserable, but he nodded.

Lance offered his best smile. “We gotta bounce, Ricky.”

As they left Ricky behind, Lance leaned in to Jack. “That kid looked my age!”

He wondered why he felt so close to a total stranger. He stopped and looked back. Ricky stood beneath the pool of streetlight looking like he wanted to follow, and Lance was tempted to invite him. But then he thought of Mark, and their mission, and sprinted after Jack as he hurried along the busy street.

“He probably has parents like mine,” Jack offered matter-of-factly when Lance re-joined him. “Or Mark’s. He was only thirteen when I met him out here.”

Thirteen!

Lance tried to imagine how Mark must’ve felt out here, all alone, having to live under such horrific conditions.

Sometimes I’d pretend they loved me, you know, just ’cause I was so lonely. Mark’s words came back to haunt him because now he understood what his friend had meant.

And you never told him you loved him, did you?

Jack pointed out that there were hardly any boys out selling themselves, and that made him feel good about what they’d accomplished with Arthur.

Lance had noted the same thing. “But where’s Mark?”

Jack shrugged, his face clouded with worry.

Lance watched some of the cars cruise slowly past, the drivers obviously checking them out. A chill rippled through him. “Are all these cars, you know?”

“Johns, looking to do us?” Jack spat out with more vehemence than he’d planned. “Yeah.”

Lance shivered with revulsion. They stopped at an unoccupied corner and looked around.

“Well?” Lance asked. “What now?”

Jack shuddered a moment, and then stripped off his shirt and tied it around his waist. “This,” he said, disgust in his voice.

Lance gaped. “What’re you…?”

“It’s the only way, Lance. I gotta act like I’m selling to talk to these creeps. When they stop, I can ask about Mark. You go over there––” He pointed to a dark alcove. “––and hide.”

“Hell, no! I’m not leavin’ you out here alone.”

“You got to, or nobody’ll stop.”

“Why not?”

Jack pointed to Lance’s clothes. “Cause you don’t look like you’re selling.”

Lance considered but a second, and then stripped off his own shirt, tying it around his waist. “Now I do.”

Jack shook his head, turning red as he gazed at Lance’s naked torso. “Hell, no, Lance! I can’t let you. Some of these guys are dangerous.”

Lance stood firm, his muscles tight with anticipation. “I can take care of myself. Now let’s do this!”

Jack looked long and hard at him, looking ready to protest, but Lance met his gaze head on, and never wavered. Reluctantly, Jack nodded.

And so they stood and waited. Jack flexed and unflexed his chest and arms as a lure, and Lance couldn’t help but stare. He couldn’t bring himself to look anywhere else, despite his best efforts.

Fortunately, they didn’t have long to wait.

A dark sedan cruised past and made a quick U-turn back in their direction.

Jack tensed up. “Let me do the talking.”

As the car slid to a stop at the curb, Jack stepped forward, shielding Lance and giving him only a partial view of the man in the car.

But as the guy leaned his head out the open window, Lance saw he g was middle-aged, with professionally styled hair. He looked ordinary, like a doctor or lawyer.

The man looked at Jack, and his face lit up. “Well, if it isn’t Great Guns!”

Jack groaned.

The man glanced around, saw the street was essentially empty of boys, and turned back to Jack. “My favorite muscle stud is back. I thought you retired, buff boy, off to join the crusade. Missed me, I bet.” He winked lasciviously, and Lance’s stomach did a flip-flop.

“I’m looking for Blue Eyes.”

“I can do you much better than that little boy can.” He laughed. “And I pay, too.” He wiggled his eyebrows seductively.

Jack stepped forward with clenched fists, but Lance pulled him back, catching the man’s attention. His eyes bugged out of his head. “Whoa, what have you brought me?”

“No one! He’s not for sale!” Jack tried to push Lance behind him, but it was too late.

The man practically leapt from the car. He was dressed in a button-down shirt, sports jacket and slacks, and looked like he’d just come from a board meeting.

Lance stood his ground as the man came around the car and virtually drooled at the sight of him, undressing every inch of him with his eyes.

“You are the famous Sir Lance, the most beautiful boy I have ever laid eyes on,” the man cooed, his wide eyes pooling with hunger. “God, the things I’ve dreamed of doing to you.”

Lance recoiled.

Jack pushed the man back. “I told you, we’re not selling. We’re looking for Blue Eyes.”

Now the man looked cannily from Lance’s bare torso to Jack. “And what if I know where he is.”

Jack grabbed him by the lapels, his muscles bulging.

The man eyed him as though Jack were pond scum. “Take your guns off me, boy, or I’ll have your ass in jail so fast, your head will spin.”

Jack released the man and stepped back. “Sorry, Mr. D., I’m just worried about my friend.”

The man’s icy-hard eyes flicked from Jack to Lance. His eyes seemed to brim with lust, and he licked his lips.

Lance shuddered, frozen with terror.

Suddenly, he was six years old again….

“You like that, don’t you, my little fag boy….”

Holding his breath, Lance crossed his arms across his torso and cowered as Mr. D. tugged his ravening eyes away and turned them back on Jack. “And what’s it worth to you to find him?”

“No,” Jack insisted. “You can’t have him. I’ll go with you.”

Lance stepped forward recklessly, shaking off his past. “No, Jack, he’s lying. He don’ know nuthin’ about Mark!”

The man smirked. “Maybe, maybe not. See, Sir Lance, Great Guns, here, is a great lay, let me tell you. Awesome ass, unbelievable stamina.” Jack lowered his head in humiliation, and anger swept over Lance in waves. “But I’ve had his ass before. I want yours, and I’m willing to pay. I’ll clue you in on your little boyfriend and pay you, say, a thousand for the both of you? We’d make an awesome sandwich, don’t you think?”

Lance blanched with revulsion, and fury. How dare this prick talk about Jack like that?

“No,” Jack said firmly, swallowing his fear. “We’re done here.”

“We’re not done till I say so, bottom boy. I’m talking to Sir Lance here. How about it, pretty one?” That hungry gaze swept over him once more. “I have to have you. I’ll up it to two. Now that much money could certainly buy a few trinkets for this beautiful bod, eh?” And then he made his mistake. He reached out and placed one hand on Lance’s chest.

Lance unwrapped his arms and whipped out one of Arthur’s dirks, pinning it to the man’s throat so fast that even Jack stepped back in fright.

“Touch me again, you prick, and I’ll cut your throat!”

The man’s eyes bulged again, not with lust this time, but with terror.

“Now get your child-raping ass out of here before I cut off your balls and throw ’em down the sewer!”

Lance lowered the weapon just enough for the terrified man to slide down beneath it. Then Mr. D. was into his car and peeling off down the street before Jack could barely blink.

Lance held out the blade, though the man was long gone, his breathing ragged, his nerves thrumming.

“Lance?” Jack whispered uncertainly.

Lance turned to his friend, lowering the knife to his side. “I don’t like being touched.”

Jack blew out a breath. “Remind me never to piss you off.”

Lance slipped the knife back into the sheath inside his pants. His shaking had begun to subside.

“You’re pretty badass, Lance.” Then Jack’s face darkened, and the words seemed to choke in his throat. “About what he said, about me….”

Lance waved it away. “You’re my friend, Jack. That’s all I care about.”

Their eyes met, the moment awkward and uncertain, and then Lance impulsively hugged the bigger boy, partly to feel some basic human contact after such a disturbing episode, but also to reassure Jack that everything that prick said meant nothing to him.

He pulled away, and Jack smiled, slipping his tunic off his waist and pulling it over his head.

Lance did the same.

“We’re not doing that anymore,” Jack announced. “Too dangerous.” Then he grinned. “You might kill someone.”

Lance tried for a smile, but his heart pounded with dread. He might kill someone, he suddenly realized, and that truth terrified him. A lot.

“We’ll just keep looking till we find Mark,” Jack continued, glancing up and down the street once more. “He’s out here somewhere.”

Lance flinched when Jack placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, and flicked his eyes onto the older boy’s face apologetically.

“Sorry,” he gasped. “A little jumpy after that, I guess.”

Jack guided him to a strategic, but shadowed spot that offered a clear view of the strip. They sat up against a building, shoulder to shoulder and waited. But Mark never appeared.

Late into the night, Lance received a text on his phone. When he slowly pulled it out, he saw it was from Arthur. Should he open it?

“Aren’t you going to check it? Maybe he’s heard something.”

Lance opened the text, which read: Any word yet on Sir Mark?

Jack deflated when he saw that. “Damn.”

Lance hesitated again and did not thumb in a reply.

“Aren’t you gonna answer him?”

Lance frowned, and gloom overwhelmed him.

Anyone can carry the banner.

“Yeah.” He thumbed in No and then added, not yet. Then he slipped the phone back into his pocket.

“You okay, Lance?”

Lance nodded sadly.

“Aren’t you curious about how things are going back there?”

“Naw. They got it covered. Don’t need me.”

Jack opened his mouth