Conrad Kelly Sheik of the Streets120504 0255

Sheik of the Streets

The Sheik was a shadow, a black suit, a terror on a motorcycle, a
ghost that haunted the dirty streets of the ghetto. With a cop's

badge on his chest and a Harley beneath him, his job was to rid
the streets of crime. He busted every dealer, every prostitution

ring, and every back-alley gambling ring until he finally owned the
streets.

His real name was Johnny Pirelli, and in another life he was
daredevil stunt rider, Johnny Blaze. And then one night Johnny

finds a kid he thinks is worth saving. That kid's name is Blondie
Lister, a street punk with blue eyes and a smart mouth, who, if he
takes just one more step, will end up on death row. That night, in

the midst of graffiti, gangs, and danger, the ghetto cop and the
smart-mouthed street punk fall in love—beneath the blade of a

knife.

Genre: Alternative (M/M or F/F), Contemporary
Length: 32,155 words

SHEIK OF THE STREETS

Kelly Conrad

EROTIC ROMANCE

MANLOVE

Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com

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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Erotic Romance ManLove

SHEIK OF THE STREETS
Copyright © 2012 by Kelly Conrad
E-book ISBN: 978-1-61926-659-9

First E-book Publication: June 2012

Cover design by Jinger Heaston
All cover art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be
reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including
electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without
express written permission.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance
to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com

Letter to Readers

Dear Readers,

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Conrad from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you.
Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

Regarding E-book Piracy

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The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying
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This is Kelly Conrad’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect
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SHEIK OF THE STREETS

KELLY CONRAD

Prologue

Oh, God, he was dead.
His head bashed in.
While standing and looking down at the poor sucker who was

bleeding all over the pavement, Blondie Lister grew panicky. He had
an urge to run, to hide, but he couldn’t seem to move. Fear had
paralyzed him to the spot. There were sirens screeching in the night,
erratic lights piercing the darkness, and black and whites
materializing out of the night. He jerked his head around, looking for
something, anything, a place to hide. Maybe he hadn’t done it, but he
saw it happen and knew who did. Even if the police did believe him,
they still wouldn’t let him go. He was an eyewitness, and they’d want
to hold him for questioning. Any talking at all would put his life in
jeopardy. What should he do? Stick around and let the fuzz put the
steel bracelets on him and take him down to the station—or get the
hell out?

He decided on the latter. Scared shitless, he finally managed to get

his feet to move and began running. The night was still young yet, and
every thief, pervert, and gangster in this city was out on the streets. As
he ran, he felt vulnerable, like the night had a thousand eyes—
everywhere—and they were all watching him. And then it happened.
He suddenly felt someone grab him around his neck and pull him into

Kelly Conrad

a dark alley. Hands of steel pushed him up against the wall of a
building and then smashed a forearm up against his throat. He
couldn’t move. He could hardly even breathe.

“You’d better keep your fuckin’ mouth closed, got that?” Panther

whispered in his face.

“Mommy!” the kid cried out, followed by a nervous laugh as if it

were all a joke.

“You tryin’ to be funny or somethin’? Look, kid, we ain’t playin’

cops and robbers here, and yo’ mama ain’t nowhere around.”

“Could I recommend a breath freshener?”
An abrupt slap stung his face, knocking his head around.
“I’m tired o’ foolin’ with you, boy. Now, you start answerin’

some questions, or you just might find yourself swimmin’ in
garbage.”

Just then Blondie saw three thugs slink out of the shadows

wearing iron knuckles and toting baseball bats—with blood on them.
He recognized them as the ones who killed the creep in the street.
“Look, I didn’t tell anyone. As soon as I had the chance I ran. The
police hadn’t even got there yet.”

“Did you see the Sheik? Was he anywhere around?”
“The Sheik? No. He must’ve been off duty.”
“That bastard ain’t never off duty. He’s always sneakin’ around

gettin’ into my business. Right now he’s probably somewhere
watchin’ every move we make. That motherfucker’s a real pain. He’s
been messin’ things up long enough. I can’t even take a leak without
him breathin’ down my neck. I think it’s about time he found himself
another beat. Like in Hell, maybe.” Panther cut his cunning gaze over
at Blondie, and said, “I’m gonna see he gets there.”

“What…what does that have to do with me?”
A wicked smile appeared on Panther’s face. “That’s your job,

smart-ass.”

“My job? I don’t understand.”
“What are you, dense? You’ll kill the sucker.”

Sheik of the Streets

Blondie’s eyes widened. “Kill him? Me?”
“Yeah, you.”
“But why? I ain’t one of your gang.”
“That’s the point, freak. You ain’t one of us, so that leaves us in

the clear.”

Blondie began to struggle. “Look, you fuckin’ retard, I ain’t killin’

nobody.” He felt a stinging slap and pain when his head hit the side of
the building.

“Don’t you know nothin’, you stupid bastard? They’d suspect us

right off. Fuck, anything happens in this neighborhood, they haul us
down to the station before the fool’s blood turns cold. We need a
shield, and that’s you. While they’re foolin’ with you, we’ll have time
to set up an ironclad alibi so tight they won’t be able to blame us for
anything.”

Blondie knew he’d never leave that alleyway alive if he didn’t

agree, so he had no other choice but to go along with them. “All
right,” he whispered angrily. “When?”

“That’s better. It’ll have to be tonight.”
“Tonight? Hell, that’s too soon. Give me a little time, for God’s

sake!”

“There ain’t no time, sucker, so here’s the plan, see. Sometimes he

goes to The Sweet Pea to eat.”

“What if he don’t?”
“Then find him,” Panther said as he pushed a knife in his face.
“Where? I don’t—”
“Look, just be at The Sweet Pea…” Panther hesitated a moment.

“You do you know him, don’t you? I mean, when you see him? He’s
a big dude, dark hair, walks like he owns the world.”

“I know him.”
“All right. Just be there when he comes in, and…what the hell am

I tellin’ you all this for? Can’t you fuckin’ think for yourself? I don’t
care how you do it, just make sure I hear sirens, see blood, and them
fuckin’ Black Devils runnin’ all over the place. If I see all that I’ll

Kelly Conrad

know the job’s been done.” With that, he yanked Blondie toward him
by the collar and then threw him into the street. “Remember. If this
don’t go down the way I want it to, you’re gonna be eatin’ dirt.”

As Blondie got up off the concrete, he watched the four of them

run down the alley while he winced and rubbed his throat. Right after
he arrived at The Sweet Pea, he did one more thing. He swiped a
butcher’s knife. It seemed the best way to go. Quiet, deadly—and
quick.

Sheik of the Streets

Chapter One

He was an imposing silhouette against the lights of the streets.
He stood tall, dark, and deadly. In his black uniform, he could

blend in with the night, slithering in and out of close quarters like the
most venomous snake. He carried a gun on his hip, and a billy club
hung at his side. He walked strong, not nervous, always looking over
his shoulder for something to happen. This giant was dangerous to all
the street punks, dealers, and gangs in the area. He did his best to keep
the streets safe, but between Hamilton Heights, Sugar Hill, Central,
East, and West Harlem, it wasn’t an easy thing to do.

Since he’d been a cop, he’d been called everything in the book.

Copper, pig, 5-0, fuzz, buzzkill, he’d heard them all—but the gangs
on this beat called him the Sheik. The name had stuck so hard and fast
that even the other cops at the precinct called him that. So, with
deadly black eyes, and a black uniform covering his back, he
swaggered along these busted up streets of New York like it was the
bed he slept on—and for some, it was.

Now, as he slammed into his apartment, he thanked God for the

silence. But he knew it wouldn’t last long. He tried to leave it all
outside, but he couldn’t escape it. Sometimes the blessed silence of
his world would be sliced through with the sound of gunshots, gang
slang, ugly curse words, and even the pickup lines of the street girls.
He wasn’t fooling himself. Even when it was quiet, it still echoed
over and over in his head because it was ingrained so deeply into his
psyche. He lived in a crummy little brownstone three flights up. It
smelled, and was decorated with graffiti, but on a cop’s salary, it was
the best he could do.

Kelly Conrad

He lived in the tub.
After being out on the mean streets of New York all day long, and

some nights, he practically rubbed himself raw to get rid of the blood
and mud. But there was nothing he could do to get rid of the pictures
of death that danced in his head.

Now, as he looked in his mirror, he saw a wet head with hair that

was dark and curly. His eyes were dark and didn’t look too friendly,
but that was good. If anyone came along with one little sign of
weakness—even sweet little blue eyes—the street punks would go
after them. No, he had to throw his weight around every Goddamned
day, and scare the hell out of those who could be scared. He did his
job, and as a result many of the gang members were behind bars, but
there were those that were still at large, so he still prowled the streets
night and day. He was also glad that his face was chiseled and hard
looking, but he had one thing he couldn’t disguise. His damned lips
were so fucking sexy, he had seriously thought of getting an operation
to take the sex out.

Cut it out, doc. Take the sex away, and leave me with them thin

kind of lips. You know, the kind Dirty Harry had. You see, I need it for
my job. When them Goddamned street punks see these lips, they start
makin’ kissin’ sounds until I have to punch ’em hard in the stomach.

Hell, he’d thought of it time and again, but even if he had the

money, he didn’t have the nerve. So, he tried to make up for his too-
pretty lips in other ways. But he wasn’t fooling anybody. They knew
how to get to him. Many times during his walk along the cracked
asphalt with his gun and billy club hanging along his side, he might
hear some stupid kid race by in a car, stick his head out, and say,
“Hey, Sheik, take care of them lips, now.” The taunt was always
followed up by the kid making them stupid kissing sounds.

“Bastard,” he’d mumble and keep going.
And then from some other direction, he’d hear, “Hey, Sheik!

What’s goin’ down, baby?”

Sheik of the Streets

“You, if you don’t follow the straight and narrow,” was always his

reply.

“Hey,” the kid would say, raising his hands. “I ain’t done

nothin’.”

The Sheik was no dummy. He knew the kid had probably broken

at least ten laws that day, but with no hard evidence, or some eye
witness that was willing to come forward with the truth, he couldn’t
make it stick. It was no secret that the gangs around here had their
ways of making any onlookers think twice about speaking up.

Now, as he looked in the mirror, he asked himself, Why the hell

am I here? These kids will most likely live and die in the gutter, and
no one, not even God Almighty, can do anything about it.

He looked down at his watch and noticed it was dinner time, but

since he had nothing in his refrigerator, he knew he’d have to go
down to The Sweet Pea diner again. He hoped that being in civvies
would get him in and out without having to bust some kid for robbery.

* * * *

The minute he walked into The Sweet Pea, a middle-aged woman

everyone called Mom called out to him, “Hey, Sheik, what’ll it be
today?”

“The usual,” he mumbled while sliding onto a stool, and looking

around at the people. His sharp gaze darted, cut, and shifted as he
looked the customers over for a possible troublemaker, but it got to
where the faces all looked alike. Hell, to him, everyone looked
suspicious.

And then he saw him.
One face that didn’t belong.
As handsome as hell and full of troubles.
He sat in a corner booth and was looking down into—what was it?

Iced tea? When the Sheik got his sandwich, he picked it up and made
his way over to the guy’s booth and sat down. When he saw how he

Kelly Conrad

was looking at his sandwich, he said, “You hungry?” He didn’t say
anything, only kept his head lowered, so the Sheik yelled out, “Hey,
Mom, another sandwich, okay?”

“Comin’ up.”
He pushed his own sandwich over to him and said, “Eat. I’ve got

another one coming.”

Without saying anything, the guy snatched it up and began eating.
When the Sheik saw how he was shoving the food into his mouth,

he said, “Hey, take a breath, okay? There’s more where that came
from.” He hesitated for a moment and then figured he should
introduce himself. “By the way, I’m—”

“I know who you are,” the kid mumbled as he bit down on the

sandwich and chewed hungrily. “You’re the Sheik.”

“That’s what they call me, yeah, but my name is Johnny Pirelli.”

He waited a moment and then said, “What’s yours?”

He picked up a napkin and wiped his mouth. “They call me

Blondie.”

“Yeah, I wonder why?” Johnny mumbled while looking at his

blond hair. He indicated to the sandwich. “Is the sandwich good?”

“Yeah, b–but I don’t have any money to pay you for it.”
“That’s okay. I wasn’t expecting any.” His gaze shifted toward the

iced tea. “How did you plan on paying for that?”

Blondie looked up at him shyly. “I guess I didn’t plan on it. I—”
“I know. You were just gonna get up and run out, right?”
“Either that or wash dishes.”
“Well, if you’re gonna wash dishes, it would seem to me you’d

want to wash them for a lot more than it would take to pay for an iced
tea.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
Johnny looked the guy over, noticing a bloody scratch on the side

of his head. “Where’d you get that?”

Blondie reached up to feel of the scratch, and for the first time he

noticed the blood. “Oh, I…I must’ve, uh, hit my head on something.”

Sheik of the Streets

“I see,” Johnny said, knowing he wasn’t telling the whole truth.

“Got a place to stay tonight?”

“Sure. A stone pillow in the next alleyway,” Blondie said

sarcastically.

Johnny could hear the sarcasm in his voice, but let the reply slide

right off him. “That can’t be very comfortable. Say, I have a couch
that might be a little lumpy, but I think it’ll be more comfortable than
a stone pillow.”

“Why would you do that?”
“Why do you think? To keep you from sleeping on the streets.”
“But there’s a lot—”
“Look. I can’t save the world, but I can keep one soul from

entering the Gates of Heaven before his time.”

“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean gettin’ beat up or killed. Look, Blondie, the blood on your

head…you ain’t foolin’ nobody. Somebody busted your head up
good. The fact is, you can’t stay on the streets, especially with them
pretty looks. Hell, if you don’t get yourself killed, someone’ll latch on
to you and make you sell your body on a street corner. It’s cold, and
rainy, and if you don’t catch pneumonia, you just might wind up in
someone’s trash bin with a knife stuck in your ribs. Now eat that
fuckin’ sandwich, and let’s get on back to my place. I warn you now.
It ain’t the Ritz, but it’ll keep you warm and dry.”

“Are you arrestin’ me?”
“Hell, no. I just want to keep you alive. Now eat.”
The young man picked up the sandwich while Johnny relaxed in

the corner of the booth and watched him dig into his food. He could
tell he was plenty hungry, biting, chewing, and taking a sip of tea
while his eyes darted as if he were afraid someone was going to take
it away from him. His hair was a wavy mess of blond mixed with a
darker blond. It was thick, and even though it was combed back, it fell
forward, so when he peered upward, he seemed to be looking from
beneath a canopy of thick, unruly blond strands that trembled every

Kelly Conrad

time he moved his head. It made him look like a real bad boy. Only
the top was a pale blond. It turned darker as it lowered into his neck
and sideburns. His slight beard was dark, and his—oh, my God,
wouldn’t you know it? Blue eyes. With all that blond hair and blue
eyes he might as well hang a sign around his neck that said, “Beat the
hell out of me!”

He looked to be over six feet, and had a body that would be fit

enough to handle one tormentor, but six or seven? No way. He’d have
to be a superman with special powers, and even then it might not be
enough. For some reason he wanted to take this baby home with him
and protect him from all the guns and knives that were wielded
against him. He was old enough for a lot of things, but still young
enough to be some mother’s son. That was enough incentive for him
to try to do that mother a favor, and keep him off the streets and out of
the hands of those who would want to use him for their own gain.

“Where are you from?” Johnny asked.
“The wrong side of the tracks.”
“Look, enough with the smart-ass answers here. If I ask a

question, it’s because I want to know the answer.”

“Why? Why the hell are you interested in me? If you think I’ll

talk, forget it. I don’t know nothin’, and even if I did, I wouldn’t tell
you.” He hesitated a moment, his gaze raking over the Sheik’s body.
“You’re the enemy. Them civvies don’t fool me. You got a cop suit at
home that means I’m a dead man if I tell you one thing that you don’t
already know.”

“So, you’ve been threatened, huh?”

* * * *

Blondie clammed up. Not another word. This guy was smart, and

as tricky as hell. Another five minutes with him and he’d be spilling
his guts. He couldn’t take the chance, so he got up to leave.

“Hey, where you goin’?”

Sheik of the Streets

“Home to my castle on the Riviera.”
The Sheik jumped up and came after him. “You know, you got a

smart mouth on you, kid. If them blue eyes don’t do it, that mouth of
yours will.” Tired of fooling with him, Johnny grabbed his arm. “I’m
runnin’ you in for peein’ on the street.” Grabbing him by the arm, he
pushed him out on the street.

“For what? I didn’t do that.”
“Yeah? You’re a street punk, ain’t ya? Where do you do your

business? On the street right?”

“Okay, copper, if I’m gonna be accused of it, I might as well be

guilty of it.”

When the Sheik looked down, he saw this son of a bitch holding

his cock and peeing on his shoes. “Why you little creep! I oughtta—”
He held his hand up to slap Blondie, but caught himself just in time.
Instead, he jerked him toward his police cruiser.

“Go ahead. Hit me,” Blondie spat while struggling. “Ain’t that

what you cops live for? Beatin’ up on some—”

“You watch your mouth.”
“Hey, copper, since we’re such good friends now, tell me where

you live. Then instead of peein’ on the street, I’ll come over and pee
on your doorstep, and then I’ll wash up in the stinkin’ rainwater that
drips down off your house.”

“What the hell are you? Crazy?”
“Hey, I ain’t the one who’s crazy here,” Blondie yelled as he

struggled to get away.

“Yeah, I’m crazy all right,” the Sheik said. “Crazy for wantin’ to

save a hot-headed little bastard like you.”

“Then take your hands off me, and let me go back to my castle in

Spain!”

“Hell no! You’ve done gone and made the Sheik mad, and if you

know anything about me at all, you know that you don’t make the
Sheik mad. Give me all the smart-ass answers you want to because
before this is over, you’re gonna talk like a fuckin’ gentleman!”

Kelly Conrad

Blondie began fighting harder and trying to jerk his arm out of the

Sheik’s grasp, but the harder he struggled, the tighter the Sheik’s grip
became. “You’re a fuckin’ bastard, you know that? And you’re way
out of line here. I was just settin’ there—”

“You didn’t pay for your iced tea,” the Sheik said as he pulled out

his steel bracelets and clamped them on Blondie’s wrists.

“Handcuffs? Hey, what’s goin’ on here?”
“Simple, kid. You’re in the hands of the Sheik when he’s mad,

and between you, me, and the street light there, I wouldn’t wish that
on my worst enemy.”

“If it’s about the iced tea, I’ll work it off. Now let me go!”
“Too late, smart-ass. You’re mine tonight!”
Blondie struggled while Johnny continued to drag him along

beside him. When they got to his police cruiser, he opened the door
and pushed him in. Leaning down, he looked into Blondie’s blue eyes
and said, “You know what? I’m enjoyin’ the hell out of this.”

“I’ll just bet you are,” Blondie said, and was just about to spit in

his face when the Sheik moved away.

Rounding the cruiser, he slammed in, and said, “Your door there

opens from the outside, so don’t even try to escape.”

“Let me out of here! You can’t take me in for one little old iced

tea. A fuckin’ dollar and a quarter ain’t worth a night in jail.”

As Johnny drove, Blondie looked around, his head turning wildly.

“Where the hell are we goin’? This ain’t the way to the precinct. I
know what you’re doin’. You’re takin’ me out to some abandoned
warehouse so you can kill me.”

Johnny snickered. “You kids watch too much damned TV.”
“Yeah? What kind of TV do you think I have livin’ in a

Dumpster?”

Johnny just looked over at him and smiled as if he were amused.

When they finally pulled up in front of a brownstone, he said, “Home
sweet home.”

Sheik of the Streets

“Damn,” Blondie said, as he wilted back in his car seat. “I should

have known you’d pull a fast one on me. Well, I’m tellin’ you right
now, I ain’t stayin’ here.”

“Oh, yes you are. Know why?”
“Because you think you own this fuckin’ city. Well, listen here—”
“Because I’m bigger than you are, so you might as well face the

fact that for tonight at least, you’re gonna sleep inside.”

“You’re such a stupid ass. You want to protect me from the punks

on the street, but tell me, Sheik, who’s gonna protect me from you?”

Kelly Conrad

Chapter Two

Later, when all the lights went off and Blondie sank down into the

comfort of the couch, he could feel sleep nipping at the edge of his
consciousness wanting to come and take him, but the youthful
rebellion roiling around inside him wouldn’t let him surrender to it.
He wondered why the Sheik hadn’t handcuffed him to the couch. The
Sheik wasn’t a fool. He had to know that he would run away the first
chance he got, but this wasn’t a jail, was it? And the Sheik was the
kind of man who would rather trust him than lock him up and force
him to stay. He also knew that the couch felt like heaven in
comparison to a dirty alleyway, and that for the first time in a long
time he didn’t feel cold, or the wet wind on his face, or rocks and
debris punching him in the backside. He had to give the Sheik points.
He sure as hell knew what he was doing, so he stayed—but just long
enough for the Sheik to fall asleep.

Kill the sucker… It’ll have to be tonight.
After drifting off into a fitful sleep, he jerked when he awoke.

What time was it? He looked around, but didn’t see a clock. It didn’t
matter. He’d waited long enough. The Sheik should be asleep by now,
so he moved to get up. As he rose from the couch and sat on the side,
he hung his head for a moment, listening to the silence and dreading
what he had to do. But the time had come. He had a knife, the Sheik
was asleep, and time was passing. The longer he sat there, the more
convinced he was that he couldn’t do it. But what would happen to
him if he didn’t? If the Sheik was up and walking around tomorrow,
Panther and his Disciples would come after him. He’d have to hide,
but where? There was no place that the Panther didn’t know about.

Sheik of the Streets

He had no choice.
He’d have to kill him—now!
Having no alternative, he slid his butcher’s knife out from under

the cushion and got up off the couch. He crept through the dark,
looking into every corner, imagining all kinds of evil hiding in every
one. And then he finally found it. A dark room with windows near the
ceiling. The windows were up, and the curtains were flying in the
nighttime wind. It looked a little eerie, especially when he saw the
Sheik lying on the bed with his arms splayed out—oh, God, like
Christ on the cross!

As Blondie crept near the bed, the floorboards were creaking so

loud each one made him wince. Was it his imagination, or did every
one sound as loud as a gunshot? But still he kept going, closer and
closer until he got to the bed, and stood over the Sheik. He looked
down at his face. In sleep he looked as innocent as a babe, but in life
he was as threatening as the Hulk when he was angry. He held his
breath, afraid that he would wake up, but he didn’t move. He slowly
began lifting the knife with a trembling hand. Just as he was about to
bring it down, the Sheik moved like a bolt of lightning and caught the
wrist that held the knife. His hold was tight and painful as he wrestled
with him. He tried, but he finally crumbled. He was no match for the
Sheik. Weak as a kitten, he felt the Sheik pull him over his body and
onto the bed on the other side.

The next thing he knew he was looking up into the Sheik’s face.

His body was as hard as granite, and as he looked up at him, the
innocent babe he’d seen before suddenly grew up, and turned into a
dark, sexy, and gorgeous hunk with muscles and eyes as dark as
midnight. It might have been a minute, or it might have been an hour,
but suddenly he could feel himself becoming hard. Oh, dear God, he
was a goner now. Somehow his attraction to the Sheik had weakened
him, and as the Sheik moved his hand up to take the knife from him,
Blondie didn’t resist. At that moment he would’ve given him
anything—even his body. The gaze between them was heavy and hot,

Kelly Conrad

and as Blondie stared into his eyes, he lost the determination to kill
him. Now his insides were on fire, and his eyes carried a hot and
sizzling message.

Fuck me!
Blondie waited. Would he fuck him or kill him? And then

suddenly he felt the Sheik’s hand move, and the point of the knife
stuck hard and painful against his neck. He thought he had his answer
until the Sheik spoke.

“You little punk. I ought to kill you right here in my bed.”
“I…I wish…you w–wouldn’t.”

* * * *

“Another one of your sarcastic remarks?” the Sheik said as he lay

over Blondie, feeling the contours of his body against his own.

The situation in the room was just too volatile. While they lay

there hard against each other, the very atmosphere seemed to turn
electric. Pure lust emanated from each one, surrounding them,
infusing them, and turning the blood in their veins to fire. It was
unavoidable. The Sheik could feel the ugly sin of lust as it crept into
his loins, making him hard. He resisted it, pushed it away, but as
strong as he was, the sin was even stronger, and it made him angry.

“You little bastard,” he growled. “This is the limit. If you think

I’m gonna fuck you, think again. I wouldn’t touch you with a ten-fo—”

“Ten-foot pole?” Blondie interrupted. “No, not ten feet, more like

ten inches, right? Well, remember this, Sheik, no matter how much
you got, if you don’t know how to use it, it ain’t no good to you
anyhow.”

“I could teach you a few things.”
“Yeah?” Blondie spat. “Prove it.” With that he began teasing him

with a wiggle and a push, moving his own cock against the Sheik’s
hard erection.

Sheik of the Streets

“Stop that!” the Sheik said as he struggled with him, his cock

becoming so hard he almost felt pain.

“Don’t want to fuck me, huh? What the hell is that I’m feelin’

against my stomach?”

The Sheik didn’t answer. The next thing either of them knew, his

lips were on Blondie’s. How had it happened? He didn’t know, but
everything between them was real. Blondie didn’t fight. He
surrendered to his hot and ravenous kiss. His tongue delved inside
Blondie’s mouth with passion and need, taking all he offered and
giving even more. He went from passion to passion until he
remembered that he was still grasping the butcher’s knife with the
point pressing against Blondie’s neck. His hand went limp, and the
knife lost its threat as it lay between them. Forgetting it, he felt an
insane desire to tear and pull at Blondie’s clothes.

He would have never thought he’d want a street punk, but there

was something different about Blondie. He wouldn’t admit it, but he
knew from the moment he got a look at Blondie that they would wind
up in bed together. Their heated stares and longing glances fueled the
desire between them, and now he breathed hard as he trailed a path
with his tongue from Blondie’s lips to his ear and lingered there as he
nibbled on his earlobe. Blondie’s large, masculine body responded to
his touch, and he heard a moan fall from his lips as he began bucking,
his legs opening in an invitation to fuck him.

As Johnny inhaled the kid’s heady scent of wind and musk, it

made him more aware than ever what this little punk was doing to
him. Desire exploded in waves, curling in his stomach, wrapping
around his heart, and causing him to crave so much more than the
heated touches they’d shared so far. He wanted to feel his bare skin
against his. He needed to be inside him, to fill the aching emptiness
he’d carried for so long, an ache he sensed only this little punk could
satisfy. And that was the thought that brought him to his senses and
forced him to break their electric connection and move backward,
away from the fire he felt burning between them.

Kelly Conrad

Oh, my God, what am I doing? he thought as he looked down at

Blondie. At the one person who could take him to soaring heights—
and destroy his dreams too easily. What was this little street punk
thinking? He knew now that he couldn’t, or wouldn’t kill him, so why
not make a fool out of him? He moved to get up, but Blondie held
him. “Oh, God, don’t stop now, Sheik.”

“Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what? Don’t forget you’re the one who brought me here

tonight.”

“To get fucked? I don’t think so.”
“Don’t tell me you don’t want to fuck. I know you do.”
“All right, so I do. But after that what?” The Sheik reached over

and wiped a little blood off Blondie’s neck where he had pierced him
with the knife, and showed it to him. “Look at this. We’ll be fucking
with a damned knife in our bed. Makes for strange bedfellows,
wouldn’t you say? But maybe you’re not worried about that.”

“Hell no, I ain’t worried about it. And I’m surprised that you are.

If normal is what you want, you ain’t gettin’ it here, Sheik. Nothin’
about this night is normal. Nothin’ about this town in normal. Nothin’
about the people that live here is normal. Especially a gang of killers
that want you dead.”

“Okay, so what’ll they do to you if you come back without my

heart in your hand?” He looked at his face through the shadows, and
the messy blond hair that looked like a neon sign in the dark. “Or
maybe after we fuck together, you’ll finish the job then. Right?”

“I can’t do it, and you know it.”
“I don’t know any such thing.”
“Look, I don’t know what’ll happen to me, but one thing I do

know about myself is, I’m not a killer. I don’t intend to kill you, or
anyone else. I guess I never did. Hell, I’ll just have to take my
chances.”

Now, as he looked down into Blondie’s baby blue eyes, he felt the

wildest passion he’d ever known. God, how he wanted him. Now. At

Sheik of the Streets

that moment. He had to have this little punk while it was dark. To
hide where no one could see his sin. Swimming deep in passion, he
began sensuously rubbing Blondie’s chest, feeling the contours of the
sturdy body that had surrendered to him.

At that point he gave in.
He had to fuck him. Just once. He had to plunge his cock into this

kid so deep it would put out the fire that burned inside him, or he
would die. “Oh, God, Blondie” he moaned, his name coming out as
both a warning and a plea. But it didn’t keep him from quickly
opening Blondie’s thighs and finding his hole. While he leaned down
and suckled his nipples and kissed his chest, he pushed himself into
his tightness. The silence in the room was suddenly filled with sounds
of passion as he pushed his cock in and out, over and over again,
savoring the heaven he was creating. The electric sensations began
and melted into another sensation—a bigger, hotter, and more vivid
feeling that raced hot and heavy for that ultimate release.

He could feel Blondie clinging to him, his legs up close to his

shoulders, and their bodies bucking together as if they were one. He
reached between them and found Blondie’s cock and began a slow,
but firm massage, feeling him get harder and harder. The more
passionate he became, the more his hips pushed and jumped, causing
him to plunge in as far as he could. Their flesh slapped together, the
erotic sound urging them on toward that final release. By now they
were going so fast and furious, just before they burst, Johnny heard a
thump.

As the two lay there exhausted, Johnny looked and found that the

knife had fallen, the point piercing the hardwood floor and the handle
waving back and forth erratically.

He felt a chill and wondered if it was a bad omen.

* * * *

Kelly Conrad

Johnny quickly pulled away from Blondie, jumped up, and ran to

the bathroom. He slammed the door closed and breathed deep as he
leaned against it. When he finally had control of himself, he splashed
cold water on his face and looked at himself in the mirror. At his dark
eyes, his chiseled chin, and those damned sexy lips. The way the light
and shadow fell on them made them look bruised and saucy. He knew
what it was. They’d just been kissed. Kissed, and eaten with erotic
bliss. The thought made him feel hot. Now he had to go out there and
face Blondie. He waited a moment, took a deep breath, and then
opened the door. He entered the room slowly, hoping to have more
control of his physical reactions than he had earlier. But he took one
look at his bare chest and knew that since they’d had each other, he’d
rarely be in control.

He sighed, bracing himself for the inevitable. "We have to talk."
“Yeah, I guess we do.”
“I was set up, wasn’t I?”
“All right. Look, I guess you know that Panther sent me to kill

you. It was no accident that you found me in The Sweet Pea. I was
there waitin’ for you. I didn’t know how I was gonna do it until you
mentioned takin’ me home with you. It was ideal until…well, you
know what happened.”

“Then why the hell did you fight me?”
“Because you said you were going to take me in. I didn’t know

where we were goin’ until we drove up in the parking lot.”

“I guess that makes me a prime idiot.”
“You’re anything but an idiot, Sheik.”
“Oh, yeah, I’m an idiot. God, bringin’ you home with me was bad

enough, but hell, sleepin’ with my own fuckin’ assassin. When will I
learn?”

As Blondie reached for his ragged sweatshirt, he asked, “Are you

sorry?” He looked up at Johnny with eyes full of pain. “Ashamed?”

“You bet I’m ashamed. Ashamed of bein’ stupid.”
“That’s not what I mean. Ashamed of bein’ with me.”

Sheik of the Streets

“Of course not.”
“Sure you are,” Blondie said sadly. “Who wouldn’t be? Imagine.

The big, powerful Sheik and the street punk. Maybe I should write my
memoirs. That’s just weird enough to sell a few books.”

“Blondie, snap out of it. Now’s not the time to start feeling sorry

for yourself.”

“I hope nobody got my spot. It’s real uptown, you know. I even

got my own Dumpster.”

The Sheik stepped up to him and shook him. “Listen to me, you

little freak. You’re not goin’ back out there. Maybe you don’t care,
but I don’t feel like havin’ somebody’s death on my conscience.”

As if he didn’t hear him, Blondie pulled his sweatshirt over his

head. “I’ll be out of here as soon as I can get dressed.”

“Are you nuts?” Johnny said, knowing he wouldn’t get a block

out on that street before Panther and his Disciples had him cornered in
some alley. “I’m not lettin’ you leave here with those killers out there
lookin’ for you.”

“What else can I do?”
“You can stay here.”
“Thanks, but that would just prolong the inevitable.”
“It would give us time to figure out what to do. Maybe you could

go into hiding somewhere,” Johnny said.

“You don’t understand, Sheik. When they see you walkin’ your

beat, I’m a dead man whether I’m here or in Alice’s Fantasyland. If
they have to jump into that rabbit hole after me, they will.”

“Yes, but if they don’t see me—”
“No. I know what you’re thinkin’, and a few days sick leave ain’t

gonna work either. They’ve got to know you’re dead. They’ve got to
see lights, hear the sirens, the whole fuckin’ thing. Dead body,
blood—”

Johnny paced for a few moments, thinking, and then looked over

at Blondie. “What’s your story, Blondie? You got in with the wrong
crowd, right?”

Kelly Conrad

“Not unless you want to call my pa the wrong crowd. He was a

career criminal. My real name is Noah Lister, but from the minute I
was born he called me Blondie. I grew up answerin’ to that name, so
as far as I’m concerned, that’s who I am. We made it the best way we
could until they finally put him behind bars and threw away the key.”

“Why didn’t they put you in a foster home?”
“They tried, but nobody wanted me. I was too old to be adopted,

and too young to get a job. I was what they called incorrigible, so
finally they just gave up on me. There were halfway houses, but their
rules were strict, and they were cramped, so no one could stay very
long. I eventually wound up on the streets. When I was hungry, I stole
food. When I was tired, I made my bed anywhere I could find some
kind of shelter. After a while I just became part of the scenery, you
know?”

“What do you want to do with the rest of your life?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. With no schoolin’, I just live day to

day.”

“Like an animal,” Johnny said.
“Yeah. Somethin’ like that, I guess.”
“Let’s say you have a choice. Is there anything you like to do?”
“I like to draw pictures.”
“Draw pictures, huh?” Johnny said as he looked around for a

tablet and a pencil. “Are you any good?”

Blondie shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess.”
“Are you the one who does all that graffiti?”
“Oh, no. That’s Saber. Most of it’s shit, but some of it marks a

gang’s territory. Each gang has his own colors and gang mottos.
Panther’s colors are black and red, and all the graffiti done in his
territory is done in those colors. It lets the other gangs know who
owns that space and to stay out if they know what’s good for them.”

“Interesting. You’d think I would’ve known that.”
“Well, you can’t know everything, I guess.”

Sheik of the Streets

“Okay, here,” Johnny said, handing him the tablet. “Take this, and

draw something for me.”

Blondie took it hesitantly, and then said, “What do you want me

to draw?”

Johnny looked around. “I don’t know. What about—” Just then he

looked back and saw Blondie looking down at the paper while his
hand moved quickly. Very quietly he edged over to where Blondie
stood and looked over his shoulder. His eyes grew wide when he saw
him drawing a picture of who else? The Sheik.

Kelly Conrad

Chapter Three

He grabbed the picture out of Blondie’s hand and looked at it. It

was damned good, and it put a thought in Johnny’s mind. He looked
at Blondie for several minutes before he asked, “Blondie, how old are
you?”

“Twenty-three.”
“And you’ve been on the streets since—”
“Since I was fourteen.”
“Nine years is long enough. Would you say you’ve learned a lot in

that time?”

Blondie looked at him suspiciously. “Hey, ain’t I told you

enough? I’m in trouble up to my ears, and you’re still in my face
pumpin’ me.”

“I’m not pumpin’ you, Blondie. I’ve got an idea that with your

drawing talent I could probably get you a job at the precinct.”

“Me? A Black Devil? No way.”
“I’m not talkin’ about being a cop. I’m talkin’ about being a

police sketch artist. You know, you sit down with the victim and you
draw a picture from the way they describe the perpetrator. You could
do that, couldn’t you?”

Blondie gave a slight shrug. “I guess, but I thought they had books

for that now. You know, pages of thick brows, thin lips, and that kind
of thing.”

“They do, but I can tell you from experience that the best pictures

are those that don’t use those books. They’re the ones that really have
a drawing talent, which I think you do.”

“You know, Sheik—”

Sheik of the Streets

“Why don’t you call me Johnny?”
“Sorry, it’s just…I mean that’s the name you had when I come to

know you. Just like my name, Blondie. And Noah? I was never Noah.
Hell, that’s some other dude.”

“All right. Well, whatever you’re comfortable with.”
“Now that I told you about my past, I think you should tell me a

little about yours.”

Johnny smiled. “Okay, kid, deal with this. I was born into a world

of motorcycle grease and cheering crowds. Me, my mom, and my
dad, Roger and Della Pirelli, did stunt shows in a carnival. My stage
name was Johnny Blaze. We eventually came to be known as The
Blaze Trio. We even worked with fire on occasion. They died in a
motorcycle accident when I was only eighteen. I was told if I stayed I
could probably become an even bigger attraction than they were, but
when they died I kind of lost my taste for it, and went to live with
relatives. For a long time I did nothing with my life until I began to
see kids like you waste their lives killin’ and robbin’ and ending up on
death row. It was such a shame I decided to crawl into the black suit
and see if I could save some of ’em before they ended up in a pine
box. They were all kids like you, Blondie. It wasn’t much, but it was
better than hearing about some fourteen-year-old who died of a drug
overdose or a police bullet after robbing a convenience store. Who
knows? Maybe the right word could’ve saved some of those kids, but
the one thing they needed, was someone who cared.”

“And that’s you.”
“Like I told you before. I can’t save the world, but for a kid who’s

worth it, I might even try to move a mountain or two.” He shrugged.
“Well…I can at least try.”

“And I’m supposed to be thrilled that you chose me.”
“I don’t care how you feel, but you’re gonna amount to something

if it’s the last thing I do.”

Just then a loud blast sounded, the window shattered, and Johnny

felt the burning sensation of a bullet as it cut into his back. As he went

Kelly Conrad

down, he tasted dust, and was sure that this was it for the Black Devil
they called—the Sheik.

* * * *

If it’s the last thing I do.
The words haunted Blondie. They seemed to circle over his head,

whispering in his ear, tapping on his brain, and bringing images of
this man in black into his mind. Never had the Sheik stood so tall,
seemed so strong, or appeared so noble as he did when he was lying
flat on his back.

He learned later that the Sheik had been the victim of a drive-by

shooting. It wasn’t even the Panther and his Disciples that were guilty
of this. It was some other gang whose bullets went wild. But the
Panther got what he wanted. Police sirens, yellow tape, and the blood
of the Sheik. Since the Sheik was off the streets now, Panther and his
Disciples didn’t bother Blondie. They assumed that it was Blondie
doing his job, and that let Blondie off the hook.

Blondie spent his nights at Johnny’s apartment and his days at the

hospital. Slowly Johnny came around, and when he found Blondie at
his side, he said, “What happened?”

“Some creep got gun happy,” he whispered.
“It wasn’t the Panther?”
“Not from what the cops say. They suspect The Blue Devils.

When I found out that they didn’t know what the gang leader looked
like, I drew them a picture, and they went out, found him, and arrested
him.”

Johnny smiled. “You don’t mean it.”
Blondie smiled shyly. “Yeah.”
“God, I’m proud of you.”
Blondie lowered his head, embarrassed. “Well, I figured it was the

least I could do.”

“Thanks.”

Sheik of the Streets

Blondie looked up and smiled. “I think I’m ready for that job

now.”

“You got it, kid.”
“Listen. About callin’ me kid. Hell, I’m twenty-three years old. I

might be younger than you, but not by that much. Could you not call
me kid?”

Johnny chuckled. “Sure. I’m sorry…Blondie.”
“Well…it’s okay.”
“Say, I was wondering. Where are you stayin’ now?”
“Well, I’ve been here during the day, but I’ve been stayin’ in your

apartment at night. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, not at all. In fact, I’d like you to stay there and take care of it

even after I get out of the hospital. I mean, you’d be a big help since I
won’t be up on my feet for a few days.”

“Oh, sure,” Blondie said, a big smile on his face. “When did they

say you could leave?”

“The doctor hasn’t told me yet, but surgery’s nothin’ these days.

I’m surprised they didn’t throw me out the door right after the doc
pulled that slug out of me.”

They both laughed, their gazes sliding toward each other and

holding.

“Well, it’s gettin’ late, so I guess I’d better go. Oh, by the way, I’ll

be late gettin’ here tomorrow. I gotta stop by the station and talk to a
woman who was robbed. You know, do a drawing for her.”

“Blondie, you don’t really have to come up here and sit with me.

It must be awful boring for you. I don’t want you feelin’ guilty about
this and think you owe me something because you don’t.”

“But what if I led them to you?”
“But you said it was a drive-by shooting. A wild bullet.”
“That’s what the police say, but I know these gangs better than

they do. They also said it was The Blue Devils, but I wouldn’t be
surprised if it wasn’t Panther and his Disciples trying to finish the job
they think I started.”

Kelly Conrad

“Look, Blondie, whichever it was, I’m not holding you

responsible. Sure, maybe you were being used, but you didn’t know
that.”

“I want to get out of this damned city so bad I can taste it.” He

looked up at Johnny. “Say, maybe you could go back into stunt riding,
and I could…I don’t know…keep your motorcycle clean.”

Johnny chuckled. “I can see where you might think that even

daredevil riding would be safer than walking these streets.”

“Well, what else can you do? Hell, man, you can’t get back out

there. They mean business. Panther’s sworn to get you and take back
his streets. You show your face on that street again, and that’s all she
wrote. Please, Johnny, don’t go back out there.”

When Johnny saw the concern for his safety on Blondie’s face, his

heart wept. Without thinking, or without saying a word, their gazes
met, and they seemed to drown in each other’s eyes. It seemed so
natural when Blondie moved toward him and sat on the edge of the
bed.

He reached over and stroked his cheek as he brushed his hair out

of his face, and could feel the warmth of his breath. It made him all
hot inside. The rush of heat started in his chest and slowly spread
throughout his body, reaching every limb. The touching continued,
gently, and then their gazes met and sizzled. As if it were ordained
since time began, Blondie’s lips found Johnny’s. They were so sexy,
both rough and smooth, and he opened them erotically, just enough
for his tongue to seek out and tangle with his. Blondie’s heart swelled.
Being moved by the desire he felt, Blondie reached under the covers
and surrounded Johnny’s cock with his hand.

Johnny moaned. “God, Blondie, do you want to kill me?”
“I can’t wait for you to come home, Johnny,” he whispered in his

ear. “I can’t wait to fuck you.”

“I know, Blondie,” Johnny said. “But it’ll have to wait. Now is

not the time for foreplay.”

Sheik of the Streets

“Isn’t it?” Blondie said with a saucy look in his eyes. He moved to

get up, grabbed the curtain around Johnny’s bed, and closed it. He
then got on the bed and straddled him. “You’ve been shot up there,”
he said, indicating his upper body. “Not down here.”

“Blondie, what if someone… Hell, the nurse could come in at any

time. What then?”

“I put a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the door.”

* * * *

“Blondie, stop this non—Oh, God,” he whispered when he felt

Blondie’s mouth on his cock. He couldn’t help it. In spite of his
wound, he gave in and lifted his legs and bent them at the knee. As he
lay there with them all splayed out, he grasped Blondie’s curly head,
and with a swift in and out motion, he fucked Blondie’s mouth. On
one hand he was afraid someone would come in, but on the other, he
could think of nothing but the wild sensations going on inside him
while being eaten by his young lover. He could feel Blondie’s teeth
scraping along his cock, his tongue sucking, his mouth eating, and it
flooded him with a velvet warmth that teased him, taking him up into
an orgasmic heaven that wrung from him a long moan, and a long and
hard blast into Blondie’s mouth. “Oh, God, I’m sorry, Blondie.”

When Blondie appeared at his side again, he said, “Now you’ll get

well a lot sooner.”

“You little bastard. I ought to—”
“You liked it, didn’t you?”
“Liked it? Of course, but only a young fool like you would try

something like that.”

“Hell, Johnny, you sound like Old Man Time himself. How old

are you, anyway?”

“Twenty-nine.”
“You mean in only six years I’m going to sound like you?”
“If you’re lucky.”

Kelly Conrad

Just then the nurse walked in carrying the “Do Not Disturb” sign.

“This is not funny, boys. This is a hospital, not a suite at the Marriott.
There’s no privacy and no secrets here, so don’t try that again.” With
that she crumpled the paper in her hand and threw it in the trash can.
With crisp and professional movements, she gave Johnny his
medication while the gazes of the two men met.

Laughter—and a secret—danced in Blondie’s eyes.

Sheik of the Streets

Chapter Four

The day that Johnny came home, he walked in with a cane and

stopped dead still. When he noticed how clean the place was, he
wondered for a moment if he was in the right apartment. “Damn,
Blondie. This place is shining.”

“Thanks.” He indicated toward the window. “I finally managed to

get the super up here to fix the window. He was kind of slow movin’,
but when I threatened to go to the ADU and report him, he came
through for us.”

“What’s the ADU?”
Blondie smiled. “How the hell do I know? They were just letters I

thought of off the top of my head.” He thought for a minute, and then
said, “Apartment Dwellers Union, I guess.”

Johnny laughed so hard, he thought his stitches were going to

come out. “My God, Blondie, I’ve never seen another one like you.”

“If the truth won’t do it, lyin’ will. If you’re a street punk like me,

those are words to live by.”

“I’ll remember that. Now, I think I need to lay down a minute. I’m

a little weak.”

“Oh, sure,” Blondie said. “I’ll go and pull the covers down on

your bed.”

When Johnny walked into the bedroom, he was in for another

surprise. On the night stand were fresh flowers, and the air smelled
nice and clean. He looked at Blondie, amazed. “I can’t believe you’re
the same fresh punk kid that never gave anyone a straight answer.”

“I’ve also got freshly made iced tea in the refrigerator…with

lemon even,” he said proudly. “I hope you’re pleased.”

Kelly Conrad

Johnny looked at him remembering the sinister glitter of the blade

that was almost plunged into his chest only a few weeks ago. A few
weeks, hell. It was six weeks if it was a day. Yeah, he counted every
day, every week, every hour until he could be back on his feet. It
wasn’t only the longest, it was the most frustrating. He never got so
much pampering in his life. Wheelchairs, nurses, doctors, bags, white
walls, pills. And everybody smelled of anesthetic. God, he was sick of
it all. “Where’s the—” He choked. “The knife?”

“Back where I stole it from,” Blondie said, snickering.
“What’s so funny?”
“I’ve probably confused the hell out of the people at the diner.

Returning the knife, I mean. I sneaked in the kitchen and stuck it
upright on the butcher’s block. I’ll never forget the look on Mom’s
face when she saw it.” Blondie giggled. “God, I love doin’ that.”

Johnny smiled. It was good to be back with Blondie. Smart-

mouthed, naughty, wayward, impish, mischievous, Blondie.
“Apparently you have a mischievous spirit.”

“Yeah, I guess. Hell, I’m just so glad you’re okay.”
As Johnny sat down on the bed, he said, “The doc said I’ll be fine

as long as I don’t do anything strenuous. He wouldn’t release me to
go back to work yet. So, I guess I’ll be spending a lot of time
here…for the next few days anyway.”

“What can I do for you? Do you need anything?”
“How about some of that world famous iced tea you were telling

me about?”

“You bet!” Blondie said, and rushed into the kitchen.

* * * *

Panther was on pins and needles regarding the Sheik. It had been

over a month now, and he knew the Sheik would be back on the
streets soon. Tonight, he stood gazing at the brownstone through the
gray ashen smoke from his cigar. The minute the Sheik came home

Sheik of the Streets

word had spread all over the ghetto. It took him a few days, but he
finally managed to make himself a nice little nest just across the street
where he kept his eyes peeled for some sign of the big bastard to find
out just how well he was getting along. Right now there were nothing
but dark silhouettes coming and going against the shade that was
drawn over the window, and his beady eyes watched every move. The
silhouette seemed a little familiar, making him wonder who it was. It
couldn’t be the Sheik. He might be doing good, but he sure as hell
wouldn’t be getting around that good. Oh, well, what the hell did he
care about who was staying with him? He had been hurt pretty bad, so
it wasn’t surprising that he would have someone there to help him. It
was probably a nurse, or a friend maybe.

But one thing bothered him.
He hadn’t seen Blondie since this thing began. He’d searched the

neighborhood, all his old haunts, but hadn’t found him. While
thinking about it, his gaze moved once more to the silhouette on the
shade, and suddenly it hit him like a bolt of lightning out of the blue.
He pushed the thought aside at first, thinking it surely couldn’t be, but
as he kept watching the silhouette move, he knew there was
something familiar about it. He had seen it before. And as he kept
watching it, it finally came to him.

He had found Blondie.
As he stood there watching, he got another surprise. Another

silhouette suddenly appeared on the shade. Someone who moved a
little slower. Someone bigger and deadlier than Blondie. It had to be
the Sheik. They stood looking at each other, talking.

And then, they embraced.
Panther’s eyes widened in surprise, causing him to abruptly spring

away from the building. He couldn’t believe it. Did he see their lips
meet in a kiss? In a fit of anger, he threw his cigar down, hearing the
faint sizzling sound it made on the wet pavement. He shook his head,
trying to wrap his mind around what he’d just seen!

Blondie was fuckin’ the Sheik?

Kelly Conrad

Oh, God! He had sent him out to kill the bastard, not to fuck him!

* * * *

Johnny pulled away and gazed into Blondie’s eyes. This was

something new to him. A new world that had opened up to him, and
he felt lost in it. He didn’t know which way to go, what to do, or if it
was even real.

“This is one hell of a situation,” Blondie whispered as he looked

longingly into Johnny’s eyes.

“We’ve got to make plans, Blondie. You’ve taken such good care

of me I seem to be getting stronger every day. I’m either going to
have to go back to work soon, or hand in my resignation.”

“If you do, what’ll we do? Where will we go?”
“I can join a carnival. Ride my motorcycle in a cage.”
“I’ll…I don’t know. I can do something, can’t I?”
Johnny smiled. “You can keep my bed warm.”
Blondie lowered his head, tears in his eyes. “Oh, God, Johnny, I

think I’ve ruined your life.”

Johnny reached down, and with a finger beneath his chin, he lifted

his head and looked deeply into his eyes. “You haven’t ruined
anything, Blondie. In fact, if you’ve done anything, you’ve given me
something I’ve been looking for my whole life.”

“But you don’t want to ride again. You’d just be doing it to—”
“To be with you? Hell, Blondie, what choice do we have? We

can’t stay here much longer. We’re like sitting ducks in this
apartment. We need to get out.”

“But you’re still weak—”
“Hey, I’m not all that weak. I’ve been stuck in that bed for more

than a month, and you know what the doctor said the last time I went
to see him. He said I’m doin’ fine, and that I need exercise now more
than anything. And since I can’t leave the apartment, I can’t think of a
better way of getting it than making plans for the two of us. Besides,

Sheik of the Streets

the precinct knows what we’re up against, and they’re behind us.
They’re cruising the neighborhood night and day. We’ll give this
some serious thought, and see what we can come up with, but I don’t
want to hear you say that you ruined my life again.”

“I love you,” Blondie said, his blue eyes looking soulfully into

Johnny’s.

“That’s something else we’ll have to talk about.”
“There would only be one reason we have to talk, and that is if

you feel differently.”

“Blondie, it’s not that. I just want you to be sure. Don’t call

gratitude, friendship, or even hero worship, love.”

“Well, it’s plain that you don’t feel the same.”
“How the hell would I know? It hasn’t been that long since I

brought you home, you tried to kill me—”

“But I didn’t, and we made love.”
“And the next thing I know I’m in the hospital with a bullet in my

back. Hell, I’m lucky it hit me where it did, or I’d be dead.” Johnny
cut his gaze over at Blondie, giving him a sidelong look. “You know,
there’s one more thing you could be feeling, and that’s guilt.”

“Hell, Johnny, I probably do, but I also feel love.”
“But how do you know?”
“I just know. How does a blind man know when the sun is

shining? Because he can feel heat from it!”

“There are other ways to feel heat. Maybe he’s in a burning

building, a burning car, a house, who the hell knows?”

“Johnny, quit denying it.”
It was true, he was denying it. Love hadn’t been a part of his life

since his parents had died. The day that happened, the world had
instantly turned black and ugly, and was as cold as a dead man’s cock.
That was why he fit so well on these streets. He didn’t really care
what happened to him. He didn’t expect anything from these people,
and that was exactly what he got. Sure, there was one that would
come along every now and again that was worth saving, and he lived

Kelly Conrad

for those times. He’d known from the beginning that Blondie was
one. That was why he invited him into his own world, as cluttered as
it was.

But what he didn’t expect was to fall in love.
He looked over at Blondie. “Yeah,” he said, “I guess I am denying

it. This is new to me. You’ll have to give me time to adjust to the
situation.”

“Here,” Blondie said as he led him to the couch. “You’d better sit

down.”

As the two of them sat there watching TV, they slowly drifted

together until they were cuddling. After about ten minutes, Johnny,
dressed in his shorts and a sweatshirt, felt Blondie’s warm breath on
his ear and a firm hand creeping into his shorts until it got to his cock.

“Want me to give you a hand fuck?” he whispered.
“You’re determined to kill me, aren’t you?”
By that time Blondie was beside him rubbing his cock hard, his

hand surrounding his cock, and giving him a hand fuck that had
Johnny breathing hard, and moving and writhing like a snake. “Tell
me if you feel any pain. We don’t want to hurt you.”

“Blondie…oh, God,” Johnny whispered as his hips moved

frantically, pushing his cock against Blondie’s palm.

“Want me to eat it?” Blondie whispered.
“F–Fuck me, Blondie. Fuck me good.”
Blondie gave no argument as he mounted him, rubbing their cocks

together at first, and then a few minutes later he heard Johnny
moaning.

“Oh–h–h, God,” Johnny moaned as his cock became harder and

harder, and fuller and fuller of the sweet cream he knew would come
blasting out at any second.

* * * *

Sheik of the Streets

Suddenly Blondie’s hips became frenzied, moving against Johnny

hard and fast, their cocks mingling, and loving as they rubbed and
pushed, the sensations rising up higher and higher. He couldn’t stop.
He couldn’t slow down. He looked down at Johnny and saw pure bliss
on his face as their two bodies bucked against each other. And then
Johnny opened his legs. He wanted to be fucked, so Blondie got
between his legs, and as he knelt on his knees, he opened Johnny up
and worked on him a moment, and then pushed himself in. He almost
shouted at Johnny’s tight ass. With one hand working on Johnny’s
cock, and his own cock pushing and pulling in and out of him, their
low moans seemed to sound in synch with each thrust, each pressure
on Johnny’s cock, until they were at the height of their desire. Blondie
knew that only one more plunge would make them come, and when it
finally happened they went over the edge where it grabbed them like a
mad whipcrack, shuddering them until all their strength was gone.
When the last of the velvety warmth had slithered away, a glow
surrounded Blondie, making him wilt down beside Johnny, who was
already drifting in a sex-induced euphoria. The two of them slept
peacefully while the TV continued with its late night broadcasting.

“We interrupt this program to bring you the latest in the drive-by

shooting of Officer Johnny Pirelli. Officer Pirelli, 29, was shot when
a bullet came bursting into the window of his apartment, hitting him
in the back. Mr. Pirelli, who was once known as Johnny Blaze in a
motorcycle act called The Blaze Trio, is now recuperating and doing
well. It was believed that the gun blast was from a gang called The
Blue Devils, but now additional information has come to light
pointing the finger at the Panther and his Disciples. In their defense,
they are accusing Blondie Lister of the shooting, knowing that he was
looking for Officer Pirelli with murder on his mind. They have also
stressed that Blondie is not a member of their gang. The wounded
officer was taken to St. Luke’s Hospital in critical condition, but after
surgeons worked on him, he is now at home and doing well. There

Kelly Conrad

have been no arrests and the NYPD added that the investigation is
still ongoing.”

There was a pause when someone came and gave the

anchorwoman a sheet of paper. “We have just been informed that the
police, as well as Panther and his Disciples are on the lookout for
Blondie Lister, who they say, seems to have disappeared. The police
believe that Blondie’s disappearance may mean that he is dead. They
are questioning everyone who knew Blondie, but so far they still have
no leads as to where Blondie may be. What does this mean? Is
Blondie Lister dead, or just in hiding? This is what the police keep
asking themselves, but so far, no one has come up with an answer.”
With a look of concern on her face, the anchorwoman laid down the
paper and looked into the camera. “Blondie Lister, if you’re still
alive…be careful.”

* * * *

Johnny wasn’t aware that his eyes were closed.
To him, he had only blinked, but in reality he lay sleeping as the

broadcast continued, planting subliminal information in his mind.

Blondie was gone.
Over and over the words whirled around and around in his head.

He turned, looking, but Blondie was nowhere in sight. Wasn’t
Blondie here a moment ago? Like a shroud, the awful feeling that he
was ultimately alone settled on him. It wasn’t just Blondie, it was the
whole city. He was alone. Totally alone. He turned and ran to a
window. He couldn’t see anyone. There was no one anywhere. Not
here. Not on the street. Nowhere in the world. He began running, and
then became aware that for some reason he felt no pain from the
gunshot. He opened the door and ran out onto the street. He looked up
the street, down the street, but he only saw wet streets, blinking neon
signs, not even any cars parked along the curbs. No sign of life
anywhere, except for the neon signs.

Sheik of the Streets

He turned and ran into a club. Music was playing, half-filled

drinks were on the tables, but—no one.

He ran out, and then into a grocery store. He saw filled grocery

carts, but no people. It was as if everyone had been snatched up while
they were shopping, but now—no one.

He ran out onto the street and yelled out, “Hello! Is anyone here?”

And then a horrible thought came to him. Blondie was dead. Oh, God,
Blondie was dead!

“Blondie!” he yelled. “Are you here? Where are you!”
Everything was deadly quiet. No sounds of revving motors,

yelling, music from nearby clubs, and nobody walking the streets. But
what was worse than any of it was the feeling that he was totally
alone. He’d never felt so alone in his life, and as he stood in the
middle of the street, he looked up into the sky at the small piece of
blue that peeked through between the tall buildings, and began yelling
out in torment as loud as he could.

Suddenly he felt himself being shaken, and opened his eyes. He

saw Blondie.

“Oh, my God, Blondie!” he said, grabbing him and holding him

close. “Where the hell were you?”

“I’m here, Johnny. With you.”
“But you were gone. Disappeared.”
“Everything’s okay. You had a nightmare, that’s all. You’re

awake now, and everything’s fine.”

Johnny could feel the pain of his wound and winced. “Yeah, I

know I must be awake. I’m in pain.”

“It’s probably time for your pain medication. I’ll get it for you.”

He moved to get up when Johnny grabbed him.

“Don’t leave me. Don’t ever leave me.”
“Hey, man, I’m not leaving. I’m just going to get your pills. I’ll be

right back.”

“I thought you were dead. Hell, I thought the whole world was

dead…except for me.”

Kelly Conrad

“Hey,” Blondie said as he headed for the bathroom. “At least there

was no one out there that wanted to kill you. Who knows? You might
have been better off there than here.”

“No. No way. You don’t want to be where I was.”
As Blondie sat down and poured out two pills, he gave them to

Johnny, along with a glass of water. “Here, take these. They’ll make
you feel better.”

Ignoring the pills and the glass of water, Johnny said, “Blondie,

we’ve got to get out of here. I don’t know how I know, but the whole
city of New York is looking for you. They think you may be dead. I
did, too…in my dream. It was an awful feeling. I never want to feel
that way again.”

“We aren’t going anywhere until you take these pills.”
“You little weasel. Don’t you take anything serious? Panther is

out to kill you, and if the police get their hands on you, they might
just—”

“Johnny, you’re still dreaming. Don’t you remember? The police

know where I am. The newscast is all hype to fool Panther into
thinking they don’t know anything. They’re keeping this brownstone
under surveillance to keep us safe. Besides, they know the whole
story.”

Johnny frowned at him. “The whole story? How—?”
“Because I told them everything. You think they’d let me draw

pictures for them if I was a killer?”

Johnny rubbed his head. “Yeah. I guess I’m not thinkin’ very

straight.”

“Have a little faith in me. Okay?”
“Yeah, well, the fact still remains that we have to get out of here.”
“Are you sure?”
“Damned sure,” Johnny said, looking at Blondie with a

determined look in his eyes. “It’s not just me now, Blondie, I have
you to consider, so I’m tellin’ you right now… The Sheik is out of
business.”

Sheik of the Streets

Chapter Five

Deciding at last that he was through with the black suit, he turned

in his uniform, and dug out his leather jacket with the blaze on the
back. While he sat on his motorcycle, revving it up, he looked like the
devil on wheels, and clasped the handles tight as it jumped into
action. The minute the wheels began turning, he leaned forward,
meeting the wind head on as it whipped around him. He raced along
the city streets, narrow and wide, veered around traffic down one
street, and up the other, until he was heading out of the city, and then
shot straight ahead like a bullet leaving the safety of its gun. At last
the buildings and the cityscape were behind him. With an experienced
handling of the cycle, he roared along the wide highway swerving
dangerously, and not even slowing down as he went up hills, and
literally flew in the air on his way down. He wasn’t showing off, he
was just being Johnny Blaze, an experienced daredevil rider. And
then he slowed down as he at last roared up into a parking lot.

Now, he sat in the dimly lit audience watching the riders in the

cage. He’d been there, so he knew what it was like. He knew the fear,
the anxiety, and even the doubts in the rider’s minds. Every time they
rode they were taking their lives in their own hands, especially during
the stunts. They had to have crackerjack timing. He knew those riders
were working on pure adrenalin. It flowed through their veins like
life-giving blood, giving them the courage it took to round those
cages. Over and over. Absolute concentration. Anything could
happen, so there were rules that had to be followed. The cycle had to
be in top notch shape. Friction between moving parts could make it
catch fire. If the rider didn’t maintain a certain velocity, he could fall

Kelly Conrad

and kill himself. Momentum was everything. Starting out, he had to
stay low, and then as the speed built up, he rose higher and higher
until he was riding on the very edge, and the audience was gasping. It
was a thrill a minute that you couldn’t get anywhere else.

And even then—anything could go wrong.
After the show was over and the crowd was thinning out, he sat

still for a moment remembering what it was like. The crowd, the
applause, and as he looked up at the empty cage, he saw himself
rounding it, the loud sound of the cycle creating a kind of cocoon he
felt safe in.

Suddenly he could hear the barker as he stood outside the tent…
“Come one, come all! You little lady, and you sir. Ask anyone

who’s seen the show, and they’ll all tell you the same thing. It is more
than worth the money. For the small price of admission, you get
thrills, chills, and sometimes spills. It’s an experience you can’t get
anywhere else. A memory that will last a lifetime.

“Hey, boys, the show is scary enough that the girls will be willing

to cuddle up, so what are you waiting for? Mom, Dad, after this show,
the boys will want a motorcycle of their own. The show is for
everyone from eight to eighty. If you’re under eight, you probably
won’t understand it, and if you’re over eighty, your heart probably
can’t stand it. For the rest of you, you can’t imagine what goes on
inside, so don’t even try. If you already have a ticket, you don’t need
to get in line. You can climb the stairway to the observation gallery
and get the best spot to watch the stunt riders perform. The rest of you
just form a line here to my left, give the young lady your money, and
that’s all there is to it.”

Yes, he wanted to come back. Maybe all he’d been waiting for

was an excuse.

Finally, he got up and headed toward the caravan of the carnival’s

owner, Pepperico Rubin. Peppe was a transgender man who did an act
in drag. Although he dressed like a woman, it was just as common to
see him as himself and dressed in men’s clothes. One actually never

Sheik of the Streets

knew on any given day whether he was going to be a man or a
woman. Pepperico might have been a strange sort, but he was fair,
and he dealt in really good, legitimate acts, so the show had a good
reputation. Nothing shady, or unusual about it, unless he mentioned
Pepperico himself. But Johnny had to admit that Pepperico was the
salt of the earth. He had a business to run and did it with the ease of a
genius. Nothing got past him, so there was no use in trying to fool
him. It was impossible.

“I worked Alley-Cat for a while, then graduated on to—”
“Johnny, you don’t have to sell yourself to me,” the heavily made-

up Pepperico Rubin said. “I know everything you’ve done. I am,
however, sorry to hear about your parents.”

“Thanks, Peppe. You need to know, of course, that I haven’t even

been on a cycle professionally in several years. I’m only back now
because I’ve learned that you can’t run away from who you are.”

“I know the feeling.” He chuckled. “The grass is always greener

on the other side, isn’t it?”

“If you do take me on, I’ll probably need a few weeks to get

myself back in shape and work out some routines. As you can
probably tell, this decision was rather sudden.”

“I do need to know one thing,” Peppe said, while lighting a

cigarette. “I noticed that you quit after your parents died. From what I
heard, you took a sudden dislike to performing daredevil. Was there
anything about their accident or death that would interfere with you
doing your job?”

“Not really. I think I just needed some time away from it all. Time

to grieve for my parents, I suppose, but I’m over it now and ready to
experience the thrill of riding again. To tell you the truth, I miss it,
and if your shows here decide not to take me, then I’ll just go
somewhere else, but I can’t promise that it won’t be one of your
competitors.”

“Very slick, Johnny,” Pepperico said, amused. “You still got that

gift of gab, don’t you?” He looked him up and down, his gaze

Kelly Conrad

stopping at his face and studying it as he took a drag off his cigarette.
“Well, the years haven’t ruined your looks, either. You’re just as
handsome as ever.”

Johnny could see the interest in his eyes. “I guess I should make it

clear that I’m not available. If you take me on, it’ll be purely on my
riding ability, not how I perform in bed.”

Peppe chuckled. “You always could read me like a newspaper.

So,” he continued while flicking his ashes in an ash tray, “how will
you bill yourself?”

“I’ll be what I’ve always been, Johnny Blaze. I still have my

cycle, my costumes, and I still know how to ride.”

“I recognize the leather jacket with the blaze of fire on the back.”
“I pulled this out of the stuff I have in storage,” Johnny said as he

looked down at it proudly. “Good to be wearing it again.”

The gaily costumed Pepperico Rubin rose and extended his hand

in friendship. “Welcome aboard, Johnny. I’m glad to have you with
the show. I don’t think it’s necessary to go over the rules. I’m sure
with your experience you’re well acquainted with them.”

“Like the back of my hand,” Johnny said as he shook hands with

him, and then headed toward the door. Just before he went through it,
he turned back. “By the way, Peppe, I appreciate you not asking me to
perform a stunt for you.”

“I couldn’t do that, Johnny. It would be an insult to you and to

your parents. However, I hope you won’t object if I peek in at some
of your practice runs. I’ve been a fan of yours since you began.”

“I guess not,” Johnny said and winked mischievously. “It can get

exciting, though. Better make sure your corset is cinched up real
tight.”

A big smile appeared on Peppe’s face. “If you’re not available, no

flirting allowed.”

Johnny smiled. “Gotcha.”
“Oh, by the way, Johnny, as soon as you feel like you’re ready,

give me the date of your first show so I can spread the word around. I

Sheik of the Streets

want it to be a big splash. A lot of people remember you, and we need
to let them know that you’re back.”

“You got it, Peppe. So long.”
As Johnny was walking through the fairgrounds, he was

surrounded by the familiar atmosphere. The sweet smell of cotton
candy in the air, the fragrant smell of popcorn, and even the fruity
smell of snow cones. He had always been a lover of snow cones.
Although he thought at one time that he would be glad to leave it all
behind, now he wasn’t so sure. It was actually good to be back. At
least this was something he knew, something comfortable, something
familiar. He would fit into it like an old shoe. Sure, he could be killed,
but he could also be killed on the mean streets of New York. At least
this way he wouldn’t die with a bullet in his back or a knife in his
heart.

Later, the moment he walked into his apartment, he said to

Blondie, “Get packed. We’re moving.”

“We are? Where to?”
“Does it matter? Out of here.”
“Look, Johnny, no one wants to get out of here more than I do,

but—”

“But what? Look, Blondie, I’m either moving with you or without

you.”

“But why so quick?”
“Quick? We’ve been talking about this for weeks. I don’t know

about you, but this apartment is beginning to stifle me. Besides,
you’re the one who said you hated it here, and you wanted to leave.
So, we leave. Besides, I’ve got a job.”

“A job? What kind of job.”
“It’s with the Pepperico Rubin Shows in upper New York. I’m

going back into daredevil stunt riding.”

“You mean on a motorcycle?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Isn’t that dangerous?”

Kelly Conrad

“Life is dangerous. Now, get packed.”
“But what will I do? I just got a job with the police as a sketch

artist. It pays good money, Johnny.”

“Look, Blondie, it doesn’t matter where you live. If they need

you, they call you in.”

“You mean I’ll draw a commission?”
“No. You get a salary, but you don’t work for any one precinct,

you work for all of ’em. Get it? Your name goes on a list of sketch
artists, and they call you when they need you. I’ll tell you a little
secret. The best ones are at the top of the list. Hell, as good as you are,
you’ll have more work than you can handle.”

“Really?”
“If you do well, and I know you will, we can send you to school to

learn how to reconstruct faces.”

Blondie’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
“The sketch artist only draws the face. There are forensic experts

who started out drawing, and then went on to reconstructing faces on
skulls of dead people.”

“Oh, my God.”
“It’s your choice, Blondie. It’s a field I think you’d do well in, but

it’s up to you.”

“Can we afford a school like that?”
“Why not? We’ll both be working. You can study at night.”
“When do I sleep?”
“Oh, you’ll get plenty of bedtime, don’t worry.”
Getting his meaning, Blondie smiled.
“Meanwhile, we’ll be out of this place and well on our way to

something better.”

Blondie moved quickly as he started packing. “Do we have a

place to go?”

“I got a place out in the exurbs of New York. It’s close to where

the Pepperico Rubin shows are being held.”

“What the hell is an exurb?”

Sheik of the Streets

“It’s downstate. We’re out of the city, but still part of the urban

sprawl. You know…exurbs.”

“I’ve heard of suburbs. Is it something like that?”
“I guess so.” He looked over at Blondie. “Have you got

everything?”

“Yeah, but what about the furniture?”
“It’s not mine. Just the linens, towels, pictures, and so forth.”
“What’ll we do about them?”
“Right now I’m just worried about getting out of here. I’ll have

the super send them to me. If you’re ready, let’s go.”

“But what about the cops? They won’t know where we are.”
“I’ve already talked to them. They know everything. Our new

address, my new job…everything.”

Without wasting a minute, the two men hurried out of the

apartment and down the steps, but just before they opened the outside
door to the street, Johnny shoved a helmet and a pair of goggles at
Blondie, and said, “Put ’em on.”

Blondie looked down at them curiously. “Why?”
“The helmet will hide your hair, and the goggles will hide your

face.”

“What’s wrong with my hair?”
“It shines like the sun. Now put ’em on.” He indicated beyond the

door. “If anyone’s out there, the first thing they’ll see is that blond
hair of yours. This helmet will hide it.”

“What about you?”
“Well, I’m not in uniform, and with the helmet, the goggles and

the leather jacket, that should be enough to fool them.”

“You think they’d try to do something in daylight?”
“I don’t know, but I’m not taking any chances. Time to go. Come

on.”

Blondie followed him, and as soon as the two of them got outside,

he saw Johnny look up the street and down, and then nod at someone

Kelly Conrad

across the street. Blondie looked, and saw an undercover cop parked
and watching them.

“Police protection,” Johnny said as the black sedan started its

motor. “They’ll follow us until they know we’re safe, and then veer
off and head back into the city.”

Blondie saw Johnny straddle a whopping big cycle that was

parked at the curb, and stopped dead still. “Is that yours?”

“Yeah. You’ll ride on the back.”
“Don’t you have a car?”
“Only a police cruiser. I won’t be needing that anymore.”
“Okay,” Blondie muttered, a little nervous. As he walked toward

it slowly, he thought of Johnny’s daredevil past. “No fancy stuff,
okay?”

Johnny chuckled. “Coward.”
Once Johnny got the cycle started, he revved her up, cut his eyes

back toward Blondie to see his reaction when with a twist of his wrist
he made the cycle jump ahead, start out fast, gain speed—and then do
a wheelie that had Blondie begging for mercy.

In no time they were out on the highway headed for the exurbs—

and freedom.

Sheik of the Streets

Chapter Six

“Feast your eyes, Blondie,” Johnny said as he drove up in the

driveway of a very unique looking structure. “We are now
exurbanites.”

“It’s a house!” Blondie said as he moved to get off the

motorcycle.

“Don’t get too excited. It’s just a rental.”
“I can’t even remember the last time I lived in a house.”
Johnny smiled as he moved to stand beside him. “It’s what they

call a Storybook House. It was built back in the fifties and used in a
Hollywood movie, but after the movie was shot they just left it. Now
the owner rents it out.”

“Are you sure that’s true? It sounds like a lot of hype to me. Boy,

did they see you coming.”

“Well, maybe so. I always have been a sucker for a good sales

pitch. By the way, it’s your job to keep it clean, and my job to see that
you do.”

“Oh, I will. It’ll be a pleasure.”
“Well…maybe I’ll help you a little.”
“We’ll have chores,” Blondie said excitedly as they kept looking

at it. “You’ll keep the upstairs clean, and I’ll take the downstairs.” He
looked at Johnny. “What about the garbage. Who’ll take that out?”

“Well, it seems only fair that you do it since you’ll be taking care

of the downstairs.”

“Hey,” Blondie said, pretending he was angry. “You set me up.”

Kelly Conrad

“Okay, I guess we could each take a day. I’ll be Monday,

Wednesday, and Friday, and you’ll be Tuesday, Thursday, and
Saturday. How does that sound?”

“What about Sunday?”
“Everyone needs a day of rest. Even God.”
They looked at each other and laughed, and then Johnny said,

“We have plenty of time to decide who’ll do what. Come on. Let’s get
a look at the inside.”

As soon as they entered, Blondie had begun to walk from room to

room, looking at everything. Just then Johnny came up behind him
and quickly spun him around until they were face-to-face. His gaze
dropped down to Blondie’s lips, and he said, “The tour will have to
wait.”

“Oh, Johnny,” Blondie muttered sensuously. “I love it when

you’re forceful like this.”

“I’ll meet you in the bedroom. It’s the first door on the right

upstairs.” He leaned forward and kissed him, his tongue searching his
mouth and his hands moving down his back until they came to his
butt. With a squeeze and a moan, Johnny’s cock began to rise and
pushed against Blondie.

“Oh, baby,” Blondie said. “Who needs the bedroom?”
While they kissed, desire moved Blondie’s hips, pushing his cock

against Johnny’s, while they sank down on the nearby couch. Clothes
began to come off while their hands moved frantically up and down
their bodies.

“Oh, God, Johnny. Fuck me.”
Flesh to flesh, Johnny pushed his cock against Blondie’s, this dry

fuck just the beginning. Blondie’s thighs opened wide in invitation,
his cock pushing against Johnny’s reaching for the elusive warmth
that teased and taunted. “It’s waiting, Johnny,” he said. “My hole is
waiting for you. I can feel myself dripping with anticipation. It’s hot
and waiting, Johnny.”

Sheik of the Streets

Blondie’s words were making Johnny so hot he felt that with them

alone he might just come and ruin everything. It was too soon. He
wanted to plunge into Blondie and fuck him with everything he had. It
had been too damned long since they had been together—especially
without a knife between them. He could feel the damp head of his
cock pushing against Blondie’s hole, kissing him with fervor, his hole
sucking his cock in, and spreading to take him inside. And then he
was there. It was warm, succulent. The walls were satiny as he pushed
in and out, the deeper he went the deeper the sensations felt until he
was almost ready to come. Oh, God, fucking Blondie was like being
in heaven. He stroked his wild, unruly hair, kissed his lips, and held
him as close as he could. Even when he had Blondie in his clutches he
wanted more, so much more of him. But all he could get was the
sensations that rose with one push after the other, deeper and deeper
into the darkness that held his delight.

“Oh, God, J–Johnny. I think I’m c–c–coming.”
“Burn me, Blondie. Burn me with your cum, baby.”
Blondie rode the sensations caused by Johnny’s cock as he thrust

in and out, one on top of the other until Blondie couldn’t stay silent,
but let out a cry as he clenched Johnny. He rode him, bucking and
bouncing until he finally burst, and released the biggest and fiercest
orgasm he’d ever had.

Even when Blondie had been satisfied completely, he held onto

Johnny, kissing and loving him as if he never wanted to let him go.
And when his body was at last filled with the waning velvety release
that he had been waiting for, the two men sighed, and at last fell into a
satisfied sleep.

* * * *

Later on in the day, just as the sun was setting, Johnny woke up to

smells of food coming from the kitchen. Following the smell, he went

Kelly Conrad

to the kitchen and saw Blondie with an apron on, cooking. He smiled.
“Well, if it isn’t the little homemaker.”

“Hey, don’t get smart,” Blondie said. “Somebody’s got to be.”
“I saw packages in the living room. When did they get here?”
“The super must have been on the ball. It arrived not long after we

got here. Good thing, too. Without them we wouldn’t have had
anything to cook in.” He looked at Johnny and smiled. “I guess he
was afraid of the ADU.”

“I have a feeling he’s glad to get rid of us.”
“Amen.”
Just then there was a knock at the door, and Johnny turned to go

answer it. “I wonder who that could be? I didn’t think anybody knew
we were here.”

“Be careful,” Blondie said, worriedly. “It could be trouble.”
Johnny’s eyes widened in surprise when he saw the gaily

decorated Pepperico Rubin standing just outside. Opening the door,
he said, “My God, Peppe, what the hell are you doing here?”

With a definite sway to his hips, he walked in, looking around. “I

just thought I’d check out your new digs.” He searched the house with
a sharp gaze, and then said, “Mmm, very…homey…if one
wants…homey.” He looked toward the kitchen. “What’s that I
smell?”

“It’s dinner. Let me take your, uh, coat,” Johnny said, looking at

the poor animal that gave its life to make Peppe look glamorous.

“No need, dear, I’m not staying that long. I just wanted to know

where I could find you if I needed you.”

“You look like you’re going out on the town. Anyone I know?”
“A new love interest,” he said, stepping up close to Johnny and

giving him a flirtatious tweak on his chin. Suddenly his eyes shifted
when he saw Blondie walk into the room. “Well, what have we got
here?”

Johnny turned around and saw Blondie looking at the two of them

with a mixture of surprise and jealousy on his face. “Oh, that’s

Sheik of the Streets

Blondie. Come here, Blondie, and meet Pepperico Rubin. He’s the
owner of the carnival I’ll be riding in.”

Blondie walked toward them reluctantly. “Hi,” he said without a

smile.

“Where did you get all that blond hair?” Peppe said.
“I don’t know. One day it was there…and the next day it was still

there.”

Peppe laughed. “Oh, my, he’s funny.”
“You have to watch Blondie. He’s famous for his sarcastic

remarks. He doesn’t like questions, so he kind of shrugs them off with
a stupid answer,” Johnny said, sneaking Blondie a reprimanding look.

“Well, I don’t blame you, Blondie. I don’t like questions either. I

think we’re going to get along splendidly.” He turned toward Johnny.
“And now, my sweet, I have to be going. We’ve got a dinner
engagement, and then we’ll be giving the hottest gay joint in the city a
load of us.”

Johnny laughed. “You’re the one who’s funny, Peppe. Gonna strut

your stuff, huh?”

“My God, Johnny, I haven’t heard that saying in at least…God,

how many years has it been?” He cocked his head as if thinking about
it. “I like it, though. Strut my stuff,” he repeated thoughtfully. “I’ll
have to remember that.” Looking back at Johnny, he reached out and
cupped his jaw with fingers that had been gaily decorated with long,
false nails. He playfully pulled his face forward and gave him a peck
on the lips. “God, I love those lips of yours.” After giving him a big
shining smile with newly whitened teeth, he turned his head when he
heard a honking sound out front and hurried to the door. “Gotta go.
Brick gets impatient.”

“Brick? You’re going out with someone called Brick?”
“Well, baby, if you knew what I know…” He hesitated for a

moment, and then leaned closer and whispered conspiratorially.
“Don’t repeat this, but the truth is, he has bricks in his briefs. Bricks,
baby. What else can I call him?” After he said it, he laughed

Kelly Conrad

raucously. “Well, bye, babe.” Just before he went through the door, he
looked over at Blondie and gave him a wicked wink. “Hey, sweetums,
don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

While they both stood at the door and watched him leave, Blondie

said, “I don’t like him, and I trust him even less.”

“Peppe’s harmless. So, he flirts a little. It doesn’t mean a thing.”
“I don’t like the way he looks at you.”
“How is that?”
“Like he’s hungry.”
“Hell, Blondie, you’re imagining things.”
“No, I’m not, Johnny. This transgender stuff is all an act.”
“You mean, you don’t think he’s a transgender man?”
“I don’t know about that, but I do know that he uses it like a front.

You know? By the time everyone gets through looking at his wild
makeup and his fancy clothes, they’ve missed what he really is.”

“Look, I’ve known this guy for years. If there was anything to

what you say, don’t you think I would know? So what if he’s a little
outrageous in the way he dresses and lives his life? I believe in live
and let live.”

“Just don’t forget what I said. Keep your eyes open at all times.”
Johnny turned away as if he thought Blondie was spouting

nonsense, but in the back of his mind, he wondered. Was Blondie
right? Was Peppe really a devil behind all the makeup and wild
costumes? And if so, why hadn’t he seen it? Maybe it took someone
from the outside to see Peppe for what he really was. Maybe Johnny
was too close to Peppe, and would have too much to lose if he took
the blinders off and got a good look at him. Hell, he didn’t care what
Pepperico looked like, or how he lived his life. He just needed
someone that he could count on when the time came. Would
Pepperico be that person?

Or would his gaily made-up face suddenly turn sinister?

* * * *

Sheik of the Streets

The next day, Johnny had to begin his practice runs, so he walked

up to the round structure with a sign on it that said, “Cavalcade of
Thrills.” He climbed the stairway up to the observation deck and
looked down into the scary looking thing they called the Wind Barrel.
That was only one of the shows. He had done the Tip, the Grand
Spiel, the Inside Pitch, and even the Jam. Luckily he had managed to
secure a good time for his practice run, and took a walk around the
area and saw that his gear had been set up as he had asked. The cage
seemed to be in good shape, and his cycle couldn’t have been in better
working order. Everything looked good. He liked the privacy most of
all. With too many people around, he worried about becoming
distracted, but apparently that was not going to be a problem.

The first show would be free of charge so they could introduce the

Motorcycle Maniacs, as they were called. They would come out on
stage and give a quick demonstration of what the people could expect
inside the cage, but after that they would go to the Thrill Arena. The
distant memory of how it used to be when he was with the Les
Warren Shows came back to him. The cage, the motorcycle, the thrill
of the moment, the nervous energy, and of course, the excitement. It
was all there in the sound of the barker’s voice…

“Johnny Blaze, our best rider, will demonstrate some of the

acrobatic riding you will see in the Thrill Arena, but before we do
that, Johnny is going to go through the rider’s doorway to the Thrill
Arena and start up one of the Death Bikes.

“Open the door, Rocky! Look folks, look through the doorway into

the vertical speedway, that we call Wall of Death. Come on, folks, all
of you get in close. I want you to see this. Inside that big barrel, a
gang of daredevil riders risk it all in every show. Now listen, people,
what you hear is the sound of a Harley-Davidson motorcycle engine
with special modifications. It is part of a hard tail customized frame
with specially designed suspension for stability. Johnny Blaze is
warming it up, and then he is going to put it up on the Wall of

Kelly Conrad

Death.” He stretched his neck, and yelled out, “Close the door
Rocky! Okay, Johnny, whenever you’re ready.” He turned back to the
people, and called out, “When he’s all done with the demonstration
ride, we’re going to bring him out here to show you some acrobatic
trick riding on the dyno rollers.” He turned back. “Listen! I can hear
him on the takeoff ramp!”

Johnny sat on the Harley, taking several minutes to rev up the

bike, but when he was finally ready, he pulled out all the stops and
took off, burning rubber.

“And there he goes, ladies and gentlemen, defying gravity on the

vertical speedway. Look at him go. It’s speed demon, Johnny Blaze,
risking life and limb to give you a thrilling show.”

After a smattering of applause, he lifted his hands, and said, “Give

it up, people. Let him hear you in there. He needs to be able to hear
you over the thunder of that big Harley he’s riding!” They
immediately began whistling and clapping. “Good!” the barker yelled
out. “Johnny needs all the encouragement he can get, and remember,
people, you’re getting this for free at the Les Warren Shows. Go tell
your friends.”

He drifted out of the memories as quickly as he had entered them.
Now, he thought of the donation drives they had. It was a time

when the people got in for free, but were asked to donate five, ten, or
even twenty dollars to the cause. To open their wallets, they were
allowed to take the bill, hold it in their hands, and have the rider ride
the wall up to the top where he could grab it out of the customer’s
hand. It was a thrill for the customer and a trick that was well worth
the money.

For kids, or for those who couldn’t donate that much, they were

allowed to take a handful of change, and hold it over the bowl and
drop it while the drivers were circling the bowl, letting the kids get
the thrill of a lifetime.

Sheik of the Streets

He looked around. Everything felt familiar. Like he fit, somehow.

But there was one small difference between then and now—and that
was Blondie.

Kelly Conrad

Chapter Seven

As Panther watched the apartment that night, he knew that this

was it. This was the night he was going to get rid of the Sheik once
and for all. He may be off the streets, but he was coming back, and
until then practically every cop in the precinct was out trying to do his
job. Well, he didn’t care how many cops were around, he’d had
enough. He’d had enough of biting his nails, and jumping at every
sound he heard. Before he walked his streets proudly, but now he
found himself hiding in shadowy corners, breathing heavy until the
danger was over. Sure, the Sheik might be gone, but it hadn’t made
life easier for him as he’d expected. Instead the streets were swarming
with a gang of cops trying to take his place, and now the
neighborhood was running over with black suits. If he wanted his
streets back, he had to do something, and he had to do it now.

He looked toward the apartment but the lights never came on, and

he didn’t see anyone leave. His nerves were jumping. He looked
around for Mario who was supposed to meet him there, but he was
late, making him suspicious. There was something rotten going on
here, and he decided not to wait another minute. While anger speared
through him, he ran across the narrow street and up the brownstone
steps and slammed into the building. With his feet scraping on the
steps loudly, he finally found the right apartment. He immediately
began pounding on the door over and over again, getting louder each
time. When there was no answer, he yelled out, “Hey, you fuckers in
there, open up!” He pounded again, but there was still no answer.
Finally, he lifted his foot, kicked the door open, and hurried in,

Sheik of the Streets

looking around. He saw nothing but an empty apartment shrouded in
shadows. “What the hell is this?”

He walked from room to room, and even though there was

furniture, everything was naked. No bedding on the beds, no towels in
the bathroom, nothing that would indicate that someone was living
there. “Where the hell are they?” He rushed around looking into
closets, but seeing no clothes. He pulled out drawers, but they had
been cleaned out. “Them fuckin’ bastards have run out on me!”

Just then Mario rushed in from outside. “What the hell are you

doin’?”

He quickly turned to Mario. “You seen ’em, didn’t you, Mario?

Remember when we were standing over there in the alley looking up
at the window? The two bastards was kissin’!”

“You don’t know if that was them, or not, Panther. You didn’t see

their faces. They might have been somebody else planted here so
you’d think that. Hell, man, you just assumed.”

“It was them! I’d stake my life on it!”
“Well, they ain’t here now, and there’s no tellin’ how long they

been gone.”

“I’ll find ’em. I’ll find the fuckers, and when I do, I’ll—”
“Easy, Panther. It looks to me like the fuzz did a number on you.

Hell, they knew you had ’em staked out, and they moved them, that’s
all. Now’s the time to lay low ’til the heat’s off. Take your time
lookin’ for ’em, ’cause if they wind up dead now, they’re gonna know
it was you that killed ’em.”

“Maybe so, but they can’t lock me up for havin’ a cuttin’ party on

them pretty faces of theirs!”

“Of course they can. They’re the police. They can do any damned

thing they want.”

“What are you, a coward all of a sudden?”
“I ain’t askin’ for trouble. Look, Panther, this is the Sheik we’re

talkin’ about here, and he ain’t nobody’s fool. Hell, he’s gotta be

Kelly Conrad

protectin’ Blondie, and it could be if you keep this up you’d be
walkin’ into a giant-sized trap.”

“The trap ain’t been built that can hold me.”
“I ain’t so sure. You’d better be careful,” Mario said, and turned

to run.

“Hey! Where you goin’?”
“Sorry, Panther, but this is your fight. You might have a score to

settle, but I ain’t no part of it.”

“I could kill you for that,” Panther said through gritting teeth.
“Oh, yeah? From where I stand you don’t look near big enough.

You let Blondie slip through your fingers, and the Sheik made a fool
out of you. It looks to me like your day is over, Panther, and I’m
warnin’ you now. If you go into this, you ain’t comin’ out.”

“Through, am I? Well, we’ll see about that.”

* * * *

While Mario ran along the cracked sidewalk, his guilty gaze

shifted from one hole to another to make sure no one was watching
him. He couldn’t afford to be seen. If Panther had any idea that it was
him that was leaking information to the police, his life wouldn’t be
worth shit. Times were hard, and the fuzz had promised him amnesty
if he cooperated, plus a buck or two. Hell, what could he do? He had
to make a buck somehow.

* * * *

The next day, Johnny took Blondie with him when he was doing a

practice run. At this point they were standing on the observation deck
looking down into the Wall of Death when someone came up to
Johnny, handed him a note, and then turned to leave. When Johnny
looked at it, he called out to the messenger. “Hey, Turk, who
delivered this?”

Sheik of the Streets

“Some cop. That’s all I know.”
“Okay, thanks.” He turned to Blondie. “Panther’s on our trail. He

found out that we moved out of the apartment and has sworn to find
us.”

“Why the hell does he care?” Blondie said. “You’re off the street.

We’re out of his hair. What more does he want?”

“Knowing Panther, I’d say he won’t rest until he knows we’re

dead.”

“I guess you’re right,” Blondie answered. “I’ll go home and start

packing. What’ll you tell Peppe? He’s not gonna like the idea of you
leavin’ before you even start.”

“Look, Blondie, it’s not in my nature to run. The only reason I did

this time was to keep you safe. I’m letting you call the shots on this,
but I’ll tell you right now, I think we ought to face him down and get
rid of him once and for all.”

“But how?”
“Basically, men like Panther are cowards. They use their gang

members to do their dirty work for them and are the first ones to point
a finger if it gets too hot. That’s why Panther ratted on you when the
cops got too close. There’s no way I’m letting that bastard get his
claws into you.”

“I’m with you, Sheik—”
“Why did you call me Sheik?”
“Did I?”
“You sure as hell did. Ever since we moved out of the old

neighborhood you’ve been calling me Johnny.”

Blondie had a puzzled look on his face. “I don’t know.”
“Well, I’m no therapist,” Johnny said, “but just guessing, I’d say

that it has something to do with dredging up old memories of a dark
street, a gang, and—”

“—and one hot, hunky cop,” Blondie finished for him.
“Have you always felt that way?”
“Since the day I first saw you.”

Kelly Conrad

“God, I wish we were at home.”
Blondie looked around. “You mean there’s not any place around

here we could go?”

“There’s a pile of sawdust over there in that corner.”
“What are we waiting for? Today I want Johnny Blaze.”
“Johnny Blaze at your service.”

* * * *

The sawdust felt somehow raw and sexy as Blondie lay in the heat

of Johnny’s arms. A hot surge of need and anticipation rushed
through him. As Johnny’s head dipped toward him and his tongue
brushed his lips, his touch was skilled, he tasted of wind and spice,
and his tongue was talented beyond words. Johnny’s touch made his
groin roil with want, and as he nibbled and sucked at his bottom lip,
Johnny’s hand brushed fire across his skin, making thrills dart through
his body that had begun to tremble. With a moan of surrender,
Blondie returned the gentle pressure of his lips, making a sound in the
back of his throat like a male cat’s growling purr. It was a sound of
hunger and want.

It had become habit, a habit that told Johnny that he was ready.
His tongue flicked against the seam of Blondie’s lips, and then

darted, eager for more of this blissfully, sensual, erotic experience.
And then suddenly they were tight in each other’s arms, Johnny’s
hands plunging through Blondie’s hair, holding his head at an angle
while Blondie’s arms circled his powerful torso and explored the
muscular lines of his back. The fronts of their bodies were plastered
together, but their clothes were a barrier between them.

They undressed only as much as they dared since they were

almost out in the open. Since a dry fuck would have to do, they
opened up their flies, pushed their pants down until their cocks met,
and began love each other. Hot blood flowed through Blondie’s veins,
and pleasure electrified his body. Johnny’s movements and the husky

Sheik of the Streets

groan that came from his parted lips excited Blondie. As their cocks
rubbed, Johnny’s movements became faster, his cock pressing,
rubbing, and stroking Blondie’s over and over and over again.

Pushing, rubbing, hard and fast.
Their cocks seemed to tangle and twist, loving like they were

starving for each other. And then, when they began getting hard, the
sensitive heads of their cocks kissed each other, rubbing, until
Johnny’s cock swelled so large that it covered Blondie’s in a
massaging treat that made Blondie groan. At that moment Blondie’s
body seized up for a split second, and a thick spurt of his delight shot
from the plump head of his cock to land on the sawdust. He uttered a
low, rolling growl, and the two of them continued to rub together,
their cocks mating until suddenly another spew from each one soaked
the sawdust between them.

Afterward, their mouths melded as if they’d been designed to

mate. Blondie had learned that kisses were often disappointing, but
with Johnny, kissing could be an art form. Skillful, beautiful,
passionate, and even emotional, since many times his experience with
Johnny had been so wonderful he’d almost come to tears. It had been
so long since a man held him the way Johnny did. So long since a
man had satisfied him like Johnny did. The downside was, when
Johnny knew he pleased Blondie, he could be as cocky as hell, but on
him it looked good—like those bitching leather pants he wore.

They were just straightening their clothes when someone called

out Johnny’s name.

“Hey, Johnny! You here?”
“Over here, Peppe. What’s goin’ on?”
Peppe walked up, looked over at Blondie, and winked. “Hi,

darlin’. You come up to see this big bazooka in action? He’ll thrill
you right down to your toes.”

“He already did.”

Kelly Conrad

“Yeah?” Peppe said as his radar went up. He quickly dropped his

gaze to Blondie’s clothes and noticed that he was slightly covered in
sawdust. He gave Blondie a lopsided smile. “Sawdust becomes you.”

“Listen you—”
“Damn!” Johnny said, interrupting Blondie. “Would you two pull

in your claws for a moment so we can get on with this?”

“He started it,” Peppe said like a pouting child.
When he said that, Blondie just looked at him like he was the

stupidest man on earth.

Peppe turned his back on Blondie with a huff, and said, “Say,

Johnny, I knew you were going to be here, so I set up a photo shoot.”

“Now? Today? Without any warning?”
“It has to be today, babe. They’re not available again for another

month, and that’ll be too late. Anyway, I took the chance that I could
catch you while you were doing your practice run. You have the time,
don’t you?”

“Well, it’ll be a little tight, but I guess I can make up the time

tomorrow.”

He looked down at what Johnny was wearing. “Great. Leather

pants.” He looked around. “How about your leather jacket? You
know, the one with the blaze on the back. I love it. You’ll be so hot
you’ll set the place on fire.” He leaned his head toward Johnny
conspiratorially and put his hand up beside his mouth as if he didn’t
want Blondie to hear. “By the way, I understand the photographer’s a
fan of yours, so flirt a little, okay?”

Johnny cut his gaze toward Blondie, who was clearly not liking

this.

When their eyes met, Blondie said, “I’ll be waiting for you out

front.”

“You’re making this difficult for me, Peppe.”
“Why? Because of your friend there? Tell him to grow up. You’re

in the spotlight now, and he’s just going to have to get used to sharing
you.”

Sheik of the Streets

“Okay, okay. So where do you want me?”
“In front of the Wall of Death. He’ll probably want a few shots of

you on your Harley.”

Johnny followed Peppe outside. When he went through the door,

his eyes widened when he saw a crowd of people. “What the hell is
this, Peppe?”

“Now don’t get upset. These are just some people that want to

watch, that’s all.”

“You’re not charging admission, are you?”
Peppe laughed. “Damn, I must be slipping. That never occurred to

me. Oh, well. It’s too late now.”

“Is it always like this?”
“Not always, but you’re popular, and word is out on the streets

now that you’re opening your show soon. We’re really going to pack
’em in that night. I can’t wait.”

“You’ve already spread the word? Where?”
“Local, and in some parts of the city.”
Johnny was getting nervous. He’d never thought until now that

when Peppe put the word out it might get out to the wrong people. He
looked over at Blondie, at the shock of blond hair that stood out like a
burning flame, and could tell by his eyes that he was scared. Damn.
This was his own fault. The damage had been done, and if word had
reached Panther and his Disciples, he and Blondie were like sitting
ducks. He held on to the fact that maybe word hadn’t reached the
city’s ghetto, so right now all he could do was get through this shoot
the best way he could. As they stared at each other, he tried to convey
a message with his eyes that everything would be okay, but he had a
feeling that Blondie wasn’t buying it. He had an insane urge to grab
Blondie and run, but he’d made a commitment, signed a contract, and
he was trapped. Hell, he couldn’t have been more trapped if he’d had
his feet stuck in dried cement.

“Let’s get this done, Peppe,” Johnny said.

Kelly Conrad

After almost two hours of action shots, suddenly a woman came

up and stood beside Johnny and sort of melted in his arms as he stood
beside his motorcycle. With her million dollar smile, her exaggerated
sway, and her suggestive poses, he could tell she was a model just
doing her job.

“Stand closer to him, Candy,” the photographer called out. “And

darling, no kissing this time. That’ll come later.”

Johnny glanced over at Blondie, who was granite-faced as he

watched this display.

“All right, darling, put your arms around him and look at him like

he’s the most handsome man in the world. That’s right,” the
photographer said as he snapped one picture after the other.

After their shoot was over, the cute blonde said, “Thank you Mr.

Blaze.” Not giving him time to say anything, she immediately reached
her arms around his neck, pulled him to her, and planted a kiss on his
lips that made the crowd roar. “Mmmm, love those lips.”

It was such a big success that the photographer took advantage of

the moment, and called out, “Hey, you two. Look at me and smile.”

So, both she and Johnny turned toward the camera and smiled.

Johnny didn’t realize it until he saw the picture later that the girl had
lifted one leg when they kissed, making it look very cute and sexy.

After the shoot, Johnny signed a lot of autographs. While signing,

he asked Peppe, “Say, Peppe, did you see where Blondie went?”

“I’m not your babysitter, Johnny.”
“Look, this little feud between you and Blondie’s got to end. He’s

just a little jealous, that’s all. Once he learns that you have no designs
on me, it’ll pass.”

“He’s too damned possessive. How can you breathe with him

smothering you all the time?”

“It’s not like that at all, Peppe. Besides, I think it’s nice that’s he’s

so possessive. It means he loves me.”

“He wants to own you, Johnny. Let the kid loose so he can go

back to where he came from.”

Sheik of the Streets

“Oh, no. No way that’s going to happen. He comes from a

dangerous part of the city. If I put him out, it would be just like
putting a baby kitten out on the street with no way to take care of
himself. He’d die.”

“So that’s it. You took him to raise.”
“Actually, I took him for a night. A night that turned into a way of

life. Now I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

“Do you love him?”
Johnny bowed his head. “I feel deeply, but lo…lo…hell, I just

don’t know.

“My God, you can’t even say it.”
“We haven’t been together long enough for me to know how deep

my feelings are for him.”

“I give it three months. You just remember one thing, sweet.

When you split, remember that Peppe’s here, and I’ll make it all
better.”

Johnny watched as Peppe walked away. If he let himself, he could

spend a lot of time worrying about the drag queen interfering with his
relationship with Blondie, but damn, he had so many things on his
mind, he just didn’t have the time.

Kelly Conrad

Chapter Eight

While Johnny was having his discussion with Peppe, Blondie had

already left, and was at their place packing up the few belongings he
had. Every time he picked up something that Johnny had given him,
he put it aside refusing to let it affect his decision to leave, until his
gaze fell on the decanter. Looking at it, he was reminded of the night
Johnny gave it to him.

“Do you remember the night I arrested you for peeing on the

street?” Johnny asked as he gave him the gaily wrapped gift. “When I
saw this stupid thing, I had to have it for you. I hope you like it.”

“What have you gone and wasted your money on this time?”

Blondie asked as he quickly unwrapped the gift. The minute he saw
what it was, he felt hot, misty tears gather in his eyes. “Oh my God,
where in the world did you find something like that?”

“Here,” Johnny said. “Let me show you how it works.”
He took it, set it down, got two glasses, and pressed the lever,

making the boy spew vodka into their glasses through his penis.

And now, as Blondie picked it up and looked at it, his tears began

to fall. Their love that night at the old brownstone was very special,
and every time he looked at it, he thought of that night, and the
bittersweet love they shared. In the days that followed, Blondie lived
in that glow and didn’t think it could ever be destroyed—until now.

Quickly placing it in among his other things, he hoisted the bag up

over his shoulder and left. He didn’t know where he was going, or
how he would get there, but he began walking down the little road
until he reached the highway. It seemed as if he’d walked several
hours when he spotted something in the distance that looked like an

Sheik of the Streets

old abandoned house. It was sitting on a deserted road just off the
main highway. As he walked up to it, he could tell it wasn’t much, but
when he considered the night coming on, to him, it looked like a
mansion.

* * * *

A little later, Johnny came slamming into the house. While pulling

off his coat and hanging it up, he yelled, “Blondie! Hey, Blondie, I’m
home.” He smiled, looking down at a photograph, and then lifted it up
as if to show it to him as he walked through the house looking around.
“Hey, I’ve got something to show you.” When there was no response,
he realized that Blondie must not be at home. At any other time he
wouldn’t have thought anything about it, but because of how he’d
reacted at the photo shoot today, he became a little worried.

“Blondie, are you here?” Hearing nothing, he looked in every

room, around doors and then walked into the bedroom. When he still
didn’t find him, he stood there wondering. By now he sensed
something wasn’t right. The silence was deafening. Instead of just
being empty, the house seemed to have lost its life. A shell of
standing bones with no one in it to give it life. There were no cooking
smells, no soft music in the background, no warmth—only a cold,
empty, and heartless house robbed of the one thing that gave it life.

Johnny moved quickly and hurried from one place to the other. He

looked in drawers, in the closet, and searched for things he knew
belonged to Blondie. Gifts, silly little keepsakes that meant something
to Blondie. But when he saw his satchel gone and a closet empty of
his clothes, he knew.

Blondie had left.
He rushed to the front door and looked down the little road hoping

he could still see him walking down it. When he didn’t see him, he
backed in and closed the door. With a sadness he hadn’t felt in a long
time, Johnny sat around thinking about Blondie. He picked at his food

Kelly Conrad

and finally threw it out. When he went to bed, he tossed and turned,
but every time he closed his eyes, Blondie’s image haunted him. With
sleep eluding him, he finally got up, and put on his clothes. He had to
find him. Surely to God he wouldn’t go back to the city knowing he’d
be killed the minute he showed his face there. He had to assume that
Blondie had more sense.

He rushed out of the house and got on his motorcycle. He sat on it

revving up his engine, wondering which direction Blondie would
have taken. When he was ready, he gave a roaring leap into the night,
the loud engine surrounding Johnny with the memories of how it felt
to have Blondie sitting behind him with his arms around him. He had
been riding for at least a half hour when he came upon a little rutted
road that turned off the main highway. There was nothing about it that
was unusual. In fact, if he hadn’t looked close, he wouldn’t have even
noticed it. He passed it going at least sixty-five miles an hour, but just
as he went by it, he glanced over and saw a brightness among the
trees. He didn’t pay any attention to it at first, but something began
nagging at him, so he slowed down and stopped. He sat there for a
moment, telling himself that it probably meant nothing, but he knew
he wouldn’t get any rest until he found out for sure. Finally he revved
his engine up again, made a U-turn, and held on to the handlebars as it
leaped into action again, going strong into the night. With the wind in
his hair, he finally came to the little road where he saw the glow, and
turned off. Slowing down considerably, he made his way along the
rutted passageway that wound around through brush and trees until he
was almost there. Since he didn’t want to announce his arrival, he got
off his cycle, parked it, and walked up to the house.

The house was nothing but a shell. There were a few decorative

columns still standing, and that, with a couple of outside walls and a
brick fireplace, the house that apparently had died in a fire, still stood
beneath a very shaky roof. It looked to him as if a stiff wind could
easily blow it away, but it might be a mansion to a little street punk
that never had anything better. As he stood in a big gap in the wall, he

Sheik of the Streets

saw Blondie putting twigs, paper, and debris in the fireplace and
watching the fire grow with every item he added.

“Hello, Blondie,” he said softly.
Blondie whirled around, his eyes wide and a look of fear on his

face. When he saw who it was, he said, “What the hell are you doing
here?”

“A better question is, what are you doing here?”
“You’ll have to forgive the looks of the place. My maid and butler

just had to have the ni—”

“Cut it out, Blondie. I’ve learned that you use your smart mouth

as your defense. You’ve nothing to be defensive about here. I’m not
accusing you of anything, and I’m not here to hurt you. My God, you
should know that.”

“Yeah? I don’t know anything anymore.”
“So what’s made you so cynical at the ripe old age of twenty-

three?”

“Twenty-four. I had a birthday. Remember the…” He couldn’t

finish.

“The boy peeing on the street?” Johnny smiled. “Yeah. I wish I

could have gotten you something better, but those were lean times,
weren’t they?”

“It’s the thought—” He finished with a sob.
Johnny stepped inside, knelt down to where Blondie was, and

pulled him close. “C’mon, Blondie, let’s talk it over. Why did you
leave?”

Trying to act nonchalant, Blondie gave a little shrug. “Oh, you

know how it is. Nothing lasts forever. I just figured it was time I was
getting out…doing my own thing, you know?”

“And you came here,” Johnny said, looking up and around at the

structure that reminded him of something Dracula might live in.
“Doesn’t this place give you the willies?”

Blondie looked around, and said, “Are you kidding? After

walking the streets of the ghetto, nothing scares me. I needed a place

Kelly Conrad

to stay, so I went out and found this. It’s not so bad. A working
fireplace, a wall or two. Hell, it’s better than what I had in the city.”

“Quit with the act, Blondie. Lay it on the line. What did I do?”
Blondie looked at him with fire in his eyes. “Don’t you know?

That Peppe guy is all over you, Johnny. He wants you, and—”

“Now just stop right there. It takes two to tango, baby, and my

dance card is filled. Got that?”

“Yeah? What about that cute little sex kitten that had you

slobberin’ all over her?”

“Is that what this is all about? I can’t believe what I’m hearing.

Blondie, it’s nothing but promotion, that’s all. Kisses, smiles, and ass
touching—”

“Ass touching? Did you touch her ass?”
“I might have.”
“You bastard!” Blondie yelled.
“It wasn’t like I enjoyed it or anything. Like I said, it was all just

promotion. Blondie, you’re going to have to get over this if we have
any kind of life together. In my business there’s going to be a certain
amount of ass kissing, if you want to know the truth.”

“Is that what you’re doing with Peppe? Kissing his ass?”
“Metaphorically speaking.”
“I don’t like it, Johnny. Pretty soon he’s going to want you to do

more than kiss his ass…metaphorically speaking.”

“So what if he does? You have nothing to worry about. Peppe will

back off anytime I tell him to. But right now, we have to play it safe,
Blondie. Peppe’s not a bad sort, and he knows I’m with you now.”
Johnny looked closely at Blondie. “I am still with you, aren’t I? That
hasn’t changed, has it?”

Blondie hesitated, and then said, “No, I guess not.”
“What do you say we head back to the house?”
Blondie hesitated a moment, and then said, “If you promise not to

play cop, I’ll show you something.”

“I don’t know what you mean, but I’ll do my best.”

Sheik of the Streets

Blondie took his hand and led him down into what used to be a

cellar. He led him to a portion of the wall and began knocking on it.
When it began to sound hollow, he reached down, found a hole, and
put his finger into it. He then pulled at it, and the wall began to open.

When Johnny saw what was inside, his eyes widened. “Oh my

God, that’s a skeleton.”

“Yeah. I don’t know who this house belonged to, but whoever

they were they must have been serial killers.” He turned and looked
around. “Look at this place. I’ll bet if you examined it you’d find that
dark stuff on the floor and on that table is blood.”

Johnny looked troubled. “Blondie, this can’t be ignored. It’s got to

be reported.” His practiced gaze darted from one place to another. “It
looks like the place caught fire, or maybe it was set on fire to hide the
evidence. Apparently it didn’t quite reach the basement.”

“Hell, I knew I shouldn’t have showed it to you. You’re a cop first

and foremost. No matter—”

“Blondie, you can’t seriously be asking me to ignore this. A

murder…maybe more than one was committed here. We’ve got to
find out who this skeleton was at one time, and who did this. What if
it was some mother’s daughter or son? What if it was one of your
family members? Wouldn’t you want to know?”

“You forget. I didn’t have a family. And my father? Please.”
“All right. Bad example.” Johnny thought for a moment, and then

said, “Blondie, what if it was someone close to you? Me, for instance.
Wouldn’t you want to know?”

“Sure, but this wasn’t done yesterday. It must be years old. More

than likely whoever it was has been forgotten by now. If there ever
was a case, it’s probably closed by now.”

“You don’t forget someone you love.”
As Blondie looked at Johnny, his eyes softened, and then he said,

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Kelly Conrad

Johnny went up to Blondie and embraced him. “Why don’t we get

out of here?” he whispered in Blondie’s ear. “I’ll bet you’re hungry,
right? Me, too, I didn’t eat a bite worrying about you.”

“Oh, God, Johnny,” Blondie said as he closed his eyes and laid his

head on Johnny’s shoulder. “I love you so much. I guess I’m just too
jealous. I hope I don’t drive you crazy.”

Johnny moved his hands up to Blondie’s head and held it. “You’re

my guy, Blondie, and you’ve got no reason to be jealous.” His gaze
dropped to Blondie’s lips. “There’s only one thing about you that
drives me crazy, and it’s those lips of yours. How about we let this
little discovery lie until the morning, and I’ll contact the police then.
Is that good enough?”

Blondie smiled. “You’re the boss.”
Johnny captured Blondie’s lips beneath his and kissed him deeply.
Blondie responded slowly, fitting in Johnny’s arms as if he

belonged there. Johnny was so very tall they worked well together.
Just the anticipation of sex, of Johnny touching him had him
squirming. “Oh God, Johnny, tie me up. Lay me down and tie me up.
Hurry.”

“You feel a little kinky tonight, huh?”
The two of them sank toward the floor where Johnny grabbed an

old rope and tied his hands to a pipe. Blondie immediately began to
struggle as if he were trying to get away. It reminded him of the night
Johnny arrested him. It was a night full of force that turned out to
change both their lives. Now, tonight, they struggled together again,
Johnny laying over him and forcing him to submit to his licking
tongue. Blondie’s nipples were insanely sensitive, and with every
touch of Johnny’s tongue, he writhed and groaned out his need.
Slowly Johnny began to undress him, watching Blondie’s cock and
even eating it, bringing it almost to release. And then Johnny pulled
Blondie’s legs up, took a few moments to prepare him for penetration,
and then suddenly came down on him.

Sheik of the Streets

Using his own wetness for lubrication, he began to fuck Blondie

like crazy.

Blondie was in heaven, feeling the fullness in his ass while he

struggled with the bonds and writhed madly. His hips were in synch
with Johnny’s as he pulled his cock in and out, over and over again. It
was the best ass fucking that Blondie could remember. The forbidden
juices began to dribble down the sides of his stiff cock, and Johnny,
the master masturbator, grabbed it and, with his large hand, began to
massage it, bringing out of Blondie a gurgling moan he simply
couldn’t believe. Maybe it was because he had almost lost Johnny, or
maybe because he finally admitted his love for him, but he felt that
this was the best ass fucking he’d had in a long time.

Their fucking lasted far into the night, two writhing bodies

moaning and groaning while an anonymous skeleton lay close by.

* * * *

When they finally made it home that night, it was just a couple of

hours before dawn, and they walked into the house holding each other
like a honeymoon couple. The minute they got into bed, they came
together again, and it was Blondie’s fault. He couldn’t help it. He had
Johnny back and couldn’t leave him alone. He began playing gently
with Johnny’s cock, handling it at first, and then sucking on it until it
turned super hard. This was sort of a surprise for Blondie, especially
since they’d just fucked earlier. He was further surprised when
Johnny grabbed him, laid him down, got on top of him, and began
fucking him all over again. His hunger for Johnny seemed to come
out of him like a growling tiger, so with his tongue he just naturally
began licking over his neck and face while they were fucking. Their
bodies bucking and rolling, cocks in, cocks out, tongues lapping, one
at the other, and lips seeking and kissing face and neck. Growls and
moans filled the room, and the smell of sex lifted on the wind as the

Kelly Conrad

two ravenous lovers went at it over and over again until the dawn
came, and their bodies began to give way to a lovely ache.

* * * *

In that same early morning dawn, in another part of town, Panther

sat in a small room with a dirty window that gave a dim view of the
trashy street below. Wallpaper was tearing away from the walls, and
in one corner was a mattress that was so old it was almost flat. One
lone blue blanket and one pillow without a cover lay on the mattress.
The outline still conformed to the shape of someone’s head. The
lonely pillow lay in the semidarkness looking as if it were waiting for
night to come again.

As Panther sat at the rickety old table, his powdered badrock was

columned and ready to snort. He was just about to position his straw
for his first snort when he saw the crumpled up flyer that Mario had
pushed into his hand when he was on his way to his pad.

“Read this,” he had said, his eyes boring into Panther’s. “It might

educate you.”

Now, moving slowly, he put the straw down and spread the flyer

out before him. His eyes squinted at the print in the dim light. He was
coming down off a high, and feeling lousy, so he wasn’t sure what he
was reading. It looked like someone by the name of Johnny Blaze
would be coming back to the Pepperico Rubin shows in a few weeks.

So what? he thought, and was going to cast it aside, but something

wouldn’t let him. It was the name. He looked back down at the flyer
again, knowing he must be missing something. There had to be some
reason why Mario would think he would be interested in a guy by the
name of—and then it clicked.

Johnny Blaze… Johnny. When it finally sunk in, his eyes widened

in surprise. Oh my God. Was Johnny Blaze really Johnny
Pirelli…alias the Sheik? That damned bastard! the Panther thought.
He’d been calling him the Sheik so long he’d forgotten his real name.

Sheik of the Streets

Suddenly the Panther was as sober as a judge. He jumped up, his

abrupt movements turning the chair over, his badrock forgotten. Now
he had only one thought in his mind, and that was to find the Sheik—
no matter how long it took.

Kelly Conrad

Chapter Nine

The day finally came when Johnny was to debut his act, and

Blondie was as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking
chairs. He couldn’t sit, so he paced across the porch of the house
raking his hands through his thick hair. It was no secret that he was
worried about Johnny. He knew enough about daredevil stunt riding
to know that Johnny could get hurt—bad. For two cents he would ask
Johnny not to go on, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good. Johnny
had signed a contract, and even if he hadn’t, he was the type to keep
his word no matter what—even if it meant his life.

Finally, when Johnny came out, Blondie whirled around, and said,

“You know this is a stupid way of making a living, don’t you?”

“Calm down, Blondie.”
“But you could be killed!”
“Okay, so it’s dangerous. But it’s a hell of a lot safer than walking

a beat in the ghetto.”

“I’m not so sure. There you had a whole police force behind you.

Here, you’re on your own. I guess you don’t mind giving me gray
hair, do you?”

Johnny laughed. “You’re a baby, Blondie. What do you know

about gray hair?”

“Okay, answer me this. What’s the attraction?”
“The attraction?”
“You know, the magic. What is it that draws you to this kind of

life? Some people are compelled to do things they know they
shouldn’t. Is it the danger? The excitement? The adulation of your
fans? What?”

Sheik of the Streets

“It’s probably none of those things. I’ve been raised to this,

Blondie. I don’t know anything else. My mom and pop began training
me for this…hell, the minute I came out of the womb. I could ride
before I could walk.”

“I don’t buy that. Even an idiot knows not to put their head in a

noose.”

“All right, maybe it’s the money. Ever think of that? Hell,

Blondie, I get a six-figure salary for a job where I’m featured, and a
five-figure salary for the everyday stuff.”

“It won’t do you much good dead.”
“Look, Blondie,” Johnny said, draping an arm over his shoulders,

and bringing him close. “This is still all new to you. Hell, we haven’t
been together that long, so we’re just getting to know each other.
Believe me, after a while you’ll get used to it and won’t think
anything about me driving my Harley along a tightrope while doing
tricks.”

“Oh, God,” Blondie said, getting chills just thinking about it.

“Will there be anyone there with you?”

“Sure, but I’ll be the main attraction. The one doing the stunts. All

eyes will be on me. The other riders will give me all the support I
need, including the doctor.”

“The doctor? There’ll be a doctor there?”
“Blondie, there has to be a doctor in case of accidents. You can

see that can’t you?”

“Yeah, I…I guess I see. I mean, you’re the one taking the

chances, right?”

“Of course. That’s the point. I’m the star. The people come to see

me. After this I’ll do at least one show every day because that’s what
my contract specifies.”

“I thought people like you traveled around putting on their own

shows at fairs, auto shows, and things like that.”

“Some do. Others hook up with carnivals, circuses, or whatever.

The Pepperico Rubin Shows have been around for a long time, and

Kelly Conrad

I’ve known Peppe for a few years now. It’s a good opportunity to
hook up with them while they’re in their winter home. They won’t
begin traveling again for a few months yet. I may stay with them
when they go, but I might not. At this point I’m not sure. It depends
on a lot of things. Right now being with Pepperico gives me time to
think, to get myself in shape again, and then when spring gets here,
I’ll know more what I want to do. I hope all that makes sense.”

“I hope you’re not dead by that time.”
“Hey,” Johnny said, looking deeply into Blondie’s eyes, “As long

as you’re here, I’ve got a lot to live for. I don’t ever want to have to
go out looking for you again.”

Blondie kind of wilted, and turned and embraced Johnny. “I just

hope this is not the last time I have you in my arms.”

“God, Blondie, you’ve got some kind—”
Blondie turned his lips upward and stopped Johnny’s words with

his lips and tongue, loving the familiar taste of him, the feel of his
sexy lips, and the feel of his body against his.

Johnny pulled himself out of Blondie’s arms, and said, “If you

think this is going to keep me home, just forget it.”

“All right,” Blondie said, pulling away angrily. “Go on and kill

yourself. But just remember when you take your last breath I was
against it.”

“I certainly will. Now, if you’re coming with me, we need to go.”

* * * *

When they arrived at the carnival, Blondie took a walk through

the carnival grounds while Johnny checked his cycle. The grounds
were packed, making Blondie wonder if all these people had come out
to see Johnny Blaze perform. Today’s act would take place in an
arena about three times the size of a circus tent. He was sitting in the
bleachers with the rest of the crowd when he saw a man walk to the
center of the arena and begin speaking through a microphone.

Sheik of the Streets

He chilled at every word.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I want to welcome you here. As you

know, Johnny Blaze has been away for a while, but we’re happy to
tell you that he’s back on the circuit and ready once again to thrill you
and chill you. Although you’re just about to experience the thrill of a
lifetime, let me warn you that the level of expertise in riding these
cycles takes years to perfect. Please, do not under any circumstances
attempt these stunts on your own motorcycle. Not as a dare, not out of
curiosity, and certainly not if you’ve had strong drink. This kind of
thing is only for trained professionals such as Johnny Blaze, who has
given his life to stunt riding. I’ve seen Johnny work out and have
decided that Johnny’s Harley must be a woman because he has tamed
her, taken loving care of her, and now he’s going to ride her. If she’s
like most women Johnny knows, then she’ll do exactly as he wants.
What woman wouldn’t if they spent their time beneath Johnny
Blaze?”

The crowd laughed and clapped, but Blondie stayed granite faced.
“I must warn you, though, that an awful lot can go wrong. It’s

only a machine, after all, and there are many parts, such as the brake
shoes, sprockets, chain, crank shaft, engine, and a hundred other
things that can give way to mechanical failure. As you sit on the edge
of your seat throughout the show, keep your fingers crossed for
Johnny Blaze as he comes to thrill you, shock you, and of course,
entertain you at the possible expense of his own life. He will blaze
across the arena, keeping you gasping for breath. Let’s all hope that at
the end of the show we’re still looking at the handsome devil, and not
at buckets of blood and ribbons of flesh among the twisted metal and
flaming debris. I said all that to say this. This show is not for children,
ladies and gentlemen…or for the faint of heart. If there is anyone here
that feels that these death-defying tricks would be too much for them,
let me urge you to leave. Your money will gladly be refunded. We are
more concerned with the health of our customers than the money they
bring in. Now, let the show begin.”

Kelly Conrad

At that time, the announcer moved back, lifted an arm toward one

end of the arena, and cried into the microphone, saying, “And now,
ladies and gentlemen, I give you Pepperico Rubin’s dynamic
daredevil, Johnny Blaze, and his Harley-Davidson, Night Train.”

As usual every word of the introduction was meant to excite the

people and gear them up for a show that was worth every cent of the
price of admission, and more. Knowing the tone had been set, the
announcer took the microphone away from his mouth and moved
away.

Almost immediately the people stood to their feet and began

shouting, “Johnny…Johnny…Johnny…Johnny,” until the mantra
gave way to a loud cheer when they saw him come out and wave at
them.

As a result of the exciting tone that had been set, the people’s eyes

stayed on Johnny Blaze the whole time he did his death-defying
tricks, looking for anything that might mean disaster for him. They
were exultant every time he completed a trick without getting hurt and
gasped out loud when the victory was hard won.

Along with everyone else, Blondie sat completely absorbed with

what was happening in the arena, his eyes wide and astonished as he
saw Johnny perform one trick after the other. He thrilled, and gasped,
and even shed a few tears when he saw Johnny jumping over a long
line of cars and looking as if he were literally flying through the air
until he landed on the ramp at the other end. At the end of the show,
Blondie, along with everyone else, jumped to their feet, clapping and
whistling out their appreciation.

Among all the excitement, Blondie happened to turn his gaze

upward. It was no more than a flash, but he thought he saw a familiar
dark figure that sat high in the bleachers above him. Just then
someone passing by broke his gaze, and when he looked again, the
dark figure was gone. In the few seconds that Blondie saw him, he
noticed that he didn’t look at Johnny with admiration, but with glaring
eyes that said, “I’ve found you!”

Sheik of the Streets

* * * *

“This is how people become religious,” Blondie said as the

nestled in Johnny’s arms that night.

“What do you mean?”
“I found myself praying that you wouldn’t die. Praying, mind you.

I don’t think I’ve prayed a day in my life. Not a moment or a second.”

“I guess that’s why the show was such a tremendous success. It

wasn’t because Johnny Blaze was so good, it was because Blondie
prayed.” Johnny turned and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Are you upset?”
“Well hell, Blondie, you could…never mind.” Johnny knew he

was acting like a spoiled brat, but he wanted Blondie to be proud of
him, and he hadn’t said a thing about his performance. All he could
say was that he prayed. Johnny cut his angry gaze over to him, and
said, “By the way what did you think of the show?”

“I thought it was tremendous. I never realized, Johnny, how

talented you are.”

“Well, why the hell didn’t you say so?” Johnny said while raking

his fingers through his hair.

“I don’t know. I guess I was just in shock. I never expected

anything like what I saw. You’re amazing, Johnny, absolutely
amazing. I’m just now getting to where I can talk about it. By the
way, I saw Peppe in the crowd. What did he have to say about it?”

“Peppe said it was great. He gave me the statistics…you know,

how much we brought in and such, but I don’t have a head for
numbers, so I let him worry about that.”

“I see now what my job is going to be in this little affair.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, Johnny, you can’t have that attitude. The man could steal

you blind. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of the money portion of this
arrangement. I’ll make sure nobody tries to cheat you.”

Kelly Conrad

“I’m a little confused. How can you do that if you didn’t have any

schooling?”

“Any?” Blondie repeated. “Sure I’ve had a little, but you don’t

learn everything in school. Some learning comes through living.
Sometimes I think that’s the best teacher of all.”

Johnny didn’t answer, but suddenly became silent as if his

thoughts were on something he couldn’t let go of.

“What is it?” Blondie asked.
“When you mentioned Peppe, it reminded me of what he said.”
“Yeah? What was it?”
“He was telling me about someone he saw in the crowd. A real

suspicious character.”

Blondie felt a chill. “Oh my God, I forgot to tell you. I saw him,

too. The crowd was thick with people moving around, and it seemed
like one minute I saw him, and the next he was gone. God, I hope
Panther hasn’t found us.”

“I really doubt it. It’s a little too soon, isn’t it? Besides, I haven’t

heard anything else from the precinct. I think we’re giving the Panther
too much credit. Hell, he’d have to be a mind reader to know where
we are.”

“Well, you’d think so, but what about all the promotion that

Pepperico did?”

“I’m not sure, but I know there weren’t any television ads. Just

flyers and the local papers. Besides, I don’t think this information
would get as far as the ghetto, and even if it did, he doesn’t know the
name Johnny Blaze. I don’t think we have anything to worry about. I
can’t picture Panther doing anything as normal as reading the paper.”

“Well, let’s hope not, but don’t discard the idea that Panther just

might have got wind of this and put two and two together.”

“Hey, don’t worry. I’m here to take care of you,” Johnny said

softly, and moved toward him. “How about a little fucking?”

Blondie smiled mischievously. “Who would be fucking me,

Johnny Pirelli, the Sheik, or Johnny Blaze?”

Sheik of the Streets

“For you, the three-in-one package.”
“Hey, I like that. I just hope I can take it.”
“I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” Johnny said as

he pushed Blondie over on his side, grabbed his ass, opened his crack,
and captured his cock between his two cheeks. He rubbed, his breath
coming hard when he felt the fleshy walls rubbing against him.
Suddenly he was as hard as a brick.

“God, put it in, Johnny,” Blondie whispered.
“Push your ass up a little,” Johnny said as he reached over and

began to play with Blondie’s cock. “God, I can almost taste you on
my fingers.”

Blondie pushed his ass up, and Johnny moved more easily inside

as he searched for his hole. Every movement was a sensation that
ushered him into a place of intense passion. With it, he breathed
heavily, moaned, and whimpered as his cock finally found the one
thing that he knew would take him heavenward. He was compelled to
move his hips faster, but had to try and hold back so he wouldn’t
come before he was inside.

While he was preparing to enter Blondie’s hole, his hand gained

speed, bringing Blondie higher and higher until he was moaning and
pushing hard. It was then that the head of his cock broke into him,
leading the rest of his hard cock down a dark and moist corridor that
held magic within its red hot walls. The two men cried out at the
sensations that greeted them. With utter abandon, they gained speed,
pushing against each other like two wild men. During this carnal
dance, Blondie laid his hand over Johnny’s, pushing hard, the two
working together to fuck Blondie’s dick with his hand.

“Oh, God, Johnny. You’re so good.”

* * * *

Blondie rocked beneath him, sensing that his desire was about to

explode as Johnny plunged in and out. He could tell that he was trying

Kelly Conrad

to control his wild nature, but the fullness rubbing inside Blondie was
like a hot wire against his nerve endings. With every thrust he wanted
more. He didn’t care how wild Johnny got.

Now, as Johnny touched his lips to Blondie’s ear, it was

openmouthed and moist with sensual heat. Every moment was filled
with ecstasy, every shift of his body a breathtaking hint of mindless
delight that seemed to grow with each second. Blondie shuddered,
reached up, and clutched the headboard, losing himself with each
thrust and each pumping caress. His arousal gushed through him like
a tidal wave, a solid wall of incredible pleasure that took him up and
up and up, past the point of restraint, and true to form, Johnny became
frenzied. It caused ripples of ecstasy to flood through him, causing
him to moan and whimper. His blood roared through his veins like
wildfire, burning and stinging. He buried his head in the softness of
the bed’s mattress and muffled his shout. Then, surrendering to the
longest, hottest release of his life, he joined Johnny in a world where
he’d never been.

But it wasn’t over. While Blondie was still feeling the waning

warmth of his release, he felt Johnny begin licking and kissing him,
sending his desires soaring again. With Blondie’s ears so sensitive,
each time Johnny licked or kissed one, it made Blondie begin to
writhe with passion. He could tell that Johnny was becoming
increasingly excited until finally he became so wild he began to
mutter Blondie’s name over and over again.

“Blondie, Blondie, oh, God I love you.”
When Blondie heard this, his eyes flew open. When he realized

what Johnny had said, the sensations he felt before suddenly took on
the sizzling bolt of an electric shock, but slowly became dark and
warm as he spewed again, the cum less this time, but still spewing and
burning like a river of molten lava.

Seconds later Johnny stiffened and spewed, his release bringing

forth one final plunge, and a satisfied moan.

Sheik of the Streets

Now, while caught in a warm embrace, Blondie and Johnny lay

exhausted, the two men lying in spoonlike fashion. Blondie exulted in
the feeling the warmth of Johnny’s body, especially as his hands
reached around him and pulled him closer.

Kelly Conrad

Chapter Ten

It didn’t take long for Panther to find out where Johnny and

Blondie lived. He wasn’t surprised to find them shacked up together.
God, it made him sick when he thought how he’d been tricked. He
knew they were probably in bed right this minute all curled up
together and talking about how smart they were, and how dumb the
Panther was. He could hear them now! Laughing at him, laughing at
how they’d made a stupid ass out of the Panther. Well, he was just a
little smarter than they gave him credit for. He’d teach them
motherfuckers to try and pull a fast one on the Panther.

Once he found their little love den he followed them around and

watched their house constantly. He took note of their schedule and
knew when Johnny was at the carnival working out a new trick or
performing his shows.

When he thought of what a boob he’d been, it made him insane

with anger. He’d never dreamed that when he gave Blondie the job of
killing the son of a bitch, the stupid kid would end up going to bed
with him. How long had it been going on? Days? Months? It looked
as if he’d played right into their hands by giving Blondie this job. The
very idea grated on Panther. So much so that when he killed the two
bastards, he wanted it to be particularly gory. He’d thought of any
number of ways, but nothing seemed to be bad enough. Sure, it would
be easy to sabotage Pirelli’s motorcycle, killing him while he did his
insane tricks on it, but that didn’t please Panther. No. He wanted the
Sheik to know it was him. He wanted to look right in the bastard’s
face before he killed him, to gaze into his eyes and see the fear he
knew would be there.

Sheik of the Streets

Panther intended to repay him for every customer he took away,

for every raid, every sting, every arrest, and every sweep through the
neighborhood to clean it out. It got so they couldn’t do their business
on the street anymore. They had to hide in the alleys, in cramped cars,
or behind buildings. The streets no longer belonged to him. Now he
had to keep one eye peeled for the men in black. Cops didn’t scare
Panther. To him they were just one more gang he had to annihilate.

And he would—beginning with the Sheik.
Before the Sheik had come along, the streets were his. He

organized, he led, he collected money from the owners of businesses
making a “hands-off” agreement with them that guaranteed their
establishment would not be hit and their employees would be safe
from gangs such as his. And if they refused, he threatened, and even
came through with his threats when he had to. How many limbs had
he broken or family members had he knocked off simply because a
business owner hadn’t had the foresight to make a deal with him? He
even loaned money out to those who needed it, but by the time they
paid him back at his high rate of interest, they were paying double on
what they’d borrowed. And when they couldn’t pay, he took a
perverse pleasure in taking what they owed him out of their flesh, or
their family’s.

They’d had other cops on the beat before, and some of them could

even be bought off, but not the Sheik. Not only could that bastard not
be paid off, he was almost as devious as Panther. He seemed to be
able to think like him and had surprised him any number of times
when he thought no one knew what was up. Either there was a leak in
his gang, or the fucking cop was a mind reader.

Assuming the former, when he found out about the Sheik’s

whereabouts, he had sneaked away without telling his gang anything.
Since he didn’t know which one was talking, he decided that this was
one job he had to do himself—and alone. He’d deal with the wise guy
with loose lips soon enough, but right now, he had bigger fish to fry.

Kelly Conrad

* * * *

Blondie walked around in a glow for days, remembering Johnny’s

confession of love in the throes of passion—and then he’d remember
what Johnny had said about Peppe seeing a suspicious stranger at
Johnny’s debut. When Blondie questioned him, Johnny told him he
didn’t know any more than what he had already told him, so Blondie
decided if he wanted more, he would have to question Peppe.

Now, he stood knocking on the caravan door that was supposed to

be Peppe’s office until someone inside called out, “It’s open.”
Blondie opened the door slowly and noticed Peppe sitting at a desk.

When Blondie walked in, Peppe looked up, and his eyes widened

in surprise. “Well, come on in, baby,” Peppe said, getting up and
running around in a tizzy, making a place for Blondie to sit. “Please
excuse the mess. I wasn’t expecting company for another hour yet,
and you’re absolutely the last person I expected to see today.”

“Thanks,” Blondie said as he looked Peppe over, noticing that he

was dressed in men’s clothes today, which was unusual for him.
“Where’s your drag?”

Peppe laughed. “You know, you ought to take up comedy. You

crack me up.” Peppe looked down at himself and pulled on his cuffs.
“I’m expecting a business acquaintance later. An investor. If you
know anything about business, you know you have to present yourself
in a professional light. Otherwise, they think they’re dealing with
idiots.” He gave a slight shrug. “Some people have a problem with
my lifestyle, so I don’t force it on them. I know I end up playing their
game, but if they won’t play mine, then I have no choice. I have a
business to run after all, and that takes money.”

Blondie sat staring at him, seeing him for the first time without

makeup.

“Is my slip showing?” Peppe asked.

Sheik of the Streets

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. I just noticed how really good-

looking you are. I hadn’t noticed that before since I usually see you in
drag.”

“Well, thank you, baby. I never thought I’d hear a compliment

coming from you.”

“Well, I’ll have to admit that I was a little judgmental at first, but

when you think about it, we’re all strange in some ways. I mean, you
dress in drag, I hide who I am behind smart answers, and
Johnny…well, he’s probably the most honest of the three of us.”

“Very perceptive of you. You know, with a little effort on my

part, I could get to like you.”

Blondie laughed. “I know I’ve made it hard for you, but I know

how you feel about Johnny, and I guess I get a little jealous.”

“Well, let’s get that out of the way right now. I like Johnny a lot.

Not only for his talent on that motorcycle, but he’s a lot of man. I
don’t try to hide the fact that if he were free I’d be on his ass in a
minute.” Peppe shrugged. “But he’s not available, and I have to
respect that.”

“Johnny tried to tell me that, but I guess I’m a little stubborn

sometime.”

“Well, put it out of your mind right now. The truth is, Johnny

wouldn’t have me on a bet. I’m just not his type. I flirt with him, but
that’s all it is, a harmless flirtation.” He smiled at Blondie. “Okay?”

Blondie smiled. “Thank you.”
“Sure. Now, is that what you came to see me for? To tell me to

stay away from Johnny?”

“Oh, no. I wanted to ask you something. Johnny said you

mentioned a stranger—”

“Oh, yeah. That’s been on my mind, too. I saw him the day

Johnny did his show. He acted kind of suspicious. You know, like he
was trying to stay out of sight. He kept his eyes on you and Johnny,
and it wasn’t a friendly look he had on his face.”

Kelly Conrad

“Actually, I’m just wondering if it’s the same person I saw. Could

you describe him to me? I think it might be someone both Johnny and
I knew in New York.”

“Is someone out to get Johnny?”
“I think so.”
“What was his last gig? I don’t think we ever covered that.”
“He was a beat cop in the ghetto. That’s where he met Panther. He

kind of messed things up for him when he started cleaning out the
ghetto. Anyway, one night he caught a bullet in the back. When
Panther found out he wasn’t dead, he came after both of us.”

“Where do you play into all of this?”
“I grew up on the street. The Sheik—”
“The Sheik? Who the hell is the Sheik?”
“That’s Johnny’s street name. Anyway, the Sheik took me under

his wing, and we wound up in bed together.”

“God. Only in New York.”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“I mean something twisted like that could only happen in New

York. What a fuckin’ city.”

“Well, whatever. Anyway, that’s how I knew Panther.”
“That’s the guy’s name?”
Blondie shrugged. “It’s all I’ve ever heard anyone call him.”

Blondie anxiously pulled out a tablet and a pencil. “I thought if you
could tell me what he looked like, maybe I could identify him.”

“Oh, God.” Peppe hesitated a moment as if he were thinking, and

then said, “He was black, tall, wore baggy black pants, a red and
black plaid shirt, a bandana on his head, gaudy jewelry…and the
strangest thing. He wore a spiked wrist band and a large ring. Other
than that it was earrings and chains mostly.”

“Did he have some kind of logo on his bandana?” Blondie asked,

as he continued drawing.

“Yeah. There was something that looked like a large P on it.” He

looked at Blondie curiously. “Did the P mean something?”

Sheik of the Streets

“The P on his rag was for Panther.”
“His rag?”
“Yeah, that’s what they call bandanas. The members of his gang

wear baseball hats, but since he’s the head of a gang he wears a rag,
and his gang is called the Disciples.”

Blondie handed the tablet to Peppe. “I drew the face from memory

and put it with the description you gave me.”

“Oh, my God, Blondie,” Peppe said, staring down at the drawing.

“That’s him to a T.” He looked up at Blondie. “My God, baby, you
draw like a professional. Have you ever had lessons?”

“Oh, no. I could never afford anything like that.”
“Well, you’re talented, baby.”
“Thanks,” Blondie said. “Peppe, if he ever comes around asking

questions, for Johnny’s sake, please don’t tell him anything about us.”

“Chances are, sweetie, he already knows all he needs to know. If I

were you I’d get out of that house and move into one of these
caravans. I offered one to Johnny when I took him on, but he was set
on living in a house until he decides what to do. He said if he decided
to travel with us come spring, he’d take one of the caravans then.”

“You think it’ll be safer here?”
“I think it would be wise to get out of there as quickly as possible.

Besides, there’s safety in numbers, and I doubt that Panther is stupid
enough to try and kill you with a lot people around.”

“You’re probably right, but I could never talk Johnny into it.”
“Why don’t you leave that to me?”
“You think you can convince him?”
Peppe shrugged. “Who knows? If I make him feel like he’s

protecting you, it may work. Are you two going to be home tonight?”

“As far as I know we have no plans.”
“Maybe I’ll drop by then, and see what he says. Okay?”
“Sure. That’ll be fine.”
“Of course, you realize if this guy’s set on killing you, he’ll find a

way.”

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Kelly Conrad

“Oh, God,” Blondie whispered, and lowered his head in his hand.

“What’ll we do, Peppe?”

Peppe got up and came around his desk, and sat beside him. “I

have the feeling that you’re more afraid for Johnny than you are for
yourself.”

Blondie looked up at Peppe, and said, “Well, I do know that

something’s—” Before he could get the words out, Peppe’s lips were
on his. After a few seconds of soft lips, fragrant breath, and a curious
tongue, Blondie pulled away. “God, Peppe, I can’t.”

Peppe smiled softly. “I know, but I had to try.”
“Then it’s me you’ve been after?”
“Not entirely. Either one or both would have been super. But”—

he began as he got up to go back to his desk—“it just wasn’t meant to
be.”

“You have to understand that I love Johnny. The first time I met

him I wanted to kill him, but when I felt his body against mine…and
God, his kiss…I was lost for all time.”

“You don’t have to explain. I understand. And I promise you this.

No matter where you are, if this character, Panther, comes snooping
around you and Johnny, he’ll get more than he bargained for.”

“Thank you so much, Peppe.”
Peppe smiled. “Now you get out of here before I decide to come

after you again. You know, all that blond hair is a real turn-on for
me.” He hesitated a moment, and then said, “You won’t tell Johnny,
will you?”

“Not if you don’t want me to.”
“I’d rather he not know. I’m afraid it might put a strain on our

relationship, and I need Johnny and his wild motorcycle. Since
Johnny’s been back, the investors are clamoring to put money in our
show. Hell, our proceeds have doubled.” Peppe smiled. “You can tell
him that if you want to. He’ll be glad to hear it.”

“I will, Peppe, and thanks. By the way, good luck with your

investor.”

Sheik of the Streets

101

“Thanks, sugar,” Peppe said with a smile as Blondie left.
On Blondie’s way home, he went past the Thrill Arena where

Johnny was doing his practice runs, and looked in. Johnny might not
like it if he knew he’d come down here and talked to Peppe, but he
had to take care of Johnny since he wouldn’t take care of himself.
Blondie had decided that something like this—something dangerous
and potentially life altering—had to be in the blood, and he knew now
that it must be in Johnny’s. Otherwise, how would Johnny as well as
all the other riders take such a chance on their lives? Somehow he was
just going to have to live with it if he wanted him and Johnny to have
a life together.

Every time Blondie looked on during his practice sessions, it

seemed that Johnny’s act got more and more dangerous. He took so
many awful chances. Blondie felt chills every time he watched him.
In one performance, he even drove his motorcycle over a swinging
line of thick rope that had the crowd gasping in fear.

Now, as he looked down into the arena and watched Johnny do

the most god-awful tricks he’d ever seen, it was then that a chilling
thought came to him. What was to stop Panther from sabotaging
Johnny’s motorcycle? All it would take was the forbidden turn of a
screw, the criminal loosening of a piston, or something a little more
obvious—a crankcase full of sand.

The choices were endless.
If this continued, he’d be an old man before he was thirty.

* * * *

That evening when Johnny came home, Blondie was in the

bedroom.

“Blondie, I’m home!” Johnny called out.
“I’m in here!” Blondie called out.
When Johnny went into the bedroom, he saw Blondie standing by

the bed wearing a short silk wrapper. “What’s this?”

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Kelly Conrad

Slowly Blondie opened it, revealing his naked body.
Johnny smiled a slow, suspicious smile. “Are you trying to seduce

me?”

“Of course not. It’s been a hard day, and I thought I’d put

something on to relax.”

“Oh, I see,” Johnny said, his gaze slowly raking down Blondie’s

body. “Okay, you little tease, I can play the game.” Saying nothing
more, Johnny began undressing, piece-by-piece until he stood before
Blondie naked and with his cock full and hard.

Just then Blondie’s wrapper fell, and Johnny walked over to him,

getting closer and closer until their flesh met in a hot-to-the-touch
embrace. Blondie could feel Johnny’s cock on his stomach, and
reached down and began rubbing the head.

Johnny gasped.
Slowly Blondie pushed Johnny down on the bed, buried his face

between his legs, and took his cock into his mouth. Like it was a
lollipop he licked and sucked, lapping up the small dribbles of
forbidden juice that fell from it.

“Oh, God,” Johnny breathed, his hips revolving, getting the most

out of the mouth fuck that he could. The higher he flew, the more
excited he became until he reached down and grabbed Blondie’s
blond head, and held him close. He pushed his cock hard into
Blondie’s mouth, the sensations of sucking him sending him into a
red-hot haze of delight. He felt himself getting closer and closer to the
rim where he would fall into a hazy satisfaction, but didn’t want it to
end, so he reached down and grabbed Blondie and pulled him up and
over him where Blondie straddled him.

“Sit on my cock, Blondie. Sit on it and fuck it.”
Blondie did as he asked, and moaned out, “Oh, God, Johnny. Oh,

God, it’s so good.”

By this time Johnny was bucking into Blondie hard and fast, and

with each plunge he felt himself climbing, reaching for that perfect

Sheik of the Streets

103

place that seemed to him like a series of rocky waves hitting hard and
rugged against the ocean wall.

Blondie bucked and bounced as Johnny plunged in and out, the

two of them achieving perfect synch together as they climbed into the
erotic sensations that were created all around them. With each plunge,
they climbed higher and higher, until they began to float down amid
the warm, velvety feeling that the world called an orgasm, but they
called heaven.

“I did it, Johnny,” Blondie whispered.
“We were together on that one. So did I.”
As if he didn’t want to let Blondie go, Johnny took Blondie in his

arms, and loved him with kisses, bites, and licks until he felt himself
getting hard again. This time the cocks of the two men met and
tangled, surrendering to each other as the men’s bucking hips pushed
against each other, fucking and rubbing in an erotic dance that lasted
for several exciting, heart-throbbing minutes. Blondie’s legs lifted and
reached around Johnny as he continued to buck beneath him, and
Johnny’s hands moved up and down Blondie’s muscled body,
squeezing his ass while pulling him even harder against him. It was
when he entered into the last few seconds of his fucking that his
breathing became erratic, and he felt that elusive release come upon
him again and flood him. As their bodies moved in synch together,
one after the other spewed, the cum sliding down the sides of their
cocks forbiddingly.

“All right, let’s have it,” Johnny said when it was over.
“What do you mean?” Blondie asked as he got up and began

dressing.

“Well, call me crazy, but usually when I come home, you’re in the

kitchen cooking and too busy to be bothered. Today, you tease me,
seduce me, and give me some of the hottest sex we’ve had in a long
time. Forgive me if I just naturally think something is up. So, what is
it?”

“God, Johnny, I—”

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Kelly Conrad

“Spill it,” Johnny insisted.
“All right. I went to see Peppe today.”
“You did? Why?”
“To see what he had to say about the stranger he mentioned

seeing. It turns out it was Panther.”

“How do you know?”
“He described him to me, and I drew him. That means he knows

where we are, and it’ll only be a matter of time until he does what he
came to do. And you know what that is.”

“So, what did Peppe advise you to do?”
“Why didn’t you tell me that he offered you a caravan for us to

live in?”

Johnny shrugged. “There was no need.”
“Well, the offer still stands, and I think we ought to take

advantage of it. We’ll be surrounded by people. I know it isn’t much,
but I don’t think Panther would try anything with so many people
around. Like Peppe said, there’s safety in numbers.”

“Blondie, those caravans have wheels on them. They’re for people

who travel with the carnival. Here one week, and somewhere else the
next. He probably wants to get me in one so I’ll agree to travel with
them when the time comes.”

“So what’s so bad about that? It would be a beautiful place to

hide. Traveling around from place to place Panther would never find
us.”

“God, Blondie, I’ve traveled all my life.”
“All right, I understand, but Johnny, Peppe just wants to be sure

we’re safe. Besides, he wouldn’t have offered if he didn’t think it was
a good idea.”

“I know, Blondie, but hell, we’d only be safe as long as we were

surrounded by this crowd. We’d be prisoners, for God’s sake. Never
going anywhere for fear that Panther would get us while we were out.
That’s no way to live. We have to confront him.”

Sheik of the Streets

105

“What about your motorcycle? Aren’t you afraid he’d tamper with

it and kill you?”

“It went through my mind, sure, but it’s checked out daily by the

motorcycle crew. That’s their job. If anyone tampers with it, they’d
find it.”

“What about at night? You know, we go everywhere on that

thing.”

“Blondie, it’s perfectly safe. You know I keep it under lock and

key.”

“All right, but, well, hell, Johnny, I know Panther. He’s—”
“You know what you are? You’re a worrier. Is there anything you

don’t worry about?”

“I know, it’s just—”
Suddenly a knock sounded, and Blondie said, “It’s probably

Peppe.”

“Make sure before you open the door.”
Blondie looked through the window, and said, “It’s okay.”
“Before you let him in, listen to me. Once we give up this house,

there’s no getting it back. Here you have plenty of room, but a
caravan is one room, a tiny lavatory, and there are public showers.
One day you might find yourself showering with the tattoo man or the
guy who goes everywhere with his snakes. I don’t think you want
that.”

“Well, it would be entertaining if nothing else.”
Just then Peppe yelled out, “Hey, you two, open the door,

already.”

“I have to let him in,” Blondie said.
When he opened the door, his eyes widened, and he smiled. Peppe

was in drag again.

“I hope this is okay. I just did a show on the midway, and since it

was getting late I didn’t go back to change.”

“Hey, that’s okay,” Blondie said, rushing up to Peppe and shaking

his hand. “Come in.”

106

Kelly Conrad

* * * *

The talk with Peppe went better than Blondie had anticipated. As

they talked things over, questions were asked, and answers were
given, and by the time he left they had come to an agreement.

Later, as they lay in the bed facing each other, Johnny looked at

Blondie tenderly and said, “Hey, I know I live a dangerous lifestyle,
but I’ve been doing it since I was knee-high to a grasshopper. Have a
little confidence in me. I know what I’m doing—”

“Shhhh!” Blondie whispered, and cocked his head as if he were

listening.

“What’s wro—?”
Blondie jumped up out of bed, and said, “Hurry! It’s time.”

Sheik of the Streets

107

Chapter Eleven

The one thing Peppe liked more than performing in drag was

playing sleuth.

Give him a good mystery, and he came alive. And this mystery

surrounding Johnny and Blondie was right up his alley. He’d thought
lots of times that maybe he should have been a detective, or a part of
the police force like Johnny, but it was his strange lifestyle that
always stopped him. It put him on a rickety stage in front of crowds of
drunk men, and there he had to perform, trying to make this broken-
down carnival bring in money. No wonder he was glad when Johnny
came back. He was a big drawing card. He could outride any cyclist
he had, so when he came back wanting a job, Peppe grabbed him up
and built the whole show around him.

And now he was being threatened.
He’d told himself he needed to stay out of it, but that was like

telling water not to be wet or sand not to be dry. It was impossible.
This was home to Peppe. Hiding, stalking—well, the police called it a
stakeout—but Peppe called it stalking. But it didn’t matter. Whatever
it was, it was to keep his star and his lover safe, and he’d do anything
to make sure they weren’t hurt. Sure, he told himself it was to ensure
his carnival’s success, but he knew that wasn’t entirely true. He liked
Johnny, and he’d formed a new friendship with Blondie. These were
good people, and he wasn’t going to stand by and see them hurt.

Just then Peppe heard something and looked up. His sharp gaze

saw a dark silhouette moving along the lawn beneath the brightness of
the moon that made leaning shadows of trees and bushes. It appeared
to be a human form looking in windows and creeping along the side

108

Kelly Conrad

of the house. He was testing each door and window, trying to find a
way into the house.

And then he found it.
Just then Peppe got out of his car, and sneaked up into the yard,

hiding behind tree trunks, bushes, and running quickly from one
hiding place to another until he found the unlocked window. Reaching
up, he looked in, but the intruder had moved out of the room and into
the rest of the house.

* * * *

Panther had made it.
He was inside.
Now all he had to do was find the bedroom, and get this nasty

business over with. This fuckin’ dude would be sorry he ever fooled
with the Panther. He’d do Blondie first, get him out of the way, and
then take his time with the Sheik. Panther smiled. This was going to
be good. He could feel his blood racing through his veins, his heart
pounding. Sure he was nervous, scared, but it would be worth it. To
see the surprised look on the Sheik’s face, to see the fear, and to feel
his heartbeat run rampant, sending his blood surging through his
veins. That would cause it to spew when he plunged the knife in. It
would be beau—

His words stopped when he heard something. He looked around.

It was hard to see in the dark house, but the shadows—oh God, were
they swaying? Was it normal for a shadow to sway, to breathe, to—?

Suddenly he turned when he heard another sound. He ran to a

window and looked out. Nothing. It must be the wind. The wind could
be a scary thing. The bumping of a limb against a window glass, the
wail as it screamed around corners on a particularly windy night, or
the way it sang a haunting tune as it blew through a small opening. He
moved from the window slowly, made his way toward the bedroom,
and saw two bodies lying in bed. He moved slowly, stealthily, until he

Sheik of the Streets

109

stood over them. He squeezed the knife, enjoying the feel of it in his
hand. The way it pressed his palm—no, caressed it.

It was as if the hand and the knife were in love with each other.
His targets seemed to be buried in the covers, nothing showing, so

he didn’t know which was which, until he looked around and saw
their clothes lying on the floor. He recognized Blondie’s clothes. The
kid would never change. When he was sixty he’d still be wearing—
Wait a minute. He wouldn’t live until he was sixty. Slowly Panther
moved around the bed to where he knew Blondie was laying and
lifted his knife over him. With an evil smile on his face, the knife
began to descend, stabbing over and over again.

What the fuck? Where was the blood? Panther quickly stopped

stabbing and pulled the covers back, finding a dummy! A dummy
with blond hair! He caught hold of the rest of the cover and pulled it
back, exposing another dummy. A dummy that was supposed to be
that rat the Sheik!

“My God, what’s happening?”
“I’ll tell you what’s happening,” Peppe said as he walked in

pointing a gun at Panther. “They aren’t here.” He waved his gun
arrogantly as he stepped closer and closer to Panther. “I finally talked
Johnny into moving into one of our caravans. That Johnny’s a hard
rider, but a stubborn bastard. He wouldn’t do it until I agreed that it
was only temporary.” Peppe’s gaze moved around carefully. “Not as
elegant as this place, but livable.”

Panther stood looking at this he—she—or whatever it was,

amazed. “What the hell are you?”

“I’m your worst nightmare. Now, come on. We’re going outside

where the police, Johnny, Blondie, and the entire carnival crowd is
waiting for you.”

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere, and you can’t make me.”
“No? How are you going to stop me?”
“You think I come up here all by myself? My gang’s out there. I

got ’em staked out all over the yard. You want to start a war, you try

110

Kelly Conrad

turning me over to the police. They’ll kill the whole friggin’ police
force, you, and that bastard and his lover.” Panther knew he was
lying, but if he’d learned anything on the street, it was to put up a
good front.

* * * *

Peppe wasn’t fooled. He’d been staked out there all night and

knew Panther was alone. “It won’t work, Panther.”

“Huh?”
“You heard me. I said it won’t work. I’ve been out there all night

watching you. I watched you arrive, enter the house illegally, creep
through the house, and I knew the minute you found the bedroom.”
He laughed. “I even watched you kill a dummy. Now, all I’m waiting
for is for you to make a move toward me. Come on. If you do, it’ll be
the last thing you do in this life.”

“You dare to threaten me? The Panther? Hell, I could kill you

with one hand tied behind my back.”

“Prove it,” Peppe said, his eyes narrowed on the big black son of a

bitch.

Suddenly Panther yelled and ran toward her with his knife raised

high, but before he managed to sink it into Peppe’s chest, he was
thrown backward, a big, burning ball of fire spreading in his chest.

Just then Peppe reached over and spoke into a microphone

attached to his collar. “Panther’s down. I don’t know if he’s dead yet,
but I shot him when he lunged at me with a knife.”

Static and a tiny voice came through. “We’re coming in.”
While the police were working over Panther, Johnny and Blondie

came in. Johnny looked at Peppe, amazed. “My God, Peppe, I can’t
believe what I’m seeing. When did you turn into the drag queen from
hell?”

Peppe laughed. “It’s been in me all my life, I guess. I just

naturally love playing the sleuth.”

Sheik of the Streets

111

Just then an officer walked up, and said, “Actually, we’ve been

working with Peppe ever since he alerted us right after he saw the
Panther at your show. It was a good move on his part.”

“Why didn’t you tell me, Peppe?” Blondie asked. “You could

have saved me some worry.”

“I couldn’t. I was sworn to secrecy by these big guys. The only

thing I could do was try and get you out of the way by moving you
into a caravan, which I finally did.”

“Ever since we came out here and talked to Peppe, we’ve been

trying to convince him to come and work with us. He’d be great going
undercover. Or we could plant him on a street corner as a prostitute.
The possibilities are endless.” He looked at Peppe. “So what do you
say, Peppe? We’d love to have you.”

“Well, I don’t know. It’s what I’ve dreamed of all my life,

actually.”

“I think you should do it,” Blondie said. “I’m a sketch artist for

them. They’re a good bunch of guys.”

“But what about the carnival?”
“I could keep an eye on it for you,” Johnny said.
“Would you?”
“Sure. Besides, you won’t be working with the cops all the time.

Just when they have a special assignment for you.” Johnny snickered.
“I can just see you now coming from one of your shows, and showing
up at the precinct in drag. You’ll be quite a sensation.”

“Don’t pay any attention to him,” Peppe said as he put his hand

out to the officer. “Looks like you’ve got yourself an undercover
agent.”

“Great.”
“I’m seeing a new side to you, Peppe,” Johnny said.
“You better get used to it, boys. You’ll see a lot of that now that

I’m working with the police. They told me all about the job you did
on the street. With you gone they think with my help they just might
be able to continue.” He pointed toward Panther. “After tonight, he’s

112

Kelly Conrad

just one among many to bite the dust in the life of the amazing
Pepperico Rubin.”

Blondie and Johnny laughed. “Well, I can’t thank you enough,

Peppe.”

“No problem. Now why don’t you and your blond-headed friend

here go to bed and get some sleep? There’s another routine I want to
talk to you about tomorrow.”

“Really?” Johnny said, perking up as if he was interested. “What

is it?”

“Excuse us, Blondie,” Peppe said as he led Johnny away. “What

do you think about jumping over a burning building into…?”

* * * *

“Oh, my God!” Blondie cried out after hearing only part of it. As

he watched them with their heads together working out every little
detail, his first inclination was to cry, yell, and stomp his feet, but
what good would it do? Nothing would change. Hell, he was in love
with a daredevil stunt rider, and since he couldn’t do a thing about it,
he’d just have to get used to it.

Live with it.
Accept it.
After all, having a head full of gray hair really wasn’t so bad. In

fact, it’s quite lovely—actually.

THE END

WWW.KELLYCONRAD.NET

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

As millions of readers are discovering, there is nothing boring

about the daring young writer when she steps out of her mundane
reality and into her imagination and assumes the pseudonym of Kelly
Conrad. Not only does she author the titillating tales of her erotic
man-on-man novels, she has successfully churned out several stories
of bestselling erotica noir under the name of Audrey Godwin.

Audrey’s books are dark, steamy erotica, and novel length.

Although her steamy plots, which were sexy before, have been
shortened under her Kelly Conrad pseudonym, which began in the
wild Western genre, she still continues to write in her own bestselling
formula.

Since she has been on the writing scene, she has published as

many as twenty-two books across the globe and is still going. Her
stories of the man-on-man experience has only just begun and is
looking at a bright future of sex, sex, and more sex!

The soft-spoken Audrey Godwin takes times from her busy

writing schedule to display her work on other websites in both her
personas and has written several little tidbits on what started her
writing about sex. She chats about her dirty little novels on Facebook
and has committed herself to shatter the sexist myths that says only
men writers can sell a book. Go sisters!

Also by Kelly Conrad

Siren Allure: Lovely Little Tramp

For all other titles, please visit

www.bookstrand.com/kelly-conrad

For titles by Kelly Conrad writing as

Audrey Godwin, please visit

www.bookstrand.com/audrey-godwin

Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com

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