Drake (The Kings of Guardian Book 11)

by Kris Michaels

“Is this the real thing?” Drake carefully handed her one box and then reached back up for the other.

  “Oh, yeah. Two bottles of Louis the XIII Magnum. Eight thousand dollars a pop. The best cognac in the world.” Jillian opened the front panel of the red leather box and ran her finger over the blown glass details and fleur-de-lis bottle stopper. “I bought these when I sold my first patent for mega bucks. I was going to give one to Clay so we could toast my success. That was the day I came home and found him.” She closed the lid and smiled up at Drake. “I want to drink one of these tonight.”

  “What, the whole bottle? Eight thousand dollars worth of alcohol in one night?”

  “Yep.” Jillian stacked the boxes. “Get the suitcases. We can take my car to whatever hotel you’ve booked for us.” She led him out of the apartment and to the covered parking provided for her unit. As soon as she indicated her vehicle, he came to an abrupt halt.

  “That is not a car.” Drake lowered their luggage to the sidewalk and stared at the tiny car. “I have duffle bags bigger than this.” He’d seen cars like this on the highway and wanted to ask the people driving them what part of their brain they’d lost. It was the size of a roller skate. A child’s roller skate!

  Jillian laughed and opened the trunk…well, the back end, not the trunk, because the small little partition between the rear bumper and the front seat was anything but a trunk. A glove box maybe. “You can’t even fit the alcohol in here. Nope, not getting in this thing.”

  Seriously, a golf cart would have more room than the little black SMART car that sat in her parking spot. Even if he could get over the pink stripes on the damn thing, there was no way they would get the luggage and his long ass legs into that vehicle at the same time. Hell, the top of the roof hit him at his belt buckle.

  “Stop being a baby. Put this suitcase in lengthwise and then put the duffle on top.”

  Drake did as she asked and then watched as she slid the two bottles of alcohol safely next to them. He whistled, “Well, I’ll be damned.”

  She shut the hatch and shrugged. “I was surprised, too.” She nodded to the passenger side and went to the driver’s side door.

  Drake eyed the space and shook his head. “I’m not going to fit.”

  “Sure you will. There’s more room than you expect.” She slid into the seat.

  Drake rubbed his jaw and opened the door. The cell in his pocket vibrated. He stepped back and eyed the tiny car as he answered his phone. “Go.”

  “Status?” Drake recognized Jacob’s voice immediately.

  “Secure. We have to relocate. Her apartment wasn’t just broken into, it was vandalized. It isn’t livable.”

  “Do you need us to send in contractors to get it back up to speed?”

  “I’ll let you know about the interior. I’m not sure what she wants to do with it right now. At a minimum, the front door needs to be replaced.”

  “Roger that. I’ll get the info from Jewell and send it down to operations. We’ll try to get it secured tonight.”

  “Thank you.” Drake put his foot inside the vehicle and tried to sit down. His knee met his ear. Literally. He sat down, leaned over damn near into Jillian’s lap, and pulled his right leg in after him. He grunted when his size thirteen snagged on the door. He grabbed his knee and pulled it towards his chin. His boot disconnected from the frame and he whacked his chin with his knee. He grunted. Fuck him, that was going to leave a bruise.

  “What the ever loving fuck are you doing? And if you are doing what I think you’re doing why the hell did you answer the phone?”

  “Fuck!” Drake tried to shift positions, brought his elbow down and hit his funny bone. “Son of a bitch.” He wasn’t in a position to look, but whiny sounds of mirth being ruthlessly strangled came from the driver’s seat.

  “Where are you?” Jacob growled.

  “I’m trying to get into her car.”

  “Dr. Law’s car?”

  “Yeah.” His shoulders packed the inches that separated him from Jillian as he tried to contort himself into the vehicle. He craned his neck around to peer at her. She held her hands clamped over her mouth in a futile effort to dampen her howls as her eyes bled tears of laughter and her right shoulder jerked spasmodically against his side. Great.

  “What the fuck kind of car is it?”

  Drake reached over with his left hand and tried the grab the passenger door. He wasn’t bendy enough. His knees pressed hard against the dash; which rammed his hips against the seat back, jack-knifing him tightly between the seat cushion and the roof—all accompanied by howls of savagely muted mirth. Fuck if he could figure out how to close the door. “Ahh…it’s like one of those SMART cars.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Jacob started laughing. Drake removed the phone from his ear, extended his arm out as straight as he could, angled the phone to get the knees to ear position he was in and snapped a picture. He thumbed the commands on the phone and sent the selfie to Jacob’s email.

  “Check your email, and by the way, I’m renting an SUV for the drive to the ranch. You’re reimbursing me. I’m also making you pay for at least four chiropractor visits.”

  Drake heard Jacob click his computer keyboard and then pulled the phone away as Jacob’s guffaws damn near split his eardrum. Drake couldn’t help laughing at the absurdity of his knees planted against his ears, and Jillian’s keening whines of hilarity added to the seriously stupid situation. “Hey, Jacob?”

  “Y…yeah?” Jacob managed between fits of laughter.

  “The car…it’s black, with pink stripes.” Drake threw his head back from the phone as Jacob’s wild shrieks of laughter ripped through the connection. Jillian had abandoned any attempt to hide her reactions and was hiccupping and sobbing with laughter. Good, at least he’d made her day lighter. He disconnected the call and managed to shut the door. He glanced at Jillian. “Woman, I hope you have a can opener.”

  Chapter 10

  Exiting the vehicle wasn’t as tricky as the pretzel imitation he’d done to fit into it. Once Jillian was out of the vehicle, he opened his door, tipped over her seat, pulled his knees up and got his big-ass feet clear of the door jamb. Once both legs were out, he grabbed the top of the vehicle and tugged himself to the edge of his seat. From there, it was a matter of standing up and grabbing the roof of the car to allow his legs to regain feeling. He’d survived. Barely. He straightened slowly, placed his hands at the small of his back, and arched backwards.

  He moved to the back of the vehicle and took out the luggage as she locked up her car, her eyes still leaking and her lower lip held between her teeth in a ferocious attempt to quiet her laughter. He didn’t understand the efficacy of a lock when two men could lift the vehicle into the back of a pickup. What she really needed was a cable and a padlock like people used on their bikes. He grinned at the mental image of the car chained to the cement parking stop.

  “If I weren’t depending on you to possibly save my life, I’d have videoed that last thirty minutes. Slam dunk to go viral on YouTube and…oh my…blackmail gold.” She cleared her throat and fought for a straight face while he shot her a look of disgust and proceeded to ignore her. As soon as she turned away, for a moment, he succumbed to a broad grin and silent laughter, but when she turned back again, his face was a blank.

  Their room was a double king. It was obviously the best Jewell could come up with on such short notice. The PSO that was shadowing them had arrived. He told the man to get some shut-eye and where they would be for the evening, then made arrangements for the man to check in at eleven that night so Drake could get some much needed sleep.

  Jillian flopped down on the bed and bounced right back up. “Food. We need food if we are going to drink tonight.”

  “Not we, sweetheart. One of us is working tonight to make sure the one who is drinking remains safe.” Drake watched her expression as she realized what he was saying. She drew a breath, straightened her shoulders and gave him a nod.

  “Got it. T
hen I need food to soak up the vast amounts of alcohol I intend on consuming, and you need to get something non-leaded to drink.” She whipped her ponytail over her shoulder, grabbed her small bag and went into the bathroom.

  Drake ambled over to the small desk and pulled out the take-out menus from the folder provided by the hotel. He glanced at the closed door and called to her, “Italian, Mexican, Chinese or Thai?”

  “I don’t care!” Her shout preceded the sound of the shower. Drake stared at the door trying to block out the image of her naked—the only thing separating them a flimsy door. He dropped the menus and hit up his phone. What he wanted wasn’t food. No matter what he ordered, one of his appetites would remain unsatisfied.

  Jillian blinked back the feelings of rejection. She was a job. Somehow in the course of the last twenty-four hours, she’d forgotten that. She would be paying Guardian, which meant she would be paying Drake. She was his job. Why did she have a problem internalizing what she was to this man? She was Silly Jilly, and she was a job. She stepped into the warm jets of the shower and dropped her head under the stream, blocking the world out. She took her time washing her hair and luxuriated in the never ending flow of hot water.

  She changed into the yoga pants and oversized t-shirt she’d packed as pajamas before combing out and braiding her hair. The room was dark except for a dim light in the far corner. Drake sat looking out at the setting sun. A plethora of takeout containers sat beside him. A small plastic cup sat beside the Louis the XIII bottle. Jillian padded over and sat down on a matching chair on the other side of the table.

  “I wasn’t sure if you’d changed your mind.” He nodded toward the elegant round bottle.

  Jillian shook her head. “Nope. Open it, would you?”

  Drake reached over and picked up the bottle. He made quick work of the seals and pulled the cut crystal fleur-de-lis stopper out. “It is a shame we don’t have a crystal snifter for this.” He poured about a half inch of the brown liquor into her cup, replaced the stopper and smiled at her. “I have a friend who likes expensive cognac. He gets a bottle once every four months from our employer. I’ve watched him while he babies cognac. You’re supposed to cup it in the palm of your hand to warm it and swirl it around to get the bouquet or the nose of the liquor.”

  Jillian picked up the plastic cup and gazed into its depths. “Yeah, that would be lost on me. I like martinis.” She put the cup to her lips and slung her head back, downing the liquid in one gulp. The fire made her nose burn. She gasped at the burn and put the cup back down. “Hit me, baby, one more time.”

  Drake laughed and picked up the bottle. “You did not just quote a Britney song to me did you?”

  Jillian laughed, and as he poured she asked, “You did not just recognize a Britney lyric, did you?”

  “Ah…one point for Doctor Law.” Drake put the bottle down and opened the containers on the table. “I ordered several different things, wasn’t sure what you liked.” She glanced down at beef, chicken and fish tacos, with smaller containers of rice, beans, chips, and salsa. Jillian grabbed a chicken taco and a small handful of chips with salsa. She watched as he took his food and they both settled into the chairs again.

  “Maybe you should put that bottle over here by me.” She was going to get drunk tonight. She deserved it. Hell, she earned the right.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t get too tipsy.” He poured a small amount into the bottom of her cup. She tossed it back and held it out to him again, daring him to turn her down.

  “Seriously, I’m only thinking of your safety here.”

  Drake poured a good amount into her cup, and she set it down while she demolished her chips. “I am absolutely positive you can, and will, protect me whether I be fully functioning or blotto drunk.”

  “Blotto? Is that a technical term?” Drake spooned some rice onto his plate.

  “Yepper. Defined as shitfaced, snockered, and drunk as a skunk.” She drank half the cognac in her cup and felt the warm buzz of alcohol running just underneath her skin. It smudged out the sharper edges of the day and allowed her to examine the events from the time of the shooting until now with a little distance. Lord knew she needed distance. “We’re driving to South Dakota?” Jillian put her empty plate on the table and picked up her drink. Outside, the lights of the city were starting to twinkle in the dusky night sky.

  “I think that is probably the wisest decision. Nobody knows you’re with me. I’ll rent the vehicle, and we’ll head east. We don’t have to hurry. We can enjoy ourselves even, play tourist. Maybe stop at Yellowstone and see the sights.”

  Yellowstone. Bears and trees, and well, she thought of picnic baskets and a cartoon bear with a hat and tie. She shook her head to clear her thoughts and turned in the chair, surprised at his suggestion. “You’d be willing to do that?”

  “Sure, why not? I mean, look at it logically. There is no way anyone knows Guardian has you in protective custody, and even if they figured that out, the chances of them deducing I am the Guardian protecting you are next to zero. Right now, Mark is moving your car back to your apartment.”

  “How?” She glanced at the desk where she’d left her keys.

  “With your keys. Don’t worry, he’s shorter than I am. He won’t break your car, and he’ll secure it when he parks it at your apartment.”

  Jillian downed her liquor and deliberately stretched her cup out to Drake again. He sighed and poured a smidge into the bottom of the cup. She waited until he set the bottle down and picked it up, filling her cup a quarter of the way to the top before she put the stopper back in the decanter. She leaned against the back of the chair and swirled her $8,000 cognac in her $0.05 plastic cup. “Explain your rationale.”

  “First, back east, someone was trying to get to you. They will obviously keep looking for you. If they don’t find you there, where do you think they will check next?”

  “Here.” That was a simple deduction, granted, one she hadn’t thought of earlier, but hey, to her credit, she wasn’t used to being shot at. “Does anyone get used to the idea that someone’s trying to kill them?”

  Drake leaned forward and looked out the window, his elbows on his knees. “It has been my experience that you become hyperaware. Everyone and everything becomes a threat. You hedge your moves in anticipation of a possible situation.”

  “That doesn't sound like fun. I want to have fun, don't you?" She nodded her head in a agreement with herself. "I like the idea of driving to South Dakota while playing touristsess…” Jillian scowled. “Sightseers.”

  Drake chuckled at her and reached for the decanter, placing it between his feet.

  Whatever, she had a good portion still in her cup.

  “I'm glad you like the idea. It is the simplest way to keep you safe."

  Jillian squinted her eyes at him and tried to play that logic through, but for some reason her thought process was hazy. "How so?"

  He shrugged, "The likelihood of someone following our flight path back to San Jose is slim. If they do show up here, they will be looking for you. Your apartment and work are where they will focus their attention. The city is too damn big to find you, especially if you don’t leave an electronic trail.”

  “Credit cards, emails and such like that,” Jillian added just to let him know she was not yet blotto.

  “Right. Cell phone, too. I took the liberty of taking your battery out of yours, by the way.”

  “Wait, what if Dad calls?”

  He winked at her. “I had Guardian call him and give him an emergency number to use if he needed to get in touch with you. Other than that, you can call and check in when we get back to the ranch.”

  She lifted her legs into the chair with her, bracing her heels on the edge of the seat, and hugged them with one arm. “Okay, but I don’t understand why we don’t drive straight to your place. Why the touriss, touresssess...sightseeing thing?” She rested her cheek on her knee when she turned to regard him. But for the light thrown from the small lamp behind her, the roo
m was completely dark.

  Drake turned to her and stared at her for several long seconds. “I’m being selfish, Jilly. I want to spend time with you. I want to get to know you.”

  It was dark, and she was well on her way to being drunk, but she saw the desire in his eyes and that revelation sent a chill of anticipation through her. She set her five-cent cup down and gave him her full attention. “Why?”

  He chuckled. “Because a wise man told me to start paying attention to what was in front of me.”

  Jillian squinted at him and scrunched her nose. “Dad. Dad told you I had a crush on you.” Mortified, she dropped her head onto her knees. “Ohhh, gaaawd…how could he do that?”

  “No, he didn’t tell me you had a crush on me. He did mention you might have carried a torch for either Dixon or me when you were younger.” Drake let out an embarrassed chuckle and shrugged. “He may have told me I might want to start paying attention to what is in front of me.”

  Jillian lifted her head and propped it up on her hand. “I like Dixon,” she shrugged, “but I didn’t have a crush on him.” A yawn escaped, and she covered her mouth. “Sorry.”

  “I’m not sure what you’re sorry about.” Drake’s words carried a warmth she had to be imagining.

  Drake had a bemused smile on his face. He was so handsome. Did he know that? “Do you know that?”

  “Do I know what?” He chuckled.

  “That you are handsome? And sexy. Sooo fucking sexy. Sex on a stick. A woman’s wet dream. Yummy even.” She wrinkled her nose and gave him her take on a sultry growl.

  He laughed and rubbed his face.

  Whoops, did she say that in her big girl voice?

  Finally, he turned his gaze to her. “I think you’re drunk.”

  “I’m not as think as you drunk I am, and I don’t care if you know that.” She stalled for a moment and shook her head with a frown. “Came out wrong. Don’t care if you know I want you, ‘cause I do.” She blinked at him to put him back in focus. “Do you want me?” The warm fuzzy feeling became cotton batting around her. Yep, she was now blotto.