Drake (The Kings of Guardian Book 11)

by Kris Michaels

  “The line is secure,” Jewell confirmed.

  “Hey, girl.” Drake acknowledged her.

  “Hey yourself. You enjoying the cabin?”

  “Haven’t been in it much. Working on egress paths to the tree line.” Drake glanced toward the front of the house and the bedroom he shared with Jillian.

  Jared announced himself. “Dom Ops online.”

  Jacob started, “Okay, Archangel is unavailable. Bring us up to speed from your end, Jewell.”

  “Roger that. Electronically, I have swept what I could under the carpet. Your rental vehicle has been out there for almost a month. Tatyana said the remnants of the Russian Mafia were given resources they’d mobilized in the US to track down you, Maliki, Chief, and Dixon. I’m working on the assumption those resources include someone who can gather and filter information. Based on that, I think we should work on the theory they know where you were up until I disabled the GPS in your vehicle outside of Newcastle.”

  “You can go with that assumption, but why wouldn’t they have gone after Drake while he was tromping around out in the wilds of Yellowstone?” Jared interjected.

  “Well, I’m looking at the map I pulled from the GPS. There is no signal for days. Then a bleep and then nothing. I’m assuming the mountains blocked it. In that time, Drake and Jillian moved, popped up somewhere else, and then moved again. They could have been tracking them, but thanks to Mother Nature, Drake was always one step ahead. Or, the more believable assumption would be the assets were on the east coast. Hence the attempt when Drake landed in New York. Dixon disappeared in the city.” Jewell cleared her throat. “Drake went to the college and stayed in the engineering building, giving them time to set up. He literally dropped into their lap. When the attempt failed, and every cop in the state converged, they had to regroup. They could have been localized and needed to pull in more assets to deploy.”

  Drake shook his head. “What about now? If we work on the assumption they were on the East Coast, I can get us back to the ranch.”

  “No,” said Jacob. “We had a long conversation about this with Archangel last night. While Guardian is hiding in plain sight at the ranch, we don’t need to intentionally lead anyone into our safe haven. There are women and children at the training complex, plus the people at the hospital rehabbing.”

  Drake leaned back in his chair and stared at the wall. “So the question is, do they know where I am?”

  “I don’t know.” Jewell sighed. “My best hypothesis is they probably know where you were when I killed the GPS. Do they know where you went after that? No way, unless they have satellite imagery and have the resources to scour eastern Wyoming looking for your SUV. If we work under the assumption that Stratus is funding this event…”

  “We have to assume Stratus is backing this event. We don’t know the extent of, or what, is at their disposal, but based on some information uncovered in Colombia, their resources could be vast.” Jacob’s voice trailed Jewell’s. “I would assume they know your location. Do what you need to do to protect yourselves. Have you located Joseph’s arsenal?”

  Drake cleared his throat. “I’m assuming it’s the vault under the tool shed. Unless he has a fallout shelter hidden under the damn thing. Either way, I need the combo.” A fucking fallout shelter would be amazing at this point.

  “Standby,” Jewell said.

  “So, no bullshit here…how fucked am I?”

  “Jared?” Jacob prompted.

  “We have no domestic intel on the Russian Mafia’s fairy godmother we can validate. Stratus, which has been rumor and myth for the last fifteen years, has suddenly appeared and become a reality. We believe we have credible international intel found during a recent operation in Colombia. No matter the locale, what we do know from this event is they have global reach and more than enough money to buy the people and assets to do their bidding. Elite professionals. Watch your back.”

  Drake’s shoulders dropped at Jared’s words. “Okaay…well and truly fucked, then.” He flashed a hard glance toward the bathroom where the sound of Jillian singing in the shower posed an innocent counterpoint to the gravity of the phone call. The thought he endangered her was intolerable.

  “I can send a team, D. We can get you out of there, but if they are watching you, Chief, Maliki, and Dixon, we can’t take you to the ranch or the complex in Arizona. We’d have to get you to a safe house. It would further expose you and Doctor Law.”

  “Jillian is not part of this, Skipper. I can send her out.” Hell, he’d been a sitting duck before, and he could deal with it, it was part of the job, but Jillian didn’t sign up for his bullshit.

  “No, that won’t work. We’re assuming they have a description of your vehicle. If they see her driving it, they’d take her and use her to get to you. The safest thing for her is to be right next to you.” Jacob countered.

  “So we wait.”

  Jared cleared his throat before he spoke. “No. You wait. We work. These bastards are fallible. We just need to find their weakness.”

  “I can send a team.” Jacob offered the lifeline again.

  Drake ran a hand through his hair as he thought. Sending a team would do nothing but put them on the map and then paint a target on their backs. They had food, water, and seclusion, and he was more than capable of taking care of his woman. “No. Get me the combo to Joseph’s arsenal. I’ll take care of us.”

  “Roger that. Jewell is calling Joseph.”

  “Skipper, give me a Sit rep on Dixon, and I’d appreciate it straight. No filter.” Drake heard the shower cut off in the silence that followed.

  “It’s a Dom Ops mission. You aren’t on the ‘need-to-know’ list,” said Jared.

  Drake ground his teeth but maintained control. He fucking hated Guardian’s compartmentalization sometimes, but he understood why it was done. “Jared, consider me on the fucking ‘I-need-to-know-he’s-alive list’.”

  After a momentary pause, Jared sighed. “He hasn’t checked in, which is nothing unusual for an undercover operation. We have some street camera images of him as recently as yesterday. That’s all I can tell you.” Jared’s voice trailed off.

  Drake closed his eyes in relief. Dixon was alive and walking around on the street, not being held in some fucking dungeon. He’d take it.

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. Dom Ops out.”

  “I can’t reach Joseph. Power up in three hours and I’ll give you what I have.” Jewell sounded distracted.

  “Roger that. Thanks, Jewell.”

  “You bet, D. CCS out.”

  “Alpha out.”

  Drake ended the call, set the phone back on the desk, and considered what he was and wasn’t told. Stratus, an underground organization once considered a myth, was now, apparently, a fact and had given the Russian Mafia his name and identity. Subversion, corruption, duplicity, and graft not associated with the usual scum of the earth had been thrown under Stratus’s banner for so long that the world accepted the entity’s presence although no one could prove such an organization actually existed. Until now. It seemed either Stratus did exist, or someone had decided to use its mythical cloak to further their own cause.

  Either way, the organization had one common thread that Guardian would and could exploit. The scum who came after him had no idea what this Guardian was capable of doing. Drake lifted his head and rolled his shoulders. They had no idea what he could do or would do to protect the woman he loved. As much as he wanted to avoid the situation, he’d be prepared if the bastards found them. A sneer pulled up his lip. God pity the souls after him because he’d fight like a rabid animal to make sure Jillian remained safe. They had no idea who they’d cornered.

  Chapter 19

  “What’s in here that you need?” Jillian held onto Drake’s belt as he moved in the pitch dark towards the small tool shed.

  “Joseph has some items cached. They may be useful.” He pulled her into the little building and shut the door behind them before he used a
flashlight to illuminate the area. “Here,” he handed her the light, “shine it down here.” He dropped to his knees and pulled an old dilapidated trunk piled with stacks of random items on it away from the wall. Jillian moved the flashlight and directed the light toward the floor where the trunk had been. Drake tugged on a big metal D-ring that sunk into the floorboards. The entire three-foot-by-five-foot portion of the floor lifted.

  Jillian hopped out of his way and banged into the trunk with her shin. She hopped up and down rubbing the spot that would no doubt become a bruise the size of the state of Rhode Island. “You okay?” Drake’s hand was at her elbow steadying her as she bent down to lift her jeans. There was a good-sized mark, but no blood, which was a miracle because it felt like she’d amputated her leg from that point down.

  “I’m fine. Just not channeling my inner grace at the moment.” She pushed her jeans over her hiking boots. “What’s under there?”

  “That remains to be seen. Knowing Joseph, it could be anything. You okay to hold the light?” Drake pushed her hair away from her face. The space between them vanished as he bent down and brushed his lips over hers.

  “I am now.” She sighed the words as he lifted away. Drake chuckled and moved to step over the trunk and went to his knees. Jillian made note of where the trunk was and carefully navigated her way around it. Drake pulled a piece of canvas away. “Wow.” She whistled and cocked her hand, putting all the light on the gun safe that someone had buried in the ground. “Your friend’s afraid the zombie apocalypse is happening soon, isn’t he?”

  Drake laughed as he spun the dial. “Honestly, the zombies would be afraid of Joseph.”

  The more she heard about this guy, the less willing she was to meet him. He had a cabin in the middle of nowhere, enough canned food and bottled water to last six months, and a weapons safe. Can you say ‘prepper’? Jillian snorted at her own Discovery Channel driven hypothesis until Drake opened the door. “Holy Shit.”

  “Yeah. Good ol’ Joseph.” Drake grinned up at her. “Give me the light.” Jillian handed it over, and Drake positioned it on the small ledge of the safe.

  “Those are military guns.” Jillian had seen them in movies.

  “No, not really. They are military grade weapons, but none of these were purchased by the Department of Defense.” Drake stood and looked around the shack. “Could you take that canvas and spread it just outside the door? I’m going to use it to drag all this down to the house.”

  Jillian pulled the thick canvas through the door and flattened it before she walked back in and closed the door behind her. Drake held out a rifle toward her, and she took a step back. “What if I hold it wrong and it shoots?”

  Drake laughed and pulled the weapon back. “Here, look. See, this is where the ammunition goes.” He pulled back a little handle and a hole just above the part that was supposed to hold the bullets opened up. “It’s empty. It’s smart to always assume a weapon is loaded until you know for a fact it isn’t. This one is clear.” He slapped the side of the gun, and a loud metal clank sounded. “I just put the bolt forward. It is safe for you to take. Just hold it here,” he showed her with his own hand, “and here. Then walk it to the canvas and lay it down.”

  It was heavier than it looked. Jillian made the trip, laid the gun down and went back in. Drake handed her three more of the same type rifle, several wrapped packages, a small duffel and two containers, each the size of a shoe box. When he finally shut the door on the safe, he wore a shoulder holster with a handgun in it and had two others laid on the floor beside the safe. She bent over to pick them up.

  “No! Don’t touch those.”

  Jillian jumped back and tripped over the chest, falling over the top. All the random crap stacked on top of the trunk scattered across the floor and into the hole where the safe was located. She banged her elbow as she fell and hissed a string of cuss words that would make Cliff so proud of the woman she’d become. Not.

  “Shit! Jilly, are you okay?” Drake helped her sit up. He tried to examine the arm she was holding. “Where are you hurt?”

  Jillian turned so he couldn’t touch her elbow. “No! My pride’s destroyed. Any hope of showing you I’m useful has been brutalized beyond repair, and I hit my funny bone, which I guarantee you isn’t funny. Plus, I’ll probably have a black and blue mark on my butt!

  Drake dropped beside her and started chuckling.

  “This is not funny!” Jillian smacked him with the hand cradling her wounded funny bone. He turned away, but she could see he only laughed harder. “Stop!” She pushed him, and he flopped onto his back and literally howled. Damn it, his laughter was contagious. “This isn’t funny!” Her reprimand would have been much more believable if she hadn’t been laughing, too.

  Drake pulled her into his chest and hugged her against him. He kissed her hair in between aftershocks of laughter. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, you’re not.” Yes, she was pouting, and yes, it sounded pathetic, even to her own ears.

  His huff of laughter moved her hair. “Yeah, I am. The pistols were loaded. I didn’t mean to scare you.” His chest rumbled under her. “You were so…”

  “Pathetic. Go ahead, say it.” Jillian flopped onto her back and covered her eyes, but she couldn’t stop laughing. The damn man was irresistible.

  Drake rolled to her and lifted up on his elbow. “You aren’t used to my life, Jilly. You aren’t pathetic, you’re adorable.”

  She lifted her hands and blinked up at him. “An adorable klutz it would seem.”

  He nodded once. “Well, there is that.” He lowered and brushed his lips against hers in a sweet kiss. “Seriously, are you okay?”

  “I’ll be fine. Battered but not broken.”

  He stood up and extended his hand to her, helping her to her feet.

  Drake helped her out the door before he went back into the shack to retrieve the other weapons that still remained in the pit under the floor. He shut the door and grabbed the two front corners of the canvas. “Walk behind me and let me know if something falls off, please?” He turned and pulled the laden tarp with long easy strides. Jillian followed along behind, rubbing her elbow. “You know the series of events leading up to this are highly improbable. I mean, think about it.”

  Drake glanced around at her. “I agree.” He tugged the canvas wide to round the corner to the house. “Highly improbable.”

  Jillian watched as he dropped the corner of the material and stooped over to grab two rifles, taking them into the kitchen. There were no lights on in the house. Jillian wasn’t going to risk face-planting in the unfamiliar surroundings, so she sat down on the stairs and watched as Drake made quick work of taking the equipment inside. It took less than five minutes for him to clear the canvas and sit down next to her. “Are you regretting it? Being here, with me?”

  Jillian leaned into him and dropped her head on his shoulder. “I don’t think I could ever regret spending time with you. I do suggest, however, the next time you take me on vacation, we eliminate the guns and bruises.”

  He put his arm around her. “For future reference, guns and explosives are kinda my thing. They are my primary training blocks. The bruises, I’ll try my hardest to avoid.”

  She closed her eyes and gave a small chuckle. “The bruises were my fault, I’ll admit it. Future vacations, however, must be gun and explosive free or I’ll make you pay.”

  He squeezed her closer to him. “Just how would you require payment?” His voice dropped as he placed a breath-stealing kiss on her lips.

  “Oh, that and more.” Jillian wrapped her arm around his neck and urged him back toward her waiting lips.

  “Then let’s relocate so I can start accumulating credit for whatever vacation screw ups I happen to commit in our future.” He stood and offered her a hand.

  “I don’t think it works that way. You can’t bank credits.” Of course, that didn’t stop her from holding his hand and following him through the darkness.

  “Then we’ll conside
r this a trial run, so we both know what is expected when I really need to suck up and get back in your good graces.” Drake stopped and spun her around. She felt the mattress against the back of her legs and his fingers at the hemline of her shirt. Without a second thought, she lifted her arms over her head and waited as Drake removed the shirt.

  His hands traveled down her arms and caressed her sides before they rose to cup her lace covered breasts. His thumbs caressed her nipples, sending tendrils of desire through her body. She shivered at the warm breath he blew across the fabric before he kissed the exposed skin above the lace. “So sensitive.”

  Drake’s mouth continued to tease as his fingers unfastened her jeans. His hands delved into the fabric and pushed the denim down her hips. She toed off her shoes and stepped out of the jeans while pulling his shirt up and over his head. The button fly on his denims lasted two seconds after his shirt became a pile of material on the ground. Locked in a kiss, she could feel him trying to toe off his boots. He lost his balance, and they both landed on the bed in a heap of entwined legs and arms.

  Drake growled and sat up. He stripped his boxers, jeans, socks, and boots off in one fluid movement. Twisting, he pounced on her. Jillian’s surprised shriek echoed in the quiet of the house. She cupped his cheeks in her hand and lifted his head away from her neck where he was tickling her with his whiskers. In the muted light coming into the room from the moon, she could just make out his features.

  “I’m not going to be an easy man to love.”

  He shifted and rolled her on top of him. His fingers popped the hooks on her bra. Jillian sat up, straddling him while she slipped out of the confining lace. She leaned forward, running her hands up his chest, feeling the plates of muscle under her fingers ripple. “I don’t recall asking for easy.” She lowered to kiss him but stopped before their lips met. “I’ve always worked hard to get what I want, and what want I is you. Don’t worry about me giving up on us. I’m not going to run away because you like to play with guns and things that go boom.” She dropped the fraction of an inch required to join them together. His hands traveled the length of her back and found the thin lace of her thong. She squirmed, trying to move, but he gave a quick tug, ruining another pair of underwear. “Again! You’re impossible!”