Finished with his meal, he stacked the dirty dishes in the small cupboard that would be serviced when they landed and made sure all the latches were secure before he grabbed a bottle of water and headed back to the cockpit.
Drake and Mark shared a comfortable silence. Mark was reading something on his tablet and Drake didn’t feel much like talking. The hours and miles slipped by, and conversation was sparse, but not strained. Drake got up to stretch and went back to check on Jillian. She was sprawled out across the bed, asleep. He watched her for a few minutes before he silently closed the door, grabbed two more waters and went back to the cockpit. He handed one to Mark as he slid back into his seat and strapped in.
“How’s our girl doing?” Mark asked when Drake folded into the pilot’s seat.
“She’s out. She didn’t sleep well last night.”
“You know that how?”
Drake opened his water bottle and took a drink before he replied. “I spent the night with her.”
“Dude, did you or did you not tell me there was nothing between the two of you?”
“I did.”
Mark raised an eyebrow at him.
“I was up patrolling the house because someone tried to kill her yesterday.”
“Okay, that explains your actions, but not hers.”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s into you.”
“You’re mistaken.” Drake couldn’t afford to let a flight of fancy pull his attention away from his primary task.
“Maybe you should tell her? I’ve been over here nursing my wounded pride. I mean, dude, I used all of my best lines on that woman. Nothing worked. If she isn’t into you, there is someone else, because I’m a lady-killer, and let me tell you, there was nothing there. I struck out swinging, though.”
Drake chuckled. “Struck out, huh?”
“Shut up. You were all touchy-feely with her this morning. What did you do, set me up to watch me go down in flames?” Mark cocked his head at Drake. “You did, didn’t you? Man, what did I do to you to deserve that? I thought we were friends.”
Drake couldn’t contain his laughter and raised a hand, one finger extended, asking for a moment until he got himself together. “Oh, shit, dude! No, I didn’t set you up. If you struck out, it was because Jilly wasn’t interested, no other reason.”
“How could she not be interested? Look at me!” Mark curled his arm, bulged his bicep, and kissed it.
“Narcissistic much?” Drake barely got the words out and had to hold his stomach he was laughing so hard.
“Nah, man, this isn’t narcissism, this is a well-developed sense of self-esteem. I’m a teddy bear with muscles and tattoos. Women love me.”
“Most women.” Drake corrected. Mark flipped him the bird for his efforts.
The plane’s dedicated communications system lit up, and Mark’s smile dropped immediately. Both men snapped their headphones on.
“GDN101, this is Guardian Control.”
Drake flipped the switch and centered his mouthpiece so his words wouldn’t be muffled. “Guardian Control, this is GDN101.”
“Standby for Alpha.”
Drake sent Mark a sharp look and received one in return. “GDN101, the FAA has issued an Airworthiness Directive, grounding all G6’s effective immediately. There have been two crashes in the last twenty-four hours, and although there is no known connection to the airframe, the FAA is mandating a safety stand down.”
“Mechanical issues suspected?”
“Negative, not at this time. Pilot error suspected in both instances, however, two in twenty-four hours is enough for the FAA to act.”
“Roger that. We are thirty minutes from our initial approach into San Jose.” Drake knew there was nothing wrong with the aircraft. The G6 was the sturdiest plane he’d ever flown, and it had a top-rated safety and maintenance record. The aircraft was damn near infallible. But two crashes in twenty-four hours was concerning.
“Affirmative. You’ll need to wait out the safety stand down or drive to your original destination. When you get the lay of the land let me know.”
“Roger that, Skipper. Do we have any further information on the case?”
“Jewell is running down rabbit holes and eliminating scenarios, but we are still at the starting point. Nothing makes sense about the shooting yesterday. Why take out the person who has the tech? I could understand kidnapping or blackmail in this situation, but sending a hired killer? Everyone here is scratching their heads, and that puts me on edge. Be careful out there. Don’t take any unnecessary chances.”
“Roger that, Skipper. I’ll call as soon as we get settled in San Jose.”
“Affirm. Archangel has a PSO heading your way to watch your six at night. He has your cell number and will contact you when he arrives.”
That was a godsend. He needed to sleep tonight. Hopefully, Jillian’s apartment wouldn’t be a logistical nightmare to secure. “Affirmative. Thanks, Skipper.”
“Be smart.” Jacob cautioned.
“Never going to happen.” Drake retorted. The laughter of his friend and boss rang loud in the cabin before the radio went silent.
Drake pulled the headset off and scanned the controls in front of him, looking for any indication of a problem.
After long minutes spent checking every gauge and going over the controls with a fine tooth comb, Mark broke the silence. “There is nothing wrong here, man. This bird is solid.” He nodded to the door behind them. “You want to go wake her up for landing or should I?”
“I’ll do it. Be right back.” He unstrapped and started to get out of his seat, not expecting to see Jillian walking toward the cockpit.
“Hey, you.” Drake mentally rolled his eyes at himself. Brilliant conversationalist, aren’t you?
She blinked and wrapped her arms around her stomach. “Hey. Are we almost there?” The sleepy rumpled look was very attractive on Jillian.
Drake dropped back down into his seat. “On our initial descent. I was just coming to wake you up and get you strapped in for landing.”
A low, sexy laugh flitted around the cockpit. “Oh. Wow, that sounds way kinkier than I think you meant it to sound.” She winked at him and pivoted on her heel.
Drake blanked out. He had no response for that comment. None. Mark chuckled and waited for Drake to strap back in. The second his headset was back on Mark quipped, “I’m telling you, that woman is into you.”
Drake ignored his co-pilot’s comment, although he found himself considering the possibilities. Possibilities that before yesterday, he wouldn’t have believed existed.
Chapter 9
Jillian waited for Drake as he pulled their bags from the aircraft. Did she appreciate the view of the bulging muscles under the tight shirt as he flexed to retrieve the luggage? Oh, dear, yes. Yes, she did…and that type of thinking needed to stop. He walked toward her with the bags. “Guardian has a car waiting for us out front.”
Jillian fell into step with him. She turned and looked over her shoulder. “What about Mark?”
Drake stopped, causing her to bump into him. “What about him?”
She held a hand against his chest and stepped back, putting distance between them but not before she was able to breathe in the addictive cologne the man wore. The dark spice filled her sense and wrapped around her. Intoxicating, distracting and addictive, the adjectives didn't come close to describing the need that thrummed just under her skin. She drew a shuddering breath and tried to form a coherent response to Drake's question. “Oh, ahh…does he need a place to stay? It would be really tight, but he could come with us.”
“He’s good. He has to babysit Gracie. The FAA grounded all G6’s pending a safety review.”
“Say what?” She glanced back at the gleaming aircraft. “That plane wasn’t safe?”
Drake chuckled as he pushed open the door and awkwardly held it for her while juggling the luggage. She skipped through the door and glanced around the private airstrip’s small terminal bu
ilding. “She’s perfectly safe. There were two accidents in the last twenty-four hours, and both involved that airframe. While pilot error is suspected as a cause for both incidents, the FAA has to exert its due diligence. The stand down is a normal procedure in these types of events.”
Drake made it through the building by the time he was done talking. He stopped and looked out the front door. A large SUV was parked at the curb. She watched as his eyes roamed the exterior of the building.
“What are you looking for?” she whispered.
“Just checking for anything that seems off.” The driver’s side door of the SUV opened, and a man trotted around the vehicle toward them.
Drake dropped the luggage that was in his right hand, grabbed her arm, and tugged her unceremoniously behind him.
“Mr. Simmons?” The man extended his hand. “I’m your ride to San Jose.” Drake didn’t move or respond, and Jillian peeked around Drake’s arm. Puzzlement flitted across the man’s face. “Oh, I’m supposed to say Cobalt.” Drake relaxed and reached for the man’s hand. “Next time, lead off with that.”
Jillian kept her mouth shut and watched. The driver apologized several times while loading the baggage and then again after they got into the vehicle.
“So, do you work for Guardian, too?” Jillian asked the driver, more to be polite than anything else. Drake put his hand on her thigh and squeezed it. A small shake of his head silenced her. The silent trip to her apartment took less than a half hour. With luggage in hand and the driver dispatched, Jillian led Drake to her apartment. The front door had been damaged, but she had expected that. The police told her the apartment manager was able to secure the door with her deadbolt, but they didn’t tell her about the gap in the door at the bottom. A cat or a small dog could easily fit through the opening.
Drake placed the luggage by the front door, bent over and stood up, holding a wicked looking handgun. “Where did you get that?”
Drake chuckled. “A concealed holster.” He extended his hand for her keys. “The same place I retrieved it from yesterday during the shooting on campus.”
Jillian blinked and handed him the keys. Somehow she hadn’t noticed the gun. Why hadn’t she noticed it yesterday?
Drake opened the door and pulled her inside. He shut it, leaving the luggage outside. His finger over his lips, he gestured for her to be silent. She nodded. He pointed at the spot where she stood. Not a problem. She wouldn’t move an inch. He spun and walked away, and that’s when she got the first glimpse of her apartment. The paintings on the wall had been destroyed. The canvas drooped in shreds from the frames that were askew from the hangers. Filthy words, spray painted on her walls in four feet high letters, screamed at her in red and gold hues of hatred. The sectional she adored had been destroyed. Stuffing from its wonderfully soft cushions lay in white mounds on the carpet beside the other shattered remains of her life. Small figurines of angels she’d collected throughout college were thrown from the curio cabinet that once held them against the wall across the room. They lay in shattered pieces. Ruined. She stepped toward the rubble. Why? Why would anyone do this?
“The rest of the house is trashed, too. They must have been alerted to the cops coming before they made it to your closet. Your clothes look relatively untouched. Go get whatever you’ll need for an extended stay away. I’d prefer if you traveled light. No need for fancy clothes. The ranch is a blue jeans type affair.” Jillian nodded and moved to step past him. His hand reached out and stilled her. She glanced up at him. “I’m sorry someone did this to your home. It looks like kids. They destroyed shit they couldn’t steal. It looks like your electronics were what they were after.” He motioned toward the empty entertainment center.
She nodded and headed into the bedroom. The first three drawers of her dresser were pulled out, and the contents were scattered over the floor. Jillian walked over the clothes to get to the closet. There was a box where she kept photos of her parents. She’d scanned them into her computer and loaded them on the cloud so they’d always be there, but… She dropped to her knees and moved a stack of clothes away from the box. She opened the lid and smiled. The small envelope of photos was still inside along with her college class ring, the tassels off her graduation caps, and pictures of her, Matt, and Cliff on the day they went to live with Cliff.
Jillian stared at the small box in her hands. They trembled no matter how hard she clenched the pressed cardboard. She lifted her eyes and took in the devastation beyond the door of the closet. From floor level where she knelt, the senselessness seemed even more devastating.
The sound of Drake’s boots as he walked down the hallway toward her room punctuated the stillness of the apartment. He entered the room and zeroed in on her. Careful to step around the clothes strewn across the floor, he made his way to her and knelt. His large hand reached out and picked the top photograph out of the box. It was of her and Matt. He smiled at the image. “Are you okay?”
She shook her head. “No, not really.”
“I’ve booked a hotel room. We’ll stay there until Monday. We should probably go.” He glanced around. “Can I help you pack? Is there something you want me to try to find?”
“No, everything they destroyed can be replaced. Everything except these mementos. I’m lucky they didn’t find them.” Jillian gave a despondent glace around the room. “I know, rationally, this was a random act, but inside?” She tapped her fingers over her heart. “Here, it feels like I have been picked up and dropped into a world that doesn’t make the slightest sense.”
“I know, sweetheart.” Drake’s hand under her chin brought her eyes back to him. His thumb swept moisture off her cheek.
She leaned into his touch. His strength and his presence intimated a connection she knew wasn’t really there, but right now, she wanted to believe he cared for more than the person she used to be. Moving away from him, she closed her eyes and shook her head. The use of the word sweetheart was nothing new. He’d called her that when she was a teenager. It was one of the things that fueled her teenage addiction; but now, just as then, it was just a term of endearment meant to reassure her. She pushed to her feet, and he stood with her, taking her arm to help her gain her balance. She gave him a sad smile. “Thank you, again.”
“For what?” Sincere confusion flashed across his expression.
“For being where I needed you to be. For being who I needed you to be.” She forced a small laugh, one she didn’t feel and wasn’t sure she’d properly managed. “I seem to be in need of a hero lately.”
He pulled her into his arms, the little cardboard box between them. “I’m honored to be your hero, Jill. I wish you didn’t have to experience any of this. We will get through this, and then you can resume your life.”
Jill drew a deep breath and inhaled his scent before she nodded and stepped back. Resume a life devoid of the man who, once again, left footprints so large no one else would ever be able to fill them.
It took thirty minutes to sort through the destroyed clothes. Her jeans hung in the closet, so she had a portion of her wardrobe covered. Casual tops were going to be an issue. Most of them had been dumped out of the dresser and spray painted. Her business apparel provided long-sleeved shirts and several other choices, but all were inappropriate for a ranch. Jillian drew a long deep breath and released it before repeating the process. She wasn’t going to cave to the stress pushing her down. She put the clothes she could salvage into her suitcase and headed back to the closet for her intimates. She kept her underwear in a silk-lined basket in her closet. The lingerie was expensive, flimsy and a complete indulgence. She grabbed two pairs of boots and a pair of sturdy walking shoes along with the basket and headed back into the bedroom. Fingers hooked in his front pockets, Drake leaned against the door jamb. She gave him a quick smile and packed the clothes she had stacked on the bed before she cast one last glance around the room. Her jewelry box had been smashed, and there was no sign of any of the items she’d left. A watch, several rings that didn’
t mean anything to her and a drawer full of earrings, most of which were purchased at department stores, were missing. They’d get little to nothing from pawning those items.
“Are you ready?”
Jillian jumped at Drake’s question. She’d been so lost in her thoughts she’d forgotten he was waiting. “Yes, I think so.” Her glance bolted from the devastation to him. “No, wait, I’m not.” Jillian headed out the door and brushed past Drake who moved out of her way.
“Where are you going?”
“You’ll see!” Jillian hopped over her broken glass figurines and into the kitchen. Bingo! The cabinet on top of the refrigerator was undisturbed. She looked around for her little step stool, but couldn’t find it in the rubble of what was once her kitchen. She stood on her tiptoes and stretched for the handle. Drake’s arm appeared, and she felt him place his hand on her hip, steadying himself as he leaned over her.
“What’s up here?” He opened the door, and Jillian applauded at the sight of two red and black boxes with a gold embossed label. “Are you shitting me?”
Drake’s question brought a bubble of laughter out of her. “All they took didn’t equal the cost of those two bottles.”
Drake (The Kings of Guardian Book 11) Page 8
