Guardian Angel: Flight or Fight

by Sean Michael

  "I never said you did!" Rafe sighed and shook his head. "The whole situation sucks. We're supposed to find a room to hole up in for what's left of the night and I'll call the boss in the morning for the all clear."

  "Cool. I'll head southeast and find something quiet. You'll have to go in and register us, most likely."

  "Yep, that's the idea. Hopefully this'll all be cleared up by morning and you can go home without worrying about the militia coming after you again."

  Yeah, right. Tomorrow morning? He was gone. Headed home or to Granny's or hell, maybe Darla's up in Alaska. Her and Tiny'd let him stay.

  Rafe seemed to collect himself, face going neutral again, body looking firm, large. "Nothing too flashy, Mr. Young. We don't want to attract attention."

  "Attracting attention is my job, Angel." He pulled into a Motel 6, screeching to a halt. "Go on, get rooms."

  He got another glare and the door slammed hard behind Rafe, the man stiff as anything as he made his way to the front desk. Christ Rafe was far too easy.

  Daniel watched, then searched the car for information, an extra phone, a fucking first aid kit. He was hiding it well, but his knuckles were swelling and turning dark, he needed some aspirin and some ice. Still, hitting that guy had been fun. He'd had to remember that.

  The damned car was clean and Rafe was coming back. "Room twelve, at the end. I'll walk there while you park the car."

  Damn it. They were far enough out of the city that his chances of a twenty-four hour Wal-Mart were none and slim. He parked the car, pocketed the keys. There we go.

  Rafe let them in and immediately went over to the air conditioner, cranking it high. "I don't know whether to collapse or take a shower first. Oh, I'll take the bed by the door. I'm still responsible for your safety. Speaking of which, I'd like my piece back, please."

  "You can have it when I get my phone. I'm going to get a bucket of ice."

  "You're not going out there with my gun." His phone was handed over along with the admonition not to be on for longer than thirty seconds and not to tell anyone where they were.

  Dan handed the gun over and headed outside, dialing as he walked.

  "Danny?" Aimee'd been crying, he could tell.

  "Yeah, sweetie. I'm okay. Some..."

  "Yeah, yeah. They came and got all of us. I got questioned. Questioned. The label's furious. Where are you?"

  He growled low, pushed his hand into the ice. "In a hotel. Don't worry yourself. I'm fine. You rest and call Granny and 'em. Let them know you heard from me."

  "Okay. Okay Danny. You be safe. We're praying for you."

  "Yeah, lady. Tell that husband of yours to make you some tea and calm your happy ass down." He hung up, crouching there for a minute, letting the cold seep in.

  Rafe popped his head out. "Mr. Young?" The man frowned and started toward him. "Hey, you okay?"

  "Yeah. Getting some ice. Just got off the phone." He stood and filled the ice bucket up. Christ, the sun was coming up. No wonder his head hurt.

  "Shit, look at your hand!" Rafe took the bucket of ice from him, holding onto his wrists and sort of dragging him back to the hotel. "I am so fired," muttered Rafe under his breath.

  "It'll be okay. Nobody ever died from broken fingers." So long as he could still play after, not that this guy knew dick-all about music, he'd be gold. "Don't worry, Angel. I won't tell. I just want some migraine medicine, the ice, and a nap. Maybe pancakes." He thought about it a second, shook his head. "Nah. It's been a long night. No food."

  Rafe gave him another glare, though this one was half-hearted. "I'm not sure about the migraine medicine, Mr. Young. There's a first aid kit in the trunk of the car, there might be some Tylenol at least in it. You go ahead and lie down; I'll see what I can find."

  "Thanks." He got his boots off, dunked his head in the sink. Fuck, he looked terrible. Bloodshot eyes, bruised and bloody lip, broken hand -- Damn.

  "You look like hell," Rafe noted, coming back in with a sizeable first aid kit. He opened it and rustled through it, coming up with a tube of ointment and a bottle of pills. "There. For your head and the stuff in the bottle should help keep the swelling down on your face and hand."

  "Cool." He took a handful of the pills, doctored his lip and hand. "And looking like hell is not in my contract."

  Rafe nodded glumly. "I know. I'm sorry. Like I said -- so fired. I was supposed to be protecting you not mucking up your lip and letting you get us out of there."

  Oh, God. So fucking cute.

  "How long have you been a... an agent?"

  Rafe got all stiff again, standing straight and puffing out his chest. "Four years. This is my first job in the field," Rafe finished, muttering. "And last."

  "Oh, now. You can't give up yet. I'm still alive."

  "Yeah, and me, too and that was touch and go there, wasn't it?” Rafe gave him a wry smile. "I don't deserve high marks for this one, Mr. Young."

  "Hey. You kept a really scared guy from panicking. That's something." He chuckled, shook his head. "More than something."

  Rafe nodded. "The other agents are probably dead though." Rafe shook his head. "Shit, what a mess."

  Well, his patting and ego-stroking was all used up for the night. Morning. Whatever. Daniel stuck his hand back into the bucket of ice, trying to tell himself he wasn't queasy. Was. Not.

  "Do you think I should take you to the hospital, Mr. Young?"

  "Nah. The hand's broken, but I'll take it to someone tomorrow. And we're way past the Misters, yeah? I crawled around an attic with you."

  "That sounds way more fun than it was." Rafe gave him a grin. "You want me to call you Daniel or Dusty?"

  "Dusty is my stage name. My family calls me Danny, friends call me DJ." He grinned right back.

  "So Daniel it is, I guess. Seeing as I kind of don't fit any of those categories. Hey, why don't you have a personal bodyguard? There's a lot of crazies out there, you know."

  "Oh, I'm not that big yet. I'm just now playing the big venues."

  "You're big enough the militia thought kidnapping you would be big news."

  "Yeah, well. I got a couple three number ones, you know?" Maybe four or five.

  "And enough screaming girls to warrant several dozen security guards around the stage." Rafe stretched out on the bed nearest the door, groaning.

  "Yeah." He yawned, blinking a little. "I'm not interested in the girls."

  Rafe gave him a look. "You're not?" And was that a squeak in Rafe's voice?

  He blinked, trying to focus. "I probably shouldn't have said that, huh?"

  "You're just such a... stud." Rafe cleared his throat. "I mean there're all those girls."

  "Yeah, but that's just not my thing."

  Rafe actually nodded, cheeks a touch red. "Not mine either."

  "Yeah?" That made it easier, knowing they both had something to lose.

  "Yeah." Rafe's eyes were deep brown, just looking at him.

  He blinked again, smiled. "Cool, Angel. Real cool."

  Rafe rolled his eyes and tossed a pillow at his head. "My name's Rafe."

  "Is it really Rafael?" So cute.

  "If I say no, will you stop calling me Angel?"

  "Probably not."

  Rafe stuck out his tongue. "Then yeah, it really is Rafael. And my older brother is Gabriel and my younger brother is Michael."

  He chuckled, eyes closing. "Oh, man. I love it. Are you all cute or is it just you?"

  Rafe's other pillow hit him in the head.

  "Thank you." He tucked the other pillows under him. "Now, answer the question. All studly, or are you a singular studmuffin?"

  "You're making fun of me. And you stole my pillows."

  "I am not making fun and you offered the pillows." God, this was fun.

  "I didn't offer, I threw." One of them was grabbed, tugged out from under him.

  "Oh! So mean! Abuse! Abuse!" He had the late night giggles now, snorting and chuckling.

  Rafe laughed. "Oh, now I know you didn't have
brothers if you think that is abuse."

  "Actually, I'm the only boy. My twin sister lives in Maui." He liked Rafe's laugh.

  "A twin? What's that like?" Rafe had put the pillow under his head, lying on his side, watching.

  "She's like having a best friend that never goes away. She's married to a great guy. I see her a lot. Well, I used to. I'm busy now and she's got a new baby."

  "Yeah? You like kids, Daniel?"

  "Yeah. Yeah, I do. I mean, I don't reckon I'll ever adopt any, but I like them."

  "I've got a ton of nieces and nephews. Gabe's personally making up for my being gay."

  He chuckled again, imagining that big body draped with kids. "You out of the closet, then?"

  "With the immediate family, yeah. The rest of them just think I can't find the right girl."

  "Ah. That's cool." His folks had been gone way before he'd thought about what floated his boat.

  "What about you? I know you're not out publicly, why risk telling me?"

  "I didn't. You assumed." He grinned, watching the spots swirl on the back of his eyelids.

  "I assumed? No. No, you definitely said you weren't into girls."

  "I said I didn't care about the girls." Didn't he?

  "No, you said you weren't interested. And then you figured you maybe shouldn't have said it." Rafe sounded smug. "That means you're into guys. Oh. Or that you're celibate." Rafe looked him up and down, he could feel it. "I can't believe you're celibate."

  He snorted, unable to stop it. "If I am, it's not on purpose, Angel. It's because I'm being careful."

  "You think it would affect your sales? Does your label know?" And he might have heard another muttered, "Name's not Angel."

  "Affect them? Try destroy them. My manager knows. My sister knows. That's enough."

  "You gotta be more careful who you tell then. If I was unscrupulous I'd blackmail you now."

  He opened his eyes, looked over and winked. "Kid, you're something else, but you know what? You kidnapped me from my concert, busted my lip and got my hand broke. Just try blackmail. I'm a singer, not stupid."

  He did like the kid.

  A lot.

  "I did not kidnap you! I was under orders. And you broke your own hand. I did bust your lip though."

  Dan chuckled. "See? Brutality."

  "I didn't mean to hurt you, Daniel. I really didn't." Fingers ghosted over his lip, just close enough to feel the warmth of them. "I'm sorry."

  "Oh." His lips parted on a gasp, the motion brushing Rafe's fingers.

  Rafe's fingers were snatched away. "Sorry. It's still pretty sore, huh?"

  "No. I mean, yeah, but that wasn't what I 'oh'ed for."

  "No?" The fingers came back, one sliding along his cheekbone, two touching the bottom of his lip. "It makes you look like a real tough guy."

  Oh, sweet fuck. It would almost be worth last night to keep being touched.

  "It's not just the girls that like how you look." The words were whispered and then Rafe's heat disappeared, the sound of the springs on the kid's bed loud.

  "You didn't have to disappear, Angel. I don't bite." Hard.

  "I'm supposed to be looking after you," whispered Rafe. "Not taking advantage."

  "It's only advantage if I'm not fully in control of faculties." He looked over, admiring the muscles, the strength.

  Rafe's mouth quirked into a half smile. "I don't know, Daniel, it's what? Almost six a.m. and you haven't slept yet and you were nearly killed earlier. I'm not sure either of us are in full control of our faculties."

  He chuckled, tickled deep down. "Man, we haven't had pancakes either."

  Rafe frowned, looking puzzled. "Is that some sort of gay code I don't know about?"

  He started laughing, deep and low and harsh, the sounds echoing in the room. "No. No, man. I'm just hungry."

  Rafe went a little red, but he was laughing, too. "I think we need to get some sleep before we go get food, Daniel. I don't trust either of us to drive. But I promise you a big old plate of pancakes on the Agency's tab later."

  "That sounds like a fair deal, Angel." He shifted, sliding on the sheets, suddenly exhausted.

  "Rafe," came the quiet response and he could feel those brown eyes on him before letting go.

  "Mmm... yeah. Rafael. It's a pretty name..." He started snoring, fingers still dangling in the bucket of melting ice.

  Chapter Three

  It was the ringing of his phone that woke Rafe up and he sat up out of his deep sleep, heart thumping hard.

  Christ, he hadn't even taken off his denim security jacket before falling asleep and it was kind of twisted up. He finally got the phone out and open. "'Lo?"

  "Rafe, where the hell are you?"

  "Boss?" He cleared his throat and sat up straight, squinting at the time. Just after three. "A motel outside of Oklahoma City."

  "Your charge okay?"

  He looked over at Daniel, the man still snoring softly. "Yeah. Yeah, sleeping. It was a long night."

  "We cleaned up the safehouse. Perez, Archibald and Turner are all dead."

  Rafe winced, a fist settling in his belly. "I'm sorry."

  "Not your fault. We caught three of the bastards, they're claiming that's all there were."

  "No. No, there were at least six. We saw them from the roof. They thought Dani -- Mr. Young and I had gone into the forest. We took out the man they'd left behind and hightailed it out of there."

  "Nice work on him, by the way. He was still out when we moved in."

  Rafe winced again and figured he'd just keep mum about who exactly had taken that risk for now. He figured he was in for a big enough ass reaming as it was.

  "So what do you want me to do with Mr. Young? He's pretty anxious to get home."

  "We've got a safehouse in Abilene that should do."

  "With all due respect, sir, he wants to go home."

  "We can't guarantee his safety at his place. Too many people know where that is. Especially the ALL who are going to want him worse than ever now. Possibly to trade for their members we have in custody. Bring him to Abilene."

  Rafe shook his head. "We didn't exactly keep him safe at the farmhouse. Boss, I'm pretty sure he won't cooperate if I try to take him to Abilene and frankly, I can't say I blame him."

  "You're awfully mouthy for a kid fresh off a desk, Rafael."

  Man, his wince was going to become permanent at this rate. Still, he figured he was in enough shit on this one already, a little more couldn't hurt. "I'm sorry, sir, but having spent a bit of time with Mr. Young, I can assure you that short of my tying him up and forcing him, he won't go to Abilene, or anywhere else for that matter."

  "All right, Rafe. You're on guard duty then. Take him wherever he wants to go, but if those bastards lay one finger on him you're finished."

  He swallowed. "Yes, sir."

  The phone went dead and he winced again.

  "You stood up for me pretty well, Rafael." Daniel sat up, stretching. The man's hand looked like hell, black and swollen. "I appreciate it."

  He managed to wince again at the sight of that hand. "I figure I owe you one." Or two or three.

  Daniel nodded. "It looks worse than it feels, I think. What do you feel about Wyoming?"

  "Wyoming? I thought you lived in Dallas?"

  "I live in Amarillo, which is absolutely not Dallas. But I don't exactly live in a hidden compound, do I? I'm thinking I have a little hunting cabin in the mountains outside of Cheyenne. Quiet. Private. Hot tub."

  It sounded sweet. And it made sense, to go somewhere unexpected, just disappear. "Okay, but first we get food and you to the doctor."

  "Works for me. My guitar's still in the car. I can buy jeans anywhere."

  "All right. You ready to go?" His loudly growling stomach suggested they get the food first, but he didn't like the look of Daniel's hand. "We should do the hospital first."

  "Oh, hell no. Hospitals have sick people and long lines." Daniel grabbed his phone, dialed a number. "Aimee? Baby? I
need a doctor in southeast Oklahoma City. Yeah. Hand. Don't ask, lovely. I'm taking my break in the mountains, you know? Through the holidays. Of course I'll come when the baby's born. Get me an appointment."