His obessive love

Drake was sitting in the office of Spencer and Spencer, an agency that hired out bodyguards for those who needed protection.

He crossed his right leg over his left one, loosened his tie, and waited to be given his new assignment. His head was still pounding from last night.

Once again, he’d drunk way too much the night before and ended up taking some blonde he’d met in the bar back to his place and had sex with her.

He’d woken up butt naked. The blonde had been gone, the used condom on the floor the only evidence of what had happened.

“Here’s your new assignment,” his one boss said, sliding the folder across the desk in front of him.

He opened the folder and read the information inside. “Templeton—I’ve heard of him. Why would he want to hire us when I’m sure he’s got his own men? I’ve also heard that some of his businesses aren’t legal.”

Keith looked at his brother Cain before answering. “Those are just rumors. As for your question, Mr. Templeton has been using this firm for some time now, and he requested someone that can be trusted. You’re the best in the business, but you have to cut down on the drinking and control your temper.”

“Well, maybe I don’t want the job,” Drake said, tossing the folder down without reading the rest.

Cain sat back. “Drake, because of your ways, you’re having a hard time keeping jobs. This job pays triple the normal pay, and you also get to live in one of the most exclusive mansions in California.”

Drake’s eyebrows lifted, and he looked at the two men sitting across from him. “Triple? Why triple—what aren’t you telling me?”

Cain cleared his throat, and Keith played with the pen in his hand—a sure sign that they were indeed keeping something from him.

“It’s nothing, Drake, nothing at all. It’s just that we promised the man the best guy we have. His business means a lot to our company. He can make us or break us.”

Drake stared at the two men, twin brothers in their late fifties. Only one was bald, while the other had a full head of hair. Both were short and on the heavy side.

“All right, I’ll take the job. So when do I start?”

Both brothers looked relieved. “Today. Go home and pack your bags,” Cain said, smiling and standing up to shake Drake’s hand.

“One more question. How long is this job going to last?”

“Four to six months,” Cain answered.

To him, that seemed normal, so he didn’t question it. Drake picked up the folder but only to take out the address, leaving the rest behind. He knew all he wanted to know. The rest he would figure out along the way.

“All right then, guess I’ll see you when the job is over with.”

Once he was gone, Keith turned to Cain. “Don’t you think we should have warned him about the girl?”

Cain laughed. “He’ll find out soon enough.”

“What if he quits when he finds out?” Keith asked, starting to sweat.

“Drake’s a stubborn son of a bitch. He’ll stay on the job just to prove a point. Who knows, this might be just what he needs, someone to put him in his place, knock him down a peg or two. But I wouldn’t mind being a fly on the wall when he meets her.”

“I hope you’re right about him staying. She’s already chased away every other available bodyguard,” Keith said, rubbing his temple.

As soon as Drake walked out of the air-conditioned office and outside, the California sun beat down on him. His muscles ached, and he started sweating, so he removed his jacket and tie, undoing a couple of his shirt buttons.

He walked over to his car—his pride and joy, a 1966 Ford Thunderbird—and took off to his small apartment. There, he packed his bags and made sure everything was turned off after packing his weapons and handcuffs.

He looked around and shook his head. The place really was a dump. He had on many occasions thought about using the money he’d inherited from his family estate to buy a better place, but he’d sworn never to touch that money.

He found his way to Templeton’s mansion and let out a whistle when he saw it. It was like something out of a movie. The only way in was through an electric gate, which was guarded by two armed men.

He sat in his car and waited while they walked over to him, keeping his dark sunglasses on.

“State your business,” snapped one man who looked like a giant with his huge muscles bulging through the sleeves of his shirt.

“I’m here to see Mr. Templeton. He’s expecting me.”

“Name,” the giant snapped at him once again, placing his hand on his gun.

“Drake O’Rourke,” he answered, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel while the man looked at his clipboard.

The man, seeing his name, asked him to step out of the car. “Open up your suitcase slowly, and don’t try anything funny.”

He then ordered the other guy to go through the luggage—and when the man did, he held up the gun and handcuffs.

Drake removed his glasses—it was hot, and he was starting to lose his temper. “Guys, I’m getting a little sick of this. Put my things back before I get really mad and kick your asses.”

The men looked at each other and laughed, then the big one spoke. “Why do you have these, and what are you planning on doing with them?”

“Your boss has hired me as a bodyguard. I might need them.”

The two men smiled at each other and the smaller one spoke. “This is the guy the boss was telling us about.” He put Drake’s things back inside the case, all the time chuckling. “Let him through.”

Drake got back in his car and stared at the two men. “Mind telling me what’s so funny?” he asked before driving in.

“Oh, you’ll find out soon enough. Good luck, man—you’re going to need it.” The small man then motioned for Drake to drive through.

The bigger guy shook his head and grinned. “Poor bastard. I wonder how long this one will last?”

When Drake pulled up to the mansion, he was greeted by another giant of a man who was clearly packing heat.

“I’m here to see Mr. Templeton,” Drake said.