Mine to Crave (Mine #4)(13)
“Check my ID, check—”
“I don’t need to see your fake ID. No bounty hunter in his right mind would use a knife on a woman. I’ll call the cops and then—”
Hardin laughed. “Hero, you don’t even know the game that’s being played.”
Game. “I know that in any game, I win.”
Hardin backed deeper into the shadows.
“I warned you before to stay away from her. You didn’t listen.” Drake was pretty sure he’d broken the guy’s nose. Good. “I’m not warning you again.” And he also wasn’t done. He was going to—
“I’m not the only one who’ll be coming for you.” Hardin was still retreating and still making threats. “Get ready, hero. Get. Ready.”
Then Hardin turned and fled into the darkness. Drake heard the sound of his pounding footsteps and he wanted to rush after the guy, but he knew that the second he gave chase, Jasmine would vanish.
His hand still held hers. That was probably the only reason she hadn’t already run from him.
He stared into the darkness, listening to those fleeing footsteps.
“I’m sorry,” Jasmine said, her voice as soft as a breath.
He gazed down at her. Her head was bent.
“I-I got blood on you.”
He caught her chin with his left hand. Forced her head to rise, but in the darkness, he couldn’t read her expression.
“I’m sorry,” she said again, then softer, “for everything.”
“Don’t lie, princess.”
Then he was pulling her from that alley. The light of the strip seemed even brighter as he hustled her into his car.
“No, I’m bleeding—”
“And if I don’t get you some help, you’re gonna keep bleeding.” She would need stitches. He’d take her to a doctor. Then he’d get his answers. Drake hurried around the car. It was a sleek, sexy ride. A black Porsche that could cut right through the night. The seats were leather and—
And now the car smelled of vanilla.
“I-I can’t go to a hospital. They’ll ask questions. Questions that I can’t answer.”
His hands tightened around the steering wheel. “Are you wanted in Texas?” Had that part been true?
“Not by the cops.”
That wasn’t quite a full answer, now, was it?
“It’s just a scratch,” Jasmine said, her voice a little stronger. “I can slap some bandages on it and be fine.”
Doubtful. “You’re still bleeding.” That bastard had wanted to hurt her. He had.
And I want to destroy him.
He sucked in a deep breath. Another. What in the hell was happening to him? Sure, control was never actually his strong suit, but wanting to pound a man into the ground?
Not…me.
Drake turned his head and stared at Jasmine. She wasn’t looking at him. Her eyes were on the alley.
“Jasmine.” He liked her name. Sexy. Feminine. Drake liked the way her name rolled off his tongue.
Her head turned. Her hair slid over her cheek.
“If the cops aren’t after you, who is?”
She bit her lip.
He wanted to be the one doing that biting.
You f*cked her. You fell for the eyes, you f*cked her, and now you want more just like—
“Thank you,” Jasmine told him.
“For what?”
“Saving me. That doesn’t happen a lot for me.”
He cranked the car. The engine immediately purred to life.
“Please.” The word seemed to be a bit hard for her to say. Interesting. “Don’t…don’t take me to a hospital. I’m staying in a motel just outside of town. Just drop me off there, and I’ll vanish from your life. I promise.”
He pulled into traffic. He was far too aware of her next to him.
“If you turn right at the next intersection, you’ll be able to get back to my motel.”
Drake stared at the road ahead of him.
“The turn is here,” Jasmine said, her voice breaking a bit. From pain? From fear? “You should go right—”
He didn’t go right.
“Drake?”
“You’ve got a lot of secrets.”
“Why didn’t you turn? I told you, I’d vanish. I won’t bother you again.”
She was already bothering him plenty. He should drop her off at the nearest hospital. Get on a plane and head down to New Orleans. Find another woman and forget about her. But he heard himself say, “You’re not vanishing.”
The Porsche accelerated.
He wasn’t done with Jasmine yet. She wasn’t going any place, not until he’d figured out just who had sent her into his life…and why the sight of a wedding picture had made her nearly crumble.
***
Dammit. Wayne slammed his car door shut. He turned the key, but the old engine didn’t spark to life. Not on try number two or three. On the fourth try, the thing finally sputtered to life.
Good.
He had a meeting, one that he was way overdue for, and the boss sure wasn’t going to like the news that Wayne had to share.
He didn’t have Jasmine.
And Drake Archer did.
Wayne swiped his hand over his face. His nose throbbed like a bitch. He’d be sure to pay Archer back for those blows. So he’d cut Jasmine a bit. Wasn’t like it was the first time she’d been roughed up. He’d read her file. The woman spent most of her nights on the wrong side of town and with the wrong people.