Mine to Crave (Mine #4)(18)

Instead, the man smiled. “Is she now?”

Wayne nodded. Sweat drenched his forehead.

“Good. Then keep an eye on her until she leaves him, and when she does…bring her in to me.”

What?

The guy turned on his heel and headed back toward the limo that waited for him.

“That’s it?” Wayne called after the man. “You’re not—you’re not angry?”

The boss stopped. “Why would I be angry? I told Jasmine to get close to Archer. Seems like she’s done her job very well.”

He was so lost. “But…but my job was to bring her in. You hired me—”

“Your job was to make sure she didn’t run from me. She’s not running…not yet. She’s doing exactly as I ordered.” He turned his head. The sky was on fire behind him. “You’re my security, in case Jasmine tries to go soft on this one.”

Soft? The report he’d read on the woman sure didn’t indicate any “soft” tendencies.

“Jasmine is important to me. I don’t want to lose her talents.”

Oh, damn. Talk about misreading a situation. When he was hired to tail someone, it was usually because that someone had screwed up.

Only I’m the one who screwed up this one. He should’ve asked more questions, instead of just taking the money.

But he liked money.

“You don’t want Jasmine hurt?” Wayne asked carefully. There was, ahem, no need to mention that she’d already been hurt. The boss didn’t need to know about the little knife incident. He hadn’t meant to slice her.

Okay, he had.

“I don’t want to lose her,” the boss said again, but then his face hardened. “But I would see her dead before I’d let her betray me.”

And that’s where I come in. “That’s why you hired me. In case she turns on you.” It would have been helpful to know this earlier.

“You’re a hunter. She’s your prey…the instant she runs.”

He realized the truth. “You thought she’d run last night!” No wonder he’d gotten the call to close in. He’d thought the order meant he needed to detain Jasmine, but—

“Jasmine has a…special connection with Archer. I was worried it might prove to be a weakness for her. I sent you after her because if she wasn’t doing her part, I wanted her brought to me.” The boss waved his hand. “She’s not here…so she’s still in play.”

Wayne had no clue what was going on. Above my pay grade.

“Jasmine had her orders. She’ll make contact with me in twenty-four hours, and if she doesn’t, then…well, everything will change for her. She won’t have my protection any longer—and she will feel the force of my fury.”

Wayne edged back a bit. He sure didn’t want any of the boss’s fury to be turned on him. I’m not telling him about the knife. What he doesn’t know…

“Better see about that nose,” the boss ordered with a wave of his hand. “I’ve heard Archer can throw a killer punch.”

The man truly had eyes and ears everywhere. But he doesn’t know I sliced, Jasmine. Not yet. Talk about a lucky break.

Wayne stood there, at that body dump site, frozen, until the boss vanished in his fancy limo.

If I’m the security to make sure Jasmine doesn’t screw him over…then who the hell is watching me?

Because the twist in his gut told Wayne that the boss was all about contingency plans. Screw him over…and you die.

Wayne hurried back to his car. He knew better than to screw over that man.





Chapter Four


“Rise and shine, princess…”

Jasmine’s eyes flew open and she jerked upright, a gasp shaking from her as her hands immediately flew out toward the rickety nightstand and the weapon that had better be there— This isn’t my motel room.

Her hand slammed into a lamp and it went crashing to the floor.

“Interesting wake-up method you have there,” that deep, rumbling, very male voice told her.

Her gaze shot toward the doorway. Drake stood there, one sardonic blond brow lifted, a faint smirk quirking those sexy lips of his.

No, not sexy. They were hard. They were cruel. They were—

She focused on his eyes even as her hands snatched up the covers. “Did you ever think of knocking politely?”

“My house. My bedroom.” He shrugged. “Besides, it’s getting close to noon. I was afraid you were dead in here.”

Noon? She never slept to noon. Not ever.

“I’ve got some clothes for you.” He glanced down at the bag in his right hand. Wait, that was— “My bag.” She scrambled from the bed, pulling the covers with her. She kept them around her, toga style, and Jasmine ignored the ache in her side.

“I had one of my men collect your things from that little motel.”

Did she look stupid? “You mean you told the guy to rifle through my stuff.”

He lifted the bag toward her. “I thought you might like some non-bloodstained clothes to wear. And some shoes. Guess I was wrong.”

She hurried across the room and grabbed the small duffel bag.

But he reached out before she could retreat from him, and his fingers wrapped around her wrist. “You keep a gun in your nightstand drawer.”