Mine to Crave (Mine #4)(30)

Drake had to laugh at that even as he kept staring at the street below. “Really? You mean someone else drove the knife into her? Because I sure as hell remember her blood being on my hands.” The agent had disappeared. “Call me when you learn more.”

“Wait man, look, don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

What?

“You take too many risks. You’ve been walking on the edge for a while, and I don’t want you falling over.”

Too late. He’d gone over the edge long ago.

“Maybe Jasmine can help you,” Trace added. “If she’s valuable to Maxwell and the guy is gunning for you, then maybe you should team up with her and—”

Valuable. The wheels began to spin in his head. “Maybe I can use her.” The idea had whispered through his mind once before.

“No!” Trace’s voice was a bark. “That’s not what I meant. I said work with her. But wait until I can find out more, okay? Leave this to me and you—”

“I’ll be waiting on the edge.” Drake ended the call. Maybe he had been too hasty when he walked away from her. If Maxwell was screwing Jasmine, wouldn’t the guy plan to come after her? And to think, Jasmine had tried to act afraid of the fellow.

I’m dead…

The fear had sounded so real to him. She was one fine actress. Maybe even better than Anna Jean had been.

She’d asked Drake to protect her from Maxwell. She’d given him her body. Told him enough to keep his casino safe. Yes, he could use her. He could learn more.

And he would make absolutely sure that he never gave the woman the chance to betray him again.

***

Jasmine hadn’t expected the sheer number of people who packed Bourbon Street at nightfall. They drifted in and out of the bars, some hung over the edge of the balconies, and some made out in doorways. Drinks were flowing heavily. Laughter filled the air, and everywhere Jasmine turned, bodies seemed to brush against her.

Getting lost in the crowd here would be easy. It would be—

Her gaze fell on a brightly lit doorway. A woman stood there, barely dressed. Only the woman looked young. So very young. She was motioning toward some frat boys, inviting them in for a dance.

A private dance.

Jasmine’s gaze slid to the left. Another brightly lit doorway. Another woman beckoning for a dance.

It wasn’t just the drinks that were flowing on Bourbon Street.

Jasmine stared at those women, and her own past stared back at her.

Mama’s tired tonight, and he…he likes you, baby. Why don’t you help me out? Just do a little dance for him. Come on…he’ll pay you.

Jasmine turned away from those women and she began to shove her way through the crowd. It had been the perfect place to hide earlier, but now, now this place was suffocating her. Too many bodies. Too many hands brushing against her.

Too many memories that she could never forget.

“Hey, where’s the rush?” A man was in front of her. Blond hair, just like Drake’s, big with stretching shoulders. Only…he wasn’t Drake.

Drake was gone. No protection. No hope.

“I’ve got a date,” she muttered as she tried to step around him.

But he stepped with her. “I can be your date.” He had an overflowing drink in his hand, and under the streetlights, his eyes gleamed. “I can be anything you want me to be.”

I want you to be out of my way. She bit those words back and gave him a weak smile. “Not gonna happen tonight, handsome. I’m taken.”

He shrugged and eased aside, moving off in search of new prey.

Jasmine exhaled heavily and took a step forward.

“Taken?”

She stilled. That voice was low and deep, and she knew it could only belong to one man. Because that voice—that man—had been the one to break through the careful wall that she’d put around herself.

He’d hurt her. When no one else had, not in so very long.

The crowd seemed to part around him. Drake wasn’t wearing his expensive suit and coat. He wore jeans. A battered jacket. He looked big and tough and dangerous. Sexy, damn it.

“Didn’t realize you were taken. Didn’t realize you belonged to someone.”

That seemed to be anger hardening his voice and eyes.

Good. She had plenty of her own anger.

You made me feel like a whore. No, she would not say those words to him. But when he’d left her there at that house, her body still humming with pleasure even as fear swamped her, and he hadn’t looked back…Drake had changed everything for her.

“You don’t know me, Drake. And you never will.” This time, she was the one who turned on her heel and walked away. See how it feels, jerk.

“Jasmine.”

He said her name like it was a demand. No, a command. Like she was just supposed to stop because he was there and actually speaking to her again.

Screw. You. Jasmine lifted her hand, waving one fun finger back at him, then she picked up her pace. So what if she’d just left this particular corner not two minutes ago? She could retreat this way if she wanted.

Her gaze slid over to the right and she noticed that the women weren’t in those doorways anymore. Wait, new women were there.

She swallowed.

Drake didn’t call her name again. She didn’t look back to see if he was still standing there, a big, unbreakable statue, or if he was following her.