Mine to Crave (Mine #4)(44)

Drake’s gut clenched. “Hold still,” he ordered Victor. “Don’t make me cut you more than I have to—”

“What?” Victor barked. “Wait, hold the hell up—”

“The vehicle is about to blow, and we both know it.” Drake was half-in, half-out of the car. He drove his fist into the remnants of the dash, determined to push it back, then he sliced out with his knife, trying to make the material weaker. “Hold. The f*ck. Still.”

“Get her out of here!” Victor yelled. “I can see the flames!”

Jasmine’s hands had locked around Drake’s hips. She was helping to hold him while he fought to free Victor.

“It’s too late,” Victor snapped at him. “Leave me. Get her out or we’ll all burn!”

Jasmine was yanking on him. “Drake, Drake, you need to run! I’ll get him! You have to go—I don’t want you hurt. Go!”

She thought he’d just leave them both there?

He dropped the knife onto the floorboard—well, what was left of it, then he drove his fist into that dash again and again and again—

“Drake!” Jasmine yanked him back with a surprising force, and they tumbled onto the sidewalk.

Flames were racing over the front of the SUV. When they merged with that gasoline…

“I’m free,” Victor gasped out.

Jasmine let go of Drake. He reached for the other man and hauled the guy through the driver’s side window. But when Victor’s feet touched the cement, the guy’s right leg crumbled. Definitely broken.

So Drake put the jerk in a fireman’s carry even as he locked one hand around Jasmine’s wrist. They ran forward, as fast as they could as the flames grew behind them.

As he looked ahead, Drake saw the flashing lights of police cars rushing down the street.

The cops would be there in moments.

A boom sounded behind him. The blast knocked Drake off his feet, and he hit the ground.

“Get…her…out…Get Jazz…” Victor had crashed right along with him. Jasmine was on her knees beside Drake. “Before the cops…come…get her…”

The SUV was blazing behind them. The men who’d attacked Jasmine and Victor were long gone, and now the FBI agent wanted him to help a supposedly wanted woman escape?

Since that had been his plan all along, Drake rose and pulled Jasmine with him.

“But you need help,” Jasmine said as she stared down at the injured man. “Victor, your leg—”

“I’ll come to you, Jazz. Just…go!”

She turned with Drake and they ran for his car. In seconds, they were inside the vehicle and racing away from the blaze. The heaving sound of their breaths filled the car. When Drake glanced in his rear-view mirror, he saw smoke and flames and the blue lights of patrol cars.

He sped up and turned hard to the right. He knew these roads—streets usually not traveled by many because this was the side of town that the tourists avoided.

Drake didn’t know if the cops were following him or not, but, either way, he wasn’t going to leave a trail for them.

Jasmine’s hands were clenched in her lap. She didn’t speak, and small shivers shook her body every few moments.

“You should…you should probably drop me off somewhere,” she finally said, her words hushed.

What?

“That corner looks good.” She pointed.

“I’m not,” Drake snarled out, “dropping you off any place.”

He was taking her back to his casino. Since he had extra security there, he figured it was the safest place in the city. “I’m just…I’m trouble you don’t want.”

“If I didn’t want you, do you really think I would’ve followed you from the police station? Do you think I would’ve shot a man for a woman I didn’t want?”

They were hitting the busier streets now. A few more turns, and he was sliding into his private entrance at the Masquerade. He stopped long enough to bark orders to the guards there. Then they were inside the parking garage. He couldn’t get her out of the car and into his private elevator fast enough. When the elevator doors closed behind them and they shot up, heading toward his quarters, he pulled her into his arms.

“Drake, look, I—”

He kissed her. Deep and long and desperately. If those SOBs in the van had taken her, he never would have seen her again. He knew that fact with utter certainty.

His hands sank into her hair as he tilted her head back. Drake felt as if he were starving, as if he’d spent his whole life on the edge of hunger—and she was…everything that he needed.

I’m as bad as Trace and Noah.

No, he was worse. Because he knew that Jasmine was no angel. And he didn’t care.

He turned their bodies, pushing her back against the mirrored wall of the elevator. His aroused cock thrust against her. He was rock hard for her, and he needed to be in her.

He tore his mouth from hers. Pressed hot kisses to her neck.

Adrenaline heated his blood. Fear. Fury. A deadly combination.

Won’t let her go. No one will take her from me.

Jasmine wasn’t standing docilely in his arms. She arched against him, and her moans and gasps just drove him on.

His hands slid down her body. He caught the snap of her jeans. Yanked those jeans open. Shoved them down her legs. The material got tangled in her shoes, but Jasmine kicked herself free.