Mine to Crave (Mine #4)(53)

The mechanics were still lingering in the corner. Watching.

Waiting?

Jasmine climbed two of the steps.

Drake turned away from her and focused on those mechanics. One had a faint smile on his face as he watched Jasmine board the plane. The guy was still smiling as he turned away…and started heading for the door.

“Stop!” Drake shouted at him.

The guy jerked and glanced back.

“I want to talk with you,” Drake barked as he hurried toward the man, his instincts on high alert. “To both of you.”

“Uh, Drake…” Noah began.

The mechanics were grabbing their gear and they weren’t slowing down for a little chat. They were trying to haul ass out of there.

“Stop!” Drake yelled again. His phone started ringing, vibrating like mad in his coat pocket. He ignored the phone and focused on the men. The two guys were full out running now and the plane’s engine was growling behind him. That didn’t make any sense. Mechanics wouldn’t run— They’re not mechanics.

He spun back around. “Jasmine, get away from the plane!”

She was on the stairs. Her eyes widened.

“Get away from it!”

Trace was now running after the fleeing mechanics but Drake ran right toward the plane. Toward Jasmine.

He saw understanding on her face. But she didn’t leave the plane. That insane woman turned toward the plane’s entrance and began yelling for the pilot. She disappeared inside.

No! “Jasmine! Get the hell out!” His legs burned as he raced toward her.

All he could think was…a bomb. They planted a bomb, and I’m about to lose her. Maxwell likes his bombs…I’m going to lose her. “Jasmine!”

His phone was ringing again. Drake ignored the thing because he was rushing to her.

She was back on the steps now—and hauling the pilot with her.

Drake rushed up the stairs toward her. He grabbed her hand and pulled her against him. Then they ran down the last few steps as fast as they could.

They’d just cleared the tiny airstrip when the plane exploded.

***

“Boom,” Maxwell whispered when he saw the smoke fill the sky. Ah, but it paid to have eyes and ears everywhere.

Noah York and Trace Weston were on Maxwell’s hit list. He’d planned to take them all out…because they’d all played a part in Anna Jean’s death.

But they’d been targets for later. Less important. Drake had been his main goal.

Then Drake had made the mistake of calling in his friends.

“It was time for them to die.” Maxwell rolled his shoulders. He’d made the little bomb. All his men had needed to do was plant it.

“So beautiful,” he murmured. Saxon stood a few feet away. “Head toward the scene for me,” Maxwell ordered. “See who survived…and who didn’t.”

Face expressionless, Saxon nodded. The guard turned and climbed onto his motorcycle.

Maxwell admired the blaze for a moment longer, then he headed toward his car and driver.

It sure was a beautiful morning.

A plane, my love…ah, Anna Jean, isn’t that fitting? She’d been such a wonderful pilot. He definitely thought she would have appreciated the send-off he’d just given to Noah York and Trace Weston. After all, two passengers had been scheduled to depart. A little cash to the right hand had given him that information.

And a little more cash had been paid to end those two lives…

***

His phone was ringing again.

Drake stared at the blaze, aware of Jasmine’s hand clutching his arm.

She’d nearly died.

Jasmine blinked. “I, um—”

His arms wrapped around her and he hauled her as close as he could get her. She was warm and soft against him. Alive.

“Sending you away isn’t an option,” he snapped. The smoke had turned the sky black.

His phone stopped ringing.

Jasmine looked up at him. “Noah was going to be on that plane.” Her words trembled.

He couldn’t look away from her.

“He’s at risk now, too, because of me.” A tear slid down her cheek. “I never wanted him in danger.”

Him? Still on Noah? “What the hell is the connection?” he demanded.

His phone rang once more.

Swearing, he pulled away from her—just a few inches—and yanked out that phone. He didn’t recognize the number on the screen.

Sirens were screaming once more. Story of his life these days. Where he went, police cars followed. “We need to get out of here,” Drake said.

“We’ll handle things,” Trace told him, giving a hard nod. He stood just a few feet away. “You get her out of here.” He motioned toward the two men who were slumped at Noah’s feet. Trace and Noah had made sure those men didn’t flee the scene. The “mechanics” hadn’t gotten away. “We’ve got this,” Trace said simply.

Drake didn’t want to leave. He wanted to interrogate those SOBs and force them to lead him back to Maxwell.

But Jasmine had to be protected. He’d nearly messed things up royally just then. He’d been the one to demand that she get on that plane. If he hadn’t gotten suspicious in those last moments, the plane would have exploded with her inside.