Mine to Crave (Mine #4)(63)
Victor’s body sagged. “Warehouse district,” Victor murmured to Drake. “Building thirteen-oh-four. Niles Street.”
Drake lunged for the door.
“By the time you get there,” Victor called after him. “It will all be over! My team has this!”
***
She should have kept her mouth shut then, but Jasmine pushed. “Are you sure Anna Jean wasn’t going to betray you, too? What if she was just going to use your resources, then vanish with Weston’s money? I bet she even had a back-up lover around. Some fall guy waiting in the wings…seems like her style—”
He didn’t punch her then. His hand just dropped to her throat and he squeezed, cutting off the words and her airway. “I don’t want you speaking of her again. Compared to Anna Jean, you’re nothing.”
Story of my life.
“Boss…are you going to use Jazz against Archer?” Saxon’s voice came quietly from behind Maxwell. “Because he sure went crazy when I got away with her.”
His hold tightened even more. Red spots began to dance before Jasmine’s eyes. Her temples were throbbing, the blood surging as he squeezed and squeezed.
Drake, I’m sorry.
He eased his hold. She gulped in air, but those red spots didn’t vanish.
“Does Archer care about you?” Maxwell asked her.
“No.” The one word sounded like a frog’s croak, but she wasn’t about to let this man use her against Drake.
“Will he come for you, try to save you?”
Her chin lifted. “No.”
He swore. “Then what good are you to me?”
She stared into his eyes. “I’m not.”
***
The cars were going too f*cking slowly. “Faster, Noah! Dammit, I should’ve driven!”
The police were behind them. Rushing with their lights blazing. They were driving desperately to that warehouse district.
To Jasmine.
Victor had told them that his team on site would be moving in, but Drake intended to be there, too. He had to see Jasmine with his own eyes. Had to hold her and make sure she was safe.
If Maxwell had hurt her…
“Go faster!” Drake snarled again.
“Easy,” Trace said from his position in the back.
Screw easy. “I have to get to her.” He could feel Trace’s eyes on him. Drake turned his head to meet Trace’s stare. “If she’s dead, so is Case.”
Noah whistled. “Man, calm down. The FBI is already there. Your woman is safe.”
Your woman. He knew that was exactly what Jasmine was. Had he really thought he might be able to give her up?
Noah’s sister. Shit. They’d find a way to work all of that out. Maybe he’d let Noah take some swings at him. But Drake wasn’t walking away from her. The fear in his gut told him that he couldn’t walk away.
“Faster,” Drake whispered.
Yeah, he should have driven…but the way his hands were shaking, he was afraid he would’ve wrecked the car and never gotten to Jasmine.
***
“Drake won’t care what happens to me,” Jasmine said softly. Her throat ached. Her jaw ached. And she couldn’t hear the jazz music any longer. “I’m not—”
“Anna Jean? No, you’re not. Not even close. You’re a whore from a trailer park. A woman with a few useful talents.”
Her eyes narrowed. “And you’re a psychotic dick who gets off on blowing things up and killing people. So in comparison, I think I’m the one with more talent.”
He backed up a step. “You didn’t just call me—”
“I did.” Holy crap, she had. “You’re going to kill me, so what does it matter? I see you for exactly what you are. You’re a monster, Maxwell. A monster hiding in the clothes of a man.”
“And Drake?” Spittle flew from his mouth. “What is he?”
It broke her heart but she said, “I thought Drake was my hero.” She’d wanted him to be. “But…but I guess that wasn’t in the cards. He didn’t care about me. I was a woman he took to his bed. By the time my body is found, he probably won’t even remember my name.” Keep talking. Don’t let Maxwell think he can use you against Drake. Because she wasn’t about to let Drake try to trade his life for hers.
Maxwell’s furious expression told her that he believed every word she said. Good. She twisted her hands once more against the ropes. If she could have broken free from those ropes, perhaps she would’ve had a fighting chance.
But maybe she’d never had that.
“Uh, boss…”
Her head turned at Saxon’s measured voice. He stood near the lone window.
“There’s some action out there.”
Maxwell waved that away. “Drunks. The homeless on the streets. It’s after midnight and they always—”
Saxon stiffened. “They’re armed! I count five—six? I can see them moving across the street!” He spun toward his boss. “They’re coming!”
“No! No, that’s not possible!” Maxwell stormed toward the window. He stared outside. “Fuck, no!”
And then Jasmine started to laugh.
Maxwell whirled to face her.
“I guess my talents are pretty useful.”