Mine to Crave (Mine #4)(65)

Trace’s grip was like iron around him. “She is out, buddy. She’s…she’s gone.”

No. The f*ck, no. “Jasmine!” He fought them both. He’d get free. Get through the fire. Get her out of that building.

“Clear the road!” Victor was barking orders.

And Trace and Noah weren’t letting Drake go.

“I have to get to her…” He punched at them, drove his fist hard and fast, not caring that they were his friends. That he was hurting them. “She could still be alive!”

Noah shook him. Slammed his own fist into Drake’s face. “The building is a total loss! There’s no way she’s still alive in there—”

He was going to give up? On her? “She’s your sister!” Drake shouted at him. “We can’t let her burn!”

Noah’s face went slack with shock. Drake pulled from his hold. “We can’t,” he whispered and then he ran into that building. He’d just cleared what was left of the entrance when the ceiling collapsed.

***

“Mr. Archer?”

Drake cracked open one eye. “Jas…mine…”

“Mr. Archer, you’re all right. We got you out.”

He cracked open the other eye. Saw an EMT staring down at him, shining a light right at his face. Drake swatted the light away.

“Sir, sir, I’m going to have to insist that you stay calm and remain still. I think you’ve got a concussion—”

He remembered the rush of fire. Something heavy hitting him. And—

Drake grabbed the EMT and twisted the man’s shirt in his fist. “Did she get out, too?”

“Sh-she?” The man’s Adam’s apple bobbed.

“Jasmine!”

“I-I…you were the only one recovered.”

No. Drake shoved him away. He was in the back of an ambulance. How the hell had that happened? The last thing he remembered was the fire.

“Sir, you have to stay—”

Drake jumped out of the ambulance. He would’ve fallen right on his face then, if Trace hadn’t appeared and grabbed his arms.

“Dragged you out of a fire once already,” Trace groused. “Don’t make me do it again.” He put himself in front of Drake—and Drake could see the flames still reaching for the sky behind his friend.

“She’s in there,” Drake said, voice rough.

“The firefighters said the flames were too hot. No one in that building has survived.” Brutal words, but said softly, sadly.

Drake shook his head. “She was…she was alive. She was with me just hours ago.”

I’ve never loved anyone, Drake, but I think…I really think I came close with you.

Trace’s eyes were grim. “I’m sorry.”

Drake tilted his head back. Stared at the flames. They’d consumed the building.

“You’re lucky you aren’t dead, too. Those boards that hit you were on fire.”

Drake realized that a big, thick bandage covered his arm. He lifted his hand. Another covered the side of his head.

“I dragged you out. Noah and I…we pulled you out of there.”

“You two are always saving my ass.” He couldn’t pull his gaze off the fire. “But maybe this time, you should’ve just left me in there.”

His chest didn’t burn. It didn’t ache. He just felt numb. Drake could barely even feel his heart beating. He looked at that fire, and he just saw Jasmine.

Curling her finger at me in the club…inviting me down to her.

Laughing in New Orleans…licking away powdered sugar as she savored her beignet.

Crying out my name in an elevator…holding me so tightly…so tightly that I never wanted to leave her.

“Was she…” The gruff voice came from Drake’s right. It was Noah’s voice. “Was she really my sister?”

Please, Drake. I don’t want him to know. There’s no point in it. Drake didn’t speak.

“Was she?” Noah pressed.

Drake stayed silent.

Noah grabbed him. “Did my sister just burn alive in that place? Did she?”

“Noah…” Trace hauled him back.

“I wanted my family.” Noah’s words shot out fast and hard, like bullets. “I always wanted to know—and you knew. You knew she was mine and you didn’t say a word…”

The firefighters were closing in now. Because the flames were finally dying down? Cops were all over the scene. FBI agents.

“She wasn’t yours,” Drake heard himself say. That numbness was spreading. Consuming him. “She was mine.”

And she was gone.

Something deep inside of Drake splintered then.

I could have loved you, too, Jasmine. Fuck…I did love you.

I did.





Chapter Thirteen


“There’s no point in this exercise,” Victor said as he marched into the small office in the New Orleans Police Department. An office that Trace had commandeered with the guy’s army of contacts.

Drake stood near the room’s lone window. Noah and Trace were already seated, but he couldn’t sit. His body was too tight with tension. With fury.

Grief clawed at him every time he closed his eyes. So for the last three days—and it had been three long, wrenching days since he’d lost Jasmine—Drake hadn’t slept.