Mine to Crave (Mine #4)(26)
Author: Cynthia Eden

He shoved the gun into the waistband of his jeans. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I was mostly thinking about survival.” She struggled to keep up with his fast pace.

“A gun? No bullets?”

“I’ve never used a gun before.” Wayne had been so right on that one. “I didn’t want to accidentally shoot myself.” She also hadn’t been prepared to shoot anyone else. Score another point for the bounty hunter. He seemed to know his prey pretty well.

“I don’t believe this.” Drake finally stopped the dragging and stalking routine. His hand dropped away from her.

They were in the darkness, no street lights around, so she couldn’t see his face, but Jasmine was sure she didn’t want to read his expression anyway. “I didn’t ask you to follow me. Why don’t you just wander right back over to Bourbon Street and forget all about me, okay? I can handle myself.”

“Doubtful.”

Jerk. “I’ve been doing it just fine for twenty-eight years,” she bit out.

“And you’ve got a bounty hunter on your tail! Him and an FBI Agent!”

Her breath huffed out in surprise. Was he talking about Victor Monroe? “Wh-what FBI Agent?”

“The one who is chomping at the bit to get you into custody. The way I see it, I’m the only thing standing between you and two very bad spots.”

Wayne.

The FBI.

“You don’t know what’s happening.” She inched away from him.

“Then why don’t you explain things to me.”

“You left me.” Wow, okay, that was a lot of rage cracking there. She hadn’t meant to say— “You said you’d keep me safe, and at the first opportunity, you walked away without a backwards glance. I trusted you!”

She had not meant to say any of that. Not a word. How had all of that just erupted out of her mouth?

Jasmine snapped her lips closed.

Drake just stared down at her.

“Leave me alone,” Jasmine ordered as she started to brush by him.

His fingers caught her wrist. “Or what? You’ll count to five and pretend to shoot me?”

So he’d heard all that? He’d been in the shadows, silent and watchful, while she’d been terrified? Jasmine tried to yank her wrist from him. “This isn’t funny! It’s not a game. It’s my life—”

He pulled her flush against him. “I know it’s no game. The people in that casino that your lover tried to bomb—they matter to me.”

Her lover? “He’s not.”

“What?”

“He’s not my lover, okay? I don’t know what you think you know or what you’ve heard, but he isn’t.”

“Right. Like I’m supposed to believe your lies. You screwed me. You screwed him—”

“Stop it.” Her voice was flat and cold.

And…Drake stepped away.

“Don’t you stand there and judge me. Don’t ever say things like that to me again, do you understand?” That rage was back, and she didn’t care that she was on a street corner in the Big Easy. She didn’t care that a bounty hunter and an FBI agent could both be hunting her.

Her pride was too brittle. Her pain too strong.

“I wanted to be with you. You gave me pleasure, and I-I thought I gave you the same thing.” His hands lifted as if he’d touch her again. She couldn’t let him do that. Jasmine jumped away from Drake. “Then you turned your back on me as if I were nothing. You wouldn’t even talk to me.”

“Jasmine…”

“My sex life is my own. I don’t judge you. Don’t question you. And you have no right to throw accusations at me.” She turned away from him, her shoulders hunching. “And you have no right,” now her voice was hoarse, “to make me feel like I’m a whore—”

“No!”

She tried to draw in a shuddering breath but she couldn’t because he had his hands on her. He’d spun her around to face him. “You’re not a whore, and I’m sorry…” His words roughened. “I’m so sorry I made you feel that way. You touched me, got to me too deep, and I struck out at you.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled Jasmine against his chest. She could feel the frantic rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her ear. “You were too close, and I was an idiot for trying to push you away.”

Stupid hope started to grow in her chest. No one…no one had ever said anything like that to her before. You were too close. He spoke as if she mattered to him, and he sounded so sincere.

Believe him. That was the voice of the desperate girl she’d been, so long ago. The one who’d imagined that people could be good. That life wasn’t always about the darkness she saw all around her every single day.

She’d imagined that men could love. It wasn’t always just about buying pleasure for a night.

“I want you to come back with me.”

Such beautiful, tempting words. But… “I can’t…”

“Jasmine, come back with me. Please.”Ah, that strangled word was lovely, but he didn’t understand.

“I made a mistake. I-I called Maxwell from your house. He would’ve had your address already,” she said, rushing out those words but they didn’t exactly alleviate her guilt. “But already he knew that I was there, with you.” He would’ve already known the exact location of that house. “He said he was coming after me.”

“Let him come. I want to face the bastard.”

“No, you don’t.” Drake was tough, sure, and he’d done his time in the military, but the guy wasn’t on Maxwell’s twisted level—Maxwell had no conscience. He would hurt anyone who got in his way. “He sent Wayne after me, and Maxwell won’t be far behind.” She should pull out of his arms. She didn’t. “I have to go so that Maxwell will follow me.”

He eased away. Just enough to stare down at her in the darkness. “You think that if you leave, he won’t come after me? That he’ll focus just on you?”

No, she thought he’d still go after Drake, but she had a plan.

“I should’ve kept that bounty hunter,” Drake said, the words low and hard. “Made him talk.”

She shivered.

Drake shook his head. “Wait. What the hell am I doing? I know better. We can’t just stay out here.” And he was back to pulling her down the street. Or rather, he pulled her back to Canal Street and she was sure grateful to see the bright lights and cars again. Drake opened the door of a Porsche for her, one that had been parked near the edge of the street.