Mine to Crave (Mine #4)(49)
Author: Cynthia Eden

He was still running when Trace and Noah found him. Only they weren’t alone. Detective Taggert was with them.

Their vehicle pulled to a stop right in front of Drake. He stood there, chest heaving, the gun still in his hands.

Trace was the one who approached him first. “Drake…want to tell us what the hell is happening?”

Drake’s gaze slid to Noah. Her brother. “They took her.” The words were like knives in his own chest. “I’m sorry…so sorry…they took her.”

Slowly, Taggert advanced. “I need you to lower that gun.”

And he needed Jasmine. “I’ll get her back,” he promised Noah, frantic. “I swear, I’ll get her back.” His gaze shifted to the long, twisting expanse of road. I’ll get her back.

He’d destroy anyone who tried to stop him.

Chapter Twelve

Her arms were tied to the chair behind her. The rope was rough and thick, and it had made her wrists bleed. Jasmine could smell the river, and when she strained really hard, she could even hear the faintest sound of music. Jazz music.

“I expected more from you,” Maxwell said as he walked around her, moving in a slow circle. The guy reminded her of a tiger, closing in on his prey.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Jasmine managed. But she wasn’t sorry. Not at all.

“It was a simple job. Get close to Archer. Use him. Help me to wreck him.”

She hadn’t looked Maxwell in the eyes. “You-you shouldn’t have set those bombs at the Arrow. Innocent people could’ve died—”

He lunged toward her. Maxwell grabbed the arms of the chair and put his face right in front of hers. “Do you think I give a shit about those people?”

She had to meet his white-hot gaze then. Jasmine shook her head. “I don’t think you care about anyone.”

“You screwed that up for me. The Arrow should’ve burned—the place was meant to blow—”

“Because of you.” Jasmine wouldn’t let him see her fear.

He smirked at her. “Because of me.”

“How many others have you attacked?” Jasmine wanted to know, even though she feared the answer. “With your bombs…with fire?”

Laughter was his answer. “Oh, Jazz, I don’t always need those tactics. Destroying a man’s life is easy these days. A matter of business.” His right hand lifted and picked up a lock of her hair. “I use tools. Tools like you. I hack into accounts. I learn secrets. I use them.”

She hated his touch. Her gaze slid away from him. Saxon was in the room with them, and he watched impassively from his position near the door. There was no expression on his face. Not even pity.

And pity had been there before, when he’d tied her up.

“Why did you betray me?” Maxwell asked her. “I was paying you well.”

“There’s more to life than money,” she murmured.

He stopped stroking her hair. Instead, he yanked it, twisting it in his hold as he jerked her head back. “Why?”

Tears stung her eyes. “Why did you want to go after Drake? Because of some dead ex-lover—”

The blow took her by surprise. The pain was fast and hot, just as fast as his punch had been.

Not a slap. A punch.

Fury bubbled inside of her because she could taste blood in her mouth. Jasmine lifted her head up. She saw that Saxon had lunged away from the wall.

She shook her head.

“He told you about Anna Jean,” Maxwell said, his voice as sharp as a knife. “Did Drake confess to you? Did he tell you how he killed her?”

She had to be so careful what she revealed. “He told me that she’d betrayed his unit and that she came after Trace Weston’s wife—that Anna Jean was crazy and had to be stopped—”

His fist came at her again and Jasmine tensed.

But the blow didn’t land. Saxon had caught Maxwell’s fist before it could make contact with her again.

***

“We need to be out there!” Drake snarled as he paced the small confines of the interrogation room at the NOPD. “This is bullshit.” He stopped to glare at Trace and Noah. “If it were Claire or Skye, you two bastards would be ripping apart the town.” Instead, they were standing in his way.

And they were in the police station of all places.

“You shouldn’t have told Taggert anything.” Drake wanted to punch and destroy. Maxwell could be hurting Jasmine right then. “You shouldn’t—”

“She already knew everything.” Noah’s voice was quiet. His expression appeared worried as he stared at Drake. “Man, you have to get your control back—”

“The way you had yours when Claire was in danger?” He couldn’t look at Noah, not too long, because the guilt knifed through him every time he peered into Noah’s eyes. His sister. “You don’t know how important Jasmine is!”

“Easy,” Trace told him as he put a hand on Drake’s shoulder. The guy almost lost that hand, friend or no. “We get that she matters to you.”

“She—” She does. And when had that happened? When had she gotten beneath his skin?

“Taggert had intel she shouldn’t have possessed,” Trace continued in his annoyingly calm voice. “The detective contained the scene at the airport.”

He wasn’t about to jump on the Taggert bandwagon. “She’s a cop. She’s just going to slow me down—”

The door opened. Taggert stood there. Only Taggert wasn’t alone. FBI Agent Victor Monroe was right behind her. Taggert advanced into the room. Using crutches, Victor followed her. The door shut behind them, sealing their group inside.

“I briefed Detective Taggert on the Maxwell Case situation,” Victor said. The guy looked like shit. His face was bruised and scratched and a cast covered most of his right leg. “She’s working under my authority now.”

“Who the hell are you?” Noah wanted to know.

“FBI Special Agent Victor Monroe.”

Noah didn’t look impressed. He never did.

“Noah York.” Victor nodded toward him. “Trace Weston…Weston, I’ve certainly admired your work.”

Trace lifted his brows.

“Fantastic.” Drake’s fury erupted. “How about you all just stand here and shoot the breeze all day while Jasmine dies.” Drake stormed toward Victor. “Maxwell has her. She betrayed him. Just how long do you think he’ll let her keep living now?”