Mine to Crave (Mine #4)(8)
Author: Cynthia Eden

Liquid heat spilled through her body. She wasn’t supposed to react to him that way. She wasn’t—

His head lifted. “Cause I can always f**k you before I call in the cops.”

Her eyes turned to slits at that.

“Now I’m wondering about the guy I tossed outside,” he nearly growled those words. “Maybe I was too hasty. Maybe I should’ve listened to just what the fellow had to say.”

Then the cops would already be here.

“Check the flash drives,” Jasmine said. Her voice was husky, but steady. “You’ll see the truth.”

His eyes held hers. “How do I know you haven’t hidden more drives…?” Now his gaze dropped to her body once more.

“Because you already searched me, jerk.” She shoved against him. Hard. Hard enough to send him stumbling back a step. Not because she’d gotten some super strength, but mostly because she was pretty sure the move had caught him by surprise.

How do I get out of here…how do I get…

He turned away from her. Stalked toward his desk. She didn’t move as he searched through the flash drives. Jasmine was too busy trying to figure out what story to give him.

She even considered the truth. Like he’d believe that.

His fingers rapped over the keys. “They’re empty. All of them.” He straightened.

She gave a firm nod. “Like I said. Now, as un-fun as this little night has been, it’s time for me to leave.”

His head tilted a bit as he studied her. “You think I’m going to let you get away?”

“I haven’t done anything to you. So I carry a lock picking set. Big deal.” She shrugged. “I don’t like to get locked out—”

He laughed at that. It wasn’t the hard laugh from before. It was more surprised, more real.

“I’ve taken nothing from you,” Jasmine said, knowing that she sounded like a broken record. He had no idea how much that non-theft was going to cost her. But she was trying to be good. It was a fairly new thing for her. “And I won’t steal anything, but I am leaving.” She turned, took some fast steps, and reached for the doorknob.

“You planted the smoke bombs.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She didn’t look back.

“You’re a thief…”

“I took nothing from you.” She had the door open and a quick peek showed her that—thank goodness—there wasn’t a whole security team waiting to drag her away in that little hallway.

She stepped over the threshold.

“I’m not just going to let you slip away.”

Try to stop me. “It’s better this way. Meeting you…it certainly was interesting.” Scary, too.

She marched forward. Her heels sank into the carpet. She thought he’d grab her again. He didn’t.

She didn’t break and run, though she sure wanted to do that. She walked away, real nice and slow, totally not like a thief running in the night.

Even though he was right. That was exactly what she was.

Probably all she’d ever be.

But I didn’t steal from him.

And she wasn’t even sure why she hadn’t.

Jasmine’s fingers reached out for the elevator. She’d memorized his security code when he typed it in earlier, so getting those doors to open wasn’t hard.

Now to just get out of here…

***

Even before Jasmine had left the room, Drake had a security team trailing her. “Watch her,” he barked into his phone. A few clicks of his computer had given him access to the club’s security footage. Her image was currently on his screen. He was following her, without stepping a single foot outside of his sanctuary.

Did the woman really think he’d just let her vanish? No, not happening.

But he had wanted privacy to view the video footage…and he’d also wanted to see just where her grand exit would take the lovely Jasmine. Maybe she would lead him straight to a partner that she had waiting in the wings…

“Keep a tail on her until I say otherwise,” Drake added. This wasn’t over. But he was willing to give the woman a false sense of security…the better to make her vulnerable for his attack.

Betrayal.

It burned like acid within him. He’d been betrayed too many times in the past. Another pretty face, another woman ready to wreck him.

Jasmine wasn’t running away. No blind flight for freedom from her. Instead, she was strolling slowly, appearing to take her sweet time as she left him.

He tapped on his keyboard again, accessing the security footage for this room. He rewound the images, determined to see exactly what Jasmine had been doing in his office. He wasn’t a fool—he’d deliberately started the recording as soon as he’d left his office. A quick tap on his phone had triggered the hidden camera.

Jasmine filled his computer screen. In that video, she walked toward his desk. She opened the drawers. Pulled out the package that his buddy Noah had sent to him. Stared at the photograph.

Her expression tightened as she stared at that image, and longing flashed in her eyes.

What the hell?

Jasmine put the photo and the package back in the drawer. She pulled out one of her flash drives. She pushed it into the computer.

She glanced back at the shut drawer.

She pulled the photo out for a second time.

Then she gave a hard, negative shake of her head.

She yanked out her flash drive. Didn’t access any of his files.

She didn’t steal from me.

In the video, Jasmine rose quickly. She hurried toward the door—and when she realized he’d locked her in, the woman used her lock-picking set and had that door open in seconds.

But she hadn’t been able to flee. He’d been there.

Frowning now, Drake opened his desk and pulled out the package Noah had sent to him.

Both of his best friends were married now. Both claimed to be deliriously happy.

Both were fools, of course. And they were too obsessed with their women. They’d risked their lives for their ladies, and Drake had seen their desperation.

Noah York and Trace Weston. His friends in battle. His friends through blood and death.

They were smiling in the picture. He was, too, and for once, the smile hadn’t been forced.

His gaze swept the image. Just what had Jasmine seen in that picture? Whatever the hell it was, she’d changed her plans because of it.

He had no doubt that she’d come to the Arrow in order to steal secrets from him. Intel. But she’d left with nothing.