Mine to Crave (Mine 4)

This couldn’t be happening.

“That bruising is right along your knuckles,” the detective murmured. “As if…as if you’d recently given someone a beating.”

“I box,” Drake said flatly. “Sometimes I go bare-knuckled. So, yeah, I bruise, and I don’t even notice it.”

This wasn’t going to end well, and Jasmine couldn’t let Drake be pulled into Hardin’s murder investigation. “Drake didn’t shoot Hardin.” Jasmine stopped backing away and forced herself to approach the cops. There was no way she was going to let him get railroaded for this.

“It’s all right, Jasmine,” Drake said, and there was a bite in his words.

“No, it isn’t.” Did he think she was just going to stand there and let him get interrogated? Or worse—hauled away to jail?

Detective Taggert’s gray gaze focused on Jasmine. “And you are…?”

“I’m the woman that Hardin was after. It’s me that you should be questioning, not Drake.”

“Jasmine.” Drake’s voice was downright lethal then.

“He didn’t have anything to do with Hardin’s death. Drake was with me all night long. I swear that he was.”

Taggert’s eyes were cold and flat. “Why was Hardin after you?”

“I…”

Drake stepped in front of her. “Don’t say another word.”

Detective Taggert marched to Jasmine’s side. “You just confessed to having a bounty hunter on your trail. That’s making me think you might be a wanted fugitive, ma’am.”

“I’m not. Not wanted at all.” She glanced at the detective. “But I’m afraid I can’t tell you more here.”

Taggert’s face hardened. “I think we need to take a little trip down to the station.”

“Probably,” Jasmine agreed. “We do, but Drake doesn’t. He wasn’t involved at all in what happened.”

There was enough fire in Drake’s eyes to singe Jasmine.

“I think we should all go downtown,” Taggert said.

“No.” Drake caught Jasmine’s wrist and pulled her away from the detective. “You want us downtown, you get an arrest warrant. But that won’t be happening and we both know it.” He flashed the cop the tiger’s grin that always made Jasmine feel nervous. “So you need to leave now, and any further communication can be conducted through my attorney.”

Taggert’s own gaze flashed. “You listen to me. You can’t just—”

“I’m coming with you,” Jasmine said, cutting through the cop’s words. Because she knew her time had run out. If Hardin was dead, then she’d be next on Maxwell’s hit list.

Surprise rippled over Drake’s face. “The hell you are.” His hand tightened around her wrist as he leaned in close to her. “Do you know what she’ll do to you down there?”

“Question me? Toss me in a cell?” Jasmine shrugged. “A girl can’t run forever.”

He shook his head. “What are you doing?”

Ah, this was the crazy part. “Believe it or not, I’m trying to keep you safe.”

Judging by the floored expression on his face, that possibility had obviously not occurred to him. Jasmine leaned up on her toes and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “It’s my turn to protect you,” she whispered. “Consider it payback.”

Then she stepped away from him. She’d known that she was living on borrowed time, but that time was gone now. Hardin is dead. A cold chill had wrapped around her spine. She didn’t want to wind up like him.

Her gaze connected with the detective’s. “You’ll be needing to put a call in to the FBI. Ask for Agent Victor Monroe.”

“The FBI?”

Jasmine nodded. “And I won’t be answering any more questions. Not until Victor arrives.”

She sent Drake one last smile. Thank you. For a little while, she’d felt so good with him. Safe.

But safety was a lie.

And her death…it had been a certainty from the very beginning.

“I’ll miss you,” she told Drake.

She meant the words. She wouldn’t miss much about the con that was her current life but…she would never forget him.

He didn’t say anything back to her. Not surprising, really. No lover had ever really missed her when she left.

Story of my life.

She turned and walked away.

***

What. The. Hell?

Drake stood rooted to the spot, unable to believe what had just happened. Jasmine had given herself up, sacrificed herself for—him?

“I’ll be back,” Detective Taggert promised as she pointed at him. “And maybe even with that warrant.”

He growled out some kind of response as the cops left. Like the threat of a warrant scared him.

Janet hovered nearby. When the coast was clear, she whispered, “What do you want me to do?”

Get Jasmine back.

But Jasmine was gone. Heading off with the cops.

He rushed out onto the balcony. He stood there, waiting, furious, and in a few moments, Jasmine was led out of the Masquerade. The cops loaded her into the back of a squad car. The wind caught her hair, tossing it lightly around her face.

She’d wanted to see the city. Now she was going where—jail?

“Drake?” Janet queried.

“You don’t have to do anything,” Drake said as he watched the door slam and seal Jasmine in the car. “I’ve got this.”

Like he was really just going to sit back while Jasmine vanished from his life.

Hell, no. He’d get her back, and he knew just who he’d use to help him. He spun away from the balcony and pulled out his wallet. The card he needed was inside.

Federal custody, my ass.

He’d be the one watching over Jasmine.

***

They hadn’t handcuffed her. Hadn’t barraged her with questions. They’d just locked her in an interrogation room. Then the cops had appeared to forget about her.

Her chair was hard and cold and after about two hours, Jasmine’s ass was definitely aching, so she marched around the tiny room. She tried to peer into what she was sure was a two-way mirror. She leaned in nice and close, cupping her hands around her eyes—