Mine to Crave (Mine 4)

Giving a grim nod, he spun back around. The two jerks who’d tried to take Jasmine were retreating into their van. They thought they’d just get away? Oh, the hell, no.

He took a lunging step toward them, his weapon up.

“Help!”

That cry was coming from the wreckage. The agent?

“I’m stuck, and I smell gasoline—help me!” Yeah, that was definitely the agent.

And he was right. Drake could smell the acrid odor filling the air. Shit, shit.

He took aim at that van. Fired. Once, twice. The van careened when the bullets crashed into the back, but it kept going.

Drake rushed to the wrecked SUV. He heard the clatter of footsteps behind him. He spun— “I put you in the car!” So she’d be safe.

“And I got myself right out!” Jasmine tossed at him. She tried to shove by him.

He pushed her right back. “There’s gasoline leaking out. You need to stay back.” He quickly shoved his weapon in to the back waistband of his jeans.

Fear flashed across her face. “We have to get Victor out of there!”

In the distance, he heard the wail of a siren.

This street was deserted, but someone must have heard the shots and called the cops. The question was…would the cops get there in time?

Jasmine broke free of his hand and the woman ran right to the driver’s side. “I’m here, Victor!”

Part of the driver’s side window had shattered. Victor pushed his hand through the hole there and his fingers curled around Jasmine’s. “Dammit, baby, I was afraid they were going to take you, and there wasn’t anything I could do.”

Drake stiffened. That didn’t sound like an FBI agent talking to his charge.

Jasmine isn’t wearing handcuffs.

“But it’s too dangerous,” Victor snarled. “There’s gasoline pouring on the ground, and I can…I can smell smoke…”

Drake’s gaze shot to the rear of the SUV. The rear…and the front. Tendrils of smoke were escaping from both areas. The SUV had been littered by bullets and some of those bullets had hit with a very, very dangerous impact.

The driver’s side door had slammed into a lamp post, and it was a dented heap.

“My left leg is pinned,” Victor said, voice gruff. “Archer, I need you to break out the rest of the driver’s side windshield and see if you can help me get free.”

“Victor…” Jasmine’s voice was low. And scared.

Drake grabbed a chunk of metal that had fallen down—part of the SUV’s front bumper?—and headed toward the driver’s side. Jasmine stepped back when Drake slammed the metal into the glass. The rest of the windshield shattered easily as it rained down on Victor.

The smoke grew thicker. The wail of the siren seemed to be coming closer. But it wasn’t close enough.

From the corner of his eye, Drake thought he saw the flicker of flames. He ignored that flicker and crawled half-way into the car. The air bag was in his way, so Drake used the knife he normally kept in a sheath at his ankle, and he cut right through it.

“Hold on, Victor,” Jasmine whispered.

The agent’s leg was caught all right, the dash had thrust in around him, and the steering wheel sagged, keeping the guy trapped.

“Jasmine,” Victor’s voice was low and calm. The guy had blood dripping down his face, and Drake was pretty sure the man’s leg was broken, but the agent didn’t sound as if he were in any pain. “I want you to wait for me in Archer’s car, okay?”

“I’m not leaving you,” she said right back. “I’m not.”

Drake’s gut clenched. “Hold still,” he ordered Victor. “Don’t make me cut you more than I have to—”

“What?” Victor barked. “Wait, hold the hell up—”

“The vehicle is about to blow, and we both know it.” Drake was half-in, half-out of the car. He drove his fist into the remnants of the dash, determined to push it back, then he sliced out with his knife, trying to make the material weaker. “Hold. The fuck. Still.”

“Get her out of here!” Victor yelled. “I can see the flames!”

Jasmine’s hands had locked around Drake’s hips. She was helping to hold him while he fought to free Victor.

“It’s too late,” Victor snapped at him. “Leave me. Get her out or we’ll all burn!”

Jasmine was yanking on him. “Drake, Drake, you need to run! I’ll get him! You have to go—I don’t want you hurt. Go!”

She thought he’d just leave them both there?

He dropped the knife onto the floorboard—well, what was left of it, then he drove his fist into that dash again and again and again—

“Drake!” Jasmine yanked him back with a surprising force, and they tumbled onto the sidewalk.

Flames were racing over the front of the SUV. When they merged with that gasoline…

“I’m free,” Victor gasped out.

Jasmine let go of Drake. He reached for the other man and hauled the guy through the driver’s side window. But when Victor’s feet touched the cement, the guy’s right leg crumbled. Definitely broken.

So Drake put the jerk in a fireman’s carry even as he locked one hand around Jasmine’s wrist. They ran forward, as fast as they could as the flames grew behind them.

As he looked ahead, Drake saw the flashing lights of police cars rushing down the street.

The cops would be there in moments.

A boom sounded behind him. The blast knocked Drake off his feet, and he hit the ground.

“Get…her…out…Get Jazz…” Victor had crashed right along with him. Jasmine was on her knees beside Drake. “Before the cops…come…get her…”

The SUV was blazing behind them. The men who’d attacked Jasmine and Victor were long gone, and now the FBI agent wanted him to help a supposedly wanted woman escape?

Since that had been his plan all along, Drake rose and pulled Jasmine with him.

“But you need help,” Jasmine said as she stared down at the injured man. “Victor, your leg—”

“I’ll come to you, Jazz. Just…go!”

She turned with Drake and they ran for his car. In seconds, they were inside the vehicle and racing away from the blaze. The heaving sound of their breaths filled the car. When Drake glanced in his rear-view mirror, he saw smoke and flames and the blue lights of patrol cars.

He sped up and turned hard to the right. He knew these roads—streets usually not traveled by many because this was the side of town that the tourists avoided.

Drake didn’t know if the cops were following him or not, but, either way, he wasn’t going to leave a trail for them.

Jasmine’s hands were clenched in her lap. She didn’t speak, and small shivers shook her body every few moments.

“You should…you should probably drop me off somewhere,” she finally said, her words hushed.

What?

“That corner looks good.” She pointed.

“I’m not,” Drake snarled out, “dropping you off any place.”