Mine to Crave (Mine 4)

“You aren’t betraying anyone.” But he was hurting her when he pulled away.

He yanked out his phone. Turned his back on her.

“Drake?”

He took a few more steps away. That phone was to his ear and he said, “Trace, what’s the status? Do you have things contained?”

A faint growling sound reached Jasmine’s ears. She crept toward the window on the right.

Still talking into his phone, Drake said, “Yeah, well, we have another problem.”

Her shoulders tightened as she peered out the window. She couldn’t see anyone outside, and that growling had stopped.

“How fast do you think we could get a DNA test?”

No. Jasmine whirled around.

“Right. A DNA test. Comparing Jasmine and—”

She flew across the room and yanked that phone out of his hand. She hung up on Trace. “What are you doing? You can’t tell them!”

“If you’re really his sister, then Noah deserves to know.”

He couldn’t do this. “No, Drake. No.”

His phone was ringing again. He tried to reach for it. She put it behind her back.

One blond brow rose. “Seriously, Jasmine?”

“Yeah, seriously, Drake.” She hurried away from him. “This is my life we’re talking about.”

“Noah is filthy rich.” Drake said those words bluntly. “If you’re his sister, he’s going to want to take care of you.”

“And when I was fifteen and stealing food to survive—”

He flinched.

She didn’t. “I would have appreciated his money. I don’t now. I don’t want him knowing.” Jasmine wanted to toss that phone. To shatter it. “Trace isn’t going to forget this.” Now he’d start probing. “Dammit, why did you have to say anything? Why—”

That growling was back. Only this time, she wasn’t the only one who heard the sound. Drake’s head jerked toward the window. In two fast steps, he was there, peering outside, then swearing when he saw the lights that hit the cabin.

“Motorcycles,” Jasmine whispered. She counted at least three. And was that an SUV rushing in behind them?

It was.

She answered the ringing phone. “Trace, I think you need to get your ass over to Drake’s old cabin…cause we’ve got company.”

Drake had already whirled away from the window. He marched to a closet and started pulling out—weapons?

A gun. A knife.

“What kind of company?” Trace barked in her ear.

“The kind that isn’t friendly.” She was backing away from the window. How had they been found?

Drake was back. He grabbed the phone from her. “My grandfather’s place. Get here as fast as you can…because this party isn’t going to wait.” He shoved the phone into his pocket as his eyes glittered down at Jasmine. “Do you know how to shoot a gun?”

She did. That didn’t mean she’d want to. Or had he missed that whole no-bullets-in-the-gun scene before with her?

He put the gun in her hands. She realized he had a second handgun tucked in the waistband of his jeans. “Aim and fire, princess.”

She gulped. “H-how did they find us?”

The growls died away.

Drake put a finger to his lips, then he killed all the lights in the cabin.

Then…

“There’s nowhere to run, Archer! This is the end for you.”

That voice…she knew it. Saxon. Her heartbeat quickened. Jasmine opened her mouth to call out a fierce reply, but Drake’s hand clamped over her lips.

“We know Jazz is in there,” Saxon shouted. “So you both need to come out, now.”

Drake’s hand fell away. He took up a position near the window. Drew his weapon.

Jasmine didn’t want him to get caught in the middle of a firefight. And if Saxon were out there…

I can’t let this happen.

“It wasn’t just fucking,” she heard herself say because she knew the end was near for her.

Drake fired. The bullet blasted into the night. “Stay the hell back!” he roared.

“It wasn’t just fucking,” she said again, her voice louder even as her body trembled.

Drake’s head jerked toward her. “This isn’t the time—”

“It might have just been for you, but it was more for me.” Tell him. “I thought I was making love with you.”

Gunfire hit the side of the house.

“I’ve never been in love, Drake, but I think…I really think I came close with you.”

“Jasmine…” Her name was a growl. “We’re gonna talk about this later. When bastards aren’t shooting at us.”

But she knew there wasn’t going to be a later. “I recognize that guy’s voice. It’s Saxon—he’s…he’s good at his job.”

“And I’m good at mine.” He fired again, and she heard a man cry out.

The gun was heavy in her grasp.

“Burn them out!” That bellow reached her ears and sent ice through her veins.

“Oh, the hell, no, they aren’t,” Drake snarled right back. Then he was firing, again and again.

Jasmine peeked through the window. Saw the men getting hit by Drake’s bullets—saw the guns being aimed back at her and Drake.

And she saw the flash of flame. What in the hell were they doing?

Then some of those flames started flying toward the cabin. Something crashed through the window. Exploded.

Molotov cocktail. Flames licked against the floor. Talk about coming dangerously prepared!

“No!” Jasmine ran toward the flames and tried to stomp them out.

Drake tackled her and sent her flying back away from the fire. “Are you crazy?” he demanded. “Dammit, princess, you have to be careful—”

“It’s your cabin,” she whispered. “Your grandfather’s cabin…”

And another Molotov cocktail splintered inside.

“And you’re worth more to me,” Drake said, voice fierce, as he rose with her. His gaze locked on a door to the right. “Come on. We’re getting out of here.”

But Saxon and his men would just be waiting outside.

“Stay close,” Drake told her. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

And she didn’t plan to let anyone hurt him.