Mine to Crave (Mine 4)

The door to the interrogation room opened with a click behind her.

“Well, well…aren’t you a hard woman to find.”

She whirled around.

FBI Special Agent Victor Monroe stared back at her. Tall, handsome, all law-abiding and solid-looking.

That was Victor.

His square jaw locked as he crossed the room to her side. His dark brown hair was swept away from his high forehead. “I hear you’ve been causing trouble.”

“I’m rather good at that.” Her best talent.

He leaned in toward her. His blue eyes swept over her face.

“How the hell am I supposed to get you out of here?” he whispered.

Ah, but it was good to have some friends in the right places.

“You’re the special agent,” she murmured back, keeping her voice low. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” Then she smiled because it was nice to finally be with someone who trusted her.

Even if he shouldn’t.

Too bad Victor had never seemed to learn that lesson.

Chapter Eight

Jasmine was being led out of the police station in handcuffs. Drake staggered to a stop at the sight of her. He’d been trying to call the FBI Agent all morning, but that jerk Victor hadn’t answered, and now Drake saw exactly why the agent had been dodging him.

Victor was the one pulling Jasmine toward a dark SUV. Victor had one hand securely on Jasmine’s shoulder. As he walked, Victor’s jacket parted, and Drake glimpsed the gun holster beneath the man’s arm.

Detective Taggert stood a few feet back, up at the top of the steps, and she was frowning as she watched Victor and Jasmine.

She was just letting the guy take Jasmine away?

“Stop!” Drake called out.

“Uh, I don’t think we should interfere here…” His lawyer muttered nervously from his position beside Drake.

“Screw what you think right now.” Drake rushed toward Jasmine. Her head had lifted at his call. Why did she look so shocked to see him? Had she really thought that he’d just let her walk away?

Before he could reach out to her, Victor stepped in his path, totally blocking Jasmine’s body. “You need to back away, Archer,” Victor told him curtly. “You don’t want to get involved in federal business.”

Didn’t he? “Why are you taking her?” Drake demanded.

“Because she’s involved in some active investigations that we’re working,” Victor responded smoothly. “Now, get out of our way.”

Drake put himself in their path even more. “I need to talk with Jasmine.”

“The liar and the thief?” Victor tossed back. “I don’t know why you’d want to waste your time with her.” He eased to the side a bit, glancing back at Jasmine. “I mean, that is what you said, right? That she was ‘a liar and a thief,’ and she wasn’t your problem any longer.”

Pain flashed on Jasmine’s face.

“That’s not what I meant,” Drake snapped.

“Sure about that? Because I think those words were exactly what you meant.”

Jasmine’s gaze jerked away from Drake. As if she couldn’t stand to look at him in that moment.

What the hell? Why do I feel like shit right now?

Because Jasmine turned herself in to the cops…because she was trying to protect me.

She could’ve stayed silent at the Masquerade. Could’ve let him be dragged off. Then Jasmine would’ve had her opportunity to run.

She hadn’t.

The woman had sacrificed herself for him, even after he’d told her about his past. He didn’t understand why she’d done it, and not understanding was driving him crazy.

“You were right,” Victor told him as he put one hand on Drake’s chest and pushed. “She’s not your problem anymore. She’s mine from here on out.”

There was something in the guy’s voice. A deeper note that set off alarms in Drake’s mind.

Possessiveness.

Drake glared down at the hand pressed to his shirt-front. “Move it.”

“Or what?” Victor wanted to know. “You’ll assault a federal officer?”

“Uh…” Footsteps rushed toward them. Drake’s lawyer huffed closer. “Sir, sir, I’d really advise against that!”

Screw Thomas Morley’s advice. Drake had pulled the guy down there to help Jasmine, not so the man could get in his way.

“I have to go, Drake,” Jasmine said, her voice soft. “It’s time.”

No, no, it wasn’t.

He needed to know more about what was happening. He needed…her.

“What are you going to do?” Drake asked Victor. No, the question should have been…“What has she done?”

He’d told Jasmine his crimes. Didn’t that mean he deserved to know hers?

“You’re better off not knowing,” Victor said. “Ignorance is damn bliss, right?” Then he leaned in close to Drake. “Just pretend you screwed an angel and not a devil in disguise.”

Fury erupted in Drake. He pulled back his fist and drove it right at the agent’s smug face.

“No, no, no!” The frantic voice of Thomas Morley shouted.

Victor didn’t even take a swing back at Drake. “Poor impulse control.” He motioned to Detective Taggert. She was already running down the stairs. “You and your men should take him inside. Get him to calm down.”

Drake lunged for the guy again.

But Jasmine was there. She stepped in front of Victor.

Drake froze.

“I’m a liar and a thief,” she whispered and her eyes had never seemed so dark. “And I’m not worth what you’re about to bring down on yourself.”

His jaw hardened even more. “I think you are worth it.” That was the problem. She’d inched beneath his skin. Gotten to him when she shouldn’t have ever been able to pierce his armor.

Her dark eyes widened. “Drake?”

“I’m not pressing charges,” Victor said.

“Thank God,” Morley muttered.

He seriously needed a new lawyer. One with some balls.

“But I want this man held until he cools off…” Victor pulled Jasmine away when uniforms surrounded Drake.

“This isn’t over!” Drake called out to her.

She shook her head.

“It isn’t!”

Victor opened the passenger side of the SUV. Jasmine slipped inside, still wearing the cuffs. When the door shut, she glanced back at Drake through the window.

Her hand lifted and touched the glass. Then Victor drove her away.

“Why don’t we go work on that calming down…” Detective Taggert said.

Screw calming down.

Drake didn’t take his eyes off that SUV.

***

When his phone rang, Maxwell knew it was the call he’d been expecting. The cops had been tipped off, the stage had been set…and Drake Archer should be getting a little taste of hell.

“Were the reporters there when Archer was hauled to jail?” he asked as he put the phone to his ear.

“No reporters,” Saxon told him flatly. “And he wasn’t the one the cops brought in. They pulled in Jazz.”

Maxwell shot up. He’d been lounging in bed with a slumberous blonde. Sex always took the edge off for him. The blonde mumbled something and tried to reach for him, so he kicked her ass right out of bed. “Jazz?”