Mine to Crave (Mine 4)

“So beautiful,” he murmured. Saxon stood a few feet away. “Head toward the scene for me,” Maxwell ordered. “See who survived…and who didn’t.”

Face expressionless, Saxon nodded. The guard turned and climbed onto his motorcycle.

Maxwell admired the blaze for a moment longer, then he headed toward his car and driver.

It sure was a beautiful morning.

A plane, my love…ah, Anna Jean, isn’t that fitting? She’d been such a wonderful pilot. He definitely thought she would have appreciated the send-off he’d just given to Noah York and Trace Weston. After all, two passengers had been scheduled to depart. A little cash to the right hand had given him that information.

And a little more cash had been paid to end those two lives…

***

His phone was ringing again.

Drake stared at the blaze, aware of Jasmine’s hand clutching his arm.

She’d nearly died.

Jasmine blinked. “I, um—”

His arms wrapped around her and he hauled her as close as he could get her. She was warm and soft against him. Alive.

“Sending you away isn’t an option,” he snapped. The smoke had turned the sky black.

His phone stopped ringing.

Jasmine looked up at him. “Noah was going to be on that plane.” Her words trembled.

He couldn’t look away from her.

“He’s at risk now, too, because of me.” A tear slid down her cheek. “I never wanted him in danger.”

Him? Still on Noah? “What the hell is the connection?” he demanded.

His phone rang once more.

Swearing, he pulled away from her—just a few inches—and yanked out that phone. He didn’t recognize the number on the screen.

Sirens were screaming once more. Story of his life these days. Where he went, police cars followed. “We need to get out of here,” Drake said.

“We’ll handle things,” Trace told him, giving a hard nod. He stood just a few feet away. “You get her out of here.” He motioned toward the two men who were slumped at Noah’s feet. Trace and Noah had made sure those men didn’t flee the scene. The “mechanics” hadn’t gotten away. “We’ve got this,” Trace said simply.

Drake didn’t want to leave. He wanted to interrogate those SOBs and force them to lead him back to Maxwell.

But Jasmine had to be protected. He’d nearly messed things up royally just then. He’d been the one to demand that she get on that plane. If he hadn’t gotten suspicious in those last moments, the plane would have exploded with her inside.

Then what would I have done?

Jasmine was staring at Noah. A-fucking-gain. He wanted to slug his friend and drag Jasmine away.

So he did drag Jasmine away.

But she called out, “I’m so sorry!”

She was apologizing to Noah?

“I never wanted this to happen. It wasn’t supposed to touch you.”

He pushed her into his car. Had that Porsche purring and bursting out of the lot in seconds.

“What is the deal?” Drake demanded between gritted teeth. “Why him?”

His phone rang. He yanked it out as a motorcycle passed them. “What?”

“Don’t let her on the plane!”

His hold tightened on the phone.

“Do you hear me? This is Agent Victor Monroe. I’ve got intel that York’s private plane is going to be targeted. Do not let Jasmine get on that flight—”

Drake’s gaze slanted to his rear-view mirror. “Too late,” he muttered as he stared at that smoke-filled sky. “The plane’s burning.”

There was a swift inhalation of air. “But you have Jasmine. You have Jasmine!”

His stare drifted to her. She sat stiffly next to him. “I’ve got her.”

“Good…good…if you want her to stay alive, you’ll listen very, very carefully because I am the only one who can help her.”

“Cause you did such a stellar job last time,” Drake snapped at him. “The way you had her safe in the city—oh, wait, she was being taken by those jerks in the van—”

“St. Laurence Street. Five-oh-eight. Get her there, understand? I’ll meet you, and this will end.”

The line went dead. Asshole agent. He shoved his phone aside. Jasmine didn’t ask any questions, she just sat there in silence, and that silence was driving him crazy.

Why Noah? “He’s got a wife.” Yeah, so Noah was the one who laughed easily. Who didn’t scare small children. Who—

“I’m not…interested in him that way.”

“You cried for him.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Jasmine’s fingers twist in her lap.

“Tell me why he matters. Why he changed everything for you.” And maybe he’d stop wanting to punch his best friend.

“You won’t believe me.” Her words were so soft that he had to strain to hear them. “I keep seeing the plane…if he’d been on it…”

“Screw Noah! You were the one nearly blown to hell!” And he couldn’t get that image out of his mind. Jasmine should have been safe. This wasn’t the way the plan was supposed to work. Not at all.

Drake had underestimated his enemy. Maxwell’s reach was greater than he’d realized. Were you watching Noah and Trace? Hell, if Maxwell was looking for payback because of Anna Jean, then, dammit, yes, Maxwell would be keeping eyes on them, too. There was no telling how long the bastard had been putting them all in his crosshairs.

Rage churned within Drake. Rage and…fear. I almost lost Jasmine.

“The pilot nearly died, too.” Her voice was even softer than before.

“No, he didn’t,” Drake snarled back. “Because you risked your life to go back in after him! You should’ve gotten out, you should’ve—”

“That’s not who I am.”

He spun the car off the main road. They hit dirt and gravel and flew forward toward the swamp. It was a path most wouldn’t have known. It was a path he took every time he needed to escape.

He kept driving, kept going until he was sure they were out of sight and that all the fire trucks and cops wouldn’t see him.

Good thing he knew the area so well. Once upon a time, he’d spent summers on all these back roads when he stayed with his grandfather. They’d hunted. Fished. Stared at sunsets and snakes.

“I couldn’t leave him to die. I-I couldn’t let anyone just…die.”

He braked the car. Dust shot into the air around them.

“Um, I’m not so sure this is the best place for your Porsche…”

He jumped out of the car.

She followed him, much, much more slowly. “Is that a cabin?” She was staring at the dense vegetation around them. The swamp had nearly swallowed the cabin. “We should get out of here. This is someone’s property—”

“Mine.”

She glanced at him in surprise. “What?”

“The cabin is mine.”

Her eyes squinted as she looked at the cabin once more. “You drive a Porsche, you have luxury homes in Vegas and New Orleans and you-”

“I grew up dirt poor in Mississippi until I was ten. Then my dad cut out on me, and my mother and I moved in with my grandfather.” He pointed to the cabin behind him. “I spent the best years of my life in this place.”