Right. “Is that why you bombed Noah York’s plane?”
His lips curled. “Seemed an easy enough way to get rid of him and Weston.”
He was confessing all to her. Because he planned to kill me. She tried to clear her throat. “S-sorry I got in the middle of your war. I didn’t realize what was at stake.”
“Now you do.”
Love for a woman long dead.
***
When Drake grabbed Victor, the crutches hit the floor with a hard clatter. “You know where she is? And we’re just standing here with our thumbs up our asses?”
Trace didn’t try to pull him away this time. Taggert did. She put her hand on Drake’s arm, sighed, and said, “Do you think we don’t have a rescue plan?”
Victor’s eyelids flickered slightly.
“If you do, then we need to get moving.” Drake’s hands had fisted in the guy’s shirt. “Now.” Or did the jerk like knowing that Jasmine was in pain?
I don’t. It’s tearing me apart.
“My team will handle her rescue,” Victor said. “I’ve got agents in position now.”
Taggert tapped Drake’s arm. He still didn’t release the FBI agent.
“Tell those agents to act!” Drake nearly roared.
“I will,” the agent snapped back. “As soon as we have Maxwell Case’s confession on record. My man has a wire on in there—this is the chance we’ve been waiting for. We can nail him for so many crimes—”
Drake slammed the guy into the nearest wall. “He’s kidnapped Jasmine! Nail him on that shit! And stop playing with her life!”
Victor’s breath heaved out. “You’re not the only one who cares about Jazz.” His voice was low, pitched to only reach Drake’s ears.
“Jasmine,” he forced out. “Her name is Jasmine, and you’re going to tell me where she is. Right now. I’m not waiting on your team. I’m not waiting on a confession. I’m going to get her out of there.”
A knock sounded at the door. Seconds later, a woman poked her head inside. Her blonde hair was pulled away from her face, and her eyes glinted behind the frames of her glasses. “We got him, sir. The confession was recorded.”
Victor’s body sagged. “Warehouse district,” Victor murmured to Drake. “Building thirteen-oh-four. Niles Street.”
Drake lunged for the door.
“By the time you get there,” Victor called after him. “It will all be over! My team has this!”
***
She should have kept her mouth shut then, but Jasmine pushed. “Are you sure Anna Jean wasn’t going to betray you, too? What if she was just going to use your resources, then vanish with Weston’s money? I bet she even had a back-up lover around. Some fall guy waiting in the wings…seems like her style—”
He didn’t punch her then. His hand just dropped to her throat and he squeezed, cutting off the words and her airway. “I don’t want you speaking of her again. Compared to Anna Jean, you’re nothing.”
Story of my life.
“Boss…are you going to use Jazz against Archer?” Saxon’s voice came quietly from behind Maxwell. “Because he sure went crazy when I got away with her.”
His hold tightened even more. Red spots began to dance before Jasmine’s eyes. Her temples were throbbing, the blood surging as he squeezed and squeezed.
Drake, I’m sorry.
He eased his hold. She gulped in air, but those red spots didn’t vanish.
“Does Archer care about you?” Maxwell asked her.
“No.” The one word sounded like a frog’s croak, but she wasn’t about to let this man use her against Drake.
“Will he come for you, try to save you?”
Her chin lifted. “No.”
He swore. “Then what good are you to me?”
She stared into his eyes. “I’m not.”
***
The cars were going too fucking slowly. “Faster, Noah! Dammit, I should’ve driven!”
The police were behind them. Rushing with their lights blazing. They were driving desperately to that warehouse district.
To Jasmine.
Victor had told them that his team on site would be moving in, but Drake intended to be there, too. He had to see Jasmine with his own eyes. Had to hold her and make sure she was safe.
If Maxwell had hurt her…
“Go faster!” Drake snarled again.
“Easy,” Trace said from his position in the back.
Screw easy. “I have to get to her.” He could feel Trace’s eyes on him. Drake turned his head to meet Trace’s stare. “If she’s dead, so is Case.”
Noah whistled. “Man, calm down. The FBI is already there. Your woman is safe.”
Your woman. He knew that was exactly what Jasmine was. Had he really thought he might be able to give her up?
Noah’s sister. Shit. They’d find a way to work all of that out. Maybe he’d let Noah take some swings at him. But Drake wasn’t walking away from her. The fear in his gut told him that he couldn’t walk away.
“Faster,” Drake whispered.
Yeah, he should have driven…but the way his hands were shaking, he was afraid he would’ve wrecked the car and never gotten to Jasmine.
***
“Drake won’t care what happens to me,” Jasmine said softly. Her throat ached. Her jaw ached. And she couldn’t hear the jazz music any longer. “I’m not—”
“Anna Jean? No, you’re not. Not even close. You’re a whore from a trailer park. A woman with a few useful talents.”
Her eyes narrowed. “And you’re a psychotic dick who gets off on blowing things up and killing people. So in comparison, I think I’m the one with more talent.”
He backed up a step. “You didn’t just call me—”
“I did.” Holy crap, she had. “You’re going to kill me, so what does it matter? I see you for exactly what you are. You’re a monster, Maxwell. A monster hiding in the clothes of a man.”
“And Drake?” Spittle flew from his mouth. “What is he?”
It broke her heart but she said, “I thought Drake was my hero.” She’d wanted him to be. “But…but I guess that wasn’t in the cards. He didn’t care about me. I was a woman he took to his bed. By the time my body is found, he probably won’t even remember my name.” Keep talking. Don’t let Maxwell think he can use you against Drake. Because she wasn’t about to let Drake try to trade his life for hers.
Maxwell’s furious expression told her that he believed every word she said. Good. She twisted her hands once more against the ropes. If she could have broken free from those ropes, perhaps she would’ve had a fighting chance.
But maybe she’d never had that.
“Uh, boss…”
Her head turned at Saxon’s measured voice. He stood near the lone window.
“There’s some action out there.”
Maxwell waved that away. “Drunks. The homeless on the streets. It’s after midnight and they always—”Saxon stiffened. “They’re armed! I count five—six? I can see them moving across the street!” He spun toward his boss. “They’re coming!”
“No! No, that’s not possible!” Maxwell stormed toward the window. He stared outside. “Fuck, no!”
And then Jasmine started to laugh.
Maxwell whirled to face her.
“I guess my talents are pretty useful.”
He shook his head and stalked toward her.
“Boss…” Saxon began.
Jasmine raised her voice, drowning out Saxon as she said, “There’s no slowing them down. There’s no escape.” Her heart raced. “The Feds are coming for you, and you’re going away for a long time. You’re not going to burn anything. You’re not going to break anyone. And you’re not going to get your precious payback for Anna Jean.”
He was still shaking his head.
“I’ve got you,” Jasmine whispered, and she stopped struggling against her bonds. She wanted to remember this moment. To savor it, as she’d savored few things.
“What?”
“You didn’t even search me when they brought me in. Just tied me up…and talked your mouth off.”
He lunged toward her. Grabbed her shirt. The buttons popped and flew as he ripped that shirt open.
His gaze dropped to her breasts. To the black bra and the small, black wire there.
“Surprise,” Jasmine whispered.
“No!” Rage exploded in his eyes. She thought he’d hurt her then. Attack hard and fast. But he jumped back. “No, this isn’t how it ends for me!” He pointed to Saxon even as he rushed for the door.
Trying to protect yourself? That’s the way it—
“Shoot her!” Maxwell bellowed. “Right in the heart. Kill her and then get your ass out of here.”
After giving that order, Maxwell paused at the threshold of the room. He wants to watch me die. He won’t run, not until I’m dead.
She heaved against the ropes. “Saxon, Saxon, don’t…”
He had out his gun. “I’m sorry, Jazz.”
“Don’t!”
He fired.
***
“You need to stay out here,” Victor told Drake as the FBI agents swarmed the warehouse. “Civilians aren’t clear to hit a crime scene.”
Trace and Noah were at Drake’s side. They were all watching silently, waiting, as the teams entered the building.
“How do you even know she’s still alive?” Drake demanded. “Who’s monitoring the surveillance feed?”
“My best agents are listening to every word. Relax. We’ve got this shit covered.”
The blonde from the police station rushed up to them. “Sir, we lost the feed.”
No.
A gunshot blasted. Drake’s blood froze. He didn’t even realize he’d started running toward that warehouse, not until three agents grabbed him. “She’s in there!” Drake snarled at them. They must’ve heard the gunfire. “He’s hurting her!”
Not Jasmine. She’d been hurt enough…
Scars on perfect skin. Wounds that she never should’ve had.
“Let me get to her!” But they were hauling him back. “Noah, Trace, help me!”
And even though it would probably get their asses arrested, his friends swarmed. They knocked those FBI agents on their asses.
Victor tried to block Drake’s path. Like a guy on crutches was going to stop him. “I’m getting her,” Drake promised.
“It’s too dangerous! A civilian can’t go into that scene. My agents……they’ll get her,” Victor said. Did the guy even hear the doubt in his voice? Because Drake did.
Drake shoved the man aside.
Victor shouted his name. Drake didn’t stop. He didn’t have a weapon, the Feds had made sure of that, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t sitting on the sidelines.
Noah and Trace were running with him. The fools that tried to get in their way got thrown to the side—badges or no badges.
Then Drake saw the other FBI agents running out of that building. They were hauling ass. What?
“Bomb!” One yelled. “Clear the area. Clear—”
The explosion sent Drake flying off his feet. He hurtled through the air and slammed down inches away from a light post.
Heat lanced over his skin, and, for a moment, he lay there, stunned.
Then his eyes took in the inferno before him. The warehouse wasn’t just smoking. It was blazing. Fire shot from the windows even as part of the right wall collapsed.
He staggered to his feet. He could feel blood sliding down the side of his face—he vaguely remembered slamming into the pavement.
“Pull back!” Victor shouted. “Pull back!”
Another explosion had fire streaking into the sky.
“Jasmine?” Drake said her name, once, barely recognizing the lost sound of his own voice. Then as he ran toward the fire, he roared her name.
The flames were raging so hot and high. Burning brightly. Destroying everything.
Destroying…her?
Not Jasmine. Not her. Not…her!
“Stop, man! Stop!” Noah was there, fighting to pull Drake away from the fire, but he just wanted to get closer.
“I have to get her out!”
Another window exploded. Glass hit the pavement. Flames crackled.
Noah tightened his hold on Drake. Drake swung at him, connecting with a hard punch, but Noah didn’t let go.
And then Trace was there. They were holding him too tightly, hauling him away from the flames.
“I have to get her out!” The fire was stinging his eyes. Burning his throat.
Ripping a hole in his chest.
Trace’s grip was like iron around him. “She is out, buddy. She’s…she’s gone.”
No. The fuck, no. “Jasmine!” He fought them both. He’d get free. Get through the fire. Get her out of that building.
“Clear the road!” Victor was barking orders.
And Trace and Noah weren’t letting Drake go.
“I have to get to her…” He punched at them, drove his fist hard and fast, not caring that they were his friends. That he was hurting them. “She could still be alive!”
Noah shook him. Slammed his own fist into Drake’s face. “The building is a total loss! There’s no way she’s still alive in there—”
He was going to give up? On her? “She’s your sister!” Drake shouted at him. “We can’t let her burn!”