by Cynthia Eden
“I stabbed her. She fell back into the snow, and Tucker—he went crazy. He shot me. Cause I deserved it.” He raked a hand over his face. “I don’t remember much after that. Noah and Trace got me out, but…they had to put Tucker down because he wouldn’t stop. He was too crazed over Anna Jean. Even knowing that she’d sent us all to die, he still loved her—and he…he died with her that day.”
Goosebumps rose onto her arms. “So you stabbed Anna Jean. It…it was self-defense—”
“Anna Jean was an unusual woman.”
Did he even realize how he sounded when he spoke of her?
“Beautiful, deadly. She could fly any plane or chopper, and she could bat her eyes and make men fall at her feet.”
Men like you?
“Somehow, she even managed to make it out of that pile of snow and death in Russia.”
What?
“She survived and came looking for her vengeance. Only she didn’t realize that I’d been the man who put that knife in her chest.” His lips curled in a humorless smile. “Funny thing about those life or death moments…when you’re bleeding out in the snow, your mind will play tricks on you. She blamed Trace for what happened. She thought he’d attacked her and killed Tucker.”
Jasmine wet her lips. Her muscles were aching because she held herself so still.
That mocking smile slipped away. “She went after Trace’s fiancée, Skye. Anna Jean was going to kill her. His whole life, Trace has only loved one person on this earth, and no matter what I had to do, I wasn’t going to let Anna Jean take Skye away from him.”
Her lips were bone dry. She licked them and managed, “You talk about him…as if he’s a brother to you.” The emotion in his voice revealed so much about his relationship with Trace and Noah.
“Brothers in battle,” he muttered. His shoulders rolled back. “Anna Jean wanted some payback. She nearly gutted me with a knife, then she went after Skye. I was Skye’s protection, and I’d promised Trace I would keep her safe. That I would do anything necessary to protect Skye.”
She nearly gutted me.
“I could barely move, and she was attacking Skye right in front of me. There were only seconds left. Seconds. And I had to make a choice…”
“Drake…”
“When I stabbed Anna Jean that time, I didn’t miss her heart.”
Jasmine’s body swayed a bit.
“I killed her, and I didn’t hesitate.”
She blinked away the moisture that wanted to fill her eyes.
He turned away from her, giving her the broad expanse of his back. “Still think I’m some kind of hero? Because I’m betting heroes don’t go around killing women like that. Heroes don’t do half the shit I’ve done.”
In that instant, she could only stare speechlessly at him. Jasmine just didn’t know what to say. Because he was right. Heroes wouldn’t do half the shit he’d done.
“That’s what I thought,” Drake murmured.
A loud peal of—a doorbell?—reached her ears and Jasmine jumped at the sound. Drake just slowly sauntered off the balcony as he headed back inside. He walked toward the apartment’s front door. Jasmine ran to keep up with him, hurrying through his quarters.
The pealing cry was soon followed by a fierce pounding on the door. Drake glanced through the peephole at the entrance, then swung the door open.
Swung it open…
As if he didn’t have a care in the world.
As if he hadn’t just confessed the darkest secret of his past to her.
Maybe that’s not his darkest secret. Maybe there are more secrets.
Jasmine wasn’t sure she could handle more right then.
“Janet,” Drake said softly to the woman in the well-cut suit who stood there, wringing her hands and looking terrified, “why are there cops behind you?”
Jasmine backed up a step.
“Because a body was found on your property this morning,” another woman said as she pushed into the suite. A woman with light blonde hair and a cold, gray gaze. “I’m Detective Nancy Taggert, and I’ve got a few questions for you, Mr. Archer.”
Not so much as a ripple of surprise crossed his face as he looked from Nancy Taggert to the two uniformed officers who still shadowed the woman he’d called Janet.
“A body?” Drake repeated. “At my home?”
Jasmine was pretty sure her blood had turned to ice.
“Um…yes.” Detective Taggert was watching him like a hawk. “Seems a bounty hunter named Wayne Hardin was shot on your property. A neighbor called to report hearing shots fired, and then we found Hardin spread-eagle on your walk.”
No, no.
“Were you acquainted with Mr. Hardin?”
“Our paths may have crossed.” Wow. Talk about having no emotion in his voice.
“It appeared as if Mr. Hardin had been the victim of a recent…physical altercation. His nose was broken. Bruising clear on his face, and well, I can’t help but notice…you’ve got some bruising, too.”
This couldn’t be happening.
“That bruising is right along your knuckles,” the detective murmured. “As if…as if you’d recently given someone a beating.”
“I box,” Drake said flatly. “Sometimes I go bare-knuckled. So, yeah, I bruise, and I don’t even notice it.”
This wasn’t going to end well, and Jasmine couldn’t let Drake be pulled into Hardin’s murder investigation. “Drake didn’t shoot Hardin.” Jasmine stopped backing away and forced herself to approach the cops. There was no way she was going to let him get railroaded for this.
“It’s all right, Jasmine,” Drake said, and there was a bite in his words.
“No, it isn’t.” Did he think she was just going to stand there and let him get interrogated? Or worse—hauled away to jail?
Detective Taggert’s gray gaze focused on Jasmine. “And you are…?”
“I’m the woman that Hardin was after. It’s me that you should be questioning, not Drake.”
“Jasmine.” Drake’s voice was downright lethal then.
“He didn’t have anything to do with Hardin’s death. Drake was with me all night long. I swear that he was.”
Taggert’s eyes were cold and flat. “Why was Hardin after you?”
“I…”
Drake stepped in front of her. “Don’t say another word.”
Detective Taggert marched to Jasmine’s side. “You just confessed to having a bounty hunter on your trail. That’s making me think you might be a wanted fugitive, ma’am.”
“I’m not. Not wanted at all.” She glanced at the detective. “But I’m afraid I can’t tell you more here.”
Taggert’s face hardened. “I think we need to take a little trip down to the station.”
“Probably,” Jasmine agreed. “We do, but Drake doesn’t. He wasn’t involved at all in what happened.”
There was enough fire in Drake’s eyes to singe Jasmine.
“I think we should all go downtown,” Taggert said.
“No.” Drake caught Jasmine’s wrist and pulled her away from the detective. “You want us downtown, you get an arrest warrant. But that won’t be happening and we both know it.” He flashed the cop the tiger’s grin that always made Jasmine feel nervous. “So you need to leave now, and any further communication can be conducted through my attorney.”
Taggert’s own gaze flashed. “You listen to me. You can’t just—”
“I’m coming with you,” Jasmine said, cutting through the cop’s words. Because she knew her time had run out. If Hardin was dead, then she’d be next on Maxwell’s hit list.
Surprise rippled over Drake’s face. “The hell you are.” His hand tightened around her wrist as he leaned in close to her. “Do you know what she’ll do to you down there?”
“Question me? Toss me in a cell?” Jasmine shrugged. “A girl can’t run forever.”
He shook his head. “What are you doing?”
Ah, this was the crazy part. “Believe it or not, I’m trying t
o keep you safe.”
Judging by the floored expression on his face, that possibility had obviously not occurred to him. Jasmine leaned up on her toes and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “It’s my turn to protect you,” she whispered. “Consider it payback.”
Then she stepped away from him. She’d known that she was living on borrowed time, but that time was gone now. Hardin is dead. A cold chill had wrapped around her spine. She didn’t want to wind up like him.
Her gaze connected with the detective’s. “You’ll be needing to put a call in to the FBI. Ask for Agent Victor Monroe.”
“The FBI?”
Jasmine nodded. “And I won’t be answering any more questions. Not until Victor arrives.”
She sent Drake one last smile. Thank you. For a little while, she’d felt so good with him. Safe.
But safety was a lie.
And her death…it had been a certainty from the very beginning.
“I’ll miss you,” she told Drake.
She meant the words. She wouldn’t miss much about the con that was her current life but…she would never forget him.
He didn’t say anything back to her. Not surprising, really. No lover had ever really missed her when she left.
Story of my life.
She turned and walked away.
***
What. The. Hell?
Drake stood rooted to the spot, unable to believe what had just happened. Jasmine had given herself up, sacrificed herself for—him?
“I’ll be back,” Detective Taggert promised as she pointed at him. “And maybe even with that warrant.”
He growled out some kind of response as the cops left. Like the threat of a warrant scared him.
Janet hovered nearby. When the coast was clear, she whispered, “What do you want me to do?”
Get Jasmine back.
But Jasmine was gone. Heading off with the cops.
He rushed out onto the balcony. He stood there, waiting, furious, and in a few moments, Jasmine was led out of the Masquerade. The cops loaded her into the back of a squad car. The wind caught her hair, tossing it lightly around her face.
She’d wanted to see the city. Now she was going where—jail?
“Drake?” Janet queried.
“You don’t have to do anything,” Drake said as he watched the door slam and seal Jasmine in the car. “I’ve got this.”
Like he was really just going to sit back while Jasmine vanished from his life.
Hell, no. He’d get her back, and he knew just who he’d use to help him. He spun away from the balcony and pulled out his wallet. The card he needed was inside.
Federal custody, my ass.
He’d be the one watching over Jasmine.
***
They hadn’t handcuffed her. Hadn’t barraged her with questions. They’d just locked her in an interrogation room. Then the cops had appeared to forget about her.
Her chair was hard and cold and after about two hours, Jasmine’s ass was definitely aching, so she marched around the tiny room. She tried to peer into what she was sure was a two-way mirror. She leaned in nice and close, cupping her hands around her eyes—
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 sa
id. “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?”