by Cynthia Eden
Jasmine had paled. The sun was up, and he could easily see the sudden pallor of her skin and the flash of fear in her eyes. “That was Noah’s wedding picture.”
Now Noah was crowding in closer. “What are you talking about?”
The pilot advanced toward them. “We should board the plane now.” He shifted a bit nervously, from one foot to the other. “The pre-flight checks are all clear. We’ve got the okay to take-off.”
Two mechanics were over in the corner, packing up gear.
Jasmine tried to head toward the plane. Drake moved with her, blocking her path.
“What is with you?” Jasmine demanded. “You want me to go, you want me to stay. Make up your mind!”
“I want to know why you took one look at Noah’s wedding picture, and you decided not to hack my computer. I want to know why one look at that picture changed everything for you.” And it had. She’d betrayed Maxwell and set this deadly chain of events into motion.
But she didn’t betray him for me.
Jasmine’s gaze slanted toward Noah.
She did it for him.
“I saw you on the security footage.” There had been such longing on her face. Longing for Noah? Rage pumped through his blood.
Jasmine wet her lips with a quick, nervous swipe of her tongue. “I don’t know what you think you saw—”
Drake’s stare lasered onto Noah. “Have you met Jasmine before?”
Surprise flashed on Noah’s face. “No.”
Trace had closed in next to Noah.
“Are you sure?” Drake pressed. “Think about it.”
Noah’s stare swept over Jasmine. A very tense Jasmine. “I don’t think I’d forget a woman like her,” Noah said.
Drake unclenched his back teeth.
“But…but I swear,” Noah continued, voice roughening, “there’s something familiar about you, Jasmine. I look at you, and I…”
Jasmine pushed through the men and headed for the plane. “We need to get this show on the road.”
“How do you know him?” Drake demanded.
She kept marching toward the plane.
Drake shot a glare at Trace. “Are they connected? Did you see anything in her past that is tied to Noah?” Why had she changed everything for him? Yeah, that jealousy was back and twisting hard in Drake’s gut.
Trace shook his head. “I didn’t see a connection, but so much of her life is shrouded. The woman is good at covering her tracks. Hell, if I didn’t know better, I’d think…” But then Trace broke off. “I’ve seen government agents who have less security in their lives than she does. She wanted years of her life hidden, and she made them vanish.”
“What can I say…” Jasmine’s words drifted back to them. “I’m amazing.” But her voice was flat. “Now, the plane’s ready. The plane that you insisted I board.”
The pilot hurried by her and rushed up the steps that led to the plane.
The mechanics were still lingering in the corner. Watching.
Waiting?
Jasmine climbed two of the steps.
Drake turned away from her and focused on those mechanics. One had a faint smile on his face as he watched Jasmine board the plane. The guy was still smiling as he turned away…and started heading for the door.
“Stop!” Drake shouted at him.
The guy jerked and glanced back.
“I want to talk with you,” Drake barked as he hurried toward the man, his instincts on high alert. “To both of you.”
“Uh, Drake…” Noah began.
The mechanics were grabbing their gear and they weren’t slowing down for a little chat. They were trying to haul ass out of there.
“Stop!” Drake yelled again. His phone started ringing, vibrating like mad in his coat pocket. He ignored the phone and focused on the men. The two guys were full out running now and the plane’s engine was growling behind him. That didn’t make any sense. Mechanics wouldn’t run—
They’re not mechanics.
He spun back around. “Jasmine, get away from the plane!”
She was on the stairs. Her eyes widened.
“Get away from it!”
Trace was now running after the fleeing mechanics but Drake ran right toward the plane. Toward Jasmine.
He saw understanding on her face. But she didn’t leave the plane. That insane woman turned toward the plane’s entrance and began yelling for the pilot. She disappeared inside.
No! “Jasmine! Get the hell out!” His legs burned as he raced toward her.
All he could think was…a bomb. They planted a bomb, and I’m about to lose her. Maxwell likes his bombs…I’m going to lose her. “Jasmine!”
His phone was ringing again. Drake ignored the thing because he was rushing to her.
She was back on the steps now—and hauling the pilot with her.
Drake rushed up the stairs toward her. He grabbed her hand and pulled her against him. Then they ran down the last few steps as fast as they could.
They’d just cleared the tiny airstrip when the plane exploded.
***
“Boom,” Maxwell whispered when he saw the smoke fill the sky. Ah, but it paid to have eyes and ears everywhere.
Noah York and Trace Weston were on Maxwell’s hit list. He’d planned to take them all out…because they’d all played a part in Anna Jean’s death.
But they’d been targets for later. Less important. Drake had been his main goal.
Then Drake had made the mistake of calling in his friends.
“It was time for them to die.” Maxwell rolled his shoulders. He’d made the little bomb. All his men had needed to do was plant it.
“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.
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.”
Her expression softened.
“Other than Noah and Trace, no one else knows about this cabin. We’ll be safe here until I can make contact with Trace again.” He knew that Noah and Trace would be able to handle the cops. Trace had connections all over the place. “Let’s get inside.”
She glanced toward his now dirt-covered Porsche. “You surprise me.”
He paused on the first wooden step. Sure, the cabin might not be much to look at, but he felt at home there. Always had. He came out there at least four or five times a year, when the city was about to choke the life out of him, and he remembered who he’d been a lifetime ago.
A boy who fished on the dock. A boy who jumped into the water and laughed at the freedom. A boy who looked up at stars and dreamed.
Not just a man with too many nightmares.
“I…didn’t see this for you,” Jasmine said as her hand waved toward the cabin. “It doesn’t seem to fit.”
“Then maybe you should’ve checked more into my past, and not just my present.”
She gave a jerky little nod at that as she came closer to him. “My past is so screwed up. I have a rule that I try not to poke too far into anyone else’s—”
He caught her hand in his. “Because you don’t want them knowing about yours?”
“Yes.” So soft.
“I want to know everything.”
She smiled, but her dimples didn’t flash. “Isn’t that what Trace is for? So he can give you a file on me?”
“I want you to tell me.”
He waited a beat.
“You will tell me.”
One way…or another.
***
Saxon braked his motorcycle a good distance from the old cabin. The Porsche waited, covered in dirt and dust, about fifteen feet from the place. Drake’s car. He’d recognized it on sight.
So he’d followed them. Carefully.
His eyes slid over the cabin. Drake and Jazz were in there.
This was the perfect opportunity. Just what his boss had been waiting for.
Now, if he could just get the go-ahead to act.
Saxon pulled out his phone. “Guess who I’ve got in my sights…”
Chapter Eleven
“So I’m supposed to reveal all my secrets to you?” Jasmine asked as she rubbed her arms. There was no reason for her chill, but she still felt it. “Is that the way this works?”
He was seated at a small, wooden table. His legs were stretched in front of him.
“I tell you mine,” she heard herself say, “and I’ll want to know yours.” She thought those words might scare him. She should have known better.
His head inclined and her heartbeat raced.
“You first,” Jasmine blurted because she was a coward at heart. Had he realized it? Sure, maybe she could walk on a three inch ledge to a balcony ten feet away, but sharing anything personal?
Terrifying.
“What do you want to know?”
She sucked in a deep breath. “The woman…Anna Jean…did you love her?”
“No.”
Such a flat response.
“I wanted her, I cared for her, but…I never loved her. I don’t think I’ve loved any woman.”
Jasmine cleared her throat.
“Have you slept with them?” Drake demanded.
“Them?”
“Victor Monroe. The too familiar agent.”
Jasmine shook her head.
“And Maxwell?”
“No. He was an assignment, nothing more.”
His eyes narrowed and she realized that she’d slipped up. Jasmine hurried toward him. “Why casinos? You were in the military, and going into the casino business seems like a serious one-eighty to me.”
“Life’s a gamble.” He shrugged. “You realize that when you spend your days and nights dodging bullets. When you cheat death over and over again, you realize you’ve hit a lucky streak.”
Hell, his whole life was a gamble. Now it made sense to her.
“Then your luck runs out.”
She stopped near his side and stared down at him. “Is that what happened to you?”
A faint smile tilted the corners of his mouth. “My turn now.”
Oh, right.
“Why did you run away at fifteen?”
Talk about getting right to her darkest, most carefully guarded secret. “I don’t like this game anymore.”
He caught her hand. Held it in his. “It was never a game.”
His touch scorched her.
“Tell me.”
She stared at their entwined hands. She didn’t want to look in his eyes when she revealed her shame. “My mother…I realized what she was when I was nine years old. Before that, I just…I thought she had a lot of boyfriends. That was what she called them, you see. Her boyfriends.”
Mommy’s going out with her boyfriend tonight. You just stay inside and keep the lights turned off. I’ll be back soon.
“She liked drugs and she liked to drink and she needed money…so she got it the only way she could.” Had her mother been different once? Maybe before Jasmine had been born? Long ago, she must have been different.
Drake’s hold tightened on her.
“When I was fifteen, she tried to give me to one of her boyfriends.”
His hold became painful.
“She said she was tired and that he liked me, and it would just make things easier if I…if I…” No, Jasmine would not say it. “I left, and I never looked back.” Her breath whispered out. “Maybe ease that grip a bit?”