Jasmine exhaled heavily and took a step forward.
“Taken?”
She stilled. That voice was low and deep, and she knew it could only belong to one man. Because that voice—that man—had been the one to break through the careful wall that she’d put around herself.
He’d hurt her. When no one else had, not in so very long.
The crowd seemed to part around him. Drake wasn’t wearing his expensive suit and coat. He wore jeans. A battered jacket. He looked big and tough and dangerous. Sexy, damn it.
“Didn’t realize you were taken. Didn’t realize you belonged to someone.”
That seemed to be anger hardening his voice and eyes.
Good. She had plenty of her own anger.
You made me feel like a whore. No, she would not say those words to him. But when he’d left her there at that house, her body still humming with pleasure even as fear swamped her, and he hadn’t looked back…Drake had changed everything for her.
“You don’t know me, Drake. And you never will.” This time, she was the one who turned on her heel and walked away. See how it feels, jerk.
“Jasmine.”
He said her name like it was a demand. No, a command. Like she was just supposed to stop because he was there and actually speaking to her again.
Screw. You. Jasmine lifted her hand, waving one fun finger back at him, then she picked up her pace. So what if she’d just left this particular corner not two minutes ago? She could retreat this way if she wanted.
Her gaze slid over to the right and she noticed that the women weren’t in those doorways anymore. Wait, new women were there.
She swallowed.
Drake didn’t call her name again. She didn’t look back to see if he was still standing there, a big, unbreakable statue, or if he was following her.
When she hit the next intersection, Jasmine turned and snaked down the other street. A much quieter street. Then she ducked into an alley. Sure, she was almost running now, but she’d left the bustle of Bourbon behind her. Actually, by just heading over a few blocks, she’d seemed to leave everything behind.
Silence surrounded her.
Shadows loomed.
And…
“Jasmine.”
That voice hadn’t come from behind her. A man stepped from the shadows. “We always seem to meet in alleys,” he said.
It was just not her night.
That voice didn’t belong to Drake. It belonged to another man who she’d hoped to never see again.
Wayne Hardin. So-called bounty hunter.
Hired thug.
“You followed me? All the way to New Orleans?” Jasmine had thought that she had a little more time on her own. She slanted a quick glance around the area. She didn’t see anyone else. Thankfully, there was no sign of Maxwell.
There was also no sign of Drake. She figured he was still back on Bourbon Street. Maybe he hadn’t even been looking for her out there. Maybe he’d been looking to party. He’d been dressed casually, and he hadn’t exactly fallen at her feet and begged for forgiveness…
“I don’t stop until I bring in my bounty.”
Her breath felt cold in her lungs. “I’m not in the mood for another knife wound.”
He lifted his hands toward her. “Got my orders. You’re to be brought in, with not so much as a scratch on you.”
Now that was just a mistake. He shouldn’t have told her that. Because she planned to do more than just scratch him.
“The boss wants you,” Wayne added.
“We can’t always have what we want.” She reached into her bag. A cute little bag that she’d picked up in town at a boutique next to a Voodoo shop.
She’d also picked up something else. Not at the Voodoo shop, but from a very helpful man she’d met.
Jasmine drew out her gun. “Here’s how this will play out. You’re going to turn around and walk away. You’re going to tell Maxwell that you never saw me. And, in return, I won’t shoot you. I’ll be super generous and call us even.”
He laughed at her. “You’re not gonna shoot me. You don’t have the guts.”
Idiot. This wasn’t the time to insult her. “Of course, I do.”
“You hack computers. Snoop in files…” He was closing in on her. “You don’t get blood on your hands.”
She kept a tight grip on the weapon. “Turn around and walk away.” He couldn’t scratch her. She could shoot him. The wound in her side seemed to throb. It would be both payback and self-defense.
“What’s he gonna do, when Maxwell gets you back?” Wayne asked her as he kept closing in. “I don’t get to hurt you, but I’m betting he does.”
She wasn’t planning to find out. “I’m going to count to five, and if you aren’t out of here by the time I get to five…I will shoot you.”
It was too dark for her to see his face.
“One.”
He was still coming toward her.
“Two.”
Jasmine heard a faint rustle of sound. Close by. But she wasn’t about to look away from the threat before her.
“Three,” she snapped. Did he think she was bluffing? Jasmine aimed for his shoulder. Come on, man. Back off.
“Four.” Her hands were sweating. Her heart racing. He wasn’t going to stop. She’d have to shoot.
Jasmine squeezed her eyes shut. “Fi—”
A thud had her eyes flying right back open. She saw that Wayne was on the ground and another shadow loomed over him. Wayne surged upright and attacked that shadow.
Great. Fabulous. Those two could just fight it out. She didn’t know if that was a mugger or another one of Maxwell’s henchmen, and she wasn’t sticking around to find out.
Jasmine sprinted on down that alley.
“Jasmine!” The roar of her name came from the mystery shadow. That roar belonged to Drake.
She spun around. He was already running toward her and he—
Snatched the gun from her hand. “A gun? Are you serious?”
She had been. Only… “It wasn’t loaded,” she whispered.
“Fuck me.” He grabbed her arm and started hauling her to who the heck knew where.
Frantic, Jasmine glanced over her shoulder. “What about Wayne? Is he—”
“Alive and running away.”
She heard the thud of footsteps then. Well, she thought that she heard them. It was hard to tell because of her frantically beating heart and her own rushed footsteps. “Guess after last time, he didn’t want to mess with you again.”