***
“So…out of curiosity…what did go down in the elevator?” Trace asked, him voice mild.
“Shut the hell up,” Drake fired at him. His gaze was on the closed bedroom door. There had been something about Jasmine’s expression when she stormed away…
Noah strode closer to him. “Give the woman a few minutes to rest. She looked exhausted.” He cocked a brow. “And since when are you the kind of guy who wants to keep twenty-four seven tabs on a woman, anyway?”
“Since he met a woman who tried to rob him blind.” Trace dropped onto Drake’s couch. “And trust me, with a woman like her, you’re gonna need to keep watching, carefully.”
Drake narrowed his eyes on his friend. “A woman like her?”
“Sexy, smart, and dangerous.”
Noah’s hand slapped down on Drake’s shoulder. “Ah, that makes her just your type, right? Women with an edge are always more interesting.”
Drake growled at him.
Noah sobered. “Though I am a bit confused. If some jerks were hauling her into a van, how’d you get her away from them—”
“I shot one of them.”
Noah and Trace exchanged a long look.
What? “I wasn’t going to let them kill her.”
“But obviously they wanted her alive,” Trace pointed out, “or else they would’ve killed her on sight.”
For an instant, Drake saw red. The red of Jasmine’s blood. “He wanted to take her away so he could torture her. So he could hurt her because she was helping me. Everything that he wants to do to Jasmine, every pain, is because of me.” Then, softer, “And Anna Jean. He wants to pay me back, and he’s going to use Jasmine to do it.”
Trace’s fingers drummed on the couch as Drake paced the room. “She’s no innocent. Her file—”
“Screw the file! She took nothing. She helped me.” His gaze swung back to the closed bedroom door. “And I will help her. I’m not going to let Maxwell get anywhere near her.”
“That would be where I come in,” Noah said with a slight nod. “Am I still supposed to be the woman’s ride out of town?”
Drake knew the cops would be monitoring his movements, so he’d decided that it would be best for Jasmine to slip away with Noah. “Yes. You fly her to New York. I’ll be there as soon as things are cleared up down here.”
Noah tilted his head toward Drake. “You mean as soon as you eliminate the threat posed by Maxwell Case.”
Drake stared back at him. He thought that was obvious.
“You can’t kill a man in cold blood,” Trace said.
“Don’t give me that bullshit.” Drake stopped pacing. “For your precious Skye, just what would you do, Trace? What have you done?”
Trace’s mouth tightened.
“Trace loves Skye,” Noah said, voice soft, thoughtful. “Are you saying that you have…feelings for this woman? Do you love her?”
Drake’s eyes narrowed. “Love has nothing to do with this.”
***
Wind whipped against Jasmine’s body as she stood on the balcony. Her hands gripped the edges of the railing. It was high. It was terrifyingly high.
But you’re not going down. You just have to go across.
She’d found her escape path.
A thin ledge connected two balconies. The balcony in Drake’s apartment, and a balcony that waited about ten feet away. If she got to that other balcony, she could slip away and vanish into the casino.
If she got to that other balcony.
Lightning crackled across the sky, illuminating her deadly walk. Thunder rumbled.
And raindrops hit her.
She really had shit for luck.
***
“Oh, I forgot,” Noah said as he flashed Drake a hard smile. “You don’t love. Love is for fools like—”
“You.” Because he’d seen exactly how crazy Noah had become when he fell for Claire. Crazy and desperate. Obsessed.
Drake had no intention of becoming obsessed with anyone. “Just take Jasmine back to New York with you, okay? When Trace and I are done eliminating Case’s threat, you can stop playing guard.”
From outside, Drake heard the hard rumble of thunder.
“You guarded Claire for me…” Noah sighed. “So I guess I can return the favor.”
“Be warned, Jasmine is nothing like your Claire.” Noah’s wife Claire was sweet and charming, and when Drake had looked into her eyes once, he’d seen all the pain of her past. Claire had nearly been broken by the nightmare that had been her life.
Jasmine—Jasmine wasn’t broken in any way. She was wild, a firestorm, strong and ready to meet any challenge head on.
“Hell.” He rushed for his closed bedroom door as realization dawned. “That woman isn’t tired at all.”
He threw open the bedroom door. The room was empty.
That wasn’t even possible.
“Jasmine!”
“The doors to the balcony are open,” Trace said as he ran in behind Drake.
The doors were open—and rain poured in from those open doors.
“It’s storming,” Noah said, sounding lost. “Why would the woman go out in a storm?”
Drake leapt out onto the balcony. Lightning flashed overhead. He looked down—no Jasmine. She wasn’t lying, body twisted, on the pavement below.
Thank Christ.
He heard a faint gasp then, and his gaze shot up and to the left. Jasmine was there, about ten feet away from him, reaching out for the railing on the other side of an incredibly small ledge.
Drake stopped breathing as he stared at her.
“Oh, shit,” Noah whispered from behind him.
Her hand closed around the railing. Drake knew he should be rushing back through his apartment and around to that other balcony, but he couldn’t move, not until he was sure that she was safe.
Every muscle in his body had turned to stone.
Slowly, inch by inch, she climbed over the railing and onto that balcony. Her feet were bare, still bare, and when her toes touched down, he finally took a breath.
“Jasmine.” Her name was on that breath.
And even though his voice had been low, her head whipped up. Her gaze met his.
Then she turned and ran.
Chapter Ten
Adrenaline had her whole body quaking. Adrenaline and fear and oh, God, but she never wanted to do anything like that again.
Desperate times make for desperate women.
She had to get out of Drake’s sight. Get to Victor. End this nightmare before anyone else was hurt.