“There is to me!”
“Why? Why?” Anger cracked in Victor’s voice. “Do you want to hear her when she begs them not to shoot her? When Maxwell ordered her to be shot in the heart—and she was? Look, the fire didn’t kill her. She was—she was dead when we heard the first shot.”
Noah staggered a bit and crashed into the table. The laptop fell, hitting the floor hard. Victor dove down to retrieve it, but Trace beat him. He lifted the device. Handed it back to the agent.
Drake couldn’t move. He remembered the sound of the gunshot that had blasted moments before the warehouse went up in flames.
“This is the end,” Victor said. He gave a firm nod. “She’s gone, and you have to just…just move on. I’m sure she’ll be easy to replace.”
He wanted to rip the guy apart. “No, she won’t be.”
Victor juggled his laptop and the crutches. “Yes, well…I think we’re done here. I certainly hope our paths never cross again.” Then, without another word, he turned and exited the room.
The men didn’t speak until he was gone.
“That’s one of the FBI’s lead agents?” Noah demanded. “I don’t like that bastard! ‘Easy to replace…’ We’re talking about a woman’s life!””
“Sometimes,” Trace’s voice was thoughtful, “there’s more to a man than meets the eye.”
Screw all that. Drake marched closer to Trace. “Did you get it?”
Trace opened his right hand. “Copied all the files…good job distracting him, though I was worried you were about to slug Victor…crutches or no.”
Drake grunted. “I was about to slug him…crutches or no.”
“Let’s get out of here,” Noah said, shoving back his shoulders. “I don’t want any cops breathing down our necks. Not with what’s coming.”
What’s coming…their attack. They weren’t going to let Case get away. It was personal for Drake. Personal for Noah. As for Trace…
Hell, maybe he was just in it for fun.
No, he’s in this fight because we’re friends. Brothers. Not of blood, but from a bond that went deeper than that.
When they left the station, they passed Victor. The guy threw a glare Drake’s way right before Victor headed into Detective Taggert’s little office.
Drake knew he wore a glare of his own. Your time will come, too.
Because he wasn’t done with that agent.
“Are you…are you sure you want to hear this?” Trace asked softly when they were back in Drake’s apartment above his casino. “Maybe I should just review things. I mean, if the shooting is on here—”
“You sound like Victor. Just play the damn thing.” Drake downed his second glass of whiskey. Noah was already on his third.
Trace tapped a few keys on the computer.
“This is the last sixty seconds of the recording. We should go back and hear it all to see—”
“Play it.”
Trace exhaled and hit another key.
“The Feds are coming for you, and you’re going away for a long time.” Jasmine’s voice. Only she didn’t sound scared. She sounded…satisfied. “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.”
“A ghost,” Noah said, voice rough, “still trying to drag us all into her hell.”
Not anymore, she wasn’t.
“I’ve got you.” Jasmine’s voice had dropped to a whisper.
“What?” That snarl was Maxwell’s.
“You didn’t even search me when they brought me in. Just tied me up…and talked your mouth off.”
Drake stiffened as he started to realize what was happening.
There was a gasp, the sound of something tearing—what the hell?—then…
“Surprise,” Jasmine said.
Drake couldn’t move.
Trace’s lips curved the faintest bit. “I’ll be damned. I thought it might be her…inside man…”
“No!” Rage thundered in Maxwell’s voice. “No, this isn’t how it ends for me! Shoot her…Right in the heart. Kill her and then get your ass out of here.”
Drake took a step toward the computer. “Who is he giving that order to?”
In the next instant, Drake had his answer as Jasmine said, “Saxon, Saxon, don’t…”
Then the man replied, softly, sadly, “I’m sorry, Jazz.”
The gunshot made Drake jerk.
“Right to the heart.” Saxon’s voice. Flat. Cold.
“Good…now let’s get the hell out of here! Come on!” Maxwell’s footsteps thundered away.
Only…it sounded as if he were the only one to leave.
Silence.
Then… “Jazz?” That was Saxon’s whisper.
Drake’s gaze flew to Trace.
“Jazz, we don’t have much time. You okay?”
Drake couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move.
“I’ll be fine…once you get me out of these ropes.”
“Sweet hell,” Noah whispered. “The bullet didn’t kill her!”
The recording stopped.
“Did the fire kill her?” Noah wanted to know. “Shit, it did. They found her remains, and—”
Trace shook his head. “That FBI agent is protecting his informant”
Drake sucked in a deep breath. “She’s still alive.”
Trace held his gaze. “She could be. There’s only one person who can tell us if Jasmine got out of that fire…”
FBI Special Agent Victor Monroe.
Hope burned in Drake, melting through the ice. “Let’s make him talk.”
“If she is alive, he’s not just going to give up that information.” Trace tapped his fingers against the desk. “We’ll have to be careful.”
“Screw careful,” Drake retorted as his heart thundered I his chest. “I want her back.”
“Will I get a funeral?” Jasmine asked because she was curious about that.
Saxon grunted. “I don’t think I had one.”
Sighing, she turned to face him. Saxon had been her constant—and only—companion for the last week. He’d hustled her out of New Orleans before she could blink, and now they were holed up in a cabin nestled in the Smoky Mountains.
The view was phenomenal. Almost like touching heaven.
And the ache in her heart? It wouldn’t go away.
Her hand lifted to her side. Her stitches were gone now. Everything about her past was supposed to be gone. If only it were easy to shove away the memories.
“Have you been crying again?” Saxon demanded, his voice sharp. He always got pissed when she cried.
Ah, Saxon. Friend. Protector…Annoyance.
“Because that dick isn’t worth your tears. Archer is a player, not someone you can count on.”
She had been crying. She cried those stupid tears every night when the lights were out.
A car’s engine rumbled in the distance. She looked out of the window and saw the flash of headlights pushing up the mountain toward them. Finally. “Victor’s coming.” He’d said that he would come for her when it was safe. She and Saxon hadn’t been the only ones to escape that blaze.
Of course, Maxwell had known how to get out. It had been his fire, after all.
The headlights came closer. They knew the driver was Victor—and not some lost tourist—because he’d called them moments before. They waited together as his pick-up pulled into the narrow drive.
Saxon headed out to meet Victor, but Jasmine stayed inside. Goosebumps were on her arms. This was it. Victor would tell her about the new life she was slated to begin.
The past was over. Gone.
Forget it…forget him.
Victor had a cast on when he came inside, but he didn’t let the cast slow him. He moved easily, fluidly, barely using his one crutch. When the door shut behind him and Saxon, Victor glanced her way and a wide smile curled his lips. “Hey, Jazz…love that new look.”
The shorter hair. The blonde hair.
He opened his arms and she hurried toward him, giving him a hug because Victor wasn’t just her FBI handler.
He was her friend.
He and Saxon were the closest things to family that she had.
She’d met Saxon first, when she was seventeen and so scared. Saxon had been on the streets, too. But he’d made his living fighting—brutal and hard bouts in boxing rings that shouldn’t have existed. No rules…just blood. Victor had been his opponent in one of those fights. They’d both wound up nearly broken, nearly dead in that battle. And Jasmine had been the one to patch them both up.
No one else had cared when the fight was over. Folks had collected their winnings and left the two broken warriors behind.
She’d stitched them both up. Taken care of them.
Over the years, they’d taken care of her, too.
Victor had gone into law enforcement. That move had stunned the hell out of her. And then Saxon…he’d followed the guy. Only while Victor played the straight and narrow, Saxon had sought the undercover missions. He’d wanted an up-close dose of danger and adrenaline.
He’d gotten those doses. With interest.
And…somehow…Jasmine had found herself following them. Working odd jobs for the government. Getting pulled into their web.
Until she’d been in so deep that there hadn’t been any chance of going back.
Victor hugged her so tightly that the breath nearly left her body. “You’ve got some serious explaining to do,” he growled the words against her ear. Victor’s body was rock hard against her.
He was a big guy. Strong and tough, and she’d once even had a crush on him. Back when she’d been eighteen.
Now…now all she could think about was Drake.
Victor eased away from her a bit. “You had a brother you never told us about?”
“What?” Saxon half-shouted.
Jasmine shook her head.
Victor curled his hand under her chin. “And before you even get the urge to lie, let me stop you. I heard it from Archer. When that building started blazing, the man went crazy. Told Noah York that they had to get you out…cause you were the guy’s sister.”
Saxon pulled her away from Victor. “Is that true? You’ve got a brother?”
This hurt so badly. “Jasmine Bennett had a brother. One that her mom put up for adoption. I’m not Jasmine. She’s dead, right? I heard she died in a New Orleans fire.” Her breath rushed out. “I’m Elizabeth. Elizabeth Farrow.” That was the name on the ID she’d been given by Saxon. New name. New life.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Victor asked her.
“Uh, you mean why didn’t she tell…us?” Saxon threw out. “Dammit, Jazz, you’re supposed to share shit like this!”
They acted as if it were easy. “You’ve spent the last five years undercover, Saxon. In and out of nightmares. And, you, Victor…you do things that I don’t…I don’t always even want to know about.” The monsters he hunted terrified her.
“Jazz…” Saxon began, his deep voice close to a growl.
“Elizabeth,” she correctly softly.
“Drop the BS,” Victor ordered her. Of the two men, Victor was the one usually snapping orders. Saxon was the one who usually went off and did whatever the hell he wanted. “Why didn’t you really tell us? If that guy was your brother, I would’ve—”
“Done everything to put us together.” Fine. She’d say the truth. They knew all her secrets, anyway. “I didn’t want him to know about me, all right? He had his own life. He didn’t need me and the tangled mess that I carry.”
Victor’s gaze held hers. “I like your mess.”
“So do I,” Saxon immediately added.
“Yes, well…” Dammit, she was getting teary again. “That’s behind me now. Elizabeth is a good girl—”
Saxon coughed.
“She’s a programmer. She has no criminal past. She doesn’t have killers chasing her—”
Victor glanced away. Oh, no.
“She doesn’t have killers chasing her,” Jasmine said again.
He sighed. “We haven’t found him yet. Maxwell’s gone to ground, and I don’t know how the hell he’s managing to avoid our agents.”
She backed away from him.
“We’re going to find him,” he rushed to reassure her. “It’s just a matter of time.”
Jasmine nodded even as fear twisted inside of her. She headed back toward the window. Stars were shining overhead. So many stars.
“But Maxwell Case isn’t our only problem,” Victor’s voice flowed behind her. “Drake Archer is proving to be difficult.”
“Like I didn’t see that one coming,” Saxon muttered.
Jasmine rubbed her chilled arms and stared out into the night. They were isolated out there. No other cars were on the long, winding road leading to their cabin. They had the perfect vantage point to watch and guard their position.
“The guy’s acting obsessed. What the hell did you do to him Jasmine?”
She bristled at that. “Nothing.”
“Really? Cause I’ve got my bosses breathing down my neck about you. Archer is demanding to see your remains. Your remains! I don’t think he’s buying your death, and the more he pokes around, the harder this situation is to contain.”
