by Cynthia Eden
A private dance.
Jasmine’s gaze slid to the left. Another brightly lit doorway. Another woman beckoning for a dance.
It wasn’t just the drinks that were flowing on Bourbon Street.
Jasmine stared at those women, and her own past stared back at her.
Mama’s tired tonight, and he…he likes you, baby. Why don’t you help me out? Just do a little dance for him. Come on…he’ll pay you.
Jasmine turned away from those women and she began to shove her way through the crowd. It had been the perfect place to hide earlier, but now, now this place was suffocating her. Too many bodies. Too many hands brushing against her.
Too many memories that she could never forget.
“Hey, where’s the rush?” A man was in front of her. Blond hair, just like Drake’s, big with stretching shoulders. Only…he wasn’t Drake.
Drake was gone. No protection. No hope.
“I’ve got a date,” she muttered as she tried to step around him.
But he stepped with her. “I can be your date.” He had an overflowing drink in his hand, and under the streetlights, his eyes gleamed. “I can be anything you want me to be.”
I want you to be out of my way. She bit those words back and gave him a weak smile. “Not gonna happen tonight, handsome. I’m taken.”
He shrugged and eased aside, moving off in search of new prey.
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.”
He shoved the gun into the waistband of his jeans. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“I was mostly thinking about survival.” She struggled to keep up with his fast pace.
“A gun? No bullets?”
“I’ve never used a gun before.” Wayne had been so right on that one. “I didn’t want to accidentally shoot myself.” She also hadn’t been prepared to shoot anyone else. Score another point for the bounty hunter. He seemed to know his prey pretty well.
“I don’t believe this.” Drake finally stopped the dragging and stalking routine. His hand dropped away from her.
They were in the darkness, no street lights around, so she couldn’t see his face, but Jasmine was sure she didn’t want to read his expression anyway. “I didn’t ask you to follow me. Why don’t you just wander right back over to Bourbon Street and forget all about me, okay? I can handle myself.”
“Doubtful.”
Jerk. “I’ve been doing it just fine for twenty-eight years,” she bit out.
“And you’ve got a bounty hunter on your tail! Him and an FBI Agent!”
Her breath huffed out in surprise. Was he talking about Victor Monroe? “Wh-what FBI Agent?”
“The one who is chomping at the bit to get you into custody. The way I see it, I’m the only thing standing between you and two very bad spots.”
Wayne.
The FBI.
“You don’t know what’s happening.” She inched away from him.
“Then why don’t you explain things to me.”
“You left me.” Wow, okay, that was a lot of rage cracking there. She hadn’t meant to say— “You said you’d keep me safe, and at the first opportunity, you walked away without a backwards glance. I trusted you!”
She had not meant to say any of that. Not a word. How had all of that just erupted out of her mouth?
Jasmine snapped her lips closed.
Drake just stared down at her.
“Leave me alone,” Jasmine ordered as she started to brush by him.
His fingers caught her wrist. “Or what? You’ll count to five and pretend to shoot me?”
So he’d heard all that? He’d been in the shadows, silent and watchful, while she’d been terrified? Jasmine tried to yank her wrist from him. “This isn’t funny! It’s not a game. It’s my life—”
He pulled her flush against him. “I know it’s no game. The people in that casino that your lover tried to bomb—they matter to me.”
Her lover? “He’s not.”
“What?”
“He’s not my lover, okay? I don’t know what you think you know or what you’ve heard, but he isn’t.”
“Right. Like I’m supposed to believe your lies. You screwed me. You screwed him—”
“Stop it.” Her voice was flat and cold.
And…Drake stepped away.
“Don’t you stand there and judge me. Don’t ever say things like that to me again, do you understand?” That rage was back, and she didn’t care that she was on a street corner in the Big Easy. She didn’t care that a bounty hunter and an FBI agent could both be hunting her.
Her pride was too brittle. Her pain too strong.
“I wanted to be with you. You gave me pleasure, and I-I thought I gave you the same thing.” His hands lifted as if he’d touch her again. She couldn’t let him do that. Jasmine jumped away from Drake. “Then you turned your back on me as if I were nothing. You wouldn’t even talk to me.”
“Jasmine…”
“My sex life is my own. I don’t judge you. Don’t question you. And you have no right to throw accusations at me.” She turned away from him, her shoulders hunching. “And you have no right,” now her voice was hoarse, “to make me feel like I’m a whore—”
“No!”
She tried to draw in a shuddering breath but she couldn’t because he had his hands on her. He’d spun her around to face him. “You’re not a whore, and I’m sorry…” His words roughened. “I’m so sorry I made you feel that way. You touched me, got to me too deep, and I struck out at you.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled Jasmine against his chest. She could feel the frantic rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her ear. “You were too close, and I was an idiot for trying to push you away.”
Stupid hope started to grow in her chest. No one…no one had ever said anything like that to her before. You were too close. He spoke as if she mattered to him, and he sounded so sincere.
Believe him. That was the voice of the desperate girl she’d been, so long ago. The one who’d imagined that people could be good. That life wasn’t always about the darkness she saw all around her every single day.
She’d imagined that men could love. It wasn’t always just about buying pleasure for a night.
“I want you to come back with me.”
Such beautiful, tempting words. But… “I can’t…”
“Jasmine, come back with me. Please.”Ah, that strangled word was lovely, but he didn’t understand.
“I made a mistake. I-I called Maxwell from your house. He would’ve had your address already,” she said, rushing out those words but they didn’t exactly alleviate her guilt. “But already he knew that I was there, with you.” He would’ve already known the exact location of that house. “He said he was coming after me.”
“Let him come. I want to face the bastard.”
“No, you don’t.” Drake was tough, sure, and he’d done his time in the military, but the guy wasn’t on Maxwell’s twisted level—Maxwell had no conscience. He would hurt anyone who got in his way. “He sent Wayne after me, and Maxwell won’t be far behind.” She should pull out of his arms. She didn’t. “I have to go so that Maxwell will follow me.”
He eased away. Just enough to stare down at her in the darkness. “You think that if you leave, he won’t come after me? That he’ll focus just on you?”
No, she thought he’d still go after Drake, but she had a plan.
“I should’ve kept that bounty hunter,” Drake said, the words low and hard. “Made him talk.”
She shivered.
Drake shook his head. “Wait. What the hell am I doing? I know better. We can’t just stay out here.” And he was back to pulling her down the street. Or rather, he pulled her back to Canal Street and she was sure grateful to see the bright lights and cars again. Drake opened the door of a Porsche for her, one that had been parked near the edge of the street.
Another Porsche?
Before she could question the man’s choice of cars, he was driving away with her.
And she just let him do it.
The city passed in a blur and she pounded her head against the seat rest.
She felt his eyes sweep over her. “Want to tell me what that’s about?”
That? Her head-pounding routine? “I shouldn’t be trusting you.”
“Why?”
That point should be obvious. “Because you’ll hurt me again.”
They stopped at a red light. Jasmine looked toward Drake, and she saw his fingers tighten around the steering wheel.
“You get to me,” she confessed. That was the whole reason she was in the car with him right then and not running like mad down the streets of New Orleans. “You make me feel…feel in ways I haven’t before.”
His head turned. He held her gaze.
“You were looking for me.” It hadn’t just been a walk on the wild side of Bourbon Street.
Drake nodded.
“Why?” So much depended on what he had to say. Her fingers curved around the handle of the door. She could jump out. Flee fast right then and get on the trolley.
“Because I need you.”
Jasmine’s breath left her in a rush.
A car horn sounded behind them.
“Don’t take me back to your house in the Quarter. He’ll just have eyes there.” Maxwell would have eyes everywhere.
“Don’t worry, princess,” Drake said as he drove them forward. “From here on out, I’ve got you.”
***
“She’s here,” Wayne said into his phone as he hurried down the New Orleans’
street. “But Archer is still sticking to her like glue—”
“And you didn’t think to pull her away from him?”
Wayne glanced to the left. To the right. The street looked deserted. “The bastard is tough. I’m just biding my time until I can attack.”
“No, you’re being a coward. And your services—they’re rather disappointing.”
Lights flashed on then. Bright and blinding. Lights from a car that shouldn’t have been so close.
If I’m watching Jasmine…who does he have on me? That thought rushed through his mind once more. Too late, this time.
“No…” Wayne whispered.
“Disappointing and no longer needed. And…by the way…”
The car was accelerating toward him. Wayne tried to run.
He had to make it across the street. Maybe he could break down the door of that old voodoo shop and—
The car didn’t hit him.
Bullets did.
And then Wayne hit the pavement.
Chapter Seven
When she walked through the casino, she could hear the slot machines, playing like music. No, playing over the music that filled the Masquerade. She spun around, her gaze caught by the glitter and glamour all around her. The casino was decorated in Mardi Gras style, with purple, gold, and green colors featured prominently. Large masks hung on the walls, masks that seemed to watch the casino-goers with glee.