Drake’s jaw locked.
“When her eyes opened, you were the first thing that she asked about. You.”
His chest ached.
“How many enemies do you have out there, Archer? Do you even know? How many of them would love to hurt you…by going after Jasmine? By going after the woman you love?”
“Too many to count.” Did the agent think he hadn’t realized this? He didn’t want Jasmine hurt. That was why he’d stayed with the FBI guards. Why he hadn’t gone back to the hospital, when every cell in his body was screaming for her.
He never wanted to see her bloody and in pain again.
“Shit. You didn’t deny it.” Victor shoved away from the table. “You were supposed to deny it!” His hands flew into the air.
Drake rose to his feet. “I won’t put her at risk again.” He’d been selfish. He could see that now. And though he felt like he was cutting out his own heart, Drake made himself say, “I won’t pull her back into my life.” He couldn’t—because he couldn’t put her at risk ever again.
He was more than obsessed. He was lost in her. And if he didn’t stay away, while he could, he knew that Jasmine would never be free of him.
Victor pointed at him. “You didn’t deny it!”
No, of course not. “It’s my fault she was hurt—”
“Loving her, you dick,” he gritted out. “You didn’t deny loving her.”
Why lie?
Victor swung away. Marched toward a wall. Banged his head against it.
What the hell?
“The holidays are gonna be a bitch,” Victor muttered as his shoulders slumped.
Weren’t they always? Especially since Drake spent them alone. “You’re sure she’s going to recover?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure. Jazz is a fighter, always has been.” He pushed away from the wall. “But you can’t see her now. The cases she was working, they aren’t closed, and I need her out of the public eye. I need her safe.”
He didn’t want to just see her. He wanted to hold her. To never let go.
“I thought I’d be able to protect her,” Drake said slowly. “I was wrong. I won’t be making that mistake again.”
Victor laughed. “Hell, yeah, you will. It just won’t be today.” He waved toward the door. “You’re free to go.”
Drake blinked. “Just like that?”
“Just like that. Sorry for the inconvenience for the last—um, forty-eight hours.”
Drake paced toward him.
Victor held up his hands. “She wouldn’t like it if you kicked my ass.”
Drake was so tempted…but Victor was right. “Make sure she has a good life.”
“Uh…”
“A perfect life, got it? No worries, no fears, not ever. You give her everything that she could possibly want because if I find out her life isn’t perfect, I will be back to kick the ever loving hell out of you.” He held Victor’s gaze to make sure that message was received, then he swung on his heel and headed for the door.
“I think she loves you, too.”
The thunder of Drake’s heartbeat filled his ears. “I’m not a good man to love. She’s better off without me.” For once, once, he’d put someone else first in his life. She deserved more than a damaged guy like him.
“I think so, too…” Victor’s murmur followed him from the room. “But I don’t know if Jasmine will buy that.”
Drake glanced back.
“Maybe we are alike,” Victor added, his expression turning thoughtful.
What?
“And if it were me, I wouldn’t be able to walk away from the woman I wanted more than life. Not without it ripping me apart.”
Drake glared at him. How the hell do you think I’m feeling right now?
“So let’s see how long this lasts…I’m betting when Jazz is free and clear, you’ll run her down and never let her go.”
“I want her happy.”
“Yeah, me, too. That’s why I’m telling you…treat her well, asshole, or you’ll find a knife at your back when you least expect it.”
That didn’t sound like a warning from an FBI Agent. Instead of leaving, Drake headed back into the little room. He waited until he was a foot away from Victor. Then he growled, “Keep her safe or that knife will wind up in your throat.”
Instead of looking intimidated, Victor laughed. “Damn straight.”
Drake glared at the fool. Then he left and with every step he took, he thought of Jasmine.
He had a feeling that she would always be in his mind. Always.
Chapter Sixteen
Drake wasn’t looking for trouble. He wanted oblivion. He grabbed his glass and downed the whiskey in one gulp. Below him, the crowd at his club was a writhing mass. Too many bodies. Heat. Lust. Laughter.
Once upon a time, he would have looked down there and found a woman to seduce. He’d have taken the pleasure to push away the numbness that seemed to fill his life.
Only he wasn’t numb any longer. He ached, he hurt, every minute of the day. Because she was gone.
He should have been able to move on. He’d done the right thing, the good thing, for once. Shouldn’t that have meant something?
Two months. Two long, hellish months had passed. He hadn’t touched another woman in that time. Drake didn’t want anyone else. Only her.
He didn’t even know where Jasmine was. Had the FBI given her a new life somewhere else? Was she still a blonde or was she back to that sexy red?
Did she ever think of him? Because sleeping or awake, she seemed to consume him. Dreams of her were driving him to the brink of sanity. It was getting so bad that he was actually starting to imagine he saw her…
His gaze raked the crowd and locked on the figure of a slim redhead. Her back was to him, and all he could see was the soft fall of her hair—and the black of her clothing. A form-fitting turtle neck and black pants.
And fuck-me heels.