by Cynthia Eden
His eyes gleamed. “Not even close.” Then he shut the door and vanished.
Jasmine didn’t move. The alarm stopped after a few more tense seconds, and then she heard nothing. Nothing but her own drumming heartbeat, anyway.
How long would Drake be gone? And he truly expected her to just sit and wait for him like a good little girl?
Poor guy. He didn’t realize that she’d never been good. Not really.
Turning, she let her gaze sweep over the room. Leather couch. Bar. And…
His desk. His computer.
Because this place wasn’t just a private lounge. It was his inner sanctuary at the Arrow.
Jasmine sidled toward that desk. Her avid stare skimmed over its surface. Then she reached down and opened the top drawer. Business papers were inside. Spreadsheets. Profit projections.
The second drawer contained some mail. One big, brown package had already been opened. She lifted that package. Let the contents spill into her hands.
But the only thing inside that package was a picture. Black and white. Drake was there…so were two other men. Men she recognized because they were famous and infamous.
Trace Weston, the man behind Weston Securities. Weston Securities was the biggest private security firm in the U.S. From the rumors she’d heard, Weston had plans to make his firm the biggest in the world.
The other man she recognized was Noah York, a hotel magnate who’d made headlines because he and his fiancée had both barely escaped death a few months before.
Only he wasn’t engaged any longer. Noah York was married now. She was staring at his wedding picture. Noah was in his tux, and his bride beamed at his side. A woman stood with Trace, too—a delicate ballerina type. Well, that fit since Jasmine knew that Skye Sullivan-Weston was a ballerina.
In that picture, there was no woman on Drake’s arm. He had a faint smile on his lips, not the wide grin that Noah sported.
A note was attached to the pic.
Thanks for being my best man. –N.
Her hand trembled a bit.
She pushed the photo back into the package. Shut the desk drawers. Then Jasmine sat behind Drake’s desk. She slipped her equipment from the little case she’d strapped to her ankle.
Drake had been wrong about her. Well, partially wrong. She wasn’t a jewel thief. Her business was information.
She stared at the computer. Getting to his computer had been the trick. The rest…it would be easy.
Jasmine knew that she just had to work fast.
Her gaze strayed to that second drawer once more.
Thanks for being my best man. –N.
Straightening her shoulders, Jasmine went to work.
***
“Smoke bombs?” Drake demanded in disgust as he watched the pink flumes—seriously, pink—drift just outside of the vault door. No one had breached the casino’s vault. The guards there had panicked when they saw the smoke. They’d been the ones to pull that alarm and get the whole security team mobilized.
“Looks like they were on a timer,” Chad Thatcher, Drake’s chief of security said as he lifted one of the little, pink smoke bombs. It wasn’t smoking anymore. “Real clever device…looks handmade.” The guy’s tone was admiring.
Drake didn’t exactly feel admiration. “Someone tried to break into my vault.”
Chad’s lips twisted as he eyed the three nervous guards who’d pulled the alarm. “Not with this thing. This is a prank. Not a threat.” Chad would know threats. Drake had recruited the man because of his diverse background. Swat Team leader. Undercover police officer. Bomb squad technician.
Yeah, Chad knew his bombs. Very well.
Chad tossed the little device lightly in his hands. “Someone was messing with you guys,” he told the flushing guards.
Drake looked around the room. The other security team members were all starting to relax. The core team had been called in—his strongest men and women, but other guards were still positioned throughout the casino. Just not as many as he normally had at the Arrow. “A distraction,” Drake realized as his gaze turned back to Chad.
Chad’s fingers closed around the device. The smile left his face. “No one is stealing your money,” Chad said. “We’re right here. No one is getting past us.”
Drake whirled away from him. Sexy jewel thief. “That’s because she’s busy stealing something else.” Dammit, he should have known better. A pretty face could hide the best lies.
He ran for the elevator. “Get a lockdown in place!” Drake shouted over his shoulder. “The redhead I took upstairs earlier—Jasmine—she doesn’t leave the premises.”
There was no way that woman was going to escape from him.
***
Jasmine backed away from the computer. She knew time was running out and she had to make her exit.
The thick carpeting swallowed the sounds of her footsteps. She reached for the door handle.
Only it didn’t turn beneath her hand.
Jasmine jerked it harder. No give at all. He locked me in? She hadn’t exactly counted on that part. And she was sure looking at a maximum lock, too, not the easy pick-me-in-a-moment variety.
Hell.
Drake’s image flashed before her mind. Stay here. We’re not done. Not even close.
The only window in that place overlooked the club. It wasn’t like she could jump through it.
Her fingers skimmed over the lock once more. She’d wrangled the invitation up to this room because she knew that guards watched the entrance to this private lounge. The only way up to the area was Drake’s elevator and once up there, she would’ve had to contend with the lock. If she’d stopped to work her wiles on the lock in order to gain entrance, a guard would’ve seen her.
But the guards are distracted, and I’m not on the outside. So she should be able to finesse that lock, no problem.
It was an electronic lock after all. She’d always had a knack for working electronics.
A few seconds later, the lock slid open. “Piece of cake,” Jasmine murmured as she slid her little packet of tools back into place on her ankle once more. Her fingers slipped around the door knob. The door opened with a soft click.
Jasmine grinned. She pulled open the door—and found herself staring right up into a pair of glinting green eyes. Very, very, angry green eyes.
“Going somewhere?” Drake drawled. Ah, there it was. The hint of the south, Mississippi if she wasn’t mistaken, rolled beneath those two words.
Her heartbeat sounded like a drum in her ears. “I was coming to find you.”
He smiled at her. She did not like that smile. Goosebumps rose onto her arms.
He stepped forward.
Jasmine fell back.
“There’s something you should know about me,” Drake said as he took another stalking step toward her.
Jasmine found herself retreating again even as her chin notched up.
Stupid move. She had to learn how to control that chin move.
He shut the door behind him. “I don’t like liars, Jasmine.”
I am so screwed. “Neither do I.”
“I fucking hate betrayal.”
Oh, crap.
His hands lifted. His hold was hard and tight as he grasped her shoulders and pulled her up against him. “Who the hell are you?”
“You’re scaring me.” Total truth there. A lot of Drake’s past had been shrouded in secrecy, and when she started searching online in order to learn more about him, she’d come across some strong government security measures. She could’ve hacked past the red tape, of course, but she hadn’t wanted to raise too many flags with Uncle Sam—or anyone else who might have been watching.
With his hold still tight on her, he pushed her back against the nearby wall. “Your name,” he gritted.
“Jasmine!” She gave it willingly enough, just as she had before. Her first name would mean nothing to him.
“Last name.”
“Bennett.” He had no reaction to her name. Awesome.
Fantastic. Now to get out…Jasmine shook her head. “What is happening here?” She huffed out a hard breath and tried to look properly insulted. “Because if this is your idea of seduction, buddy, then we are totally not compatible. I was thinking we’d enjoy a few hot hours…”
His hold loosened and she yanked away from him. Since her back was against the wall, though, there wasn’t exactly any place for her to go.
“But I never thought I’d have to deal with a psychotic episode.” Jasmine drew herself up, straightening her spine but not, not notching up her chin. “I want to leave now.”
One golden brow rose. “The cameras caught you.”
Liar. When she’d set her timers earlier, she’d made sure no cameras were close by. This wasn’t amateur hour. “Caught me doing what? Having a drink at the bar?” She lifted her hands before her, trying to appear innocent and confused. “Good for the cameras.” She tried to sidle around him.
But Drake’s hand flew out and he grabbed her wrist. “The cameras in here, princess.”
Her heart sank. She’d done a quick sweep for cameras in this room. There hadn’t exactly been time for a thorough search. She hadn’t seen any, so she’d hoped… Jasmine cleared her throat. “I don’t know what kind of joke you’re trying to pull here, but it’s not funny.” Maybe he was bluffing about the cameras, just to see her reaction. She’d keep playing the injured party a bit longer and see how that worked for her. If she could just get to the door…
Wait, does he have his security team waiting in that hallway? And if they weren’t in that narrow hallway, would they be waiting for her at the elevator?
It was just not her night.
She tried to break away from him again, but he moved in a flash. He twisted his body, twisted her, and in the next moment, Jasmine found herself pinned to the wall. He was in front of her, solid, unmovable, furious. He’d pushed her wrists back against the wall, and he glared down at her.
“I thought you might like things a little rough,” she tossed that out, hoping to distract him.
His pupils seemed to swallow the green of his eyes. “You have no idea.”
That response got right past her guard. Her mouth dropped open and—and his hands flew over her body.
“Stop!” Jasmine shouted at him. “You have no right to—”
Search her? Yes, dammit, that was exactly what he was doing. She recognized a pat-down when she felt one. She’d had her share of brushes with the law over the years. When you were on your own at fifteen, staying on the right side of the law wasn’t always an option.
She tried to shove his hands away.
It was like shoving away steel.
“So I poked around your desk,” she told him, getting a little desperate now. “I was curious about you, okay? I’m not curious anymore. Not even a little bit. I’ve learned from my mistakes. I am not—”
His hand stilled near her left ankle.
Hell.
He lifted the leg of her pants. She felt the pull of the strap that held her gear set in place.
Then he rose to his feet.
She tried to grab his hand.
Too late. He’d opened his prize. He stared down at the lock picking set.
She never left home without one of those.
There was a flash drive nestled beside the lock set, too. Make that three flash drives. Some wires. A very small screw driver.
Tools of her trade.
“Jasmine…” He sighed out her name as his gaze came back to her. “I think we have a problem.”
A muscle flexed in his jaw.
I fucking hate betrayal.
Her body trembled. He was a businessman, despite those somewhat shady governmental ties. He wasn’t just going to—to—
“You came to steal from me, and now you’re going to have to pay the price.”
“I didn’t steal from you!”
He laughed at that. His laugh was rough and angry and it sure didn’t alleviate any of the tension that she felt.
His face was locked in hard, furious lines. Rage glowed in his eyes. He looked scary as hell and—
Sexy, still.
What was with her and her stupid attraction to bad boys? Would she never learn that bad boys were considered “bad” for a reason?
“I didn’t steal,” Jasmine repeated. “Check the flash drives. Nothing is on them. I came up here to be with you, not to—”
“You’re saying you still want to fuck me?”
Jasmine licked her lips.
His gaze immediately fell to her mouth.
“Tempting…” And his head lowered. Before she could speak again, his mouth was on hers. Hot and hard. Not as controlled as before. Actually, there was no control now. The kiss was wild and rough, and if she’d thought her toes curled before, well—she nearly lost her shoes then.
Liquid heat spilled through her body. She wasn’t supposed to react to him that way. She wasn’t—
His head lifted. “Cause I can always fuck you before I call in the cops.”
Her eyes turned to slits at that.
“Now I’m wondering about the guy I tossed outside,” he nearly growled those words. “Maybe I was too hasty. Maybe I should’ve listened to just what the fellow had to say.”
Then the cops would already be here.
“Check the flash drives,” Jasmine said. Her voice was husky, but steady. “You’ll see the truth.”
His eyes held hers. “How do I know you haven’t hidden more drives…?” Now his gaze dropped to her body once more.
“Because you already searched me, jerk.” She shoved against him. Hard. Hard enough to send him stumbling back a step. Not because she’d gotten some super strength, but mostly because she was pretty sure the move had caught him by surprise.
How do I get out of here…how do I get…
He turned away from her. Stalked toward his desk. She didn’t move as he searched through the flash drives. Jasmine was too busy trying to figure out what story to give him.
She even considered the truth. Like he’d believe that.
His fingers rapped over the keys. “They’re empty. All of them.” He straightened.
She gave a firm nod. “Like I said. Now, as un-fun as this little night has been, it’s time for me to leave.”
His head tilted a bit as he studied her. “You think I’m going to let you get away?”
“I haven’t done anything to you. So I carry a lock picking set. Big deal.” She shrugged. “I don’t like to get locked out—”
He laughed at that. It wasn’t the hard laugh from before. It was more surprised, more real.
“I’ve taken nothing from you,” Jasmine said, knowing that she sounded like a broken record. He had no idea how much that non-theft was going to cost her. But she was trying to be good. It was a fairly new thing for her. “And I won’t steal anything, but I am leaving.” She turned, took some fast steps, and reached for the doorknob.
“You planted the smoke bombs.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She didn’t look back.
“You’re a thief…”
“I took nothing from you.” She had the door open and a quick peek showed her that—thank goodness—there wasn’t a whole security team waiting to drag her away in that little hallway.
She stepped over the threshold.
“I’m not just going to let you slip away.”
Try to stop me. “It’s better this way. Meeting you…it certainly was interesting.” Scary, too.
She marched forward. Her heels sank into the carpet. She thought he’d grab her again. He didn’t.
She didn’t break and run, though she sure wanted to do that. She walked away, real nice and slow, totally not like a thief running in the night.
Even though he was right. That was exactly what she was.
Probably all she’d ever be.
But I didn’t steal from him.
And she wasn’t even sure why she hadn’t.
Jasmine’s finge
rs reached out for the elevator. She’d memorized his security code when he typed it in earlier, so getting those doors to open wasn’t hard.
Now to just get out of here…
***
Even before Jasmine had left the room, Drake had a security team trailing her. “Watch her,” he barked into his phone. A few clicks of his computer had given him access to the club’s security footage. Her image was currently on his screen. He was following her, without stepping a single foot outside of his sanctuary.
Did the woman really think he’d just let her vanish? No, not happening.
But he had wanted privacy to view the video footage…and he’d also wanted to see just where her grand exit would take the lovely Jasmine. Maybe she would lead him straight to a partner that she had waiting in the wings…
“Keep a tail on her until I say otherwise,” Drake added. This wasn’t over. But he was willing to give the woman a false sense of security…the better to make her vulnerable for his attack.
Betrayal.
It burned like acid within him. He’d been betrayed too many times in the past. Another pretty face, another woman ready to wreck him.
Jasmine wasn’t running away. No blind flight for freedom from her. Instead, she was strolling slowly, appearing to take her sweet time as she left him.
He tapped on his keyboard again, accessing the security footage for this room. He rewound the images, determined to see exactly what Jasmine had been doing in his office. He wasn’t a fool—he’d deliberately started the recording as soon as he’d left his office. A quick tap on his phone had triggered the hidden camera.
Jasmine filled his computer screen. In that video, she walked toward his desk. She opened the drawers. Pulled out the package that his buddy Noah had sent to him. Stared at the photograph.
Her expression tightened as she stared at that image, and longing flashed in her eyes.
What the hell?
Jasmine put the photo and the package back in the drawer. She pulled out one of her flash drives. She pushed it into the computer.
She glanced back at the shut drawer.
She pulled the photo out for a second time.
Then she gave a hard, negative shake of her head.
She yanked out her flash drive. Didn’t access any of his files.
She didn’t steal from me.
