“I need background intel.”

And Trace was the best in the business at gathering intel. Investigation was Trace’s business. Weston Securities was the most respected security firm in the U.S., thanks to Trace.

Drake, Trace and Noah had formed a private company of their own after they’d left the military. They knew how to get in and out of every hotspot on earth, and they’d used their special talents to their advantage. They’d retrieved wealthy businessmen and women who’d found themselves in some very serious and deadly situations…for a hefty fee.

After a while of earning as much cash as they could, Trace had decided to expand the business—he’d hired new teams. Developed Weston Securities. Noah had turned his attention to growing a hotel empire, and Drake…

Life’s a gamble. His philosophy, and the reason he’d opened his first casino with his share of the security profits.

“Drake…who do you want me to investigate? What dumb bastard has pissed you off now?”

Drake’s gaze slid toward the dark hallway. He didn’t hear a sound coming from the bedroom. Was Jasmine awake?

“It’s not like that,” he heard himself say. “I just need…I need background on a woman with the name of Jasmine Bennett. She’s from Texas, about twenty-eight years old. Red hair, brown eyes. Her eyes have a little gold in them and—”

It sounded like Trace was choking. “Her eyes have what in them?”

Asshole. Drake growled, “She’s five foot six,” without those sexy shoes to bump her up. “And the woman probably weighs about one thirty-five. She’s got a knife scar above her left hip,” and now one above her right. “I want to know everything you can find on her.”

“This business or is this personal?”

“It’s both,” he said as he turned to type in his security code on the control panel.

Silence, then… “Where is Ms. Bennett right now?”

“My bed.”

“Ah…then you probably should’ve gone for the background check first.”

He had to unclench his jaw. “Just get me the intel.”

“I’ll work it personally,” Trace promised him. “But man, just…be careful okay. Last time—”

“I know exactly what happened last time, and I’m not ever going to make that mistake again.”

“I just don’t want you hurt.” Trace’s voice was lower now.

Drake laughed. “Don’t worry about that. She doesn’t matter enough to hurt me. None of them do.”

The floor creaked, and he looked up—and right into Jasmine’s dark eyes. She stood in the hallway, her hand pressed to the wall.

“Get me that information as soon as you can.” Drake ended the call and marched toward Jasmine. “You should still be in bed.”

She gave a little shrug. “I…um, I figured since I was all stitched up, I should probably get out of your way now.”

Bullshit. She was trying to run again. “I told you to stay in my bed.”

Her brows rose. “Your bed? That was your room?” She shook her head. “I didn’t see any pictures or—”

“Because I don’t put fucking pictures all over my room. I sleep there. I screw there. And I move on.”

She backed up a step.

“You don’t leave until you tell me everything I need to know.” Actually, she didn’t leave until Trace gave him the intel he wanted. Drake didn’t trust her not to lie. He didn’t trust her at all.

His gaze slid over her. She’d put her bloody shirt back on. That wasn’t going to do. And there were dark shadows under her eyes.

“Come on…” He took her arm.

She didn’t move. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because you wanted to take something from me.” He stared into her eyes. They did have fucking flecks of gold. He’d just been stating a fact when he told Trace that detail. Asshole. Drake had wanted to be thorough. How was that wrong? “No one takes from me.”

“Are you going to hand me over to the cops?”

No, he wasn’t handing her over to anyone. He shook his head as she began to walk down the hallway with him.

When they were back in his room, she hesitated near the bed.

“Take off the shirt,” Drake told her flatly. The woman couldn’t sleep in a blood-soaked shirt.

He caught the fast sound of her indrawn breath. “But…that GQ doctor said—”

“I’m not fucking you tonight, Jasmine.” Tomorrow night? Maybe. He went to this closet. Came back out with one of his shirts. “Put this on.”

Her fingers reached for the offered shirt. Brushed against his. An electric current seemed to shoot right through his hand.

He’d felt attraction before. Plenty of times. After all, the world was full of beautiful women, and he could certainly appreciate beauty. But this was different.

He looked at her, and he ached.

He touched her, and he craved.

“Turn around,” Jasmine told him.

He didn’t. He did raise his brows. “I’ve seen you without a shirt before.”

Her lips thinned. “Turn. Around.”

Pity. He turned. Heard the soft rustle of clothing behind him.

“Okay.” Her voice was hesitant.

He looked back. She had on his shirt, and it swallowed her. It also made her look delicate, vulnerable. Sexy. “You still have on the pants.”

Her eyes widened as she glanced down at herself.

“You can’t sleep in them. Finish stripping, then get in bed.” He motioned to said bed.

“You expect me to sleep with you?”

He folded his arms over his chest. This shouldn’t be so hard to explain. The woman obviously had issues following orders. “I expect you to get in bed before you collapse.”

She bit her lower lip.

Shit. Shit, shit. He wanted a bite.

“I don’t understand you,” Jasmine murmured. “If you want answers…”

“I don’t want a fainting woman on my floor, and princess, I’m dead on my feet, too. We’re crashing. Everything else can just wait until the sun comes up.”

Her gaze slid to the king-sized bed. “I’m just supposed to trust that I can sleep here, safely?”

“No.”

Her dark stare snapped right back to him.

“You shouldn’t trust me, because I sure don’t trust you.” But he’d give her tonight—or what was left of the night. Because he could still see the image of a needle sliding into her delicate flesh. “Rest.” The order came out hard and gruff as he headed for the door.

“Thank you.”

Her soft words stopped him at the threshold. “What was I supposed to do? Walk away and just let you keep bleeding out in the alley?”

“It’s not like that hasn’t happened before.”

He grabbed the door frame. Held it too tightly. It won’t happen again.

“I’ll find a way to repay you,” Jasmine promised. “I always repay my debts.”

He spared her a brief glance. “Good…because I always collect on the debts owed to me.” He figured that she deserved that warning.

Then, because the bed behind her looked too good—no, she looked too good, wearing his shirt, waiting by his bed, Drake left her. He shut the door firmly, and headed down the hallway. Even though he was bone weary, Drake knew sleep wasn’t going to come easily for him.

It never did. The dead haunted him too much.

***

“You seem to be missing someone…”

Wayne tensed when he saw his boss stride toward him. The dawn Vegas sky was streaked with lines of red and gold. They were meeting in the middle of nowhere, a spot that his GPS hadn’t been able to find, and Wayne was nervous as all hell.

This place is too much like a body dump site.

No one would find remains out here in the desert. If the animals left any remains.

“Jasmine Bennett was supposed to be with you.”

Wayne didn’t try to hide the truth. He knew better than to lie to this man. “She’s with Drake Archer.”

He expected fury. He expected the boss to take out a gun and shoot him right there. According to the stories he’d heard, the guy had done that before. Wayne tried to brace for impact.

Instead, the man smiled. “Is she now?”

Wayne nodded. Sweat drenched his forehead.

“Good. Then keep an eye on her until she leaves him, and when she does…bring her in to me.”

What?

The guy turned on his heel and headed back toward the limo that waited for him.

“That’s it?” Wayne called after the man. “You’re not—you’re not angry?”

The boss stopped. “Why would I be angry? I told Jasmine to get close to Archer. Seems like she’s done her job very well.”

He was so lost. “But…but my job was to bring her in. You hired me—”

“Your job was to make sure she didn’t run from me. She’s not running…not yet. She’s doing exactly as I ordered.” He turned his head. The sky was on fire behind him. “You’re my security, in case Jasmine tries to go soft on this one.”

Soft? The report he’d read on the woman sure didn’t indicate any “soft” tendencies.

“Jasmine is important to me. I don’t want to lose her talents.”

Oh, damn. Talk about misreading a situation. When he was hired to tail someone, it was usually because that someone had screwed up.

Only I’m the one who screwed up this one. He should’ve asked more questions, instead of just taking the money.

But he liked money.

“You don’t want Jasmine hurt?” Wayne asked carefully. There was, ahem, no need to mention that she’d already been hurt. The boss didn’t need to know about the little knife incident. He hadn’t meant to slice her.

Okay, he had.

“I don’t want to lose her,” the boss said again, but then his face hardened. “But I would see her dead before I’d let her betray me.”

And that’s where I come in. “That’s why you hired me. In case she turns on you.” It would have been helpful to know this earlier.

“You’re a hunter. She’s your prey…the instant she runs.”

He realized the truth. “You thought she’d run last night!” No wonder he’d gotten the call to close in. He’d thought the order meant he needed to detain Jasmine, but—

“Jasmine has a…special connection with Archer. I was worried it might prove to be a weakness for her. I sent you after her because if she wasn’t doing her part, I wanted her brought to me.” The boss waved his hand. “She’s not here…so she’s still in play.”

Wayne had no clue what was going on. Above my pay grade.

“Jasmine had her orders. She’ll make contact with me in twenty-four hours, and if she doesn’t, then…well, everything will change for her. She won’t have my protection any longer—and she will feel the force of my fury.”

Wayne edged back a bit. He sure didn’t want any of the boss’s fury to be turned on him. I’m not telling him about the knife. What he doesn’t know…

“Better see about that nose,” the boss ordered with a wave of his hand. “I’ve heard Archer can throw a killer punch.”

The man truly had eyes and ears everywhere. But he doesn’t know I sliced, Jasmine. Not yet. Talk about a lucky break.

Wayne stood there, at that body dump site, frozen, until the boss vanished in his fancy limo.

If I’m the security to make sure Jasmine doesn’t screw him over…then who the hell is watching me?

Because the twist in his gut told Wayne that the boss was all about contingency plans. Screw him over…and you die.

Wayne hurried back to his car. He knew better than to screw over that man.

Chapter Four

“Rise and shine, princess…”

Jasmine’s eyes flew open and she jerked upright, a gasp shaking from her as her hands immediately flew out toward the rickety nightstand and the weapon that had better be there—

This isn’t my motel room.

Her hand slammed into a lamp and it went crashing to the floor.

“Interesting wake-up method you have there,” that deep, rumbling, very male voice told her.

Her gaze shot toward the doorway. Drake stood there, one sardonic blond brow lifted, a faint smirk quirking those sexy lips of his.

No, not sexy. They were hard. They were cruel. They were—

She focused on his eyes even as her hands snatched up the covers. “Did you ever think of knocking politely?”

“My house. My bedroom.” He shrugged. “Besides, it’s getting close to noon. I was afraid you were dead in here.”

Noon? She never slept to noon. Not ever.

“I’ve got some clothes for you.” He glanced down at the bag in his right hand. Wait, that was—

“My bag.” She scrambled from the bed, pulling the covers with her. She kept them around her, toga style, and Jasmine ignored the ache in her side.

“I had one of my men collect your things from that little motel.”

Did she look stupid? “You mean you told the guy to rifle through my stuff.”

He lifted the bag toward her. “I thought you might like some non-bloodstained clothes to wear. And some shoes. Guess I was wrong.”

She hurried across the room and grabbed the small duffel bag.

But he reached out before she could retreat from him, and his fingers wrapped around her wrist. “You keep a gun in your nightstand drawer.”