Chapter 31
CHAPTER 31
J asmine clicked through photo after photo, her fingers cramping on the mouse, her eyes blurring as she scanned thousands of faces. Anna had filtered them down—women, aged thirty to fifty, all with potential terrorist ties—but the sheer volume felt endless.
She wouldn’t stop. She couldn’t. Somewhere in this sea of faces was the woman who might help them stop the attack.
Someone ordered pizza. The office smelled of melted cheese, but she could barely choke down a bite. Eating felt obscene when Ryan was out there—scared, alone, at the mercy of his kidnappers.
"You need to keep your strength up," Patrick murmured, setting a hand over hers.
She looked at his fingers, warm and steady. Somehow, he made her feel anchored. Less like she was floating around in a storm.
"I’m fine." She squeezed his hand, acknowledging the connection. "I just need to find her. If I can do that, maybe I can help stop this."
"That’s my girl," he said, approving.
Her heart flipped at the possessiveness in his tone.
Hours passed. Patrick was always on the phone, updates streaming in. Operators came and went, shifting out for rest. The room thinned out. The office settled into its night rhythm, the usual hum of activity dwindling to a skeleton crew. A caffeine-fueled comms officer had taken over from Anna, while an IT tech made the rounds. Blade had finally left, although he was still on call, leaving her and Patrick to their own restless exhaustion.
"You should get some sleep," Patrick said, coming out of his office.
"I can’t," she admitted, tearing her gaze away from the computer screen.
"You won’t be any good to anyone if you can’t keep your eyes open."
She arched a brow. "What about you?"
"I’m fine," he said stoically. "Besides, I can catch a few hours on the couch if I need to."
"Let me stay," she whispered. “I want to keep searching.”
He hesitated and she glimpsed the flicker in his eyes—the war between logic and whatever was growing between them.
"Okay," he said finally. "But make sure you take a break when you need to.”
She nodded, then turned back to the mugshots. Patrick went back to his office.
Some hours later, she had to admit defeat. Her eyes were closing, the faces swimming on the screen in front of her.
Standing up, she stretched and crossed the office to his door.
Patrick looked up from his laptop. The day had taken its toll on him too. Shadows darkened his eyes, and his stubble was longer now, more noticeable. He looked rugged, and devastatingly appealing.
"Any luck?"
She shook her head. "Not yet."
"Don’t worry. It was always going to be a long shot."
"I know. I just need to do something."
He studied her for a long moment, then nodded toward the couch. "Come on. You need to rest."
He closed the blinds that stretched across the glass windows, then pulled the couch out into a sofa bed. Grabbing a blanket from a cabinet, he then spread it over the mattress. "It’s not much, but it works."
She looked at him, at his wrinkled shirt, the open collar revealing dark hair at his chest, his five o’clock shadow, rough and rugged. Memories of the night before slammed into her. The way he’d touched her, the way he’d made her forget.
She needed that again.
Desperately.
Turning to face him, she whispered, "Kiss me."
He glanced at the door, still open. "Jasmine, I’m not sure?—"
"Please."
He hesitated, then slowly, walked over and closed the door, turning the latch to lock it. The office outside was still awake, people working, moving through the night, but here, inside this room, it was just them.
When he turned around, those jade-flecked eyes were calling to him.
In a couple of strides, he’d crossed the room and sealed his lips over hers. This wasn’t soft. It wasn’t careful. It was fire.
Raw. Unforgiving.
Like she was driven by a deeper need, and then he got it. She wanted, no, needed, the distraction. Needed him to help her feel something other than the anxiety that was currently consuming her. She bit his lip, impatient, and that was all it took.
With a low growl, he lifted her off the ground and pressed her against the wall, his body a solid weight against hers. Her legs locked around his waist, her fingers clawing into his hair, tugging, making him groan against her mouth.
His hands were everywhere—skimming up her sides, shoving under her blouse, palming her breasts through her bra. She arched, desperate for more, and he gave it to her, yanking the fabric aside and covering her nipple with his mouth.
She gasped, nails digging into his shoulders.
He knew she wanted him to dominated her body, make her feel something other than the terror. Stepping back, he dragged her with him, lowering them onto the makeshift bed. He ripped his shirt over his head, then undid her trousers, shoving them down. His underpants followed. In seconds, they were skin to skin, his hard body pressing her into the mattress.
"Is this what you want?" he rasped.
A groan. "Yes."
No hesitation. No second thoughts.
He positioned himself at her entrance, already wet for him. It drove him crazy with desire. Grabbing her hips, he thrust inside her in one hard stroke.
She gasped, clenching around him, her body arching at the sensation.
"Goddamn," he groaned, as he felt her heat.
She bucked against him, wanting more. Needing more.
He set a brutal pace, driving into her, his grip on her hips bruisingly tight. Gentle moans filled the office, her fingernails pressing into his back as her body met his every thrust. The sound of skin against skin, of desperate breaths and stifled groans, filled the air.
"Harder," she panted. “Don’t hold back.”
He growled, gripping her thighs and pushing them higher, hitting deeper, his control slipping.
Her release built fast and sharp, winding tighter, until she shattered, biting down on his shoulder to muffle her scream.
He wasn’t far behind. With a final thrust, he cursed, his body shuddering as he exploded inside her.
For a long moment, they just lay there, tangled, panting, hearts hammering.
Then reality crashed back.
Jasmine opened her eyes, meeting his gaze.
“Are you okay?” he murmured, suddenly worried he’d been too hard, pushed her too far.
“I’m fine,” she murmured, kissing him on the mouth. “Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me.” Jees, he’d do it again in a heartbeat. She was addictive, both strong and vulnerable at the same time. Brave, yet desperately in need of his help. A heady combo.
But at least for a little while, he hoped she’d been able to forget.