CHAPTER 6
JASMINE
Trembling, I watched the door close and turned to Kai, awkwardly twisting my bound hands to cover my face. “Oh my God, that was awful." My voice cracked on awful, and the word didn’t even begin to cover it. "I can’t believe you talked them into leaving us.”
My body buzzed with leftover adrenaline, my pulse racing like it hadn’t caught up to the fact that the men were gone. When Kai returned from the kitchen with a knife to cut my hands free, I thought I might throw up. Every nerve screamed that it wasn’t over—that the silence they left behind was only temporary, a storm crouching just beyond the horizon.
Kai still had panic in his eyes, his chest rising and falling like he’d sprinted home from the bar. “I had to do something or we’d be chum by morning.”
His words landed like an anchor in my gut. Chum. The image was too vivid—our bodies broken, tossed in the water like bait. The picture was so clear it made me gag.
“Thanks, that really helps my anxiety,” I snapped, my tone sharper than I meant. The fear was spilling out of me sideways, uncontrollable. I hugged my knees to my chest, shaking. Considering the only way this night could be worse was if we already had bullets in our heads, I supposed I should be grateful to just be sobbing with Kai. But gratitude was impossible. Gratitude required safety, and safety had just walked out with two guns and a promise to return.
It was still the worst moment of my life.
Granted, I’d thought I was dead nineteen times in the last hour, minimum. Every second had been its own death sentence. Time hadn’t passed normally—it had lurched, jagged, each heartbeat a countdown I couldn’t stop.
“Why were they here?” My voice pitched high, breathless. “I mean, I know you found the bale, but why do they think you stole it?”
Kai shoved a hand through his hair, gripping the back of his neck like it barely held him up. “Fuck if I know. Makes no sense at all if they watched my banking or anything. I clearly have not had hundreds of thousands of dollars moving through my accounts.”
The sharpness in his tone made me shrink, but it wasn’t aimed at me. He looked lost, his shoulders slumped, his hand still clutching his neck. For the first time since I’d met him, he didn’t look cocky or amused. He looked breakable.
“I don’t get the impression these guys were looking into your bank accounts.” My stomach clenched around the words. “But does drug money even end up in the bank? I don’t think so, right? I mean… isn’t the whole purpose of laundering? To keep it off the books?”
His head jerked toward me, eyes narrowed, like he couldn’t believe I was asking. “How would I know?” he snapped. “I don’t know shit about laundering money. Or dealing cocaine, for that matter.”
Heat rushed to my face. I crossed my arms, defensive even though I hadn’t meant it that way. “Okay, but they think you have their coke and have sold it for profit,” I pressed, needing the puzzle to make sense so it didn’t feel like we were just dangling in unbearable chaos. If I could put the pieces in a row, maybe I could survive this.
Kai let out a bitter scoff, shaking his head hard enough to make damp strands of hair cling to his forehead. “But I don’t and I haven’t. That’s why I suggested that we help them find their coke.”
“I understand.” I pressed my palms flat against my thighs to keep them from trembling. “But I honestly have no idea how to facilitate that.”
“Neither do I, really.” He gave a short, humorless laugh that chilled me more than silence. “It was the only idea that came to mind when he had the gun in my face.”
The words sucked the air out of me. For a moment, I was back there too—the gun, the zip ties, the reek of sweat and fear—just minutes ago. My heart pounded against my ribs. The memory was so strong it painted the walls darker, as though the goons’ shadows still lingered among us.
Kai's idea was a better one than I could’ve managed under that kind of pressure, but it only bought us time. “There’s like zero chance we’re actually going to find the stolen coke, right?” Henodded, looking defeated. “So, what then?” I pressed, as gently as I could.
His mouth tightened, his brows pulling together like storm clouds. “I think we have to beat them at their own game. I don’t know exactly how right now, but we have to figure out how to outsmart them.”
I stared at him, trying to catch my breath. “That doesn’t make me feel any better. I don’t like our odds.”
“I don’t like any of it.” His voice wavered. “I’m so sorry to get you involved in this.” He reached for my hand, his grip hesitant at first, then firmer as his fingers threaded through mine. His hand was warm, grounding, but his eyes were full of regret. “I was really looking forward to getting to know you better, but if you want me to take you home, I understand completely.”
The apology in his voice gutted me. My chest ached, torn between wanting to bolt and wanting to cling to him. The fear only accented the warmth curling through me at the way he held my hand.
He had been drinking for hours at the bar, but he sounded sober now. Maybe sobered by fear.
“It’s not worth the risk of a DUI,” I said softly, shaking my head. “We should probably avoid cops at all costs.” My throat tightened as I added, “Besides, the last thing I want is to be alone and afraid.”
“Right, no cops,” Kai said, biting his lip and shaking his head slowly. His expression twisted, frustration layered over exhaustion. “Sucks because the Sheriff is like an uncle to me, and my brother, Coulter, is dating one of his best detectives.”
The irony stung like salt in an open cut. I let out a weak laugh that turned into a sigh. “How are we supposed to find the drugs without letting on that the smuggler is shaking us down?”
“You’re a bartender,” he said with a shrug that was too casual, like he was forcing himself to play it off. “Ask anyone who looks like they might do coke if they know where to buy quantity. That’s what I was planning on doing.”
I blinked at him, stomach twisting. “Great.” The word dripped with sarcasm. Getting fired for soliciting large quantities of drugs from customers was better than a bullet to the head, but not by much. The thought alone made my throat dry—what the hell was I even doing here?
