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Ace strode toward the museum’s entrance. As he neared the massive doors, someone opened the door and slipped through it.
That someone was Jasmine.
What the hell was she up to? If she’d stolen the scroll, he had to get it back. If he didn’t, the museum would hold Hank’s team responsible for the theft, especially considering they were the security team.
The copper scroll was a national treasure. If he didn’t get it back, it could cause an international incident as well as delay film production.
Ace slipped out of the museum and paused to locate the thief.
Dark hair flashed as Jasmine rounded the corner of a building across the street from the museum.
Ace had to wait for a delivery truck to pass in front of him before he could cross the road. As he waited, two large men dressed in black entered the side street, heading in the same direction as Jasmine.
Once the delivery truck passed, Ace crossed the street and broke into a jog, hurrying toward the street Jasmine had turned onto.
As Ace reached the corner of the building, he heard a woman shout, “No!”
He turned onto the street.
A block away, the two men in black had Jasmine by her arms. She fought like a wildcat, kicking, twisting, and struggling while holding onto the satchel looped over her neck and shoulder. One man ripped the scarf from her head and reached for the satchel’s strap.
“Hey!” Ace yelled, racing toward the men.
Jasmine used the distraction to twist and kick the man on her right in the groin. When he doubled over, she brought her knee up, slamming it into his face.
The injured man released her arm.
Jasmine turned to the other man, but not soon enough. He backhanded her on the side of her face hard enough to send her flying.
As she fell backward, the man grabbed the satchel and yanked, pulling it over her head as she fell hard against the wall of a building.
Clutching the satchel like a football, the man ran. His partner staggered to his feet and followed.
Ace would have gone after them but was more concerned about Jasmine.
The men ran to the end of the street. A car pulled up, they dove in, and, in seconds, they were gone.
Jasmine lay against the wall, her eyes closed, a red mark on her cheek where the man had hit her.
Anger burned in Ace’s gut. He wanted to go after the men and beat the shit out of them. But he couldn’t leave this injured woman lying in the street.
He knelt beside her and touched her shoulder. “Jasmine.”
Jasmine moaned, blinked her eyes open and stared up into his face, her brow furrowing. “Ace? What—” She glanced around, her frown deepening. “Where am I?” She met his gaze again. “Is it really you?”
His lips turned up on the corners. “Yes, it’s me. You’re in Jordan.” His brow dipped. “You were attacked.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose. “What happened?”
“Two men attacked you,” he said.
“Two men...” She shook her head slowly. “Jordan...” Then her eyes widened, and she looked around frantically. “My satchel! Where is my satchel?”
“The men who hurt you took it.”
She struggled to get to her feet. “Where did they go? I have to get it back.” As she stood, she swayed.
Ace slipped an arm around her narrow waist. “They’re gone.”
