“I promise you, brother, if Zhutov has so much as breathed Jayne’s name, he will be stopped. You have to believe that.”
“After this is over, I have to let her go.” Those words were tough to say, especially now with the image of her building a life with another man. “I was wrong to think I could have her and the job.”
“People do dangerous jobs and still have lives. You can’t expect every cop, firefighter, military person and agent not to have families. Even if we don’t get married, there are still people in our lives who are important to us. The best thing you can do for Jayne is stick to her, tight.”
“You’re right.”
“Then why aren’t you smiling?” Donavan clapped him on the shoulder. “Want to talk about what else is chewing you up?”
“Not really.”
“Fair enough.”
And still he couldn’t stop from talking. “She just…gets to me.”
He remembered the way she’d called him on the carpet for teasing her on the ride home tonight, giving him hell for talking about that evening they saw La Bohème together. As if he knew that would turn her inside out the same way it did him. Damn, he’d missed that spark she possessed.
“That’s what women do. They burrow under your skin.” Donavan grinned. “Didn’t you get the memo?”
Conrad didn’t feel one damn bit like smiling. He stared down at his clenched fist, at his own bare ring finger. “She’s seeing someone else.”
“Damn,” Donavan growled. “That’s got to really bite. But it’s been three years since the two of you split. Did you really expect you would both stay celibate?”
Conrad looked out over the harbor, the sea stretching as far and dark as each day he’d spent apart from Jayne.
Troy straightened quickly. “Whoa, wait. Are you telling me you haven’t seen anyone else while you’ve been separated?”
Still, Conrad held his silence.
“But the tabloids…”
“They lie.” Conrad smiled wryly at his friend. “Didn’t you get the memo?”
Donavan stared back, not even bothering to disguise his total shock. “You haven’t been with anybody in three years?”
“I’m married.” He thumbed his empty ring finger. “A married man does not cheat. It’s dishonorable.”
Donavan scrubbed both hands over his face then shook his head as if to clear the shock away. “So let me get this straight… You haven’t seen your wife since she left you. Which means you haven’t had sex with anyone in three years?”
“You’re a damn genius.”
Donavan whistled softly. “You must be having some serious quality ‘alone time’ in the shower.”
Understatement of the year. Or rather, that would be three years. “Your sympathy for my pain is overwhelming.”
“Doesn’t sound like you need sympathy. Sounds like you need to get—”
“Thanks,” he interrupted, not even wanting to risk Donavan’s words putting images in his head. “I can handle my own life.”
“Because you’re doing such a bang-up job at it lately. But wait.” He thumped himself on the forehead. “Poor choice of words.”
Against his will, a smile tugged at Conrad’s face. “Really, Donovan. Don’t you have some geeky computer tech support work that needs your attention before we all leave?”
“You can call me a geek all night long, brother, but I’ll be sleeping next to a woman.” Donavan punched him in the arm.
Conrad lifted an eyebrow, but preferred the joking to sympathy any day of the week. Something his best friend undoubtedly understood. “Hit me again, and I’m going to beat the crap out of you.”
Donavan snagged his fedora from the lounger. “Everybody wants to beat the crap out of me today. What’s up with that?”
“Get out of here before I break you in half.”
“Because I feel very sorry for you, I’m just going to walk away.” He spun his hat on one finger. “But I’m taking a bottle of your Chivas with me so you won’t feel bad for scaring me off.”
“Jackass.”
“I feel the love, brother. I feel the love.” He opened the French doors and paused, half in, half out. “See you inside later?”
“Absolutely.” He nodded once. “And thank you.”
Donavan nodded back. No more words were needed.
His friend had helped him decompress enough to see clearly again. He needed to keep his eye on the goal now, to keep Jayne safe at all cost.
He might not be the man she deserved, but he was damn well the man she needed.
* * *
Jayne rolled her small bag out into the living room, having used the past couple of hours to change out of her evening gown and generally get her head together. If that was even possible after her world had been so deeply shaken in such a short time.
The sun hadn’t even risen yet.
If they hadn’t been interrupted, she would have been in Conrad’s bed now, completely unsuspecting of this.
She realized his secret had noble roots, a profession that brought justice, so different than her father’s secret life, his hidden second family with a mistress and two children. But the fact that she’d been duped so totally still hurt on a deep level. Trusting her heart and her life to Conrad had been very difficult.
How could she reconcile the fact that she hadn’t even begun to know the man she’d married? Walking away with any kind of peace when she’d thought she understood him was tough enough. But now with so much mystery surrounding Conrad and their life together, she felt like every bit of progress she’d made since leaving had been upended.
And with this possible threat lurking, she didn’t even have the luxury of distance to regain her footing.
The Donavans sat in the leather chairs, talking over glasses of seltzer water. She felt uncomfortable having Troy and Hillary pose as decoys for them. The thought of anybody in harm’s way because of her made her ill. But she hadn’t been given any say on the matter.
She also couldn’t help but note how seamlessly Hillary had been brought into the plan. Apparently not all Interpol operatives kept secrets from their spouses.
The stab of envy for that kind of compatibility wasn’t something she was proud of. But, damn it, why couldn’t she have found her way to that sort of comfort with her husband? What was wrong with her that Conrad had never even considered confiding in her?
Just as she rolled her bag the rest of the way in, Conrad stepped out of his suite. His normal dark and brooding style of clothes had been swapped out for something more in keeping with Troy’s metro style. She couldn’t take her eyes from the relaxed look of her husband in jeans and a jacket, collar open, face unshaved, his thick black hair spiked.
Troy looked back over the chair, water glass in hand. “Good timing. Salvatore should be done any minute now. He’s arranging the travel plans, complete with diversionary stories going out to the press.” He glanced over at his wife. “Did I forget anything?”
“Just this.” Carrying one of her husband’s hats, Hillary walked to Conrad. “You should wear this. And maybe slick back your hair a bit. Here…” She reached for her water glass. “Use some of this since you didn’t have time to shower.”
Troy choked on his drink.
Conrad glared at him.
Jayne wondered what in the world was wrong with both of them.
Her husband took the fedora from Hillary. “I’m good. Thanks. I’ll take good care of his hat.”
“Take good care of yourself while you’re at it,” Hillary said just as her husband looped an arm around her waist and hauled her to his side. “Yes?”
Troy held up his phone. “Text from Salvatore. Time to roll.”
With a hurried goodbye, Troy and Hillary stepped into the elevator, his head bent toward hers to listen to something. The two of them looked so right together, so in sync even in the middle of chaos.
Jealousy gripped Jayne in an unrelenting fist.
The doors slid closed and sh
e wished her feelings could be as easily sealed away. She turned back to her husband. “Where are we going?”
Conrad thumbed through his text message, Troy’s fedora under his arm. “To the jet.”
“And the jet would be going to…”
He looked up, his eyes piercing and closed off all at once. “Somewhere far away from here.”
His evasive answer set her teeth on edge. “Now that I know about your double life, you can drop the tall, dark and mysterious act.”
She yanked the fedora from under his arm, his jacket parting.
A shoulder holster held a silver handgun.
“Oh,” she gasped, knowing she shouldn’t be surprised, but still just… “Oh.”
He pulled his jacket back over the weapon. “The people I help nail don’t play nice. They are seriously dangerous. You can be as angry at me as you want, but you’ll have to trust me, just this once, and save your questions for the airplane. I promise I’ll tell you anything you want to know once we’re airborne. Agreed?”
Anything she wanted to know? That was one promise she couldn’t resist. Probably the very reason he’d said it, tossing irresistible temptation her way. But it was an offer she intended to press to the fullest.
She pulled out a silk scarf to wrap over her blond hair. “Lead the way.”
* * *
Once the chartered jet reached cruising altitude, Conrad took his first easy breath since he’d found Salvatore waiting for him in the penthouse. He was that much closer to having Jayne tucked away in the last place anyone would think to find either of them.
Jayne hadn’t moved her eyes off him since they’d left the penthouse. Even now she sat on the other side of the small table, tugging her silk scarf from hand to hand. He watched the glide of the deep purple fabric as it slid from side to side. Until now, he hadn’t realized she dressed in bolder colors these days. A simple thing and inconsequential, but yet another sign that she’d moved on since leaving him. She’d changed and he couldn’t go back to the way things were.
But back to the moment. Without a doubt, the boom was going to fall soon and he would have to answer her questions. He owed her that much and more. He reached for his coffee on the small table between them, a light breakfast set in front of them.
He wasn’t interested in food. Only Jayne. He could read her well and the second she set aside the scarf in her hands he knew. She was ready to talk.
“We’re airborne, and you owe me answers.” She drizzled honey into her tea. “Tell me where we’re going.”
“Africa.”
Freezing midsip, she stared at him over the top of her cup. “Just when I think you can’t surprise me. Are we staying somewhere like the island resort where we planned to spend our first anniversary?”
“No.” He couldn’t miss the subtle reminder of when he’d bailed on their first anniversary retreat in Seychelles. Without a doubt, he owed her for all the times he’d shortchanged her in the past. He raised the window shade, the first morning rays streaking through the clouds. “We’re going to West Africa. I have a house there.”
“Another thing I didn’t know about you.” Her voice dripped with frustration as thick as the extra honey she spooned into her tea. “Do you mean something like a safari resort?”
“Something like that, nothing to do with business, though.” She would see for herself soon enough, and he had to admit, he wanted to see her reaction without prior warning. “I purchased the property just before we split. A case led me to… It doesn’t matter. You’re right. I should have told you about an acquisition that large.”
“If it’s your home, can’t we be found there?”
“The property was purchased under a corporate name, nothing anyone would connect with me. There’s not much point in a retreat if the paparazzi can find you.”
“Well, if the press hasn’t found out about it, then the place must be secure.” She half smiled. “So do we plan to hide in Africa indefinitely?”
“What did you tell Anthony?” He set down his coffee cup carefully.
“It’s my turn to ask the questions, remember?” she reminded him gently. Her eyes fell away, and she stared into her cup as if searching for answers of her own. “But in the interest of peace…I told him what we planned for me to say, that divorcing my husband wasn’t as simple as I’d expected. That you and I needed time to sort things out. He was understanding.”
“Then he isn’t as big a threat as I thought.” He couldn’t wrap his brain around the notion of ever being okay with the prospect of Jayne and some other guy hooking up. His hand twitched around the cup.
“Conrad, not everyone is all alpha, all the time.”
He looked up fast, surprised at her word choice then chuckled.
“What did I say? And remember, you promised to answer my questions.”
At least he could tell her this and wondered now why he never had before. “Back in high school, my friends, we called ourselves the Alpha Brotherhood.”
“You’re all still so close.” She frowned. “Do they all work for…”
“Please don’t ask.”
“You said I could ask anything,” she pressed stubbornly.
He searched for what he could say and still stay honest. “If something were to happen to me and you needed anything at all, you could call them. They can get in touch with Salvatore. Is that answer enough for you?”
She stared at him for so long he thought she might push for more, and truly there was more he could say but old instincts died hard after playing his life close to the vest.
Nodding, she leaned back in her leather seat, crossing her arms. “Thank you. Get back to the Alpha Brotherhood story.”
“There were two kinds of guys at the academy, the military sort who wanted to be there to jump-start a career in uniform and a bunch of screwed-up rule breakers who needed to learn discipline.”
Did she know that when she’d leaned back her legs stretched out in a sexy length that made him ache? He wanted to reach down and stroke her calf, so close to touching him. The sight of her in those jeans and leather boots sent another shot of adrenaline to his already overrevved body.
He knocked back another swallow of hot coffee to moisten his suddenly dry mouth. “Some of us in that second half realized the wisdom of channeling those rebellious tendencies if we wanted to stay out of jail. After we graduated from college, Salvatore offered us a legal outlet, a way to make amends and still color outside the lines—legally. Honorably.”
“That’s important to you, honor.” She crossed her legs at the ankles, bringing her booted foot even closer to brushing him. “You’ve been so emphatic about never lying even when you hold back the truth.”
He looked up sharply, realizing how much he’d revealed while ogling her legs like some horny teenager. And he realized she was playing him. Just like he’d played her in the past, using sexual attraction to steer their conversations.
It didn’t feel good being maneuvered that way.
Remorse took his temperature down a notch. He sat up straighter, elbows on the table as he cradled his coffee. “My father was a crooked bastard, Jayne. It makes me sick the way the rest of the world all thought he was this great philanthropist. He made a crap-ton of money and gave it away to charities. But he made it cheating the same kinds of people he was pretending to help.”
Her hand fell to rest on his. “I understand what it’s like to lose faith in your father. It hurts, so much.”
How strange that he was holding hands with his wife and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d done that. He’d touched her, stroked her, made love to her countless times, but he couldn’t recall holding her hand.
“I guess we do have that in common. For a long time, I bought into my old man’s hype. I thought he was some kind of god.”
“You’ve never told me how your mother felt about your father’s crimes?”
“She’s his accountant.” He shrugged, thinking of all the times he got an attaboy fr
om his parents for making the grade. It never mattered how, as long as he won. “Colonel Salvatore was the first person to ever hold my feet to the fire about anything. Yes, I have my own code of honor now, Jayne. I have to be able to look myself in the mirror, and this job is the only way I know how to make that happen.”
“How weird is it that we’ve been married for seven years and there are still so many things about you I don’t know.” Her blue eyes held him as tangibly as her hand held his beside the plate of croissants and éclairs.
“That’s my fault.” He squeezed.
“Damn straight it is.” She squeezed back.
The jet engine droned in the silence between them, recycled air whooshing down.
He flipped her hand in his and stroked her lifeline with his thumb. “What happens now?”
“What do you mean?” Her voice came out breathy, her chest rising and falling faster.
Although he could see that even in her anger she still wanted him, he was now beginning to understand that desire alone wouldn’t cut it any longer.
“In the elevator we were a zipper away from making love again.”
Her hand went still in his, her eyes filled with a mix of desire and frustration. “And you want to pick up where we left off?”
“How will your dog sitter feel about that?”
She sighed. “Are you still jealous even after I told you I’m not dating him?”
“Are you planning on seeing him after you leave?” He had to know, even if the answer skewered him.
What had the other guy given her that he couldn’t? He’d lavished her with every single thing a woman could want, and it hadn’t been enough for Jayne.
“Honestly,” she said, “I thought I might when I flew to Monte Carlo, but now, I’m not sure anymore.”
He started to reach for her but she stopped him cold with a tight shake of her head.
“Damn it, Jayne—”
“I’m not done.” She squeezed his hand hard. “Don’t take what I said as some sign to start tearing our clothes off. I am certain that I want a normal life with a husband who will be there for me. I want the happily ever after with kids and a real family sitting down to dinner together, even if it’s hamburgers on a rickety picnic table at a simple hometown park. Maybe that sounds boring to you, but I just can’t pretend to fit into this jet-set lifestyle of yours where we share a bed and nothing else. Does that make sense?”
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