All or Nothing

He’d said nothing, as per usual.

Knowing she’d let herself be turned into some kind of doll adorning his arm and decorating his world perhaps stung most of all. “And to think I was that close to falling in your arms again. Well, no worries about that now. I am so over you, Conrad Hughes.”

She angled sideways past him, through the door.

He gripped her arm. “You can’t leave now. No matter how angry you are with me, it’s not safe for you out there.”

“I got that from your boss, thanks. I’m just going to pack. In my room. Alone.”

His hand slid down her arm, sending a traitorous jolt of awareness straight to her belly until she pressed her legs together against the moist ache still simmering.

“You were able to arrange things with work and for Mimi?”

Standing this close to Conrad with her emotions on overload was not a smart idea. She needed to wrap this up and retreat to her room to regroup. “She’s settled, but Anthony can’t watch her indefinitely. He travels with his job. But I’ll figure that out later.”

She brushed past.

“Anthony.”

Conrad’s flat, emotionless voice sent prickles up her spine. She turned slowly, her evening gown brushing the tops of her bare feet. “He’s the nephew of a former patient.”

Not that she owed him any explanation after the way he’d walled her out for years.

“And he watches our dog while you’re out of town.” Conrad still leaned in the doorway, completely motionless other than the slow blink of his too-sharp eyes.

“It’s not like he and I are dating...”

“Yet. But that’s why you came to Monte Carlo, isn’t it? So you would be free to move on with Anthony or some other guy.” Conrad scratched his eyebrow. “I think I pretty much have the picture in place.”

And clearly he wasn’t one bit happy with that image. Well, too damn bad after all the tears she’d shed seeing his casino pictured in tabloids, him with a different woman on his arm each time. “You don’t get to be mad at me. I’m the one who’s been lied to.”

“Then I guess that makes it easier for us to spend time alone together.” He shoved away from the door frame, his shoulder brushing hers as he passed. “Pack your bag, sweetheart. We’re taking a family vacation.”

Six

The bulletproof, tinted windows on his balcony offered Conrad the protection he needed while escaping the claustrophobic air of the penthouse.

Jayne had already picked out his replacement. He realized now that she’d come to Monte Carlo to end their marriage so she could move on with another man. If she hadn’t already.

Scratch that.

He didn’t think she was sleeping with the guy, not yet. Jayne was an innately honorable woman. And while he didn’t assume she would stay celibate for three years, she wouldn’t have almost had sex with him if she’d already committed to another man.

Her integrity was one of the things about her that had drawn him right from the start. She had a goodness inside her that was rare and should be protected. For the first time, it hit him how much she must have missed her career when she lived with him, and even though Monte Carlo was his primary residence, he’d traveled from holding to holding too often for her to secure a new job. He’d never thought about how long and lonely her days must have been.

Looking back, he probably should have left her the hell alone. He deserved Jayne’s anger and more. He’d been wrong to marry her in the first place knowing he would never choose to tell her about his contract work with Interpol. He’d deluded himself that he held back out of a need to protect her, but deep down he knew he’d always feared he needed the job more than he needed her. That he needed that outlet to rebel, a way to channel the part of his father that lived inside him, the part that had almost landed him in jail as a teenager.

He’d been so damn crazy for Jayne he’d convinced himself he could make it work.

He’d only delayed the inevitable.

Now she was paying the price for his mistake. He resisted the urge to put his fist through a wall. Her life could be at risk because of him. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if anything happened to her.

He scoured the cove below, every yacht and cruise ship lighting up the shoreline suddenly became suspect.

A sound from the doorway sent him pivoting fast, his hand on the 9mm he’d strapped into a shoulder harness.

Troy Donavan lounged in the entrance, his fedora in hand. “Whoa, hold up. Don’t shoot your body double.”

“My what?”

Donavan stepped out onto the balcony. “Your double. I’ll travel as you and you travel as me. If anyone manages to track either of our movements, they’ll still be led in the wrong direction.” He dropped his hat on the lounger. “Salvatore said we’re not heading out for another couple of hours. I can keep watch over Jayne while you catch a nap.”

“I’m cool. But thanks. Insomnia has its perks.” He glanced sideways at his best friend of over seventeen years. “Did Salvatore send you here to check on me after the showdown with Jayne?”

“He alerted me to the crap with Zhutov and the concerns for your wife. I know how I would feel in your shoes, and it’s not pretty.”

Damn straight. He didn’t know how Donavan handled having Hillary keyed into the Interpol world. She’d even started training to actively participate in future freelance missions.

“I have to get Jayne as far away and under the radar as possible.” How long would this nightmare last? Would she end up spending the rest of her life on the run? He wouldn’t leave her side until he knew she was safe. He’d wanted to grow old with her, but sure as hell not that way.

“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.”