All or Nothing

With two fingers, he circled, faster, pressing and plucking with the amount of pressure he knew she enjoyed, bringing a fresh sigh from her. And just when he’d brought her to the edge, he hooked his arm under her knee and angled his sheathed erection just right, so close to everything he’d dreamed of and fantasized about when he’d taken those long and unsatisfying showers without her.

As he slid inside Jayne, his wife, he vowed he would not lose her. And he would never, never let anything from his past touch her again.

* * *

Jayne stood at the river’s edge and watched the gazelle glide through the tall grasses on the other side of the mangrove swamp. The midmorning sun climbed up the horizon in a shimmering orange haze, echoing the warm glow inside her after a night of making love with Conrad.

Again and again. He’d given her explosive orgasms and foreplay to die for. He’d brought her a late-night snack in bed of flatbreads and meats, fed to each other. He’d fed her perfectly prepared eggs Benedict this morning. They’d talked and laughed, everything she’d dreamed could happen for them again.

How different might things have been if they’d come here for their first anniversary? If they’d talked through all the things they were only beginning to touch on now?

And she couldn’t completely blame him anymore. As she looked back, she accepted the times she’d let things slide rather than push him, because deep in her heart she was scared she wouldn’t be able to walk away.

Her mother hadn’t deserved what happened to her. God knows Jayne hadn’t deserved it, either.

But she refused to be passive any longer. If—and that was a big if—she and Conrad stood a chance at patching things up, he needed to be completely open with her. They needed a true partnership of equals.

Glancing over her shoulder up to his home on the plateau, she saw her husband pacing, talking on his cell phone. He’d said he needed to check in with Salvatore before he took her on a tour of the property. Apparently there were other buildings and even a small town beyond the rolling hills and she had to admit to curiosity about what drew him here. The home—the whole locale—was so different from the glitz of his other holdings.

It gave her hope.

So much hope that she’d called Anthony. She’d arranged for a friend from work to pick up Mimi. If she was going to even consider making things work with Conrad, she had to cut off any ties to Anthony, a man she’d considered dating.

Watching Conrad walk down the incline toward her now, she wasn’t ready to pack her things and bring Mimi across the ocean yet, but for the first time in three years, she was open to the possibility. She just needed the sign from Conrad that he would compromise this go-round.

He closed the distance between them, stopping at the shoreline with tall grasses swaying around his calves. He draped an arm around her shoulder. “Salvatore’s staff is still wading through backlogs of visitors, letters, emails, any contact with the outside world. A suspicious amount of money was moved from Zhutov’s wife’s account. Salvatore hopes to have concrete answers by the end of the day.”

The threat sounded so surreal, but then Conrad’s whole hidden career still felt strange to her. “What about Troy and Hillary?”

“They’re safely in the Bahamas at a casino and no signs of anyone tracking them, either. By all accounts, they’re enjoying the vacation of a lifetime.”

“So this could all be a scare for nothing?”

He kissed her forehead. “Not nothing. We’re here, together.”

For how long? Long enough to find a path back together? She wished they could stand here by the river watching the hippo bathe himself in mud.

She tucked closer to Conrad’s side, the sun beaming down on them. “Did you get any sleep last night?”

“Three or four hours. I’m good.”

“Yes, you are.” Turning in his arms, she kissed him good-morning and wondered just how private this spot might be. She looked at the dock, then up the incline at the deck and the outdoor shower stall. Her mind swirled with possibilities....

With a final kiss to her forehead, he angled back. “Ready to go for the tour?”

“Absolutely.” Walking alongside him to the Land Cruiser, she tucked away her fantasy for another time, intensely curious about this tour and the opportunity to dig deeper into what made her husband tick.

The wilds of Africa were definitely a world away from Monte Carlo. Instead of flashy royalty in diamonds and furs, a spotted cheetah parted the grasslands not far from a mama giraffe with her baby. They walked with a long-legged grace much more elegant than any princess.

She rolled down her window, letting the muggy air clear away the images of the glitzier lifestyle, immersing herself in the present. “We know each other well in some ways and in others not at all—no dig meant by that. I feel like it’s my fault, too.”

“None of this is your fault. I’m the one responsible for my own choices and actions, no excuses from the past.” Wind tunneled in his white polo shirt, his faded jeans fitting to his muscled thighs.

It wasn’t about the clothes with him. She couldn’t help but think—not for the first time—how he had a powerful presence just by existing, whether he was in a tuxedo in Monte Carlo or dressed for the desert realms of Africa.

She studied the hard line of his jaw, peppered with stubble. “Why can’t you let me feel sorry for what you went through as a teenager?”

“I don’t want sympathy. I want you naked.” He shot a seductive grin her way. “We can pull over and...”

“You’re trying to distract me.” And she was determined to talk. “You promised to answer my questions.”

Only the wind answered, whispering through the window as they drove toward a small cluster of buildings in the distance, with cars and lines of people, adults and kids. Perhaps this was a school?

Regardless, her time to talk would be cut short soon.

“Conrad? You promised,” she pressed as birds ducked and dove toward their windshield only to break away at the last instant.

He winced, looking back at the narrow rural road. “You’re right. I promised.”

“Where did you stay on school breaks? Or did you stay at the school, like juvenile hall or something?”

The smile left his eyes. “I went home for holidays with an ankle monitor.”

Thoughts of him as a teenager walking around with that monitoring device chilled her. “That had to have been awkward after you tried to turn in your father.”

“My dad told me I could make it all up to him by connecting him with the families of my new friends.” He steered around a pack of dwarf goats in the road. “Why don’t we talk about your dad instead, Jayne?”

He guided the car back on the road again, leading them closer to the long stucco building, surrounded by smaller outbuildings. The slight detour off the road jounced her in the seat, hard, almost as if he’d deliberately bounced her around.

She held up her hands in surrender. “Okay, message received.”

Her husband wasn’t as open to talking this morning, but she wouldn’t give up. She would simply wait for a better opening while they spent their day at... Not a school at all.

He’d driven her to a medical clinic.

Nine

Conrad watched his wife, curious as to what she would think of the clinic he’d built. Because yes, he’d built it as a tribute to her and the light she’d brought to his world. Regardless of how their marriage had broken up in the end, his four years with her were the best in his life.

She asked him all those questions about his father and the arrest, looking for ways to exonerate him because she had such a generous and forgiving heart. But she didn’t seem to grasp he’d done the crime. He was guilty of a serious wrong, no justification.

His life now had to be devoted to a very narrow path of making things right. The small hospital was a part of that thanks to a mission to the region nearly four years ago that had left a mark on him. He’d been aiding in an investigation tracing heroin traffic through a casino in South Africa, the trail leading him up the coast. He wasn’t an agent so much as a facilitator to lend effective covers and information about people in his wealthy world. They’d taken down the kingpin in that case, but Conrad hadn’t felt the rush of victory.

Not that time.

His nights had been haunted by visions of the Agberos, street children and teens also known as “area boys.” They were loosely organized gangs forced into crime. And no matter how many kingpins Conrad took out, another would slide into place. There was no Salvatore to look after those boys, to change their lives with a do-over.

Conrad opened Jayne’s car door, her reaction so damn important to him right now that his chest went tight with each drag of air. Lines of patients filed into the door, locals wearing anything from jeans and