* * *
Conrad was certain his head would explode before the night was through. What more could life catapult at him in one weekend?
The thought that someone—anyone—would dare use Jayne to get back at him damn near sent him into a blind rage. Only the need to protect her kept him in check.
Later, he would deal with the inevitable fallout from Salvatore ignoring Conrad’s request to shield Jayne from the messiness of his Interpol work. He could think of a half-dozen different ways this could have been handled, all of which involved not telling Jayne secrets that could only put her in more danger.
Since Salvatore had dropped his “Achilles’ heel” bombshell, the colonel had taken charge as he did so well. He’d shown Jayne his Interpol identification and offered to fly her to headquarters in Lyon, France. He would do whatever she needed to feel reassured, but it needed to happen quickly for her personal protection.
One thing was clear. They had to leave Monte Carlo. Tonight.
Salvatore continued to explain to Jayne in even, reasonable tones designed to calm. “When you make arrangements for work and for your dog, you need to give a plausible story that also will lead Zhutov’s people in the wrong direction.”
She twitched, but kept an admirable cool given everything she’d been told. “My phone is tapped?”
“Probably not.” Salvatore shook his head. “And even if it is, the penthouse is equipped with devices that scramble your signal. However, that doesn’t stop listening devices on the other end. We can use that to our advantage, though, by scripting what you say.”
“This is insane.” She pressed a trembling hand to her forehead.
“I agree.” Salvatore played the conciliatory role well, one he sure as hell hadn’t shown a bunch of screwed-up teenagers seventeen years ago. “I sincerely hope we’re wrong and all of this will be resolved quickly. But we can’t afford to count on that. You need to tell them that you’re ironing out details of the divorce with Conrad and it’s taking longer than you expected.”
Nodding, she stood, hitching her evening bag over her shoulder. “I’ll step into the kitchen, if that’s not a problem.”
“Take your time, catch your breath, but keep in mind we need to leave by sunup.”
Jayne shot a quick glance at her husband, full of confusion, anger—betrayal—and then disappeared into the kitchen.
* * *
Conrad reined in his temper, lining up his thoughts and plans while his wife’s soft voice drifted out.
Salvatore cleared his throat. “Do you have something to say, Hughes?”
Oh, he had plenty to say, but he needed to narrow his attention to the task at hand. “With all due respect, Colonel, it’s best that I keep my opinions to myself and focus on how the hell we’re going to keep Jayne off of that megalomaniac’s radar.”
“I have faith you’ll handle that just fine.”
The colonel’s blasé answer lit the fuse to Conrad’s anger. He closed the gap between them and hissed low between his teeth so Jayne wouldn’t overhear. “If you have such faith in me, why the big show in front of my wife?”
“Big show?” He lifted an eyebrow.
What the hell? Conrad was not sixteen and a high school screwup. This was not the time for games. “Scaring the hell out of her. Springing the whole Interpol connection on her.”
“I still can’t believe you never told her. I thought you were smarter than that, my boy.”
“It doesn’t matter what you think. That was my call to make. I told you when I married her I didn’t want her involved in that side of my life, for her own safety.”
“Seems to me you’ve put her in more danger by not clueing her in. Even she picked up on that.”
There was no way to know for sure now. But the possibility chapped at the worst time possible. “Thanks for the insights. Now, moving on to how we take care of Zhutov? If my cover’s been compromised...”
The ramifications of that rolled over him, the realization that even once he had Jayne tucked away safe, this line of work and the redemption it brought could be closed to him forever. Later, he would sift through that and the possibility that without Interpol in his life, he could have his wife back.
Right now, he could only concentrate on making sure nobody touched so much as one hair on her head.
* * *
Sagging back against the polished pewter countertop, Jayne hugged her cell phone to her chest. The lies she’d just told left a bad taste in her mouth. Not to mention the fact she’d just been put on an unpaid leave of absence from her job.
This was supposed to have been such a simple trip to tie up the loose ends in her marriage...
Hell. Who was she kidding? Nothing with Conrad had ever been simple.
As if conjured from her thoughts, he filled the archway leading into the kitchen. He’d ditched his tuxedo jacket and tie, the top button of his shirt open. A light scratch marked his neck and she realized she must have put it there sometime during their grope fest in the elevator, along with spiking his hair in her desperate hunger to touch him again. Thank God she hadn’t followed through. How much worse this moment would have been had that elevator stayed shut down and she’d made love with him standing up in that cubicle of mirrors.
She set her phone down. “Can I have my panties back?”
He quirked an arrogant eyebrow before dipping into his pocket and passing over the torn scrap of satin. It was ridiculous really, asking for the useless piece of underwear back, but it felt like a statement of independence to her, reclaiming ground and putting space between them.
She snatched the dangling white scrap from his hand. “Thank you.”
She jammed the underwear into the trash, a minor victory, before turning back to confront him. “You work for Interpol.”
Hands in his pockets, he lounged one shoulder against the door frame. “Apparently I do.”
Apparently?
His dodgy answer echoed too many in their past. The time he’d missed their first anniversary weekend retreat that they’d planned for weeks. Or when he’d bailed on going with her to her half brother’s incredibly awkward wedding. And no explanations. Ever.
She couldn’t keep quiet. Not now with her emotions still so raw from their explosive discussion in the car and their passionate encounter in the elevator. Even now, a need throbbed between her legs to finish what they’d started, to take him deeply inside her.
“You still won’t admit it? Even when your boss confirmed it to me? What kind of twisted bastard are you? Do you get some sick pleasure out of yanking me around this way?”
His eyebrows shot up. “I kept you in the dark for your protection.”
“I’m not buying it. I know you too well.” Anger, hurt—and yes, more than a little sexual frustration—seethed inside her. “You didn’t tell me because then you would have to commit, one hundred percent, to our marriage. You never wanted it to last, or you would have found a way to put my mind at ease all these years.”
He could have told her something. Anything. But he hadn’t even tried to come up with a rationale for his disappearances. He’d just left.
“I thought you would worry more,” he said simply.
Although she wondered if there was a flash of guilt in his mocha-brown eyes. That would go a long way toward keeping her from pummeling him with fruit from the bowl on the counter.
“And you think I didn’t worry when I had no clue where you were or what you were doing?” Those sleepless nights came back to haunt her. “In the beginning, I was scared to death something had happened to you those times I couldn’t locate you. It took me a long time to reach the conclusion you must be cheating on me, like my father fooled around on my mom.”
He straightened, his eyes flinty hard. “I never slept with another woman.”
“I get that.” She raised a hand. “Hell, I figured that out even then. But you still lied to me. You cheated on me with that damn job.”
He scrubbed a hand over his scowl. “Do you think operatives have the luxury of printing out an itinerary for their spouses?”
“Of course not. I’m not that naive.” More like she’d let herself stay oblivious, clinging to the hope she might be wrong about him hiding things from her. “But Colonel Salvatore made it clear tonight you could have told me something and you chose not to.”
“I chose what I thought was best for you.” His mouth went tight.
Well, too damn bad. She had every right to be upset.
“You thought it was best to sacrifice our marriage? Because that’s the decision you made for both of us, without even giving me the option of deciding for myself.”
“I won’t apologize for keeping you safe.”
His intractable words made her realize how far apart they were from seeing eye to eye on this.
“Fine. But consider how you’d feel if the tables were turned and it was me disappearing for days on end without a word of explanation. Or what you would have thought if I’d left you to celebrate your anniversary by yourself.” He’d flown her to a couples retreat in the Seychelles. The island country off the coast of Africa had been so romantic and exotic. Except he’d left her sitting in a dining room full of hormones all alone.