All Or Nothing (The Alpha Brotherhood #2)(13)
Author: Catherine Mann

Her head fell back against the glassed wall, her hands clamped to his shoulders, her nails digging deep. He grazed his mouth along the throbbing pulse in her neck just as she arched in his arms. Her cries of completion echoed in the confines of the elevator, blending with the music drifting from the speakers. And he watched—God, how he watched—every nuance on her beautiful face, her eyes closed, her mouth parted with panting gasps. The tip of her tongue peeked out to run along her top lip and he throbbed impossibly harder. For her. Always for her.

Her body began to slide as she relaxed in the aftermath, her arms slipping around his neck. He palmed her back, bringing her against him, although his feet weren’t as steady as he would like right now. The music grew louder, sweeping into a crescendo until…

An alarm pierced his ears, jolting through him. No wait, that was the floor lifting again, the elevator rising.

“Conrad?” Her eyes blinked open, passion-fogged.

He understood the feeling well.

His head fell to rest against the mirrored wall. “That’s the backup system in case the elevator breaks.”

“Oh…” She froze against him then wriggled, smoothing her gown back in place. “That would have been really embarrassing if we hadn’t noticed and the doors had just opened.”

“This is only a temporary delay.” He cupped her head and kissed her soundly before stepping into the penthouse.

She kicked her shoes off, her eyes still steamy blue, her pupils wide with desire. He flung her wrap over the wine rack and backed her down the hall. Except he didn’t intend to stop at the chair or in front of the fireplace. He wanted his wife in his bed again. Where they both belonged.

Later, he would figure out why the notion of one weekend suddenly didn’t seem like near enough time with her.

He reached for the light switch only to realize…

Crap. The chandelier was already glowing overhead and he always turned the lights off when he left. Cleaning staff never came at night.

How had he let his instincts become so dulled that he’d missed the warning signs?

Someone was in his penthouse, and he should have noticed right away. His lapse could put Jayne in danger, and all because he’d let himself get carried away making out with her in an elevator. His guilt fired so hot her panties damn near burned a hole in his pocket. He moved fast, tucking her behind him as he scoped the living area and found his intruder.

Wearing his signature gray suit and red tie, Colonel Salvatore lounged in a chair in front of the fireplace, a cell phone in hand.

Conrad’s old headmaster and current Interpol handler set aside his phone and stood, his scowl deeper than usual. “Conrad, we have a problem.”

Five

Her head still fogged from her explosive reaction to Conrad in the elevator, Jayne stared in confusion at their unexpected guest sitting in the living room like family. She recognized Conrad’s old headmaster and knew they’d kept in touch over the years, but not to the extent that the man could just waltz into their home while they were out.

Conrad’s home, she reminded herself. Not hers. Not anymore.

Had her almost-ex-husband grown closer to Colonel Salvatore over the past three years? So much time had passed, even though their attraction hadn’t changed one bit, it wasn’t surprising there might be things she didn’t know about his life anymore.

Although that wouldn’t stop her from asking.

Praying she didn’t look as mussed as she felt, she walked deeper into the living room, all too aware of her bare feet and hastily tossed aside heels. Not to mention the fact that she wasn’t wearing panties. “Colonel Salvatore? There’s something wrong?”

Conrad stepped between them, his broad back between her and their “guest.” He stuffed his hands into his tuxedo pockets only to pull them back out hastily. “Jayne, I’m sorry to leave, but Colonel Salvatore and I need to talk privately. Colonel? If you’ll join me downstairs in my office…”

Except Salvatore didn’t move toward the door. “This concerns your wife and her safety.”

Safety? Unease skittered up her spine, icing away the remnants of passion from the elevator. If this problem involved her, she wasn’t going anywhere. “Whoa, hold on. I am completely confused. What does your being here for some kind of problem have to do with me?”

The colonel looked at Conrad pointedly. “You need to tell her. Everything.”

Conrad’s shoulders braced. His jaw went hard with a familiar stubborn set. The tender lover of moments prior was nowhere to be seen now. “Sir, with all due respect, you and I should speak alone first.”

“I wouldn’t advise leaving her here by herself, even for us to talk.” Salvatore’s serious tone couldn’t be missed or ignored. “The time for discretion has passed. She needs to know. Now.”

Jayne looked from man to man like watching a tennis match. Something big was going on here, something she was fast beginning to realize would fundamentally change her life. The chill of apprehension spread as her legs folded. She didn’t know what scared her more—the fact that this man thought she was in serious danger, or that she could be on the verge of finally learning something significant about her ultrasecretive husband. She sat on the edge of Conrad’s massive leather chair, her bare toes curling into the Moroccan carpet.

Muscles twitching and flexing with restraint under his tux jacket, Conrad parked himself by the fireplace. He didn’t sit, but he didn’t protest or leave, either. Whatever John Salvatore wanted of Conrad, apparently he intended to follow through. The way the colonel issued orders spoke of something more official, almost like a boss and employee relationship, which made no sense at all.

“Jayne,” Conrad started, scratching along the same bristled jaw she’d stroked only minutes earlier, “my lifestyle with the casinos gives me accessibility to high-profile people. It provides me with the ability to travel around the world, without raising any questions. Sometimes, authorities use that ability to get information.”

“Accessibility to what? Which authorities? What kind of information?” Her mind swirled, trying to grasp where he was going with this and what it had to do with some kind of threat. “What are you talking about?”

Salvatore clasped his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels. “I work for Interpol headquarters in Lyon, France, recruiting and managing agents around the world.”

“You work for Interpol,” she said slowly, realization detonating inside her as she looked at her husband, all those unexplained absences making sense for the first time. “You work for Interpol.”