Page 19 of France Face-Off (Brotherhood Protectors International #6)

While Striker continued to sleep, she slid out of the bed and into the bathroom for a shower before the start of another day of interpreting and praying whoever was after her didn’t make a move during the summit.

She needed to find time to question Baranovsky about his connection with Pavel and Mischa Federov.

The summit had been an ideal opportunity to get Baranovsky and Petrov alone. In Russia, Alex didn’t know who to be wary of. Anyone on the streets of Moscow could recognize her as her mother’s daughter. In France, only the few Russians present had a chance of knowing who she might be.

Alex turned on the water, waited for it to warm and stepped beneath the spray. Water ran over her face and down her body, following the same path Striker’s mouth had blazed the night before. Her core heated at the memory.

Warm, strong hands slid around her waist and pulled her against a rock-solid body. The evidence of desire nudged her buttocks, sending ripples of electricity through her.

Alex leaned back and tipped her head to the side, allowing Striker to skim his lips across the back of her ear and neck. “I have to be downstairs soon.”

“I know,” he said and kissed the curve of her neck. “I couldn’t resist.”

She turned in his arms, cupped his cheeks in her palms and leaned up on her toes to brush his lips with hers.

He tightened his arms around her back and crushed her mouth, claiming her tongue in a sensual dance.

Her blood humming through her veins, Alex melted into Striker. She couldn’t get close enough. The heat of his body ignited a flame inside her, threatening to consume her.

Striker’s hand slipped between them and cupped her sex. One finger found its way into her, and then another, while his thumb strummed her clit.

She had a difficult time dragging air into her lungs.

Then he stopped and leaned back. Holding up a small packet, he cocked an eyebrow. “Yes or no?”

With her breath already labored, she managed to say, “Yes!” in a strangled whisper.

He handed her the packet.

Alex tore it open and rolled the condom over his engorged cock, amazed at how hard and thick he was and anxious for him to be inside her.

Striker scooped her up by the backs of her thighs and pressed her against the cool tiles of the shower wall. He bent to nuzzle her earlobe as he lowered her over him.

He slid slowly into her.

She was ready, her channel slick and clenching around him. Planting her hands on his shoulders and wrapping her legs around his waist, she rose up to the tip of his shaft, then sank down again, loving how he filled her, stretching her to fit.

As their pace increased, he pressed her against the wall and held her there, thrusting again and again.

Alex forgot how to breathe as she shot over the edge, her body pulsing with her release.

Striker thrust one last time, sinking deep.

His muscles remained tense as he rode his climax to the very end.

When he finally drew in a deep breath and let it out, he lifted her off his shaft and set her on her feet.

He peeled the condom off, then he held her close, letting the water rush over both of them.

Alex could have stood there until her skin pruned. There was no other place she’d rather be than in his arms. She could get used to waking up to this every morning.

Unfortunately, there was an ugly world out there. Striker had just reminded her how beautiful it could be. Too bad what they were discovering in each other wouldn’t last beyond the summit.

Striker squirted soap into the palms of his hands and rubbed them together, creating a thick lather. He ran his hands all over her body, slowing at her breasts to tweak the tips of her nipples. Then he trailed his hand over her belly and down to cup her sex.

Alex did the same for him, her hands gliding over his broad shoulders and down his tight abs to his cock, which jutted out, hard and velvety.

He sucked in a breath. “Keep that up and you won’t get to the meeting on time.”

She circled his shaft with her fingers and stroked him several times before she sighed. “If only we had the day to ourselves.”

He maneuvered her around so that she stood beneath the showerhead and let the spray rinse the suds from her body.

Then he stepped beneath the spray, rinsed quickly and turned off the water.

Alex loved looking at his body. His muscles were tight. He didn’t have a spare ounce of flesh anywhere.

They grabbed towels, dried each other off and then dressed quickly.

“I’ll have to hurry to get down to the banquet hall to snag a cup of coffee,” she said.

“I’m ready,” Striker said. “I’ll follow you down the stairs.”

She nodded, tucked the flash drive into her bra and headed for the door.

“Let me.” Striker poked his head out the door and then opened it wide. “All clear.”

Alex led the way to the stairwell and hurried down the steps to the first floor. Before she exited, she turned to Striker, leaned up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Thank you for reminding me why life is worth living.”

He frowned. “You’re not going anywhere yet.”

“This is the last day of the summit. Most people will leave at its conclusion,” she said.

“You left your backpack in my room,” he said.

Alex nodded. “I’ll collect it later.” She turned to leave, but he caught her hand before she could push the door open.

Striker spun her around and into his arms. “I’m not ready to end this…whatever this is between us.”

“What else can we do? You have your work. I have mine.”

“This can’t be over when it’s just begun.” He crushed her mouth with his in a kiss that set her soul on fire. When he finally lifted his head, she was breathless.

He brushed a loose strand of her hair back behind her ear. “We’ll talk later.”

Alex nodded, turned and left the stairwell, tears welling in her eyes. How she wished she could have a normal existence where she could stop running and be with someone like Striker.

Impossible.

She was an assassin. He was a security guy. It would never work. She was destined to live a life alone for the safety of herself and anyone else she might fall in love with.

Her heart skipped several beats.

In love?

She wasn’t in love with the Navy SEAL. Love grew over time. They barely knew each other, having spent just a day and a half together. Sure, the sex had been out of this world, but that didn’t make it love.

Lust, yes. Love, no.

She entered the conference room and took her seat beside Hans Sutter. As usual, he didn’t speak to her or acknowledge her existence.

Alex didn’t mind. She’d rather have the quiet to study the people settling into their positions around the room.

The moderator kicked off the session, introducing the Italian delegate.

Lorenzo Ricci stood and faced the other delegates.

In Italian, he said, “Esteemed members of this summit, it has been rumored that the EU is not receiving all the natural gas they are paying for. Could someone please address this concern? Are we in fact paying for gas that is being siphoned off at or before it arrives at the Greifswald transfer station?”

As translators relayed the message, a rumble of anger sounded from the delegates around the room.

Hans smacked his palm against the table. In German, he said, “I, too, have heard such a rumor. I’ve had my scientists checking into usage and billing. The numbers don’t add up.” His eyes narrowed at the Russian. “Explain.”

A rumble of anger circulated through the room.

Baranovsky stood, his face ruddy red. In Russian, he practically shouted, “We do not steal from the EU. Who spreads such lies?” He stared around the room, a vein popping out on his forehead. “I will have words with this person.”

The moderator did his best to bring the meeting back to order. The rest of the morning went no better. The members of the summit wanted to know more about the diversion of natural gas from European countries.

Nearing lunch, Sutter had had enough. “Why should we approve of another pipeline when the one we have isn’t delivering what we contracted? I’ve heard enough. I will cast my vote now.”

The room exploded in loud conversations and shouting. The moderator banged a gavel several times to bring the room to order. He asked everyone to take time to think about it over lunch.

Eager to see Striker, Alex gathered her notes and stood. If this was the last day they might have together, she didn’t want to miss a second.

Alex had just turned toward the exit when a security guard burst through the door and shouted in French, “There’s been a bomb threat. Everybody needs to move toward the closest exits now.”

The delegates and their assistants started toward the security guard.

The man held up his hands. “The closest way out of the building is through the other end of this room. Follow the exit signs. Move quickly, but don’t panic. It could be a hoax, but we don’t want to ignore the threat.”

Alex got caught up in the rush for the rear exits.

She didn’t want to go that way. If there was a real bomb threat, Striker needed to know.

He could be in his room and not have heard the order to evacuate the building.

Like swimming upstream, she pushed her way through the worried delegates moving in the opposite direction.

When she finally made it past the last ones, she ran into a security guard and a member of the hotel staff.

The staff member blocked her path. “Madam, you must leave the building at once.”

“I will, as soon as I know my partner is safe. He’s up in his room.” She tried to duck past the two, but they weren’t budging.

“Tell me your room number, and I’ll send someone up to make sure he gets out.”

“I can do it myself, if you’ll let me by,” Alex said, ready to take the woman and the security guard down if she had to.

Another security guard joined them and asked why the guest had not vacated the premises.

The staff member frowned. “She refuses to go.”

“Madam, if you do not leave on your own, we will be forced to escort you out.” The new security guard reached for her arm.

For a moment, she considered fighting her way through, but Alex didn’t want to start a ruckus, drawing attention to herself. She’d have to leave and come back in another way. “I’m going.” She turned and left through the exit door at the rear of the conference room.

The door led down a short hallway to a loading dock where a truck stood empty at the ramp.

The last of the delegates were being herded down steps and around the other side of the building.

Alex glanced around, searching for another door into the building.

She tried one marked “receiving” in French.

The door was locked. A button on the wall had a sign to ring the bell for assistance.

When Alex moved past the truck, two men stepped out of the back.

Both wore dark overalls like delivery truck drivers and had baseball caps pulled down low over their foreheads, shadowing their faces.

As gooseflesh rose on her arms, Alex moved past them quickly, heading for the steps leading down from the ramp. If she hurried, she might catch up with the other summit attendees.

The two men didn’t give her the time she needed to reach the steps. They rushed toward her.

Alex ran, but she didn’t reach the steps before one of the men reached out and grabbed her arm, spinning her on her heels.

She came around fighting, sending a sidekick to his kidney.

The other man grabbed her other arm and shoved it up the middle of her back.

Pain shot through her arm and shoulder, and she stood as high as she could on her toes to find some relief.

The one she’d kicked pulled something out of his pocket. It looked like a syringe.

Alex stomped on the instep of the man trying to break her arm.

He cursed and loosened his grip just enough that Alex could pull her arm free and jab him with her elbow in the belly.

She took two steps in her breakaway and was yanked up short when the man with the syringe grabbed a handful of her hair and dragged her backward against him.

Before she could regain her balance, he jabbed the needle into her arm.

He let go of her hair.

When Alex darted away, her legs turned to jelly, her vision blurred and she crashed to the concrete.