Well, maybe with a break for food and hydration.

He wasn’t a robot. And it was evidently clear that he was a flesh-and-blood male, because he felt completely and utterly alive with her.

A very unexpected and devastating sensation for a Ghost.

JAMMER BIT INTO THE croissant and took a sip of the delicious coffee room service had just brought him. The server didn’t question him when he asked him to put the cart on the balcony, nor did he say anything when he tipped the kid a hundred bucks.

In his very proper British accent, he asked, “Will there be anything else, sir?”

Jammer shook his head and the kid left. After going a few rounds with Gina, he would have thought that sleep would have come very easily, but he hadn’t been able to settle, even with her warm and sated body next to him. Maybe it was because he didn’t want to get used to having her curl up next to him at night. When she was gone, he would miss that too much. Better to not indulge in that luxury so often.

He settled into a large chaise longue beneath the full moon and let the taste of the food distract his thoughts. September in London was decidedly cool and the nights even more so. He’d donned sweats and was quite comfortable with the hot coffee warming his stomach.

He was also concerned about the upcoming Amsterdam buy. He needed those surface-to-air-missiles more than he’d ever needed anything for a deal, but with Joost’s unpredictable behavior, it was imperative that Jammer be able to focus on the task at hand. If he was worrying about Gina, then he wouldn’t be one hundred percent effective.

Sitting there, he came to the conclusion that now that she’d set up this buy, he really didn’t need her. He could pay her and she could leave.

He closed his eyes as a cloud covered the moon, his heart rolling over in his chest. It would be best to sever their ties now, though everything inside him rebelled against it.

He heard the sound of the sliding glass door and turned to find a sleep-mussed Gina blinking at him with heavy eyes. She’d donned a pair of black leggings, over which she wore a butter-yellow Henley T. Accustomed to seeing her in tulle and lace and black leather, he found the outfit made her look sweet and much too normal. Too normal for a man with so much baggage.

“What are you-Food!” She sighed as she made a beeline for the croissants. “Pour me a cup, will you?”

He smiled at her breathtaking beauty-the way her black hair shimmered, her eyes big, blue and luminous, her skin glowing in the light from the moon.

She leaned across his body, snatching at a croissant. Settling sideways on the second chaise on the balcony, she pointed at the coffee and raised her brows. He chuckled.

Instead of biting into it, she pulled off a chunk of the flaky dough and popped it in her mouth.

“Mmm, these are good.”

He poured her a cup of coffee and handed it to her. Then said, “We need to talk.”

The cup stopped halfway to her lips. He felt her tense beside him, and it tugged at his heart. She did that a lot, that heart-tugging thing, mostly without even trying. He didn’t want that reaction from her. He wanted her to agree and just make it easier for him. Though he had to acknowledge that nothing involving Gina was either easy or simple.

Now the moment had arrived when he had to tell her to leave, and for some unexplained reason, he wasn’t sure he could bear it.

He set down his cup and turned sideways, too. He took her hand, and her fingers automatically entwined with his. That small gesture sent painful yearnings through him like an electronic shock. His throat thickened.

She wasn’t smiling or frowning. She looked contemplative. Normally such a look would make him want to arm himself.

“Come here,” he murmured. Tugging her hand, he pulled her down next to him on the chaise. He didn’t let her hand go, but absently rubbed his thumb along the side of her wrist.

“What now?” she asked, allowing him to position her against him. He loved how easily they did that-framed each other. So effortless, so damn good. “What’s going on in that brain of yours?” She pressed her forehead to his.

“Too much,” he said softly. “All of it bad.”

“Mmm.” She kissed his chin, then rubbed her cheek on his stubble. “Well, stop it.” She sighed a little, and the smile that had begun to curve his lips tripped up some. “I just want to feel,” she said. “Touch, taste, sound, smell…” She tipped her head back and looked between the trees out in front of the hotel. But the moon had been swallowed by clouds again, leaving her upturned face in deep shadow. “But I guess I’m not going to get to do that, am I?” She sighed and returned her eyes to him. “So, let’s have it.”

“I’d rather talk about the touching and tasting part.”

She smiled slightly. “Me, too. But the stubborn realist in me apparently won’t let go. So spill. What do you have to say to me?”

He held her gaze for a long minute, then sighed himself. She was right, no matter how badly either of them would like to think otherwise. “In the morning, you should book yourself a flight back to the States, to your destination of choice. I’ll go on to Amsterdam and complete the deal. It’s really over, Gina. We both know that we can’t stay together. It was never your intent, that’s for sure. You said as much in Napa. So let’s not prolong it. I can have your cut wired to your bank. I just need-”

Gina raised her palm. “That’s it? Our business is done because you say it is?”

“Yes.”

“This isn’t about the deal.”

“You fulfilled your end of the bargain. You got me the contacts.”

“That’s right, I did. I also don’t quit in the middle. I’m following through on this one. This is a rehash of the argument we had before. You’re trying an end run around me. I don’t like it.” She looked past his shoulder to the street below as a black taxi drove by, shattering the sudden silence.

“I don’t want you in the way.”

“Oh, really?”

He swore under his breath, hearing how the words sounded. “That’s not what I meant. You know me and you know I only meant that you distract me too much.”

She didn’t pursue that line of thought, but he could tell from her contemplative expression that it was only going to be a matter of time. She’d already delved a little into his life. He liked that she was curious about him, that she’d want to know more. But he was unable to give her the real details-all of them, anyway.

But for a split second he wanted to. He wanted to unburden himself-his motives, his overall plan. But there was just too much at stake, too much danger involved with revealing who he really was, what he was really doing.

He wanted to grab her shoulders and shake her, make her understand that they weren’t actually a team here. He cringed at that word. Never had he intended to team with anyone again. His reactions, his very motivation was to shun involving another person in this terrible and dangerous game he was playing.

Yet in his heart, that’s what it was. They were a team. But his head knew they were something totally different. Something he couldn’t define or categorize.

Her defiant pose lasted another moment, then her shoulders dipped slightly as she pulled away from him and stood up. “Okay, Jammer. Have it your way. I’m not going to wait until the morning, if you don’t mind. I’m leaving now.” Her tone was still defensive, even if her posture said otherwise.

It was as if the light went out of his life-just died, and he felt that big chasm open up inside him. The one that Gina filled to the brim. His throat closed and he forced himself to turn away from her. He wanted to shout his pain to the full moon, but kept his mouth closed. He’d kept his mouth closed, his identity hidden, for three long years, all for one goal. He couldn’t fail to achieve that goal or he would surely become the Ghost he pretended to be, consumed from the inside out by his guilt and his desire for vengeance.

He couldn’t rest until Fuentes had paid, one way or the other. He wouldn’t be a good companion or anything else for Gina.

“Thank you for all your help.”

“Jammer, go to hell,” she said, softly but firmly.

The door closed with a snap and he picked up his cup, only to find that his coffee was as stone-cold as his

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