Bound Hearts 01-12

by Lora Leigh

  "Now what?" Marty turned her head and arched a brow tauntingly.

  "You go low, I'll go high." Adrenaline coursed through his body as she flashed a bright, honest-as-hell smile before giving a quick nod of her head.

  Behind them, apartment doors were opening, voices were demanding explanations, and all Khalid could do was feel a strange, unfamiliar sense of completeness.

  He'd never had a lover who could match this side of him. That side that hungered for danger.

  "High, low," she mouthed back. "One. Two . . ."

  On three, they moved.

  Marty threw herself to the floor, rolled, and came up across the hall with her weapon aimed at the now empty window and unoccupied fire escape.

  Almost simultaneously they were up and running at the same time to the window. Marty went low, he went high. They both stared at the empty fire escape for a long moment.

  "Bastard's gone," Shayne called out from the level below them. "No car, no nothing, just gone."

  Gone. That meant that whoever the hell was after Marty was still out there.

  "Get up here," Khalid ordered, his voice harsh as he gripped Marty's arm and began pulling her back along the hall.

  Residents at the open apartment doors stared at them in curiosity and shock.

  Ignoring them, Khalid continued to draw Marty back to her apartment.

  "Everything's fine." Marty waved them back toward their apartments. "You can go back to your homes. Have a drink for me. Don't worry, this is your building's owner. Nothing to fret about."

  "Shayne will be here in a minute." His voice was harder, demanding. "Get some clothes together or do without them, it's your choice, but hurry."

  The door slammed closed behind them.

  "Of course you would." Marty jerked her arm out of his grip as she bit back the need to roll her eyes at him. "Let me guess: A club member can help you out of this under the right circumstances."

  She moved to her bedroom and jerked the overnight bag she kept handy from beneath the bed. It was filled with several changes of clothes and needed supplies, as well as an extra weapon and ammunition.

  "Your fathers can take care of anything I need where the police are concerned," he informed her. "I'd just prefer to be on home ground."

  "Fine. I'm ready." She slung the strap of the heavy backpack over her shoulder as she turned to face him. "Let's go."

  His gaze flicked to the backpack, but he surprised her when he didn't make a comment. Instead, he held out his hand to her.

  Marty stared at that hand for a long moment before placing hers in it. Feeling his fingers curl around hers as he drew her quickly through the apartment back to the door sent a strange feeling of warmth surging through her.

  He hadn't gripped her arm and pulled her along. He'd extended his hand and invited her to go. There was a difference, and that difference sent a wave of unfamiliar emotion washing through her.

  "Abdul has the car waiting." Shayne met them at the elevator as the doors slid open. "I called Joe Mathews. He's chomping at the bit to race out to your estate, but I convinced him to hold off until morning. Someone will be coming out for his car tonight."

  The ride to the lobby was made quickly. As the elevator doors slid open, the manager rushed from the security station toward Khalid.

  "Mr. Mustafa, security has been sent to Miss Mathews's floor and the police called."

  "Cancel the call to the police and get security back in place, everything's fine," Khalid ordered, as he led the way through the lobby at a quick pace. "I'll be in contact with you soon."

  "But Mr. Mustafa . . ."

  Khalid pushed the door open and led Marty outside.

  Marty felt the strangest sense of unreality as they passed through those doors, as though she had entered another world rather than simply left a building.

  Abdul waited by the limo, concern marking his face as they rushed inside. The door closed behind them, enfolding them in privacy as he quickly slid behind the wheel and put the vehicle into drive.

  The sound of oncoming sirens could be heard as the limo sped away quickly from the apartment building.

  "Mathews wants a report asap," Shayne told them, his expression tight and closed as he stared at Khalid before turning his gaze to the traffic around them.

  "That makes two of us." Marty breathed in roughly. "I didn't even have a chance to get a look at his face."

  "His face was covered," Khalid stated.

  "And my apartment was very professionally searched," she reported. "There was just enough out of place to show he was in a hurry."

  What could he have been searching for? Marty never brought files home; her computer was used for personal e-mail and business records only. She wrote about or logged her reports from her office computer.

  "The search was a smoke screen," Khalid informed them. "They weren't after information."

  "They were after Marty," Shayne finished.

  Marty stared back at the two men as she tried to make sense of what they were saying.

  "He was there to kill me." She had known that the second she had realized what was going on.

  The gunfire hadn't been loud; the assailant's weapon had been silenced. She had known the sound of that pop-pop as the bullets had been fired from the fire escape.

  Something flashed in Khalid's face then. It wasn't just fury; it was pain, an agony that went far beyond the thought of what could have happened.

  It was there and gone so fast that she couldn't be certain of the emotion she had seen there.

  "He was there to kill you," Khalid finally agreed. "We need to figure out what the hell is going on." Khalid glared at Shayne. "When we get back to the estate I want you to pull in as much information as possible from your sources. Don't scrimp, Shayne; we don't have much time. That assassin was too close. If they follow previous patterns, then they're here in Alexandria. They would want to be close. They would need to see me suffer. They wouldn't wait in Saudi and merely guess at my reaction."

  "If your brothers hate you so much, then why come after me rather than you?" she asked.

  "Oh, they will," he promised her. "But they would want me to suffer first, Marty. Killing you would ensure that suffering, even more than they could guess. Before they kill me, they want me to know they've taken my woman, destroyed her. They'll be satisfied with nothing less."

  "Have they threatened the girls you look after?"

  There were six young women who his father had sent to him years ago as sex slaves; at least, that was the rumor. Khalid had adopted them instead.

  "The girls have never been threatened, because they were a gift from my father," he sneered, his voice deepening, darkening with a ragged agony that tore at her soul. "Until he dies, Ayid and Aman won't tempt his patience with them by harming them."

  "But your lovers are fair game?"

  "My lovers are fair game," he agreed quietly, but the echo of rage in his voice was clear. "Over the years I've cost my brothers a lot, love. Even more important, I've steadily worked at destroying them. The last cell we captured was more important to them than most. The mission they were on was one that would have brought glory to Ayid and Aman among the terrorist community. Taking that from them ensured that they would strike against me."

  Marty stared back at him, not in horror but in confusion.

  "Why?" She surveyed his expression carefully, watching the subtle emotions that flickered through his eyes. "When you first went to Saudi fifteen years ago, according to the file I had on you, there was a sense of alliance between you and your three brothers. What happened, Khalid?"

  "They found out I was working against them," he stated baldly. "And in doing so, I was responsible for the attack on the headquarters of a small cell based in Riyadh that was planning to infiltrate the royal palace and blow it to hell. The strike the government made against those headquarters resulted in the deaths of th
eir wives. They swore then they'd destroy any woman I claimed as my own. It hasn't helped matters that I've continued to attempt to destroy them over the years."

  Silence filled the limousine as Marty stared at him in surprise and pain. The grief that seemed to envelop Khalid drove a wedge of pain inside her chest. To see him, his black eyes flickering with sorrow, tore at her. A sorrow that his brothers had destroyed any hope of a future with any woman he could love, any child he might have.

  Marty saw the agony he felt, that at no time had he ever been safe. That his friends, his family, that everyone he loved could be struck at any time. The weight of the knowledge must have been horrible.

  Breathing in tremulously, she considered the options they had.

  "What do we do next, then?"

  "Tomorrow, I'm taking you to the club," Khalid said, causing her lips to part, first in shock, then in mounting anger. "Ian has agreed to allow you to stay in a specially prepared area beneath the club for those members' lovers, wives, children who are in danger. You will be safe until this is finished."

  Marty couldn't believe what had just come out of his mouth.

  "Ian is not going to allow me back in that club," she informed him. "Not after tonight."

  "The agreement has been made," he informed her. "The rooms beneath the club are safe, Marty. Neither Ayid or Aman, nor their assassin, can get to you there. You will be completely sheltered."

  She looked at Shayne. Once again, he had found something else to direct his attention to.

  "The fucking scenery isn't that interesting," she burst out as he stared out the window. "Did you know about this? Did my fathers?"

  Shayne turned to look at her and cleared his throat. "It's a rule. All members have to be informed in the eventuality of this. No names are given, nor the location of where you're staying. Simply that you are staying on the property and that your protection is assured by the club. That means we're all responsible for your safety and well-being." He stared directly at her then. "And we take it very seriously.

  "Well, bully the hell for you and your club members!" she sneered. "But you can count me out. I do believe I have other plans."

  "And those plans are?" Khalid wasn't happy, but at the moment, she really didn't give a damn. She couldn't believe he would dare attempt to stash her someplace safe while he and Shayne got to run around having fun catching terrorists. It wasn't going to work out like that.

  "Anger Thornton is hosting a party in two nights," she informed them both as she sat back and crossed her arms over her breasts. "I'm scheduled to be there, as are the rest of the very powerful and elite here in D.C. There's enough gossip at those parties that if a person catches the right whispers, they may very well get a clue as to what is going on."

  "We attend the party and do what?" Shayne asked. "We have no idea who to watch, question, or kill. You're reaching Marty."

  "As long as I hide, Ayid and Aman will never show their faces or their intentions," she snapped back at him. "Put me out there. Show them we're not frightened, that we intend to fight back, and you'll piss them off. You'll make them move."

  "And risk your life?" Khalid said as he leaned forward and all but shoved his nose against hers. "I don't think so."

  Marty watched Khalid. It wouldn't work without his cooperation, without his help. He would have to be there with her as well as Shayne to present the correct image and to incite the brothers who hated him so desperately.

  "I don't need your permission," she stated coolly. "Don't make this mistake, Khalid. You can work with me. I can even follow your lead. But I'm not a helpless little homebody that's going to be content to sit in some basement and twiddle my damned thumbs while you're out having fun catching the bad guys."

  "I can't believe she's pissed off because she thinks we're going to have fun!" Shayne said.

  "Call it what you will." She shrugged negligently as Khalid leaned back slowly. "Either way, you can work with me or I can work alone. Anger's party is perfect for this. There's always a fair number of Saudi businessmen in attendance, and trust me, those guys gossip worse than any other men I've ever met."

  Khalid glared at her. She glared back. She wasn't backing down. She wasn't going to hide and play dead and hope the monsters went away. She was going to fucking slay them.

  Long moments later elation seared through her at his slow nod. "Under the right circumstances, the right controlled conditions," he agreed. "And with your fathers' supervision."

  She wanted to roll her eyes at the thought, but a part of her also agreed with him. Her fathers could ensure her safety as well as lay a trap that could catch anyone who may be watching or tailing them. If they caught the assassin, if his brothers were in the States, then the mole would be revealed, it was that simple. Khalid's sexual lifestyle was a sore point with the royal family, considering he was distantly related to them, she knew. Their faith didn't allow for the extremities which Khalid had made a part of his life.

  "Dad and Zach can arrange the security we need as well as any extra surveillance to watch for your brothers and their assassin," she said. "It could be the chance we need to put an end to this."

  "If they take the bait," Khalid pointed out, his voice, his expression dark and brooding now.

  "We're the bait," she told him. "The very fact someone has already struck at me assures it."

  "My original suggestion stands," Shayne drawled, his tone dangerously low now. "Someone would be doing the world a favor if Ayid and Aman simply disappeared."

  Marty couldn't help but agree, from a personal standpoint. As a law enforcement agent, though, it was a harder call.

  Khalid simply said nothing. His gaze remained locked on her, his eyes black, a flicker of light, like white-hot flames, gleaming in tiny pinpoints with the raw emotions she could feel tearing through him.

  "Come to me." He held his hand out to her once again. "If you have to risk your life in such a way, then I'll at least have what you're willing to give me for now."

  Marty restrained an instinctive flinch at the harsh tone of his voice. But she couldn't deny him. She knew how he felt. Knowing the danger he faced, that he had faced most of his life, left her insides shaking with fear.

  Moving slowly she closed the distance between them, allowing him to draw her into his arms.

  The second he did so, she melted. The warmth that surrounded her abated her previous anger and struck a spark to the flames of arousal that simmered, ever present, within her.

  The intimacy she had missed in his bed was there now, as though he needed to hold her, to cushion her against his chest to assure himself that she was safe, that she was his to touch.

  And he intended to touch her.

  Tipping her head back, he didn't ask for permission to kiss her. As though the very thought of the danger she could be facing spurred the need he felt for her, his lips and tongue took hers with a hunger that burned through her.

  Holding her to him with desperate hands, and lifting her closer to him, Khalid ate at her lips, licked at them. He drew her into a sensual, heated world where nothing mattered but his touch and the desires raging through her now that she was in his arms.

  It felt as though it had been ages. Centuries. It had been too damned long. It had been since this afternoon, and as far as she was concerned, that was a lifetime ago.

  As he kissed her, as his hands roved over her back, her hips, she felt the touch of another's hands at her thighs.

  Shayne.

  It wasn't a shock; it was an addition to the pleasure, a sensual, erotic enticement that stoked the fire burning inside her higher, hotter.

  "I've wondered who held your heart." Shayne's voice was a caress against her senses as Khalid's lips stroked from hers to her jaw, her neck. "Then I wondered if I had a chance at being his third."

  Fingers pulled her blouse from her jeans; she didn't know whose, she didn't care. All that mattered was the touch,
the pleasure, and Khalid.

  All that mattered was the feel of the fingers slowly unbuttoning her blouse, pulling the edges apart, and revealing her lace-covered breasts as Khalid's lips brushed from her neck to her bare shoulder.

  Sensual weakness filled her muscles, making her feel dazed, mesmerized. Their touch mesmerized her. She had expected pleasure, but she hadn't expected what she was feeling now.

  The front clip of her bra was released, the lace was peeled away from the swollen mounds. Marty's head tipped back on her shoulders as Khalid supported her, held her against his chest and stared down at the fingers brushing over, against, around her breasts.

  The window between the front and back had been raised. She didn't know when he had done it; she didn't care.

  They didn't undress her, though she felt as though the material of her clothes were too rough against her sensitive flesh. Heat burned her bared flesh as the tips of calloused male fingers rasped against it gently.

  "I want to watch," Khalid whispered against her ear. "I want to see your pleasure, Marty. I want to see the hunger in your eyes. I want to watch your face flush with pleasure."

  The overwhelming desire, the need, roughened his voice and sped through her own system like a wildfire racing out of control.

  Her eyes opened as she felt his arm brace the back of her neck, lifting her head to meet his gaze. She felt too drowsy, too inundated with the exquisite pleasure tearing through her to protest anything he wanted at the moment. Perhaps not at a later moment, either.

  She didn't pretend to understand the need the men of the club had to share their women. At the moment, she didn't care. At the moment the pleasure racing through her was all that mattered.

  "So pretty," he whispered, his gaze moving from her face to where Shayne was caressing her breasts. His palms cupped the swollen mounds, his thumbs rubbing over them as Khalid leaned back and shifted her body until she was facing Shayne.

  He leaned forward, his dark blue gaze heavy-lidded, his cheekbones flushed with lust as he watched Khalid's palm curve around the side of her breast, lifting the tight, hard nipple to him as though in invitation.