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He loved her.
She wasn't dreaming. This wasn't a fantasy. It was real, and she wasn't losing her mind.
"You love me?"
"I love you. " He gave her a small, gentle smile. "More than you can ever know. "
She couldn't stem the tears. They filled her eyes and slid slowly down her cheeks as he stared back at her, a small, confused frown darkening his brow.
"I've loved you since I was fifteen years old," she whispered. "So much, Khalid. I've loved you so much. "
Her arms went around his neck as she buried her face in his chest, fighting to stop the tears. She didn't want to cry. She didn't want his face blurred because of her tears. She wanted to memorize it. She wanted to preserve this moment in time.
"He loves you so much. "
They both froze for one second before jerking around to stare in shock at the figure who stood in the doorway, an automatic rifle cradled in his arms.
Aman Mustafa.
Marty knew his scarred face instantly. The thick black hair was pulled back into a ponytail; a ragged, ill-kept bushy beard covered the lower part of his face.
She couldn't move. She stared at the barrel of the rifle as it pointed toward her chest, the evil smile on his face as he moved into the room, terrifying her.
There was no mercy in that gaze. There was no compassion. There was only evil. Pure, black-hearted evil.
"This was so easy. " He laughed at them as he moved inside, an arrogant swagger in his step that screamed conceited confidence.
Her weapon was tucked under the edge of the mattress, so far away. She lay against Khalid on his side of the ultra-king-size bed, the edge of the bed a good body-length from her.
"Aman. " Khalid's tone was ice, his body tense against her.
He stared around the room curiously as he moved to stand at the foot of the bed. "I'm surprised you have no third with you tonight. I expected it. "
He didn't know Shayne was there.
"I didn't need one tonight. " Khalid held her close as he sat up fully and stared back at his brother.
"Ah, surely you are not giving up on such pleasures?" Aman propped his foot at the bottom of the bed. "I thought for certain that if you did not give them up for the memory of Lessa then you would give them up for no woman. "
Marty kept her eyes on Aman, but her senses concentrated fully on Khalid. Aman was trying to piss him off, to hurt him. The memory of Lessa was one Khalid had never let himself forget, nor had he ever forgiven himself for her death.
There was also a sense of hope. Shayne was in the house. There was a chance, a slim one at best, but a chance that he could return to the bedroom and distract Aman.
"Does it matter why I gave it up?" Khalid asked, further drawing Aman into the belief that no one else was there. "Tell me, Aman, how did you get past my security guards?"
"They were easy. " Aman smiled as he shrugged. "Very complacent in their abilities and their technologies. Unfortunately, I was here long before the full force actually arrived. Your poor cook slipped me in this afternoon, just after you and your lovely Agent Mathews left the house. "
"And the call that the Saudi ambassador's assistant made from the party last night?" Khalid asked.
Aman smiled. "To Ayid, as I'm certain you know. I've been here for a while, brother. " His gaze slid to Marty. "Long enough to nearly kill your whore the night you almost caught me in her apartment. "
It wasn't an unknown assassin. Aman had been here all along.
Khalid breathed in deeply behind her. A controlling, patient breath as Marty clutched the sheet tighter to her breasts.
"Americans amaze me. " Aman sighed, as though they were children he didn't understand. "They believe they are so full of wisdom and answers. But living is the understanding that such things cannot be controlled. Allah controls all things instead, and he reaches back, forsaking us when vengeance is owed us. " He glared at Khalid then. "Vengeance is owed, Khalid. Allah provided a way for me to strike. "
"I thought you said the cook provided that?" Khalid drawled.
