Page 21 of Midnight Shadows


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Idella gave Junayd instructions on how to access the roof, and then he watched with amusement as Tarek led her down the staircase. His brother was very protective of her. Now that Junayd knew more about her secrets, he couldn’t help but find that funny. He wondered which of them was really the better protector.

Butrus and Emin followed Idella and Tarek to the hidden staircase. Junayd picked up his drink and waved for the two remaining guards to stay seated as he climbed the stairs to the third floor.

A comedy act was on the stage now, and the crowd's laughter drifted upward. It was an odd background to his thoughts of the mysterious woman with eyes that shimmered in the moonlight.

He entered the code to access the corridor and pushed the door open. Another staircase brought him to the rooftop door. He stepped out into the frigid night air. A glass atrium covered nearly the entire roof.

An automatic door opened as he stepped closer, and he entered the warmth of the climate controlled area. The interior of the atrium was as lavish as a Bedouin tent. Luxurious couches, lush ferns, and unique water features made for a romantic setting. He stared up at the glass ceiling. Only a few stars could be seen along with a half moon. The windy weather earlier had threatened a storm, but instead it had scrubbed the sky of clouds. The blackness of night appeared clear and crisp.

He sipped his drink before setting it on a low table to pick up a book of poetry. He read several verses before returning the book to the table. The quiet of the atrium was soothing. The last week had been a challenge as all he could think about was the softness of Midnight’s lips and the pleasured sounds she had made when he caressed the silky skin beneath her shirt.

He was shoving his hands in his pockets, lost in memory, when a movement along the edge of the roof caught his attention. Frowning, he stepped closer to the glass wall. A figure climbed over the side of the retaining wall and fell to the roof.

Idella's words about the violence just a block from the club shot through his mind. His first thought was to notify Idella’s security, but then he realized the figure wasn’t moving. His training as a doctor kicked in, and he strode to the doors of the atrium, back into the cold air.

The moment he rounded the corner, he heard her muffled moan, and an overwhelming sense of urgency filled him. He muttered a curse in Arabic, a horrifying suspicion forming in his mind.

She slowly rose on unsteady feet, dragging herself up with the help of the ledge, and removed a weapon from beneath her coat, blood dripping from her fingers. In the dim light cast by the atrium, the moon, and the city, Junayd's eyes locked on her wavy raven hair and dark brown eyes. Her scarf was hunter green this time.

“Midnight,raqisat alqamar,” he exclaimed as he rushed to her, catching her when she tipped forward.

He lifted her in his arms. Her arm curled around his neck and she laid her head against his shoulder.

“I need Harry,” she murmured.

“Harry? The security guy?” he repeated with disbelief.

He strode across the roof and through the door of the atrium as she told him, “I have a... a gunshot wound... lower right abdomen. Calf is... a graze.... Hurts... like a son-of-a-bitch.” Her voice was barely audible on the last word.

He gently laid her on the chaise lounge and cursed under his breath at the amount of blood saturating her sweater. He winced with sympathy when he pulled the fabric away from her wound. She didn't react at all, and he glanced up to see she had lost consciousness. Retrieving his phone from his pocket, he dialed Tarek’s number.

His brother answered on the second ring. “We’re almost finished. The police—“

“It isn’t that. I need a medical kit brought to the atrium immediately.”

"Are you—"

He hung up and placed his phone next to the table, wishing there was better lighting in here. Midnight’s breathing was shallow and her skin was clammy.

Junayd gently pressed on the area around the wound. The bullet was still in Midnight. She gasped, glaring at him as she grabbed his hand.

“That hurts!” she bit out.

“Then maybe you won’t do it again,” he snapped back.

“Call Harry," she ordered weakly. "He’ll patch me up. There-there’s a house phone on the wall by the door.”

"Help is already on the way," he reassured.

She sighed with relief and closed her eyes, her lashes lying like twin crescents against her pale cheeks. Her breathing slowed.

He caressed her cheek through the silky shield of her scarf. His fingers traced the edge of the fabric that was hiding her from him.

He drew in a breath and made himself pause, caught between his heart's desire and an uncomfortable feeling rising from his conscience. He released his breath slowly and pulled his hand away from her mask.

Patience,he reminded himself.

Her fingers belatedly gripped his wrist, and he ruefully smiled.

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