Guilty Pleasure

Agony streaked along Marty’s hip as she threw herself from Khalid to the edge of the bed. Her hand flew to the separation of the mattress and box spring, her fingers curling around the butt of the gun as it slipped free.

Simultaneously Khalid threw his weight over her body as more gunfire sounded.

She fought him. Trying to ignore the horrifying agony at her hip, Marty fought to turn, to aim the weapon she had managed to snatch at the bastard daring to endanger the man she loved.

“Move!” She was picked from the floor like a rag doll as Khalid threw himself toward the bathroom door.

Aman’s curses were like the screams of a demon as Khalid threw the door closed, locked it, then forced Marty to the back of the room and into the sunken tub.

She stared at him in shock as she glimpsed the small, lethally powerful P90 personal protection weapon he carried in one hand.

“Put this on.” He threw a white robe to her as he grabbed the white, comfortable pants he had worn in their suite and jerked them on.

“You won’t escape so easily, Khalid.” The sound of Aman’s weapon tapping against the door was like listening to Satan peck his nails against it. It sent chills racing down her spine and horror filled her soul.

“Are you okay?” Khalid sliced a look at her as she tied the robe.

She nodded with the lie. She wasn’t okay. She was bleeding like a damned stuck pig and her fucking hip was burning like the flames of hell were flickering over it.

“Do not play this game, Khalid.”

Khalid threw himself into the tub, covering her as bullets tore through the bathroom door, the lock shattering. A foot against the panel, and Aman was staring in at them with a smile on his face before he threw himself to the side, barely escaping the gunfire Khalid spewed toward him.

“Ah, you are getting smarter,” Aman called out. “Come out and play, Khalid. Come, my brother, and perhaps I will share your woman with you before I cut her depraved cunt from her body.”

20

Where the fuck was Shayne?

Khalid crouched over Marty’s body, fighting to protect her, to give Shayne time to hear the weapons firing and to come running.

He knew she was lying to him. She had been hit. Her blood had sprayed his thigh as the bullet tore through her hip. Jumping for the opposite side of the bed had most likely saved her life, as Aman had been aiming for another shot even as she moved.

“You’re fucking up, Aman,” he called out to the other man. “You won’t leave here alive.”

“Do you think I came alone?” Aman was laughing. “I came with friends. One has bound Abdul to keep him safe, the others search your home now to ensure we missed no one. You are isolated, Khalid. No one will help you now.”

Khalid breathed in roughly. Shayne was a damned good agent. He wasn’t that easy to catch unaware. “Your father won’t like having Abdul harmed, Aman,” Khalid reminded him.

“Father is a sentimental old fool,” Aman called back. “But Abdul will live, as per his orders, just as you will, brother. Though I doubt Father will shed many tears for Abram. You know he sent us for him.”

Khalid stilled. That was impossible. Azir would have never sent his sons to kill his heir.

“Abram thought he could leave his home, his country,” Aman called out. “He thought he could abdicate the future of his throne and his father would tolerate such a betrayal. Azir ordered Abram’s death. Just as he will one day order yours.”

He felt Marty moving behind him, her breath catching in obvious pain as she slid around him.

“Come, Khalid, let’s not draw this out any further than we must,” Aman chided him. “Let me kill your little whore, then I will be gone from your life again. At least, until you find another diseased bitch to take your depraved cock.”

“Bastard,” Marty snarled. “I want to cut his fucking dick off.”

He stared back at her almost in shock. His ladylike little Marty had a mouth on her that could possibly almost match his own. He’d have to discuss this with her.

If they lived.

God, if they lived.

He narrowed his eyes on the door frame, watching the shadow that moved just outside it. The light spilled over Aman in a way that allowed Khalid to track him by tracking his shadow. His brother still hadn’t learned to watch his ass. He had always depended on his father to watch his back. His father wasn’t here now.

“We need to distract him,” Marty whispered softly behind him. “We need to get him to edge closer to the frame. The P90 will pass through the wall, Khalid.”

Khalid shook his head. “It’s reinforced. I suspect Aman knows this, as my employees did. It will do no good to shoot anything other than the door. The bullets will be stopped by the layer of steel within the walls.”

She sighed heavily behind him.

“My cell phone is in the bedroom,” she said. “We’re fucked if we have to stay here.”

Their ammunition was limited, whereas he had glimpsed the backpack Aman carried. No doubt his brother was fully stocked.

“We’ll just have to make every bullet count,” Khalid told her quietly.

“I believe before I kill your whore, I want to fuck her.” Aman was trying to push every button he thought Khalid possessed. “It was I who cut Lessa’s betraying cunt from her body, Khalid. She was alive as I did so. She cried and begged, and in the end she screamed for her depraved husband and her bastard lover. But you weren’t there, were you?” He laughed viciously. “Do you think my wife screamed for me when she died?”

“I think she died instantly,” Khalid called back. “I doubt she even thought of you, Aman. I would guess she was happy to leave this life and her insane husband behind.”

No doubt, Khalid thought, the woman had been as crazy as Aman was. She built many of the bombs that went into the vests of suicide bombers and helped Aman to plot many of the merciless attacks that had been made by the terrorist cell he led.

“Ah, you think you can speak such lies and hurt me,” Aman called back, his tone furious. “Allah has sent me to punish you, Khalid. I am vengeance.”

“I doubt Allah had anything to do with your insanity, Aman. Your father should have drowned you like a diseased dog when you were born.”

Silence met the words. Khalid stayed carefully behind the rim of the tub, praying the sunken design of it would protect them once Aman stepped clear to fire inside the room once again.

“You are a part of Satan,” Aman accused him sadly. “Father refuses to believe it. You have bespelled him. But it will not last much longer.”

No, it wouldn’t. Khalid was going to kill Aman before he ever left this house, then he would go searching for Ayid. He just had to be patient, he warned himself.

Behind him, Marty shifted, a soft curse falling from her lips from the pain the action no doubt caused. The flesh wound on her hip would be a deep one, he thought. The blood that had splattered over him hadn’t been minute.

“Check the window,” he ordered her softly. “See if anyone is outside.”

She moved behind him. The wide windows looked out over the back of the estate and the gardens below. There was a small balcony outside, one for looks rather than actual use, but it would hold their weight if they could slip outside.

“Nothing,” she whispered back.

“Khalid, I grow weary of this game,” Aman called out to him.

“Then come on, Aman. Let me kill your ass and get it over with,” Khalid called back, as he glanced over his shoulder.

Marty was struggling with the lock, trying to disengage the heavy metal latch.

“What are you doing, Khalid?” Suspicion filled Aman’s voice. “Do you think you can escape me?”