would burn to a crisp.
Making the turn into the downtown area, Marty directed the car to the restaurant and nightclub that she and several friends had agreed on for a nice little girls’ night out.
Alyssa Stanhope had been a friend since childhood. She had always envied the other woman for her naturally streaked, blond hair, and soft, light blue eyes. For years, Marty had thought that Alyssa’s life must be perfect, because of her tall, statuesque good looks. The truth was quite the opposite. Her father was a long-standing member of the U.S. Senate and an acquaintance of the Mathewses that they never socialized with because of Senator Stanhope’s often cruel approach to his daughter.
Courtney Sinclair was Spanish, beautiful, and the wife of the owner of the exclusive, secretive establishment known merely as “the club.” An establishment Marty had tried to investigate once. Her father had put a stop to that faster than she could blink.
She grinned at that thought. Her father and godfather, both of whom she had called Father, or Dad, on any given occasion, were members of that club. Men who shared their lovers or their wives. Men gathered together to protect themselves, their families, and their own reputations. It was an interesting concept, she had to admit. From what little she had learned over the years, the concept was one that had kept many high-standing social, as well as political, members out of the hot seat when it came to their personal and even their business lives.
Alyssa and Courtney had an odd relationship. They argued like enemies but seemed to stick together like sisters. As different as night from day, the two women had still managed to find common ground.
While making her way from the parking lot to the restaurant, Marty glimpsed Khalid’s limo from the corner of her eye. His driver and bodyguard, Abdul, threw his hand up as he cast her a huge grin.
As she moved toward him, she smiled cheekily, knowing he would have something to say about the short skirt, snug top, and high heels she wore. Not to mention the makeup.
And she was right. He was now scowling as she walked toward him, his dark brown gaze filled with amusement and chastisement.
“So much beauty should never be displayed so indiscriminately,” he sighed, as she approached him. “It should be saved for the husband who would better appreciate it.”
“Give it a rest, Abbie.” She laughed, as he flushed from the nickname. “How are you doing?”
She accepted a gentle kiss on her cheek before moving back.
“I am doing well, very well,” he stated, with a sharp nod of his head. “The master, he is rather pissed with the world.” He grinned back at her mockingly. “Have you been following him again?”
“Oh, so it’s my fault he’s in a bad mood?” She gave a light laugh. At least she wasn’t the only one affected by the afternoon’s adventure. “Trust me, Abdul, Khalid and a bad mood go hand in hand.”
Abdul gave a heavy sigh, now staring at her with sad eyes, his weathered face creased into lines of concern. “I worry for him.”
“Well, don’t.” She patted his shoulder as she moved by him. “Trust me, Khalid takes care of himself very well. We both know that one by now.”
He took care of himself so well that he was one of her father’s deepest undercover agents. Khalid managed to get information no one else could access, and infiltrated groups that no other agent could hope to slip into alive.
Striding along the cement walk to the entrance of the nightclub and restaurant, Marty threw an appreciative smile at the large doorman as he opened the door for her with a flourish.
Entering the building, she took the left hall and moved along the rounded wall quickly to the hostess’s station and the smiling blonde standing in attendance.
“Ms. Mathews, it’s so good to see you back.” The hostess gave her a wide, toothy smile. “If you’ll come with me, your party is waiting.”
Her party wasn’t waiting where they had promised they would be, in the restaurant itself. They were sitting instead inside a private balcony that looked out over the dance floor of the nightclub.
Courtney was staring over the balcony rail with a frown, her long brown hair cascading over her shoulder and the dark wood and brass rail, while Alyssa sat along the side of the wall, watching the other woman, also with a frown.
Alyssa tended to sit in corners, to hide, whenever she was in public. There were too many wagging tongues that were too eager to run to her father with the news of where she was and who she was with. And often, they were complete lies.
“Is she drunk yet?” Marty asked the other woman, as Courtney tried to find an angle that would allow her to see better. Though what she was trying to see, Marty couldn’t decide.
“Not yet.” Alyssa sighed, a small attempt at a smile tugging at her lips as she picked up her drink and took a long sip. “Give her time, though. She’s pissed at Ian.”
Courtney flipped around to glare at them. “I am not pissed at Ian. I am simply mildly displeased.”
Marty glanced at Alyssa, then they both looked at the glass of wine as Courtney finished it.
“I give her an hour,” Marty stated, taking her seat before turning and giving the hostess her drink preference.
“I give her less than that, actually,” Alyssa said, as she shook her head, her blue eyes somber, her expression as carefully composed as always. It was rare for Alyssa to show emotion at all. She was the most carefully composed person Marty had ever met.
“I tell you both, tonight, I am not pissed at Ian.” Courtney spun around, her regal stature spoiled by the frown on her face as she looked at Marty. “And you are late.”
“So sorry.” Marty almost rolled her eyes. “I was busy today.”
Courtney narrowed her eyes at her. “I was by your parents’ home today. I saw your car, and Khalid’s, and I have been dying of curiosity. Ian has refused to tell me any gossip he may have heard.” She pouted charmingly. “Tell me there is gossip, Marty.”
It was all Marty could do to keep the flush from her face.
“Khalid was at the house to see Zach.” She shrugged. “No gossip there, sorry, Court.”
Lying to Courtney wasn’t easy. Most people couldn’t manage it. Marty had about a 50 percent success rate. Which wasn’t that good, considering how many questions the woman could ask.
Courtney stared at her for a long moment before smiling beatifically. “You are such a liar, my dear. But I’ll forgive you if you tell me the truth this moment. Otherwise, you will only force me to ask my good friend Khalid.”
Marty arched a brow quizzically. “If you’re such good friends, then he would have already told you any gossip there was to tell,” she pointed out. “Now stop interrogating me. We’re supposed to be having fun tonight.”
Courtney sat back in her chair and crossed her arms over the brilliant scarlet top she wore as she glared, first at Marty, then at Alyssa. “Why do my good friends want to withhold the juicy details from me? It’s not as though I ask for much.”
“Is she becoming more spoiled or what?” Alyssa stared at Marty in mock surprise. “I think Ian’s ruining her.”
“I think she’s the pot calling the kettle black.” Marty turned back to Courtney with a sweet smile. “Tell me what you know and I’ll tell you what I know.”
And, of course, Courtney couldn’t agree to that one. Marty watched as her friend glared at her once again, before huffing and picking up her drink.
“Are you still investigating Mustafa?” Alyssa asked Marty seriously. “You know Courtney won’t give you any information on him.”
“I want other information.” Marty shrugged. “The investigation is over. It’s personal now.”
Courtney perked up. “Personal?” She propped her elbow on the table and cupped her chin in her hand. “How personal? Merely friends and concerned or ‘wanting to jump that luscious body’ personal?”
“She’s always wanted to jump his body.” Alyssa spoke low, in a too serious voice, as though afraid someone would hear her. “I believe we were fifteen at the time.” A smile almost tipped her lips.
“Almost sixteen.” Marty frowned back at her. “And that is really beside the point.”
Courtney rubbed her hands together gracefully, her smile wrinkling her pert nose. “Ahh, the downfall of Khalid. I could get into this. I really could.”
Marty simply stared back at her for long moments before leaning closer. “Who is his latest liaison?”
