As the CIA agent assigned to the area, Shayne had worked with Khalid as well as Abram, more than once. And in each man he’d seen the scars that the past had left. Scars that marred the soul rather than the body.

The Mustafa brothers, Ayid and Aman, were demons of the worse sort. Vicious, brutal, and filled with hatred.

Shayne had also seen how much it had hurt Khalid to turn away from the woman he ached for. There were times Shayne wondered if Khalid even knew that he was in love with Marty.

“When will you tell her?” Shayne finally asked.

Khalid sighed. “Tonight, perhaps.”

How interesting. Shayne barely managed to restrain his smile.

“That might be hard to do.”

Khalid’s eyes narrowed on him, and Shayne found his suspicion almost amusing.

“You say this for what reason?” Khalid asked, his tone turning cold.

“She’s attending a ball tonight with Senator Mathews.” Shayne grinned. “I heard she actually approached another member of the club with an invitation, but it was very nicely refused.”

Khalid’s jaw tightened. Shayne had toyed with the idea of withholding this information, certain it would push Khalid into claiming Marty, and had not been certain that it was a good idea. If Khalid had already made that choice though, then it wouldn’t hurt to let him know that his woman was growing a bit sick of the game he was playing.

Khalid drew in a hard, deep breath, as though drawing patience into himself. It had always amazed Shayne how he did that, how he forced a certain control on his emotions when it came to Marty Mathews.

She was a weakness. And honestly it was something Shayne had thought Ayid and Aman would have already figured out by now.

“The Sinclair ball,” Khalid finally stated emotionlessly. “She’s attending it tonight?”

Shayne nodded. “It would seem so.”

“Then I will speak to her tonight.”

Shayne smiled. “I look forward to being a part of her pleasure, Khalid. Thank you for the offer.”

A half smile tugged at Khalid’s lips. “You merely want a chance to play house for a while, remember?” he reminded Shayne.

“Well, there is that,” Shayne agreed. “There’s also watching her tie you in ten different kinds of knots. That’s will always be amusing.”

“I’ll remember that when you’re tied up in those knots yourself, my friend,” Khalid informed him with a knowing grin. “Trust me, your turn is coming.”

Shayne inclined his head in acknowledgment, though Khalid doubted he believed him. Shayne called himself a lone wolf for a reason. He had learned years ago, just as Khalid had, the cost of love. And like Khalid, the day would come when he would fight for it again.

“I’ll let you know then when you’re needed,” Khalid finally said as the other man picked up his paper again and shook it out, his light brown eyes still lit with amusement.

It was an amusement most single members had when they watched another fall into the silken arms of the only woman their hearts seemed to beat for.

“Your father has called again,” Abdul reported as he drove the limo along the curved driveway that led from the club.

Speak of the devil, Khalid sighed.

“What did the old bastard want this time?” A feeling of weariness descended over him like a heavy, wet blanket. Hell, there were times he wanted nothing more than to simply rest. To close his eyes without the worry of what tomorrow would bring.

“He wants to speak to you as always.” Abdul’s tone was without inflection.

The old bastard wanted to be certain Abram had come to D.C. as he’d asked him to.

“Did you tell him to go to hell?” Khalid asked with vicious politeness.

“I informed him once again that you have been quite busy.” Abdul cleared his throat uncomfortably. “He seemed upset. More so than usual.”

The son of a bitch called in a show of fatherly concern whenever Ayid and Aman were about to do something foul to him. If he needed confirmation that his brothers were ready to move, then this was it.

God, he wanted it over with. There were nights he actually managed to convince himself that he could fund the death of the old bastard and the sons that were no more than animals. And he would have, many times over, if his hand hadn’t been stayed by the FBI.

“If he calls again, tell him I regretfully decline kinship with him and would prefer that he lay down and die painfully,” he stated wearily. “In the meantime, please contact the estate and have my attire for the Sinclair ball laid out. It seems I’ll be attending after all.”

The Sinclair balls were impossible to ignore, especially for those who were a part of the Sinclair club, or who knew Courtney. Members of the club were given a personal invitation by Ian Sinclair, with several reminders not to forget his wife’s ball. Those who didn’t attend endured his glares for weeks.

Married or single, the members knew better than to miss one. If there was one weekness Ian had, it was his delicate little wife and anything her merciless heart desired.

The end-of-summer event was in full swing when Khalid arrived, alone.

He moved across the ballroom to the bar on the far side and ordered a drink stiff enough to burn through the hunger riding him as he searched for Marty and Shayne. Apparently they hadn’t arrived yet.

“Khalid, thank you so much for being here.”

Turning, he accepted the fierce hug from the petite sprite dressed in red. Courtney smiled up at him. Behind her stood her brooding husband, Ian. And Ian always brooded whenever his wife was surrounded by hungry males. At least, that was how he described them.

“I only obey the commands given,” Khalid assured her, grinning, as she pouted back at him impudently, her chocolate-brown eyes gleaming with impish delight. “Though, I have to admit, your buffet is better than most.”

“Ian, he’s being mean to me,” she complained, frowning back at her husband.

“Stop being mean to Courtney, Khalid,” Ian ordered, with a mock glare that had his wife pressing her elbow sharply into his hard abs.

Khalid grinned at the move, though his gaze roved the ballroom, searching, as always, for that one delicate figure. If he hadn’t needed to discuss the situation with Ian, then he would have never allowed Shayne to pick up Marty for the party tonight.

“I need to talk to you a moment, if you don’t mind.” Khalid stepped forward, his voice low as he drew Ian’s attention.

“Of course. My study?” Ian nodded to the smaller doorway leading from the ballroom.

The newly constructed mansion boasted two stories and two wings. The shorter wing housed the ballroom and Ian’s offices, while the main house occupied the larger wing.

Following Ian through a short hall, Khalid stepped into the study while he the other man watched him curiously.

“Courtney and her parties.” Ian sighed as he strode to the small bar in the corner of the room and fixed two whiskeys. “I swear, you’d think they were world events the way she plots and plans around them.”

“For Courtney, they usually are,” Khalid drawled, accepting the drink.

“I believe Sebastian has been telling us all horror stories about the balls she and her mother used to throw.”

Sebastian had known Courtney before her arrival in Virginia nearly two years earlier. Before she had made the decision to win the elusive Ian Sinclair’s heart.

She had stolen Ian’s heart, and the friendship of everyone else she had touched since then. That didn’t mean they didn’t live in fear of her disapproval. Or her anger. She had a temper that could make a grown man whimper in fear.

Ian tugged at the tight neck of his evening shirt and shook his head.

“You wanted to discuss Courtney’s predilection to overdramatize her parties, or was there something more on your mind?” Ian asked as he walked to the desk and sat down, with a long, drawn-out sigh.