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As he sidled through the clusters of people chatting and laughing and drinking he spotted the two security guards from the front entrance striding into the room. The older one, who’d let Shayma in, was now pointing toward her as he spoke to the younger guard. Murphy’s heart sank.
Shit.
Looked like time had just run out. He hoped like hell Shayma was paying attention and would slip away toward the exit before the guards reached her. She was here on a travel visa. They could have her arrested for trespassing. Or worse.
Two uniformed police officers rushed in behind the guards and headed in Shayma’s direction at the same moment a bark of laughter rang out from Senator Lawrence, snapping his attention back to his target. The senator had his arm around his young wife, who was knocking back flutes of champagne like they were water, her Botoxed face flushed from heat or exertion or both. He imagined some old coot manhandling his sister that way and his stomach cramped.
Aileen.
Behind him a commotion rippled through the crowd followed by a feminine shriek.
Shayma.
Every fiber of his being felt twisted and torn. Part of him wanted to charge over and slam his fist into the face of any man who dared touch Shayma, law enforcement or not. The other part of him knew it would be hard enough to track his sister’s whereabouts without him trying to do it while rotting away in jail somewhere.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” an announcer said from up on the stage, jolting him to attention. “If you’d please take your seats, we’ll begin the presentation portion of the evening shortly.”
“Take your hands off of me!” Shayma said, her voice rising with an edge of panic. “You have no right to arrest me. My father is the Minister of Energy for the Al Dar Nasrani government. I have diplomatic immunity. He’ll have his attorneys all over this before you can think twice. Let me go!”
“What did that woman say?” Senator Lawrence said to a man at his side. Murphy couldn’t really see the guy’s face well due to the lights being dimmed for the presentations, but he assumed the man was one of the senator’s aides or entourage. “What’s she doing here?”
“No idea, sir,” the aide said. The voice sounded strangely familiar, but he didn’t have time to think about it now. Another aide lurked on the senator’s opposite side, flanking him.
“Well, get her out of here,” the senator said, passing the aide on his right his cell phone. “Call for reinforcements if need be. The last thing I want is someone poking around into my business with EnKor. Frank and I are in deep negotiations and I don’t want the competition.” Murphy froze at the mention of the company where Aileen had last been seen and confirmation of a tie between the senator and the company’s CEO. “Kent’s jumpy enough as it is. Get that foreign bitch out of here and make sure she stays out.”
The way he said “foreign bitch” reeked of entitlement and bigotry, not to mention the misogynistic undertones. Murphy’s hackles rose and he clenched his fists to keep from ramming one straight into the not-so-good senator from Kentucky’s face. Either that or slamming him up against the ballroom wall and choking him until he spilled all his secrets about EnKor and Aileen’s whereabouts.
The guards had Shayma restrained at the side of the stage, near the buffet table where he’d left her, and appeared to be waiting on the cops to join them. The lights brightened a bit and he saw Shayma’s face: angry, her eyes bright with indignation. Time to rescue the woman he loved—who was now being hau
led unceremoniously through the ballroom by the two police officers, one on each arm, while the guards followed behind them.
The younger guard glanced over and spotted Murphy. “There’s the other one! In the Navy uniform. They’re together!”
Time seemed to slow then as his will galvanized. Murphy would make his own future opportunity to talk with Senator Lawrence again, even if he had to kidnap the guy himself. Right now, he needed to get Shayma and they needed to get out of there. He might not be able to save Aileen tonight, but he could sure as hell save the woman who’d stolen what was left of his battered heart.
Murphy charged straight for one of the officers holding Shayma, shoving shocked guests out of the way before decking the cop square on the jaw and knocking him out cold. While people scrambled to get out of the way around them, Murphy grabbed a startled Shayma by the wrist and rushed with her toward an exit behind the stage. They made it about three steps before the other cop stopped them. He yanked Murphy around and punched him hard in the side of the head, knocking off his hat and sending him reeling backward while Shayma screamed.
Soon, Murphy and the cop were on the floor, wrestling for control. Murphy regained his feet and his equilibrium fast, as did the cop, and they circled each other. He managed to land a couple good punches into the cop’s stomach and sides before shoving him into the base of one of the towering Christmas trees near the stage. The massive thing swayed ominously before slowly toppling to the floor alongside the buffet table. The crowds of onlookers scrambled to get out of the way. As the older security guard shoved the pine branches off of the police officer and tried to get him to his feet again, Shayma rushed over and clobbered the guard with her bejeweled handbag, knocking the guy out flat.
Murphy shook his head and smiled. Damn, she was glorious.
The younger guard was on his walkie-talkie, no doubt calling in reinforcements, if Murphy had to guess. With the situation going downhill fast, he straightened his uniform then grabbed his hat from the floor before taking Shayma by the hand and pulling her toward the exit once more. “We need to get out of here now.”
“But what about the senator? Don’t you need to talk to him?”
“It won’t happen now, not tonight. His aides are all over him and cops are going to be swarming this place soon. Besides, I overheard enough to know he’s involved with some kind of deal with EnKor and their CEO, Frank Kent. I can do more research on that on my own and try to get more information from him later. On my own terms.”
They were at the back door, ready to push outside, when a hand on his shoulder stopped Murphy in his tracks. His breath stuck in his lungs and his heart dropped. Fuck. Looked like he’d be sitting his ass in a cell anyway despite all his efforts. He turned slowly to see the last faces he ever expected. His buddies.
“Jesus, dude. Can’t take you anywhere, can we?” Heath said. His dark suit matched the one Murphy had spied on the senator’s aide earlier and the pieces fell into place. No wonder he hadn’t been able to reach them earlier today. They’d probably been undercover with the senator. “Like a bull in a fucking china shop.”
“And beating men with your purse. Your father would be highly displeased, Shayma,” Daveed said, the amusement in his eyes in direct opposition to his scolding tone. “Well done.”
“Thanks.” She snorted and smoothed a hand down the front of her dress. “A girl has to stand up for herself, doesn’t she?”
“Yes.” Murphy raised her hand to his mouth and kissed it tenderly. “She does.”
“C’mon,” Heath said, opening the metal door and holding it for the rest of them. “My driver is on his way to the alley and we need to be gone before the cops close off the escape routes around the hotel.”
