Murphy saluted the security guard at the door to the Ritz-Carlton ballroom with all the pomp and circumstance he could muster. “Murphy Coen, Ensign to the Admiral Chief of Naval Operations, Naval Special Warfare Officer, reporting for duty, sir.”

The young security guard looked slightly taken aback, his eyes widening at the six-foot-plus wall of muscle cloaked in a military uniform in front of him. “Uh, invitation please?”

Assuming an at-rest stance and giving the guard a flat look from beneath the brim of his hat, Murphy didn’t budge an inch. “Afraid I forgot it, sir. I’m here as part of Senator Lawrence’s entourage from DC. Personal security.”

“Oh, um.” The guard looked around, presumably for his partner who seemed to be missing in action at the moment. “I’ll need to check and be sure what the protocol is on that.”

Sensing his opportunity slipping away, Murphy gazed around at all the well-dressed couples milling about then lowered his voice. “Please, dude? I’m late already and I don’t want to get in any more trouble. I’ll owe you one. Next time you’re down by the docks, let me know and I’ll get you a free, personalized tour of a destroyer.”

“Seriously?” The guard grinned. He looked about twenty-two and was still green behind the ears when it came to his duties, that much was obvious to Murph. “That’d be so cool!”

“So?” Murphy tilted his head toward the elaborately decorated ballroom beyond. “Can I head in?”

The guy glanced around then back to Murphy. “Go. But if anyone asks, it wasn’t me who okayed it.”

Murphy tipped his hat to the guard then headed inside, glad that went a lot easier than he’d expected. The Ritz was done up for Christmas in style. Huge trees festooned with glittering golden ornaments towered at least twenty feet into the air on either side of the massive stage set up for the evening’s presentations at the far end of the room. Pink and bluish lights shown down from overhead, casting the silver and iridescent tables aglow in the pastel shades of a winter wonderland. Against one wall was a dance floor and a small band playing carols. On the opposite wall was an hors d’oeurve spread and what appeared to be an open bar. Murphy headed that way first. Not to eat, but to get a good stiff drink to clear his head and steel his resolve.

Memories of Shayma kept running through his head—the look on her face when he’d walked out, the sound of his name on her lips, the faint smell of cinnamon in the air that would always remind him of her from now on. He swallowed hard and ordered a whiskey neat from the bartender then scanned the crowds for his quarry. From the pictures he’d seen online, Senator Lawrence was a portly, mid-sixties-ish man who looked downright kindly when he smiled. His hairline was receding and his shoulders stooped slightly forward when he stood. Some of the photos showed him wearing glasses, some not, which meant they weren’t a necessity for him to see. From the articles Murphy had read about him, his senate colleagues described him as sharp and smart and devoted to his causes. That sounded fine, on the surface. But Murphy had learned a long time ago to look deeper, where the darkness lurked.

It didn’t take long to spot the guy, out on the crowded dance floor swaying with a young woman who looked half his age. Lawrence’s spouse, Betty Murphy, he remembered from the Internet searches. A debutante-turned-trophy-wife. Murphy would bet a million bucks she ran around on her husband and blew through his wealth from oil investments like nobody’s business.

“Here you are, sir. And thanks for your service.” The bartender set Murphy’s whiskey down on the bar then moved on to the next customer in line.

Murphy took his drink and stood along the wall to observe the Lawrences more closely and figure out the best way to get near the man and ask him about EnKor and Aileen’s disappearance.

From the shadows, it was easy to people watch, all of them so oblivious to the dangers of the world. The ache that had lodged in his gut the day he’d realized Aileen was missing flared hotter. He’d made a vow to protect his little sis no matter what and he would find her, even if it took him forever and cost him everything to do it.

Only then would he think about his own shambles of a life again.

He took another swig of liquor, savoring the burn against the back of his throat, and thought about the SEALs again. He’d gotten another voicemail from his superiors, but hadn’t returned the call. He wasn’t going back, couldn’t go back, not until things with his sister were settled here. It wouldn’t feel right. And yeah, the guys could handle Aileen’s case themselves, but she was his sister, the only flesh and blood he had left—that he was willing to claim anyway. His mom, he’d discovered a few years back, had run off to Phoenix after leaving them behind and started a brand-new family, a brand-new life.

As if her old one hadn’t been good enough.

Murphy tossed back the rest of his drink and winced.

When it came right down to it, he supposed that as much as anything was what had pushed him all these years, made him into the driven man he was. The quest to prove that he was good enough, worthy enough, despite what his mother had done.

In truth, it was part of what pushed him now, to find Aileen.

Always the need to prove himself. Except with Shayma. Funny, but with her he’d never once felt like he wasn’t enough. With her, he always felt like the king of the world.

He sighed and leaned his shoulders back against the wall as the band switched from a peppy swing rendition of Jingle Bell Rock to the melodic tune of Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas. It was one of his favorites, beautiful and bittersweet all at the same time. Just like the holidays.

Shaking off his melancholy, he refocused on his future while keeping an eye on the senator and his wife swaying on the dance floor.

Honestly, Murphy still didn’t have a clue what he’d do with himself as a civilian. He had enough PTO time saved up that he could cash that in and live off the funds for probably a year, then he’d have to get a job. His SEAL-trained skills would most likely qualify him for a security position, maybe like the guard at the door or maybe with the police department, if they were hiring, but he wasn’t getting any younger and at thirty-two, he’d have to make that decision sooner rather than later.

And Shayma…

My Shayma.

With a sigh, he relaxed his tense muscles and stared down into his empty glass. Despite all his barriers and reasons why getting involved with her emotionally was such a horrible idea, he’d gone and done it anyway without even realizing how far he’d fallen until it was too late. He’d fallen hard and fast for the woman who could never be more than an impossible dream. Hell, she’d flat out told him that day at the apartment that she didn’t want more than a fling. Which in other circumstances would’ve been funny as shit, since he was usually the one saying that to his female companions. Except this time, hearing the words come from Shayma to him wasn’t funny. Not at all. It fucking hurt, truth be bold. Like carve-his-heart-out-with-a-dull-spoon level agony.

Why? Well, probably because if times were different and circumstances weren’t what they were and he wasn’t such a fucked-up mess emotionally from his past, Murphy could see himself being with Shayma, in every sense of that word—starting a home, a family, a life.

The music ended and applause rose and jarred him back to reality. Things were what they were and a fairy-tale life with the woman of his dreams wasn’t in the cards for them.

Not now.

Maybe not ever.

The band started into a lively chorus of Baby, It’s Cold Outside and the senator took his wife back into his arms to whirl her around the floor. From appearances, they were the happiest couple on the planet, but the way Ms. Lawrence pulled back slightly from her husband and averted her gaze betrayed the fact that all was not rainbows and glitter in their home. He’d have to do more research on them after he was done here. Murphy turned to head back to the bar for a refill when a flash of deep ruby red caught his eye near the entrance. He looked up and locked gazes with the most exquisite pair of dark doe eyes he’d ever seen and his breath hitched. A stunning woman, tall, dark hair, with a statuesque build, stood speaking with one of the security guards. Her deep red velvet dress was cut down to there on the top and up to there on the bottom, courtesy of a well-placed slit in the side that showed out the long expanse of her exquisite legs.

Shayma. Here. Now.

His body reacted before his mind caught up. Muscles tense and senses on high alert, he weaved his way through the crowds toward where she stood arguing with one of the guards as if drawn by some invisible cord. This guard wasn’t the young one he’d bullshitted his way through earlier. Must be his older partner, Murphy suspected.

The closer he got, he more he could hear of their conversation. The guard wanted to see Shayma’s tickets for the event and she was trying to flirt her way past him. How anyone could care about something as trivial as tickets when a gorgeous woman in an incredibly stunning, figure-hugging, floor-length velvet gown stood before him like a vision, Murphy had no idea. His cock twitched in appreciation of all Shayma’s golden flesh on display, even as his masculine pride bristled at the other men around her openly ogling.

She was his, goddammit, and no one admired her body but him.

No one.

With a growl, Murphy stepped in beside Shayma and took her by the elbow, forcing a smile for the security guard before giving her a quick kiss on her startled mouth. “Darling, you’re late.”

The words emerged gruffer than he’d intended, forced past his tight vocal cords.

Shayma’s dark gaze flickered to his, held for a moment, then snapped back to the guard. “Yes, I’m so sorry, baby. I wanted to look perfect for you tonight and the taxi took longer than I expected and traffic was a nightmare and—”

“Is the lady with you, sir?” the older guard asked him.

Shayma leaned forward slightly to kiss Murphy’s cheek, giving him a perfect view down the front of her dress and he damned near swallowed his tongue. In truth, she could’ve worn a garbage bag and he still would’ve thought she was the most beautiful woman in the universe. He cleared his throat and nodded to the security guard. “Yes, she’s with me.”

“Fine. Go.” The guard harrumphed and waved them into the ballroom.

Murphy guided Shayma over to a quiet corner near the end of the buffet table and gave a quick glance around before leaning closer and lowering his voice. “What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were going back to the Plaza.”

“I did. To change. We’re partners in this, remember?” She looked at him, her expression unreadable. “Look, Murphy. Just because you don’t want to sleep with me anymore doesn’t mean I won’t still help you find your sister. The truth is I came here to put everything on the table with you. I realize how crazy it sounds, since we’ve only known each other a short time, but I’ve fallen in love with you. I’d like to try working this out between us, if you’re willing. Given what you’ve told me about your mother and your dating history, I know that’s a long shot. And yes, you basically walked out on me earlier and my pride says that I should take the hint and leave you alone, but if I don’t say this now, I might not ever have the courage or opportunity to do so again. I love you. I want to be with you.”

Stunned, he blinked at her, his mind still snagged on the fact she thought he didn’t want to sleep with her anymore, and that she’d said she loved him. Sweat broke out on his forehead and his pulse pounded. She loves me and I love her. But he wasn’t good enough for her. She deserved a man who was open and trusting and undamaged by life. He was cynical and jaded and broken inside.

He stumbled back a step and wiped the back of his hand across his forehead. Yes, what they’d shared earlier back at the apartment had been more than just incredible sex. He felt connected to her now, body and soul, and that would never change. Which was exactly why he’d had to leave. Not because he didn’t want her anymore, but because he did. More than nearly anything else in the world. It was the right thing to do. The only thing to do.

Head lowered, he took her arm and steered her away from a chatting couple who stood a few feet away. The speech burned like acid in his throat, but he forced it out anyway, knowing it was a lie, knowing it would kill any chance he had for a future with her, knowing his shattered heart would never recover after this. “Look, I appreciate you wanting to help, but I’m taking a big enough chance sneaking in here myself. If we get caught, it could blow any chance I have of talking to Senator Lawrence. You don’t love me. You love the idea of me. I’m not a good guy, Shayma. I never have been. You said it yourself. I’m stubborn and bitter and I’m far too emotionally damaged to be able to give you what you need, what you deserve. That’s why I was clear with you from the start. I thought we were on the same page. Fling only. No strings. No regrets. That’s the only reason I allowed myself to take you to bed.”

“Allowed yourself?” Shayma looked like she wanted to say more then seemed to stop herself, her jaw clenched and the fire in her eyes going cold. The shards of his broken heart froze right along with her gaze, but he had to stay strong, had to focus on his objective, had to find Aileen and make sure she was all right so all this pain and suffering wouldn’t be for naught. Shayma crossed her arms and narrowed her gaze, turning away from him slightly and lifting her chin. “Isn’t that Senator Lawrence standing right over there? Have you talked to him yet?”

“I’m waiting for the right time.”

“I see.” Her eyes flicked upward then back down to him. “Did you do this on purpose? One last kiss to remember me by?”

“What?”

“That.” She pointed up at a sprig of mistletoe hanging down from the ceiling above them. “You know, for a man who claims to be in control of himself at all times, you certainly seem to give off a lot of mixed messages.”

Murphy stepped back and held up his hands. “That was entirely unplanned. Promise.”

“Right.”

“Right.” Before he realized what was happening, Shayma grabbed him by the lapels and tugged him forward into a kiss. As always, his senses were overwhelmed with her—her taste, her scent, the warm softness of her lips and tongue and breath. He wanted to run away and never return. He wanted to hold her close and never let her go. In the end, he returned the kiss deeply then set her away from him, both of them panting and bewildered.

The band announced they were taking a break and Murphy looked over to see the Senator and his wife making their way off the dance floor. If he hoped to snag a moment of the man’s time, now would be ideal. The presentations and speeches would start soon and he wanted to be long gone by then. Too many complications, too much vulnerability.

“Excuse me.” He started toward the senator, then turned back to Shayma with a warning stare. “Listen, please stay here and don’t interfere. If things go south, I want you to get to the nearest exit and go back to the hotel. I don’t want you to get messed up in this. It’s bad enough we both snuck in here. Tell the guys what happened and let them know I’ve been arrested.”

“But the guys—” she started to say before he cut her off.

“Don’t argue with me, please. Not now. Just promise me, okay?”

“Fine. Whatever,” she muttered, followed by something in Arabic he didn’t quite catch but which sounded very much like an insult. Her aggravated huff chased him across the room, but he didn’t stop or turn around again. His best opportunity to find out new information about what had happened to his sister stood just ahead and he had to go for it. He owed Aileen that. He had to keep his promise to protect her. His own wants and needs came secondary. Always.

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 hauled 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.”

“Don’t worry,” Daveed said as they stood outside in the freezing cold. He pulled a small black chip from his suit pocket. “I have an app on my phone that traces all the police scanner calls and will alert me before they arrive.”

Murphy shrugged out of his uniform jacket and slid it over Shayma’s bare shoulders before pulling her tight into his side to share body heat. “Thanks for saving my ass in there, guys.”

Daveed gave him some serious side eye. “Perhaps you should’ve considered that before going rogue. You’re lucky Shayma had Mel contact me. Otherwise you’d be rotting in jail tonight.”

Murphy rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “C’mon. You know how I am. I’ve always just thought it’s easier to do stuff like that on my own.”

“Yeah, we know.” Heath gave him an irritated stare. “Why do you think we bothered showing up here tonight? You’re like our brother from another mother, man. You don’t think we know what a stubborn-ass control-freak you are? But we’re there for each other. Always have been.”

“Yeah, we do.” Murphy rubbed his hands up and down Shayma’s arms to warm her as she shivered against him. “It’s this whole thing with my sister that’s got me all messed up. I’m honor-bound to keep my promise to her. I figured since it was a private matter, how I chose to do that is my business. Besides, I tried to call you earlier, but neither one of you picked up. But I guess you answer for your girlfriends, huh?”

“Leave them alone,” Shayma said, her teeth chattering as Heath’s Bentley pulled up in the alley in front of them and they all piled in. “You needed your friends tonight. Even if you were too pigheaded to admit it.”

Murphy, Shayma, and Daveed got into the backseat, while Heath climbed into the front with the driver. As they sped out of the alleyway, blue lights and sirens entered from the opposite end, reminding Murphy of how close he’d cut it tonight. He was lucky to have escaped, with the help of his friends.

“Thanks,” he mumbled under his breath, staring out the window at the scenery flying past.

“Sorry?” Heath asked, catching his eye in the rearview mirror. “Didn’t hear you.”

Murphy exhaled slowly. Apologies weren’t in his nature, nor was admitting he was wrong, but he owed his friends a lot for getting his butt out of a tight spot tonight. They’d proved to him that going it alone wasn’t always the best way and made him rethink his strategy for finding his sister. He swallowed hard and forced the words out of his tight throat. It came out gruff and more like a curse than anything else. “I said thanks.”

Daveed and Shayma exchanged a look he didn’t miss, then Daveed raised a dark brow. “You’re welcome, you idiot.”

Beside him, Shayma sat primly with her hands folded in her lap, not touching him at all—which was saying something in the tight confines of the car. She didn’t look at him at all, just stared straight ahead as if he weren’t there.

Yep. He’d screwed things up with her royally. He prayed it wasn’t too late to make amends. As they swerved up to the front of the Plaza hotel a few minutes later, she took Daveed’s hand to get out of the car, not Murphy’s, and walked into the hotel with her head high and not looking back at him once.

“Looks like you’ve got some feathers to unruffle there, buddy,” Heath said, thumping Murphy on the back as he walked inside with Daveed, leaving Murphy alone on the sidewalk, cold and lonely and wondering how in the hell he could ever get Shayma to forgive him.