Chapter Two Hundred And Nine
The silence in the master bedroom was heavy, broken only by the steady, rhythmic sound of the air conditioning. Khalid sat up fully in the bed, the silk sheets falling away from his massive, scarred chest. He looked at the black dress shirt I had thrown onto the mattress, and then he looked up at me. His dark eyes were completely alert now, the sleep entirely gone from his face, replaced by that sharp, analytical look he always had when a situation changed. The moonlight from the large floor-to-ceiling windows cut across his features, making the deep lines of his face look like they were carved from dark stone. He did not look like the relaxed hockey captain anymore; he looked like a man who was already scanning the room for an enemy, trying to understand what
