Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

D errick managed to get Jasmine to drink her glass of water. She didn't drink enough fluids. Or eat enough, especially if she was eating for two.

He was still trying to wrap his mind around that.

But her dark skin still had that sallow, yellowish tint to it that told him she was ill. She wouldn't take more crackers, and she clearly wasn't up for talking. "Why don't you go lie down? You're probably exhausted."

"It is all right?" She looked up at him with those big eyes. "You don't mind?"

"Of course not." He took her hand and helped her to her feet. "Come on." He led her not to the room she'd shared with Rabie but to the one where Derrick always slept when he stayed here. Queen-size bed, heavy, masculine furniture, red-and-blue plaid comforter, it was a guy's room, unlike the one where she'd slept, all gauzy and feminine.

"What if you wish to rest?"

He shoved his things into his duffel bag. "I'll take a nap on the sofa. And this way, if Rabie wants to hang in his room, he can." Derrick straightened the covers and pulled them back, wishing he'd made the bed. "In you go."

She climbed in—and it was a climb, the bed so tall he almost gave her a boost—and curled up. She seemed tiny on the large bed, barely taking up any space at all.

"Get some rest." He tucked the covers over her, then kissed her forehead. Maybe that was too familiar, but he wanted her to feel comfortable. "You're safe here."

He stepped away, but she caught his wrist with her cool fingers. "Derrick?"

He turned back, his heart thumping far too wildly for the innocent touch. "Yeah?"

"You are very sweet. If things were different…" She released her grip and curled up again, breaking their eye contact. "I wish things were different."

She did?

Why couldn't they be? What needed to change for her to return his feelings?

He wanted to ask, but she needed rest, and his lingering while she lay in his bed didn't seem like the best idea.

He grabbed his duffel and closed the door on his way out.

After checking on Rabie, who was working a puzzle on the floor in the other room, Derrick returned to the kitchen and called his brother back.

"She okay?"

"You said this was about her," Derrick said in lieu of hello. "Not about them, the twins, but about her. Explain."

"Talk to Jasmine."

"Does it have to do with the baby?"

"What do you think? The kid has a father."

"Who is it? Did he…? I don't understand how it happened. What about Jasmine's father and her uncle. How could they let it happen? "

"You need to talk to Jasmine," Michael said. "I've got some information about Basma's cousin. Do you want it or not?"

What Derrick wanted was to grill his brother about Jasmine and the baby and the man who'd fathered it. "Fine. What?"

"Basma said her mother has a cousin in the US. She actually has two who relocated here, but one was about twenty years older and moved away when Basma's mother was a little girl. We assume it's the other cousin Basma reached out to."

"How did you already figure all this out?"

"I've got a couple of connections." Michael's voice was deadpan, and maybe it had been a stupid question. He was in the CIA, after all. "We got a whole team on this. Everybody wants to catch Dariush Ghazi."

"What's so special about him?"

"Classified. We're still working on finding out where the cousin lives. She changed her name."

"She's in hiding too?"

"Probably not. I'm guessing she just got married. Her last known address was in the Chicago area. You're going to need to leave Gavin's house today."

"Why? We're safe here. Can't we stay until?—?"

"Gavin lands in DC tomorrow."

"Is he coming here? He usually stays in the city."

"He does? How do you know that?"

"I've flown him in and out of DC a bunch of times. How do you think I have the code to this place? He almost never uses it."

"Oh. Well, I have no idea what his plans are, but?—"

"I'll call him and?—"

"No." Michael's voice carried a don't-fight-me-on-this ring to it. "I'd rather Gavin not know you're there. You can tell him later, but not now. All right?"

"I don't understand. "

"I know." There was a sigh. "It's not that I don't trust him. I just don't know."

"He's our uncle."

"The contractor he works for?—"

" Worked for," Derrick said. "He's retired."

"Is he?" By Michael's tone, Derrick had missed something obvious.

"Isn't he?" Though even as he asked the question, he saw what Michael meant. Uncle Gavin traveled an awful lot for a man who was retired. "He consults."

"Uh-huh. But on what, and with whom? He's doing something, and without more information, I just don't know enough to trust him."

Derrick stoked the fire and added a log. "Why would you have that kind of information?"

"You'd be surprised the things I know—or can find out, if I want to. The point is, the contractor where Gavin made most of his money is involved in some shady stuff. I don't think he'd betray you or me. But Jasmine? Leila? If he had any idea who they were, if there was something in it for him…?"

"How are you going to hide them from him?"

"I'm not. But they're going to get the same story the rest of the public gets. Leila and Jasmine are Iraqi immigrants who've been living in Germany for years. But if he sees Jasmine and Rabie… I just don't want him digging."

"He's Dad's brother, man. Do you really think?—?"

"I'm just telling you what's what, bro. I trust our cousins. I mean, we can't tell them the truth, but I trust them."

"How magnanimous of you."

"You get a thesaurus for your birthday?" Michael was trying to make a joke, but Derrick wasn't amused.

He started pacing. He hadn't had a workout in days, and all this sitting and worrying was grating on his nerves. He stalked from one end of the long great room to the other. "I think you've been a spy too long. If you distrust your own uncle?—"

"I'll have a car delivered this afternoon."

"A car?" Derrick stopped in the middle of the living area. "We just need a ride back to the airport. We can fly anywhere you want us to go."

"No flying. I think those guys at the airport were waiting for you."

"How?" This was news. New…news. He started moving again. "How could you possibly?—?"

"Security footage," Michael said. "There was a guy just inside the door. When you drove by, he ran out and jumped into an SUV waiting at the curb."

"It was at the curb?" Derrick hadn't seen where the car came from, but… "That doesn't make sense. How could he possibly have known?—?"

"I don't know." Michael sounded worried. "I don't know, and I don't like it. I sent Leila and Sophie to stay with Mom and Dad, just to be on the safe side. But if those guys knew who you were and where you lived, there'd be people in Shadow Cove already, and there aren't. As far as I can tell, it's safe. We fudged the records at the airport, so your tail number isn't recorded properly right now, but if somebody saw you head to the plane, if somebody saw what plane you got into?—"

"They could see its history, see where I'm based. I get that. But still… How do you know Shadow Cove is safe? You're not even there."

"I've got people watching. You think I'd ever leave home if I wasn't sure? There's a reason I keep telling Leila and Jasmine to stay close."

"Who?" How many people did Michael have…watching? Who were these people ?

"I've made friends with local law enforcement and hired some security."

"Did you come into money I don't know about?"

"Sam's helping. He insisted. You know how he is."

Oh. Their brother had made a fortune in his business, and he was generous with it.

"The point is," Michael said, "I know what's going on in town. If there were strangers hanging around, I'd know it. It's safe."

"Except Leila isn't there."

"Well…I'm almost positive. Until this blows over, and until I'm back there, I want her to hide."

This was all too much for Derrick. He wanted to go back to when their lives were simple, before terrorists were more than just an over-there kind of problem.

In other words, about three months before. Except if they went back, he wouldn't know Jasmine.

He wouldn't trade knowing her for anything.

"Fine," Derrick said. "But I can't leave my plane at Dulles forever."

"Could Bryan pick it up for you?"

Like it was a car with an extra set of keys.

But…yeah. Maybe, as if his brother had nothing better to do than fly to DC. "I'll ask."

"Good. Okay, along with the car, you'll get ID, a clean credit card, and a couple of burner phones. I don't want you and Jasmine turning your personal phones on at all. Just use the burners. Travel after dark and try to avoid cameras. I assume the cousin is still in the Chicago area, so go that direction until you hear differently. Wear a baseball cap. Keep Jasmine and the kid in the car as much as possible. When they have to get out to use the bathroom or whatever, get them caps, too, and make sure she hides that hair. Try to choose small, independent gas stations and restaurants, which are less likely to have surveillance cameras. Don't take the most direct route, in case they guess where you're headed. Start out going west and then turn north."

"How could they guess Chicago?"

"How many people could Basma know in the States? If they follow the logic we're following, then they could learn what we've learned."

That made sense.

"One more thing," Michael said. "We think Dariush might have accessed the email address Jasmine and her friend used, which is how he was prepared for the escape attempt. We're monitoring it, hoping he'll access it again. If he does, we might be able to catch him. You need to let Jasmine know that if any messages pop up, she can't answer them."

"But what about Basma? How will?—?"

"We'll take care of her. We've got a lot of people working on this, and we're very good at it. Trust me."

Easy for Michael to say. He didn't have a distraught pregnant woman and a scared little boy to take care of.

Derrick hated this. He hated all of it.

Man, if he could go back to the other night when Jasmine asked him for his help, he'd tell her absolutely not and immediately alert Michael.

If he'd known then what he knew now…

But he hadn't. And if not for this, when would Jasmine have told him about the baby? When she needed a ride to the hospital to give birth?

Too late to go back. They were in the middle of it now. He just needed to keep Rabie and Jasmine safe all the way to the other side.

An hour later, Derrick knocked on Rabie's door, then peeked inside. "You hungry?"

The kid hopped down from the bed. "Where's Yasamin?"

"She's taking a nap. You like macaroni and cheese?" He'd prepared the box already, so the answer better be yes.

Walking in front of Derrick toward the kitchen, Rabie shrugged. "I have never had it."

Derrick couldn't imagine a life without mac and cheese, although it might be a healthier life.

In the kitchen, he dolloped a spoonful onto Rabie's plate, put one onto his own, added a couple of carrot sticks and celery sticks to each of them, and carried them to the kitchen table.

Rabie sat where Jasmine had earlier. Derrick half expected him to turn up his nose at the vegetables, but Rabie grabbed a celery stick first, munching until it was gone.

Derrick snatched the plastic bag of veggies before he sat. "I'm going to say grace." He bowed his head without waiting for a reply. "Thank You, Father, for bringing us safely to this place. Take us to our next stop. Please keep Basma safe and bring her and Rabie back together soon. And bless this yummy food. In Jesus's name, amen."

When he looked up, Rabie was watching him through squinted eyes. "I do not pray to Jesus."

"You can pray to whomever you want." Derrick speared a forkful of macaroni. "I pray to Jesus because He saved me."

The kid seemed like he wanted to say something, but after a moment, he turned his attention to the food, wary.

"Just try it," Derrick said. "If you don't like it, I'll make you something else."

"It looks squishy."

Derrick ate his bite and swallowed. "Tastes squishy too." He winked .

Rabie put a single macaroni on his fork and tasted it with his tongue.

Derrick looked down so the kid wouldn't see his smile.

When he glanced up, Rabie had eaten the bite. "Well?"

"It is okay."

Apparently, good enough to eat because Rabie scooped up a generous amount and shoved it in his mouth.

They ate and talked about school and soccer—Derrick had played for a couple of years as a kid, so they had that in common. When they'd polished off the meal, Derrick found a package of peanut butter cookies in the pantry and plopped it on the table. "Since you ate all your vegetables…"

Rabie's eyes rounded. He shoved his hand into the package and came out with three.

He reminded Derrick so much of himself as a kid.

He bit a cookie, enjoying the crunchy sweetness. When he'd polished it off, he said, "What do you think about your brother, Dari?"

Rabie wiped crumbs from his lips with the back of his hand. "He is fun. He sends me puzzles and tells me they will make me smart."

"You're already pretty smart," Derrick said, "but I bet they help with thinking skills."

Shrugging, Rabie ate another cookie.

"Do you see him very much?"

"Not in a while." Rabie spoke with food in his mouth, then swallowed. "We talk on the phone. He tells me all the things we'll do together when we live with him."

"Do you want to live with him?"

At that, Rabie gazed out the window. His little face, so open a moment before, clouded. "I want to live with him, and I want to live with Basma, but Basma does not want to live with him." He faced Derrick again. "But she does not know. She is only a…" His words trailed.

"A woman?" Derrick guessed.

He shrugged.

"She has a brain," Derrick said, "just like you do. Why do you think she doesn't want to live with him?"

"She says he's not kind, but he's always been kind to me."

"Hmm. Is Basma a bad judge of character?"

By the way the kid blinked and then narrowed his eyes, he didn't understand what Derrick was asking.

"Is she good at choosing friends? Does she usually like good people and dislike bad people?"

"She likes my friends, and they are nice."

Such a simple way of seeing the world. It made Derrick want to smile, but he kept his expression neutral. "Does she lie to you a lot?"

He sat back, clearly affronted. "She does not lie to me."

"So why don't you trust her judgment about Dari? She's older, and she knows him better than you do. Maybe she knows something you don't know."

Rabie took a fourth cookie, but before taking a bite, he said, "Maybe I know something she doesn't know. Maybe Dari is nice, and Basma is wrong."

"Hmm. That's possible. It's just as likely—I'd say even more likely, that she knows something you don't." Not that it mattered what Rabie wanted—he was nine years old—but Derrick hated to think he thought his sister was taking something away from him by escaping from his brother.

On the upside, at least Dari had been kinder to his brother than he had to his sister.

After lunch, they played countless games of Sorry!, Uno, and Connect 4. They were in the middle of Monopoly when tires crunched on the gravel driveway. Derrick walked to the window.

Two cars parked in front of the house. The driver of the first—a dark sedan the very definition of nondescript— climbed out carrying a cardboard box. She was tall, blond, and very familiar.

Derrick went to the door and pulled it open. "Hey, Alyssa. I didn't expect to see you here."

She stepped into the house and gave him a quick hug. "Considering this is my dad's place, I'd say you're the unexpected one."

"Good point." He backed into the kitchen and gave her a once-over. She had golden-brown eyes and high cheekbones and, despite the run-of-the-mill descriptors, somehow had the bearing of a warrior. She was the tallest of the Wright women at about five-eight, slender, but unlike her sisters, nobody would call her skinny. She was the kind of woman who could take a guy out with a left hook and walk away, brushing lint off her pants.

"Sounds like you've gotten yourself into a pickle," she said.

"Michael called you?"

"He's unbelievable, that brother of yours. If he ever calls without starting the conversation with, ‘Hey, I need a favor,' I'll probably drop dead from shock."

News to Derrick. He'd had no idea Michael and Alyssa ever talked, much less that she did favors for him. What kind of things did she do for a CIA agent? Deliver cars, for one, but he figured that wasn't her raison d'être.

"Were you meeting him here?" Derrick asked, then clarified with, "Your dad?"

"No, no. I was in DC for something else. Just lucky for your brother." She handed Derrick the box. It was heavier than he'd expected.

"Lucky for me, I think." He set the box on the kitchen counter and peeked inside. Along with a Maryland driver's license bearing Derrick's photo beside a fake name, a credit card under the same name, and two cell phones and chargers, there was a Smith & Wesson 9mm semi-auto, a box of bullets, and a holster, like he was some sort of Old West outlaw.

Which was, he had to admit, a little cool.

"Did you do all this?" he asked Alyssa.

"Don't know what all's in there, and after grabbing it from the sketchy guy your brother hooked me up with, I don't want to." She dug a set of keys from her pocket and tossed it to him. "Michael says it's clean and should get you where you're going."

"What does that mean, it's clean?"

She moved past him and pulled a couple water bottles from the fridge. "You know Michael. There's no telling what he ever means."

Derrick was starting to get the feeling Alyssa knew his brother better than he did.

She opened one of the bottles and was tipping it to her lips when she froze, looking into the living area. She lifted a hand. "Hey there, kiddo. How you doing?"

Rabie said, "Hi," but didn't leave his spot by the game board.

Alyssa peered at Derrick, one eyebrow raised.

"Long story."

"I bet." She put the cap back on the water bottle. "I'll let you get on with it. You'll be back for the party?"

He'd forgotten about the Christmas gathering with Gavin's family, which they were celebrating earlier than usual this year because Daniel and his family had to fly home soon. They'd come up to help for the whole wedding-gown-shopping thing—and to help with the Christmas tree, which the guys had put up at camp the previous week.

"We'll be there." Derrick hoped, and not just because he hated to miss the annual get-together .

He really, really wanted Jasmine safe in Maine again.

If Alyssa wondered who he meant by we, she didn't ask. "All right. See you soon." She headed out, calling, "Be careful," over her shoulder.

That was the plan—to be careful and to get everyone out of this crazy situation alive and well. The sooner, the better.