Chapter 22

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

D errick 's eyes were closed when Jasmine emerged from the bathroom a few minutes after she'd practically run in.

He'd managed to get his T-shirt on, and then he'd crawled between the sheets, exhausted. But he couldn't sleep. Too many images. Men with guns and Jasmine being dragged across the parking lot and shooting at SUVs.

And he swore he could still feel her lips on his forehead.

He didn't mind focusing on that memory.

Her kiss had been so natural, as if she did it every day. He wished…

He wished for more than a kiss on the head.

He wished for things he couldn't have.

"Are you awake?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

He opened his eyes.

She stood over him, a silhouette with the light spilling from the bathroom behind her. She'd changed into the pink pajamas he'd seen when he'd woken her the night before. Considering the shapeless dresses she always wore, he'd figured her for the flannel-nightgown type, but as usual, she'd surprised him. These were cute and shapely and…

He cleared his throat. "I'm awake."

She held out a glass of water. "I forgot to give you Tylenol. You wish to take them?"

"Yes, please." He pushed himself up, trying very hard not to let pain show in his expression.

How could a little scrape hurt so bad?

Well, maybe it was more than a little scrape. He'd been shot. Did it count that the bullet hadn't actually gone inside him? What were the rules for these things?

Not that it was a competition, but had any of his brothers ever been shot? Grant, probably, with all his military experience, but what about the rest of them? Derrick rarely had bragging rights over his brothers, but maybe…

"Why are you smiling?" Jasmine asked.

"Never mind." He opened his hand, and she dropped a couple of tablets into his palm. "Just two? Could I have a couple more?"

"The package says?—"

"Let's walk on the wild side, shall we?"

With a wary expression, she got him two more pills, and he swallowed all four with a gulp of water.

Rabie hadn't stirred in the other bed. His breathing was even—not loud enough to be considered a snore, but close.

"You must be exhausted," he said.

"And you." But even after she took the empty glass, she didn't move away from his bedside.

"Rough day. Probably about the worst day I've ever had."

Her head moved up and down slowly, but she said, "I have had worse."

He didn't want to think about that. He didn't want to think about all the terrible, terrible days Jasmine had endured in her life.

Maybe she was thinking about them, though. Was that shiny glint on her cheeks…a tear? "What is it, Jazz?" He tried to push himself up, but it hurt too much. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She swiped her fingers beneath her eyes and turned down the covers on her side of the bed she would share with Rabie. "It has been a long day."

He patted the space beside him. "Do you want to talk? There are extra blankets in the closet. Maybe you could just curl up with me for a minute."

She didn't turn back to him. Of course she'd refuse him. He didn't even know why he'd asked.

But then she grabbed a blanket and climbed onto the other side of his bed. "It is okay, if I stay on top?"

"Of course." His voice was suddenly husky. He shouldn't have offered if he couldn't handle it. He could handle it, though. For Jasmine, he would do anything.

"Khalid is going to find me." She rested her head on the other pillow and pulled the blanket over herself. "If you hadn't come out of the store when you did… I am afraid."

"I know, sweetheart." Derrick shifted and tucked her against his good side.

She curled into him. "I should not, but only for a moment."

"Sometimes, you just need a hug."

Her only response was the slightest…trembling.

She was sobbing.

Dang. He was trying to help, but he'd made it worse. He didn't know what he'd said, or what he should say, so he just held her and let her tears soak the blankets that separated them.

And hoped Rabie had been wrong about all crying being girlie, because his own eyes prickled. He was tired and in pain and…and he'd almost lost her .

What if she'd been taken? What would he have done? Would he have ever found her again?

A few minutes passed before she settled, her breathing evening out. For a moment, he thought she'd fallen asleep. But then she sighed. "I'm sorry."

"For what? I'm sorry. I wish I knew how to help. What to say or…"

She shook her head. "It was this I needed. Just this."

This…what?

She cuddled back in beside him.

Oh. "Hug-starved?"

"It would seem so." Her words were light. But a moment later, she spoke again. "For years, I was not hugged. Barely touched, and never with affection."

Derrick worked to keep his reaction calm. "That's awful."

"At the compound, it was only Baba, Hasan, and Khalid. Baba doesn't feel anything toward me. Nor Hasan. Khalid's touch was not… I should not speak of such things. Forgive me."

Yeah. He didn't want to hear about that. He already wanted to kill the guy. No need to add fuel to that fire. But… "If you ever want to talk about it, I'll listen."

Because, if it would make her feel better, he could handle the torture.

She was silent for a few moments. "Mama was very affectionate. And Leila. Even Basma and I would hold hands or sit close when we grieved or shared stories. Rabie was little then and always wanted me to play with him. It's silly that it should matter so much. It is friendship to touch sometimes, no?"

Derrick wasn't sure about that. He and his friends weren't exactly huggers, but they high-fived and slapped each other on the back. And Derrick had his brothers, and his sisters-in-law, and his mother, who hugged everybody, even if she'd seen them an hour before. Even if she'd just met them .

He'd never thought much about physical affection because he'd never lacked it.

"People need affection." He kept his voice at a whisper. "That you were denied such a basic human need…" From her father, her uncle, her husband . These men who should've protected and loved her had denied her. They'd treated her like property.

"Is it so important?"

"They say that a baby, even if he's fed and physically cared for, if he isn't held, will wither and die. So yeah. It's that important."

Jasmine stiffened. "Who would do that? Did the Nurse Ratched?"

"No." Derrick kissed her head. "She was a character in a movie, but people did do it. Real people. Cruel, horrible people who didn't understand the value of the human beings they experimented on. That's the problem, isn't it? When we forget to value people?"

Her head moved, a nod. "That is how I felt. Like I had no value. Like I was withering away. When Leila came, I was willing to risk anything to escape, even my own death—even your brother's death. I was, in that moment, like them—not valuing life. I had nothing to lose."

"I'm so sorry." He wished he could think of something…better to say. His words were pathetic, but what else did he have?

"You are sweet."

"You are incredibly valuable and precious and I..." love you. He swallowed that truth. "I think you're amazing and brave and strong, and you're going to be a wonderful mom."

She was. He had no doubt. But until she changed how she felt about her marriage, he needed to respect her choices. He needed to keep his feelings to himself .

She said nothing for a long time, just lay there, her tiny body somehow a perfect fit beside his long one.

He had no idea how much time had passed when she spoke again. "I wasn't alone, though, all that time. God was with me. I felt His presence."

"Mmm." Derrick was drifting off. "He never leaves us or forsakes us."

"He gave me hope when there was no hope." She yawned. "There was always eternity."

Eternity. Eternity would be beautiful and painless and amazing, and maybe it would be a little like the feel of Jasmine pressed right beside him, warm and alive, breathing steadily. Safe.

Derrick woke to the sound of raised voices, but he had no idea what they were saying.

He opened his eyes. Bright light peeked around the edges of the pulled curtains, where Jasmine stood between his bed and the window. She still wore those pajamas. Her long silky hair was sleep-tousled. She blinked as if she were just waking up.

Behind Derrick, Rabie babbled angrily—Arabic, of course. By the way Jasmine's shoulders stiffened, she didn't like what the kid had to say.

Derrick sat up, remembering the gash in his side a little too late. "What's going on?"

Jasmine's gaze flicked to him but didn't hold. "I fell asleep."

"Mmm. Me too."

Rabie said something, and Jasmine's dark skin flushed.

Ignoring the pain—it was better today, thank heavens—Derrick turned over, flipped the covers back, and swung his feet to the floor. " What is he saying?"

"It does not matter," Jasmine said.

Derrick faced Rabie, who stood at the end of his bed wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt, curly hair sticking out everywhere, arms crossed in that King-of-Siam stance he liked.

"What did you say?" Derrick asked

He straightened his back. "I said the truth. She is just as Dari said American women are. A whore."

Derrick stood and crossed the room—fast.

Rabie backed against the wall, eyes widening.

Yeah, you should be scared, you little brat.

Derrick lowered himself all the way down to the punk's level and got in his face. "You want to repeat that?"

Rabie blinked.

"Go ahead. Say it again."

"Derrick, it is okay." She stood behind him, her voice somehow kind despite what the kid had said.

"It's not okay."

The starch went out of Rabie's spine. His bottom lip trembled. He was scared and sad and…and maybe Derrick had overreacted.

Jasmine slipped her hand around his arm. "He is only parroting what he's been told. And I should not have?—"

"Don't." Derrick straightened and took a step back and a breath, needing a little calm. "Don't act like you did anything wrong, Jasmine." To Rabie, he said, "Jasmine and I are friends. We were talking, and we fell asleep. And we don't owe you an explanation or a defense. Apologize to her. Now."

He muttered something in Arabic.

"That will not do," she said.

Good for her.

"Try again," Derrick said. "In English."

The kid stared at the floor. "I'm sorry."

"Look her in the eyes. And don't forget the second part, the part where you ask her to forgive you."

Rabie glared at Derrick, then turned to Jasmine. "I am sorry. Will you please forgive me?"

That was as close to a real apology as a red Skittle was to a fresh strawberry.

But Jasmine said, "I will."

Derrick crossed his arms. "It's fine if you're still mad at me, kid. Don't take it out on her, got it?"

He shrugged.

"Uh-uh," Derrick said. "I want to hear, ‘Yes, sir.'"

He parroted the words. "Yes, sir."

"You will be kind whether you feel like it or not. You understand?"

"Yes, sir."

Amazing how much vitriol a nine-year-old could put into two syllables.

Derrick turned to Jasmine. "You okay?"

"Of course." But by the sadness in her expression, she wasn't, not even close. She moved past them into the bathroom.

Great way to start a day.

It was after ten—a good thing. They'd all needed the sleep.

They didn't talk much as they got cleaned up. Derrick was running out of fresh clothes and suspected Jasmine was as well. She'd changed into a dark gray dress that reached to her ankles and could double as a single-man tent. At least she wouldn't have to spend a lot of money on maternity clothes.

Oh. Huh. Maybe that explained her fashion choices.

She'd apparently grabbed a few things for Rabie at the store the night before. He wore a navy sweatshirt and gray sweatpants. Not exactly haute couture, but they would keep him warm, anyway. The kid didn't even have a coat.

After Derrick's shower, Jasmine tortured him with the hydrogen peroxide again, then put another bandage on his wound. It was past noon by the time they were ready.

Not that they had anywhere to go.

The night before, Michael had told them to sit tight until they heard from him. Derrick had called his brother that morning, but he hadn't answered, only texted back saying he was working on it and to stay out of sight.

Which meant being stuck in that tiny room with a beautiful—and embarrassed, Derrick guessed—woman and a sullen kid.

Fun for everyone.

He ordered a pizza and a family-sized salad for lunch, which they ate sitting on their separate beds while they watched a superhero movie.

After that, they played a few rounds of Uno, and Derrick even let Rabie win the second one, hoping it would shift the kid's mood.

It did, a little.

The sun was sinking on what seemed like a beautiful day outside when the burner finally rang. Derrick swung his long legs off the end of the bed where he'd been sitting cross-legged, teaching Rabie and Jasmine how to play gin rummy—the tiny room didn't have a table or any chairs—and grabbed the phone from the bedside table. He saw the familiar number and answered with, "Please, tell me you have a plan."

"Going a little crazy, are you?" Michael sounded amused.

"You have no idea."

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine. We're all fine."

"How about the wound?"

Derrick turned to find that Rabie had gone to the bathroom. Jasmine was watching Derrick.

"Don't worry," he said. "Jasmine's been having all sorts of fun pouring salt into it. "

Her jaw dropped, and amusement danced in her eyes. "Not much fun," she said. "Only the proper amount of fun."

Michael must've heard because he laughed. "She's hilarious when she lets her guard down. It doesn't happen very often."

It did with Derrick. Or it had, before this…adventure.

Not that he wanted to kill the mood, but he needed to know… "What about the guys at the parking lot?"

"One's dead."

Oh.

Wow.

Derrick had killed a man. Actually killed him.

He, who'd never taken a shot at a deer, had killed a human being.

"The other's critically wounded," Michael continued. "We got someone at the hospital to take him into custody if he wakes up, but it's not looking good."

Maybe Derrick had killed two men.

"You with me?"

"Yup." Derrick couldn't seem to force anything else out of his mouth.

"Couple things about that." His brother's tone softened the slightest. "First, it was them or Jasmine and Rabie. You didn't have a choice."

"I know."

"Second, even though that's true, I haven't found it helps much. You gotta talk to someone about it when you get back, process it. Otherwise, it'll either eat you up or make you callous."

"You mean like a counselor?"

"Exactly. Bryan's doing it. He could give you a name, and you two could even talk to each other."

"Bryan? Did he…?" Derrick's brother had told him a little ab out what had gone down in Germany a couple of weeks ago, but he hadn't shared that much.

"Talk to him," Michael said. "Tell him I said it's okay to tell you. The point is, it should bother you. If it didn't, that would be a problem. Okay?"

"Yeah, thanks."

"And also, nice shooting. I'm impressed."

That didn't help, at all. "About that plan?"

"Not only do I have one, but I have good news. Put me on speaker, would you? They'll want to hear this."

He pressed the button and, dropping the phone on the bed, called, "Rabie? Come here for a sec."

The kid came out of the bathroom.

"He's here," Derrick said.

"Hey, buddy." Michael's voice was loud over the speaker. "Guess what." When the kid didn't say anything, Michael continued. "We found your sister."

His eyes popped wide. He climbed onto the bed and spoke to the phone. "Is she okay?"

"Aside from how worried she is about you, she's fine. When my friends told her you were safe, she started bawling."

"Girls." Rabie shook his head like the thought disgusted him.

Derrick pretended not to see the moisture in his eyes.

Jasmine covered her mouth, not bothering to hide her own tears. "Where is she?"

"She's with my friends," Michael said. "They're going to escort her to meet her cousin. You guys will meet them there tomorrow morning."

Rabie's face was brighter than Derrick had ever seen it. "We will see Basma tomorrow?"

Jasmine nodded and pulled him into a hug. "Thank you." She aimed her words at the phone. "Thank you so much. "

"Of course. But sis, next time?—"

"There will not be one," she said. "Never again. I promise."

"Hmm. Okay. Leila had a long message she wanted me to pass along with lots of…suggestions for you."

Sniffing, Jasmine swiped her fingers under her eyes. "She is very angry with me?"

"More scared than angry," he said. "She wants to call you, but I won't give her the number, just in case."

In case what? In case Dari caught up with them again? How would he?

Derrick didn't want to think about that.

"I don't want any links to her," Michael continued. "You understand."

"Yes, yes." Jasmine was nodding as if Michael could see her. "I can guess what she wants to say anyway. Tell her that I love her too."

"I'll do it. Derrick, take me off speaker, and I'll give you the details."

He did, heading toward the window. He eased the curtain aside and peeked out at the growing darkness, lowering his voice. "No luck locating Dariush?"

"No hits on the email at all. The guy's slipperier than ice."

"I don't understand something. Last night, those thugs were trying to manhandle Jasmine and Rabie into the SUV. The thing is, they were both armed. Why didn't they just use the guns to force them to go?"

"Probably the same reason your crazy stunt worked—shooting at the car. That's what you did, right?"

"Shot a couple of tires. I tried to hit the gas tank, but I ran out of ammo."

"Rookie mistake. Always reload after a shootout."

"Thanks, Rambo." Derrick deadpanned his voice. "I'll remember that next time. "

"Not that what you did couldn't have worked, but did they shoot back?"

"Yeah, but…" Come to think of it, they didn't try that hard to hit anything. No windows broke. Not that Derrick had looked, but he didn't think the car had been damaged at all. "They didn't hit anything."

"Maybe it would've worked, then." Did Michael sound impressed? "You've got good instincts, obviously. I think you missed your calling."

"You gotta be nuts to want this kind of stress in your life."

Michael chuckled. "You're not wrong, bro. To answer your question, I'm guessing they were told that Jasmine and Rabie weren't to be harmed. They shot at you, but they weren't going to risk hurting either one of them—that would've defeated the purpose, right?"

"True, but the threat of being shot would have gotten them into the car faster. The only reason I had any shot at stopping them was that Jasmine fought so hard." Derrick could still see the way she thrashed and struggled, digging her heels into the ground. Maybe motivated by fear, but he had to believe at least a little of that came from her hope that, if she held out long enough, Derrick would rescue her.

"Dari probably told them not to use guns," Michael said. "If they shot at the car, they were probably desperate. You did great."

"Hardly. I was scared spitless."

"If you hadn't been, I'd be worried. I would've been scared too."

That made Derrick feel a little better. "You seem concerned that they're going to find us." Derrick was sure to keep his voice low so Jasmine and Rabie wouldn't hear. "How could they?"

"You guys should be safe. "

"Then why can't Jazz and Leila talk? What aren't you telling me?"

"What are you talking about?" Michael sounded more puzzled than annoyed.

Maybe it was the sting of the gunshot wound. Or the lack of sleep. Or the sheer…strangeness of the previous few days, but Derrick didn't know what to think. "Dari's men found us. Twice."

"Yeah. The kid's backpack?—"

"If it was that, then why didn't they find us sooner? Why not at Gavin's cabin?"

"There's no Wi-Fi there."

"Why not at the hotel before that?"

"I don't know. Maybe he didn't have anybody he could send."

"The guys who were at the airport could've?—"

"I don't know," Michael snapped. "I'm not in the guy's head. It's weird."

It was more than weird. It didn't make sense. None of it made sense. Derrick hated to suggest the idea that presented itself, but he had to, even if it ticked his brother off. "Is there any chance somebody on your end is feeding him information?"

"No. None."

"But what if?—"

"Seriously?" Michael's voice didn't rise with anger but lowered so that Derrick had to strain to hear him. "Do you seriously not trust me?"

"That's not what I'm saying. Maybe somebody else, somebody you work with?—"

"I didn't know where you were last night."

"The car has a navigation system. If somebody knew what we were driving?—"

"They'd be there now. The car is with you, isn't it? "

His brother made a point. But… "They could be waiting for us. The car isn't parked outside our room."

"They're not there, Derrick. You're being paranoid." Michael exhaled audibly. "There isn't some big government conspiracy going on here. You're my brother. She's my bride's twin. You really think I'm going to take any chances with your lives?"

"Then how did they find us?"

"It had to be the backpack or something inside it." Michael seemed convinced. "Maybe the tracker they had with the kid's stuff isn't very good. Maybe it has to have a great signal or something, and that's why they didn't catch up with you before. Maybe Dari's having personnel issues. There's no telling. But now that you don't have the backpack, you really should be safe."

Should be didn't feel good enough. But Michael had gotten them this far.

"Okay, fine. What's the plan?"