Chapter 30

CHAPTER THIRTY

" S tart at the beginning."

They'd all gathered in the living room with the beautiful floor-to-ceiling windows that Derrick had always appreciated. But they left nothing but a half inch of glass between a murderous terrorist and the woman he loved. "We don't have time for this." He usually didn't argue with Grant. And with his brother in warrior mode—arms crossed, expression deadly serious—he was at his most intimidating. But was this really the time to share all the details? "We need to prepare."

"And to do that, I need to know what we're up against."

Derrick pointed to the windows. "We're not safe here."

"We are, for now," Michael said.

They'd pushed the furniture to the perimeter of the room, and most of the family was seated on the floor in front of the fireplace where, if an enemy were to fire a bullet from the ground below, nobody would be hit.

Derrick, Michael, and Grant stood with their backs to the dwindling fire.

Only Jasmine wasn't seated. She'd refused to settle with the others, instead hovering near the kitchen island. If Derrick guessed correctly, she was debating whether she should stay or bolt out the back door.

The question was, why? Because she was afraid Khalid would catch up with her?

More likely, she was afraid he'd hurt one of the people here in his quest to find her.

Initially, Leila had gone to stand with her, but Michael had insisted—practically dragged her—into the living room and settled her there. "They won't know you from Jasmine," Michael had said. "You're in as much danger as she is."

Derrick had tried to get Jasmine to join her sister, but she'd absolutely, adamantly refused to budge from her spot, saying something about how she couldn't sit still, though half the words had been in Arabic, so he'd had to guess at her meaning.

He was considering throwing her over his shoulder and dumping her on the floor.

Daniel stepped up from the basement with two rifles under his arms, two pairs of binoculars, and a couple boxes of ammo. "I only found a few walkie-talkies." He dropped his finds on a couch and yanked the old communication devices from a jacket pocket, then tossed one to Grant, who snatched it out of the air.

Bryan pushed off the wall and snatched a rifle and ammunition. "I'll head to the attic. I'll let you know if I see any boats approaching from the east and south." Bryan climbed the stairs.

"I'll cross to the north side of the island." Grabbing the other rifle, Daniel turned to his father. "That deer blind still there?"

Seated with his back to the end of a sofa, Mom at his side, Dad was all business, like everyone else. Even though he knew very little about what was happening, he asked no questions, trusting his sons. "Reinforced it this summer."

"That'll give me a view of the water north and west. If anybody approaches, we'll see them." Daniel gave both Camilla and Zo?, his twenty-one-year-old daughter, a quick kiss and mussed Jeremy's hair. Then, he grabbed the other walkie-talkie and headed toward the door, squeezing Jasmine's arm on his way, whispering something in her ear before he donned his coat and stepped outside.

"The rest of us need to get into position," Derrick said. "We need to do something." He needed to do something.

"We're working out a plan." Michael was too calm. "They'll keep an eye out and tell us?—"

"What if Khalid's already here?" He couldn't help his demanding tone. "We just sent Daniel out there?—"

"They're not here." Standing beside him, Grant's hand clamped on his shoulder. "Dad's got cameras monitoring the north dock."

Dad nodded to an iPad on the floor by his feet. "There's been no activity, son."

Most of the island sat high above the ocean, steep cliff walls protecting the land. If not for the rain and snow, it was possible enemies could land anywhere and climb. But it was highly unlikely Khalid and his men were prepared to scale slippery cliffs during a snowstorm.

"We know what we're doing." Grant looked past Derrick at Michael. "We need to work together."

Derrick wanted that, of course. He needed to pace, though, feeling too antsy to stand still. With everyone gathered, there wasn't enough room.

They'd turned off most of the lights in the house right after Jasmine had shown him the email, so the large space felt dim and creepy. Qasim and his men might not have landed yet, but they could be watching from a boat. No sense leading them right to their target.

Michael quickly explained to his family about how Jasmine had been forced to marry, how she'd run away, how her husband wanted his kid .

How Derrick and Jasmine had gone to DC to try to help an old friend of hers.

"Because I'm a fool," Jasmine said from the far side of the room.

Everyone turned her direction.

"Dari never cared about finding Rabie and Basma. It was all to find me."

Yeah. That was what the email had said. According to Rabie, though Dari had said he'd retrieve him eventually, promising to buy him gifts and take him fun places, he'd never asked about where he and Basma were going. And he hadn't asked him to get in touch with him after they relocated. All his questions had been about Derrick and Jasmine.

Basma had told Rabie the truth about Dari and his cruelty during the train ride to her cousin's house, at which point, Rabie had confessed everything. He'd admitted his electronic game had been rigged, that he'd been communicating with Dari through it. He hadn't had access to the game at the hotel in DC, and he hadn't known where he was at Gavin's cabin, which explained why Qasim's men hadn't caught up with them sooner.

But when he could, Rabie had answered all of Dari's questions and passed along their whereabouts. That was how the thugs had caught up with them at the gas station.

And what else had Rabie learned? Derrick's first name, and that his contact, Michael, was also his brother, which Derrick and Jasmine had said they weren't going to tell him but had accidentally let slip.

And that Derrick owned a jet.

That wouldn't have been enough. Not nearly enough.

But the kid was clever.

Jasmine's cell phone had been in her suitcase. The night she'd gone to the pharmacy, Rabie had found it and powered it up. After Derrick had thrown the backpack out the window—including the game Rabie had used to communicate—he'd been furious.

So he'd texted Dari from her phone and shared all her contacts—all the Wrights' full names and phone numbers—with all those Maine area codes.

If that was all he had, it would probably be enough to track them down—but it might not.

As if following Derrick's line of thought, Sam asked, "How could they find us here, though? At camp?"

"Dariush is connected." Michael's gaze flicked to Sophie, seated on the floor.

All the color leached from her pale skin. "It's not…it can't be the Dariush from Germany?"

"It is." Michael's tone was grim. "It's him."

Derrick focused on Bryan's future bride. "What are you talking about? You know him?"

"He was one of the guys who…"

"Dariush Ghazi, a.k.a. Dariush Shahin." Michael took a breath and blew it out. "We've been searching for him, but he's slippery. And he knows people." He met Grant's eyes. "We have to assume he's already pinged her phone."

"Even if he didn't, we told Rabie where we'd be." Derrick thought back to the conversation they'd had in the car after leaving Uncle Gavin's cabin. "We told him the island was on Lake Huron. But Rabie knew about the house on the island, even about the party. He knows…everything. If Qasim checks real estate records, he'll be able to find this place."

Qasim was out there, getting closer every minute.

"What about the police? What did they say?" Mom's eyes flicked from Derrick to Grant to Michael. She scooted closer to Dad, and he wrapped his arm around her and held her close.

Summer was seated cross-legged at the edge of the group. " Local police don't have any boats running tonight. Got a call in to the Coast Guard, but I haven't heard back. The guy I talked to didn't give me a lot of hope. The storm's stronger farther south. He didn't think there were any vessels this far north, certainly none equipped for battle."

What Derrick feared…

They were on their own.

"So Qasim and his people know we're all here." Grant paced toward the windows, then turned to face the family. "They'll come prepared. What they don't know is that we've been warned. They don't know we're trained—and we'll be waiting for them." The thought seemed to amuse him because his lips did that twitch thing. His gaze flicked to Dad. "We'll need all the weapons and ammo you have."

"I'll go with you." Sam popped up from the floor and held a hand out to their father to help him up.

They went downstairs to the gun safe.

"We need the rest of the walkie-talkies." Michael leaned down and held a hand out to their mom. "Can you find those?"

"There's a box around here somewhere." She let him pull her to her feet. "Somebody will need to find batteries."

"I'll do it." Eliza stood, and then everyone started standing, moving, talking.

Everyone wanted to help.

Derrick's gaze flicked to the kitchen, where Jasmine had backed toward the door that led to the porch.

He caught her eyes, and she froze.

From there, steps led down to the wide lawn that spanned to the waist-high rock wall, the only thing between the property and the steep cliff. Below that were the dock, the boathouse, and the churning Atlantic.

The island had no roads, just dirt paths leading to the family's favorite and most visited places. A stream with a little swimming hole. A tree they used to love climbing when they were kids. A grove of Christmas trees.

There were no cars, just a couple of golf carts they used to transport things from the sea-level dock on the far side, things that were too heavy or too cumbersome to maneuver up the cliff.

Two boats bobbed in the boathouse below, but the keys were here. And the steps leading down to it would be snow-covered and slick.

Jasmine wouldn't know how to drive the boats anyway, even if she could find the keys. Even if she could find her way back to the mainland.

While the rest of Derrick's family talked, Derrick walked toward Jasmine, stopping just short of her. "What are you thinking?"

Her eyes were wide and filled with tears. "I cannot put your family in danger."

"You're part of our family, Jazz."

"I am not. And if they wanted me before, I am sure they do not want me now. People could die."

"We've got this. You just need to?—"

"I could go down to the dock and wait?—"

"No!" He hadn't meant to shout, but obviously, he had because the voices in the other room quieted.

She took a step back as if he'd scared her. Well, too bad.

He was tired of her...her I don't deserve your help nonsense. He reached for her hand, but she snatched it back.

"Fine, then." He scooped her into his arms—he'd hefted luggage heavier than she was—and carried her into the living room, where he unceremoniously dumped her on one of the couches. "She thinks we'll be safer if she leaves." He addressed the room at large.

He heard a gasp. Probably Leila.

Grant cleared his throat. "It's too late for that, and it's not necessary." He nodded to the other couch, which was already covered in weapons. "We've got this."

She blinked at the guns. Her gaze scanned the people watching her from above and landed on Dad, who'd just come back. "I did not mean for this to happen."

"Of course you didn't." His smile was kind, like Dad always was. "We knew you and Leila were in danger, that people were after you. We knew what we were getting into when we welcomed you into our family. You're worth protecting."

Derrick had always loved his father. But he didn't think he'd ever loved and respected him more.

Tears filled Jasmine's eyes.

Derrick ran a hand over her silky hair. "You're here for a reason."

"That's right." Grant looked around at the gathered group, and unlike Derrick, when he focused on Jasmine again, he did smile. "God knew what He was doing when He brought you to us."

As terrified as Derrick was, not for himself but for the people he loved, he knew Grant was right.

God had a plan for this—for all of it.

One way or another, He'd bring them through.

"You believe that?" Grant asked.

Jasmine looked around, and Derrick followed her gaze. Nobody seemed angry or frustrated. His family smiled at her. Leila sat beside her and wrapped her in a hug. From her seat on the floor, Sophie grabbed her hand.

Jasmine's eyes filled, and she nodded. "Yes. I believe you're right. I'm here for a reason."

Before anyone could respond, Daniel's voice carried through the walkie-talkie, and Grant snatched it up, taking it to the windows. He must've turned the volume down, though, because Derrick could hardly hear .

"Say that again." Grant stared out at the dark night. The snow was still falling, and a half inch had accumulated on the deck that wrapped around three sides of the house. In the window's reflection, he looked worried.

"…a forty-footer, at least. Half a mile out." Daniel's voice was faint, a little scratchy. "Four motorized rafts. I count eight on each. Wait… They just dropped another one."

"How far?"

"The first one is landing now. More are coming."

"Toward the dock?"

"Yup."

"Are you well hidden?"

"They won't find me."

"Okay. Do not engage. Repeat, do not engage."

"I'm just supposed to sit here and do nothing?"

"Keep me updated on the numbers. Once they hit ground, stay low and be quiet. That includes the walkie-talkie—no volume until you're safe. I'll get back to you. Copy?"

"Copy."

Grant turned and met Derrick's eyes.

Derrick was doing the math. Five boats. Eight men on each.

"That's a lot of men."

"We got this." But Grant's expression held no amusement now. "We just have to be smart. You want to stay close to Jasmine?"

"Definitely."

"Okay. This is about Jasmine, and she's your… Well, you love her, so you get a say."

He did love her, married or not. And he'd protect her with his life, if that was what it came down to.

"You can't be with her, though. I've gotta put Summer…" His brother swallowed, his gaze flicking to his wife. Summer was fierce and competent. But also pregnant. It se emed to take effort for Grant to force his gaze back to Derrick. "You can stay at the house. Michael tells me you're a good shot. You and Sam will be here, in this room, the last line of defense. If you do that, it means you stay inside unless I tell you otherwise. You trust the people outside and upstairs to do their job. Your job is to stop anyone who breaches the doors. Agreed?"

"I can do that."

"Good." Grant turned to the group. "Quiet." His voice was deep, the single word loud and commanding, and amazingly, everyone stopped talking and focused on him.

"From now until this is over, you're all combat soldiers, and I'm the general, which means you do as I say without question. Got it?"

There might've been some raised eyebrows, but when Michael nodded, the movement quick and his expression grim, the rest fell into line.

Derrick was not sorry at all that his brother was taking charge. Thank God Grant was here and knew what he was doing. Derrick wouldn't have a clue how to protect Jasmine by himself.

"All right," Grant said, "here's the plan."