Chapter 31

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

T his was all Jasmine's fault.

She'd done exactly the wrong things, over and over. Because she'd dragged Derrick into her foolishness, he was in danger. Leila was in danger.

Jeremy and Zo?, two sweet young people Jasmine barely knew, were in danger.

Four-year-old Levi would celebrate a birthday in a few days—if he lived to see it.

Derrick's parents, who'd welcomed her and treated her like a daughter, might not survive.

His brothers and sisters-in-law and Sophie. All of them were in danger because of Jasmine.

She sat on the couch where Derrick had put her, barely able to process what was happening.

Grant was giving orders.

Sam was checking weapons against boxes of ammo, then doling them out to the men and most of the women.

Peggy jogged down the stairs, calling, "Found it." She set a cardboard box on one of the chairs. "Eliza, did you find batteries? "

Eliza carried in a box from the kitchen. "You have enough to power a city."

"For such a time as this," Peggy said with a wry grin.

How could they smile? How could they joke?

They set to work powering up the little black communication things. Someone had given them a strange, childish name, but Jasmine couldn't remember it.

Derrick stood a few feet away from her, peering out the window through binoculars, though he kept looking at her, probably making sure she was still there.

She'd considered running. Maybe to do so would be noble, to protect this family by sacrificing herself. But would it work? Or would there be a battle anyway?

Roger had said her life was worth fighting for.

A year before, maybe even a week before, she might've scoffed at the idea. But now… He was right.

Christ had died for her. She must be valuable.

Her child definitely was.

She wouldn't sacrifice herself or her future. She wouldn't sacrifice the baby she carried. Did that make her selfish?

No.

Because Jesus would leave the ninety-nine to save the one. To Him, every life mattered. It wasn't about weighing the worth of one against the worth of many. They were all precious and too valuable to measure.

If she tried to sacrifice her own life to protect these new friends, she'd only prove how little she trusted God.

But she did trust Him.

If God chose to take one of His children home tonight…?

She didn't want to consider it. All she knew was that she'd spent years studying His Word, learning from Him. Now, it was time to prove that she believed.

After giving the binoculars to his father, who watched out the window, Derrick approached, holding out one of the little black things to her. "Take a walkie-talkie."

She did. It was black, a little smaller than a cell phone but thicker, with a big button on the side and a speaker on the front. "How does it work?"

Derrick took it back and twisted a knob on one side. Nothing came through but static. "That's the volume. When you want to talk, you press this button and hold it down." He indicated the big one on the side. "Then you have to remember to take your finger off it when you're done talking or you won't hear a response." He handed it back to her. "Give it a try."

She looked from it to him. "Why do we not just use cell phones?"

"Grant's worried Khalid will be able to track us through them."

"Oh." She pulled hers from her pocket. "I should shut mine off."

"No, don't." Grant must've been listening because he stepped toward them. "Keep it on. We don't want them to know we're onto them. Plus, if they are tracking it, we want them to come straight here."

"It is…bait?"

Derrick shot his brother a glare that showed what he thought about that, but Grant either didn't see or ignored it. "If you have to evacuate the house, leave the phone behind." When she nodded, he turned to speak to Michael.

Derrick seemed like he wanted to say something to his brother, but after a moment, he shook his head and focused on her. "Our cells only work here because we have Wi-Fi, which runs off the satellite. If we lose power, we lose the signal. It'd be easy enough to disable the generator. Walkie-talkies are old technology. They don't rely on any of that. They're how we communicated before we had cell phone coverage out here." He nodded to it. "Go ahead and try it."

"What should I say?"

"Ask if there are any updates."

She felt foolish but pressed the button and said, "Hello? Are there updates?"

A scratchy voice said, "Who's that?"

"Jasmine."

"It's Bryan. All clear up here."

"Eight boats now." That sounded like Daniel. "The men are holding in the woods."

"How many?" Grant asked.

"I'd say fifty."

Jasmine's horror must've shown.

"It's okay, sweetheart." Derrick settled beside her on the couch and took the walkie-talkie, turning the volume down. "They have numbers, and they think they have the element of surprise, but they're wrong. We'll be surprising them. We have the high ground. We have Grant and Michael to strategize and fight—which is saying something."

"This I know." She'd seen Michael in action. He was a man who liked to control everything, but he'd willingly handed the reins to Grant, proving how much respect he must have for Grant's abilities. She had no doubt both men were fierce warriors.

"Bryan can shoot the button off a jacket from a thousand yards," Derrick said. "And Dad taught him everything he knows. Daniel, Sam, and I can hold our own in a fight."

She'd witnessed Derrick's abilities. He'd already saved her life once.

"Summer's a trained bodyguard," he continued. "Mom knows how to handle a gun, and Camilla and Eliza have learned to shoot. Michael's been working with Leila, who feels comfortable enough to try. Trust me. We've got this."

She did trust him, of course. She trusted all of them. But a stray bullet could end a life. How would she live with that?

"If anyone comes"—Derrick handed back the walkie-talkie— "or if you see anything or hear anything or think of anything we need to know, don't hesitate to contact me. Us, I mean."

"You will not be with me?"

Grant had given assignments to the rest of the men. The women who were comfortable with guns would be at upstairs windows, watching, shooting if necessary. The rest of the women—her, Sophie, and Leila—along with the two young people and Levi, would stay out of the way.

Because Grant hadn't given Derrick an assignment, Jasmine had assumed that meant he'd be with her.

"Sam and I will be on this floor making sure nobody gets up those stairs." He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. "Oh." His eyes widened. "Sorry. I shouldn't have…" He pushed himself up, giving her a tight smile. "It's going to be fine."

She reached out and took his hand. "You do not apologize to me, not for anything. And I wish you to know…" She shouldn't say it. It would do no good. But if he were to die, or if she were to die or be taken… Or perhaps one of his family members would die, and his feelings for her would change…

Maybe this would be her only chance.

All around, there was chaos. The women had gathered coats and hats and gloves and boots, for what purpose, Jasmine didn't know.

Men placed other gear onto the table. Fire extinguishers and flashlights and backpacks and first-aid kits. They were preparing for every possible contingency. Nobody was paying any attention to Derrick and her .

He looked at her on the sofa, his face softening into that kind, gentle expression she'd seen so often.

"I never knew men like you existed. If I had known… I-I don't think I could have changed anything, but I would have tried. I would have tried to wait for you."

He sat again, took her hand, and leaned in. His kiss to her cheek was so light and tender that it felt like a warm breeze. "I love you, too, sweetheart." The words were a whisper in her ear. "No matter what happens, that's never going to change."

Before she could formulate a response, he stood. She thought he'd return to the window, but Sam stood there now.

Derrick went to the kitchen and took up a position inside the door, focus beyond the window to the long patio.

Already waiting for the first enemies to arrive.

She couldn't stand to see him there, in danger, for her.

It wouldn't be long before she was told exactly where to go and with whom. Until then, she'd pray. She slid to her knees and bent her face to the floor, asking for the Lord's protection and guidance and help. No matter how prepared they were, they were one family against an army.

They needed God on their side.

She didn't know how long she stayed like that before someone touched her back.

"Come on, Jazz." Sophie's voice pulled her from the haze.

She sat up.

"You all right?"

"Yes. Only praying."

Sophie nodded to the other sofa, piled high with outer gear. "They want us to take our coats upstairs with us, just in case."

She found hers, which had gloves in the pockets.

"Grab a hat," Derrick called from the other room. "If you have to go out, hide your hair. "

She selected a red knit cap and put it in a pocket of her winter coat.

"We're going upstairs to one of the bedrooms." Sophie had her own coat draped over her arm.

Jasmine turned to Derrick, wanting to say…something. Or perhaps just to see him again. He still stood by the far door. He wore jeans and his bomber jacket. His hair was messy, disheveled after he'd pushed it back a thousand times, a common gesture when he was worried. His gaze was on her. "Go on."

"Be safe. Please."

"I will." He flicked a gaze outside then walked toward her. He grabbed the walkie-talkie off the sofa, which she'd forgotten. "Can I trust you to do the same? No running away? Because that won't work, you know. And then we'll have to get you back, which will put us all in jeopardy."

"I understand." And she did. All that time in prayer, the Lord had given her peace about where she was. These were His people, and He was using them for a purpose. "I trust all of us in God's hands. I won't go to Khalid. I promise."

"Okay. Good." He held the walkie-talkie out to her.

As she took it, it crackled, and then Daniel's voice came through. "They're on the move. Going quiet."

Derrick stepped close, kissed her cheek. "I'll see you soon."

Sophie's hand slid around her arm. "Come on."

Most of the women had already gone up. Aside from her and Sophie, only Summer remained. She and Grant seemed to be having some kind of argument.

"This is ridiculous." Summer's voice was low but vehement. "You know I'm capable?—"

"That's why I'm assigning you to guard Jasmine." Grant had that all-business tone he'd used with everyone. "That's your job. "

"Grant."

"Summer." He groaned, and for the first time, Jasmine saw a trace of fear in the warrior's eyes. "Your job is to guard her"—he nodded toward Jasmine, but he didn't take his eyes off his wife—"and her." His hand pressed to Summer's expanding middle. "Please." That last word came out imploring.

Sophie tugged Jasmine's arm, and she shook out of her stupor. She should not be staring. She should not be watching the private moment.

She followed Sophie and the flashlight she carried up the stairs. The hallway was dark, but faint light carried out from a few of the rooms—there were three on each side—and from the steps that had been lowered from the ceiling at the far end.

Sophie led the way into the first bedroom. This one faced the back of the house, away from the sea. In the glow of the narrow flashlight beam, she saw two twin beds.

Jasmine wasn't surprised when Summer followed her in. "Climb onto the beds, but if I tell you to get down, get on the floor." She closed the door, locked it, then went to the window. "Turn off the flashlight."

Sophie did, and the room was shrouded in darkness, no light except what filtered in from outside. It wasn't much, just enough to show Summer's baby bump as she stood in front of it—and to glint off the handgun she held.

"You might as well get comfortable," she said. "We're going to be here for a while."

Sophie shifted on the other bed, but Jasmine didn't want to get comfortable while people she loved put themselves in danger. She slid into her jacket—it was cold thanks to the open window. "I'm so sorry for all of this."

She wasn't sure what she expected, but she definitely didn't expect the tough bodyguard to chuckle.

That had Sophie asking, "What's funny? "

"Nothing. It's just that, a couple of years ago… It's a really long story, but there was this guy who was the relative of a client we were guarding. I knew him, and I knew he was up to no good, and like an idiot, I followed him. By myself, without alerting Grant, who was my partner at the time. The thug knew I was following him, though. I made myself a target. Anyway, it all got way out of control, and I could've gotten myself killed. And, in the end, not only myself but Grant. And Bryan."

"Bryan?" Sophie said. "How did that happen?"

"Like I said, long story. He was incredibly brave. And Grant was…amazing. The point is, I didn't get us into that on purpose any more than you did this on purpose, Jasmine. I worked as a bodyguard for a long time, and my sister and I were kidnapped once, and… Well, suffice it to say, I've been involved in some weird situations, and here's what I've learned: When bad guys do bad things, they're responsible for the things they do. Maybe you made a mistake, but that doesn't make you responsible for anything your so-called husband does. Or your friend's brother or…any of those people. You can only take responsibility for yourself."

"I am responsible for going to DC and for dragging Derrick along with me."

"Ha," Sophie said. "I'm guessing you didn't exactly have to drag him."

"He is very kind."

"Kind?" Sophie asked. "He's in love."

"According to Grant, he's a smitten kitten." Summer laughed. "I think if you'd asked him to fly you to the moon, he'd have fitted rockets to his jet."

These two were not nearly as afraid as Jasmine. Or perhaps they used humor to make themselves feel less so. "Did everybody know about Derrick's feelings? "

"Everybody but you." Sophie's tone was gentle. "I'm glad he finally confessed."

"Perhaps he is not, though, now that he knows about Khalid."

Neither of them seemed to know what to say about that, and silence settled.

"What's the plan?" Sophie asked a few minutes later.

Summer answered. "We want Qasim's men to believe they've succeeded in taking us by surprise. They'll creep through the woods. Grant and Michael will approach from the sides. Daniel will follow from behind. There's a tree they used to climb, I guess, so he's going to go up that. His job is to report what he sees and to stop anybody getting away with Jasmine—or any of us."

"And Grant and Michael?" Jasmine asked. "What is their job?"

"To confuse. Make the enemy believe they're outgunned and outflanked. We want them to give up and run. If necessary, Grant and Michael will take out as many as they can from the sides. Bryan and Roger will focus on the woods near the house, and Eliza, Camilla, Leila, and I will watch for enemies who get close to the house. If a few manage to breach a door, Sam and Derrick will stop them."

The thought brought terror, which escaped on a gasp.

"Don't worry," Summer said. "Grant doesn't think anyone will get that far. We have the element of surprise, the high ground, and cover. We shouldn't have any trouble pushing them back. Hopefully, they'll figure that out and run long before they get here."

Maybe the others would, but Khalid? If he was in charge, he'd let every man die for him. He wouldn't care who perished if it meant getting his only child back.

A staticky sound filled the room.

"Movement in the woods." That was Bryan's voice. "They're here."

"Hold." Even speaking in a whisper, Grant sounded commanding, fully confident in the role of general. "Thirty seconds. Let them get closer."

Time dripped slowly. Slowly.

And then, Grant said, "Now."

The first bullet was fired, and gunshots exploded all around.

Huddled in coat and hat, Jasmine gripped Sophie's hand. They'd moved to sit beside each other seconds after the first gunshot. Now, they prayed aloud, their words more gibberish than logical pleas. But God knew what they meant. He understood.

Firing every few moments, Summer had already emptied her handgun and reloaded. Cold air wafted through the open window, carrying the scent of snow and gunpowder. She seemed calm, as if everything were going as planned.

At unexpected moments, one of the men would shout a warning or an update, but mostly, the walkie-talkie was quiet, everyone too busy fighting enemies to keep the rest apprised of what was going on.

Please, God. Please protect us.

Jasmine's cell phone vibrated in her pocket. Probably an email from Basma, wanting an update. Except it continued to vibrate. A phone call?

Very few people had her phone number, and all of them were busy at the moment.

She pulled the phone out and checked the screen.

"Who is it?" Sophie asked.

"I don't know. "

"Telemarketer?"

"Must be."

The vibrating stopped but started again a few seconds later. The same number.

She had a very bad feeling about that.

Sophie's gaze flicked from the phone to Jasmine's face. "Maybe you should answer, just in case."

At the window, Summer seemed unaware, her focus on the forest outside.

Jasmine swiped to answer and lifted the phone to her ear.

"Did you really think you could escape me?" Khalid spoke the words in Arabic, his deep voice like a blow to her chest.

Sophie's eyes widened. She looked from the phone to Jasmine, then stood and hurried to Summer, speaking quietly.

Jasmine blocked her free ear with a finger so she could hear over the gunfire. "I did escape you." Like Khalid, she spoke in Arabic. "I am here, am I not?"

"As am I." By the gunfire that carried through her cell phone, Khalid was close. Not in the line of fire, though. Knowing him, he was waiting somewhere safe. "I have a hundred soldiers."

A hundred?

Did he exaggerate? Or had the Wrights miscalculated?

"They are prepared to kill every man, woman, and child who stands between you and me," Khalid said. "But you can end this. Come to me, now."

"I-I cannot. They won't let me leave. They'll stop me."

Sophie was still whispering to Summer, probably translating everything Jasmine said.

"You will go out from the bottom floor. There is a door on the south side that opens near the forest. Exit there and walk straight ahead. My men will bring you to me."

"They'll see. They'll stop me. "

"We will kill anyone who tries."

"I don't… I won't be able to get away."

"We'll provide a distraction. When we do, run. Do not hesitate. The sooner you obey me, the fewer people will die."

"What distraction? What are you planning?"

But the line beeped, and he was gone.

Sophie watched her.

Summer glanced her way. "Don't even think?—"

"I will not sacrifice myself."

Summer nodded to the walkie-talkie. "Tell everyone exactly what he said." She smiled. "Time to set ourselves a trap."