Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

J asmine watched in horror as Derrick bolted across the street, Rabie tucked in his arms like a small child.

Where was Basma?

Jasmine opened the back door as Derrick got close.

He shouted, "Get in the car!"

She scrambled into the backseat, and Derrick tossed Rabie in beside her, then slammed the door and climbed in the driver's seat, jamming the car into drive.

It lurched forward, and he yanked the wheel to the right, knocking Rabie into the door.

The boy stared at her with wide, terrified eyes.

"It's okay, Rabie." She spoke Arabic with as soothing a tone as she could manage under the circumstances. "It's okay. Let's get your seatbelt on." She took the backpack he held tightly in his grip and dropped it on the floor, then reached across him to grab the belt.

"You too." Derrick sounded frantic—or furious. She wasn't sure which. "Now."

In the middle seat, she put her seatbelt on and then wrapped her arm around Rabie. "It's okay. It's going to be okay. "

"I want Basma." He was crying, trying to twist to look behind them.

She turned as well. Lots of traffic, but a black SUV seemed to be bearing down on them. They were being followed. No wonder Derrick was angry and intent.

"What happened?" Rabie asked. "I don't understand."

Jasmine faced forward, forcing calm for his sake. "Your sister is all right." Please, God, let it be true . "She asked us to come and get you."

The boy looked at Jasmine for the first time.

"I knew you a long time ago. I am Yasamin. I lived next door to you. You were just a little boy the last time I saw you."

His eyes, red-rimmed from tears, narrowed. She thought he might recognize her, but he didn't say so. Tears streamed down his face. "I want my sister."

"I know, love. I know." She pulled him against her. "I do too. I love your sister as if she were my own. We will get you back to her." Please, God, help me keep that promise .

Derrick sped around a traffic circle, then whipped down a wide road, moving much faster than the rest of the vehicles.

His gaze kept flicking to the rearview.

Were they still being followed?

By police? Or guards?

She wanted to check, but Rabie was sobbing against her, and the last thing he needed was more stress after what had just happened.

What had just happened?

Derrick weaved along the city streets—seemingly randomly, though he must have a plan. He didn't say a word.

Finally, Rabie took a couple of breaths, then wiggled away and studied her again. "You used to give me rides on your back."

"Yes, you remember! "

"And you let me sip your tea, even though Basma would tell you not to."

She shrugged. "A little sugar is not such a big thing."

He didn't smile, but a tiny bit of the fear left his eyes. "Can I play with my toys? They're in my backpack."

"Of course." She reached for the bag, switching to English. "Your sister told me you've been going to the international school."

"Uh-huh." He plopped it on his lap and opened the top. He'd changed, of course, since she'd last seen him. He was tall—almost as tall as she, not that that was saying much—and lean, having lost all the chubbiness he'd had as a baby. But his hair was still curly and wild. His nose and eyes were wide with surprise on his angular face. She remembered that, when he smiled, his smile was even wider. Maybe she'd see it, eventually.

"I went to the same school when I was your age. Do you like it?"

"It's okay, I guess. I have a lot of friends, and I play soccer. Forward." His English was excellent, one of the benefits of the international school. That was where she'd learned, after all. He pulled out some kind of electronic toy, gave her a look, then dropped that one back in the bag and grabbed another one. His hands were shaking, but he seemed to be trying to hold himself together, settling a multicolored cube-shaped puzzle in his lap. "Are we going to get Basma? Those guards were really mad. I'm afraid they're going to hurt her."

The thought had her stomach twisting. "Do you think your aunt and uncle would allow that?"

He seemed to take the question seriously. "They will be angry that I'm gone. Very angry."

"Yes." Jasmine saw no point in disagreeing with the obvious. "But have you ever seen them hurt your sister? Did they ever hurt you? "

He shook his head. "Basma isn't afraid of them. It's Dari she's afraid of, our half brother. He wants us to live with him."

Jasmine took Rabie's hand. "Your sister is very afraid of him, afraid enough that she was willing to do all of this to protect you from him. She loves you very much."

His eyes filled again. "When am I going to see her?"

"I don't know, love." Jasmine pulled him close again. "Soon, I hope. Let's ask God to help." She uttered a short, simple prayer, asking God to protect Basma and reunite her with them, then kissed Rabie on his head. "Okay?"

He shrugged and started twisting the toy in his hand.

When he was distracted, she focused on Derrick. Though his gaze still flicked often to the rearview, he didn't seem nearly as worried.

"Everything all right?"

He nodded, though the action was brisk.

She leaned forward, between the seats. "You are angry with me."

"You promised to stay in the car." His words were practically growled at her.

"I saw you coming and thought?—"

"You got out of the car before that, when Basma first pushed the door open."

He'd seen that? She had only wanted to make sure Basma knew where she was. "I was worried. I wasn't thinking."

"I asked for one thing."

"I had to make sure she knew?—"

"What about you?" He was getting louder. "Who died and made you Joan of freaking Arc, standing there like a symbol of freedom?"

She didn't know who that was, and now didn't seem a good time to ask.

"Do you have some kind of a…a martyr complex? "

"I was only trying to help?—"

"At your expense! You remember what I said?" He'd lowered his voice, but he might as well have yelled for all the vehemence it held. "If I had to choose between you?—"

"You would choose me, but I choose them."

"I was afraid for you, for you. Because you got out of the car, I had no choice. My face is probably being broadcast on every news channel in the metropolitan area."

"I'm sure that's not?—"

"I took a kid, Jazz. Against his will. There were guards there, trying to stop me. Maybe Basma will convince them she wanted me to take him. But her uncle is the diplomat. He's the guardian, right? What if he tells them his nephew was kidnapped? Will the police listen to your friend or her uncle? Will the police even ask her?" He scrubbed his whiskers. "Maybe I can explain all this away. But…I shouldn't have done it. I wouldn't have except I was afraid you were going to get hurt. I didn't know what you'd do." He ran his hand over his head but bumped the cap. He yanked it off and threw it on the passenger seat. "What I just did… It's a felony. If I can't explain my way out of it… And maybe I can, but maybe not. I could go to prison. Do you understand that?"

Prison?

Her stomach dropped. Surely not. Surely nobody would send him to prison.

"And here's the worst part." He met her eyes briefly in the rearview mirror, and she saw not the anger humming on his words, but fear. "So could you, Jazz. I made you an accomplice. In a felony." His lips pressed so tightly they turned white. He swallowed, shook his head. "I should never have agreed to this."

"I didn't mean?—"

"I know. I know that. Just…let me process." He took a breath an d blew it out. "I'm sorry. I need to think. Could you just…sit back, please?"

She wanted to press her case—she hadn't meant to cause trouble. And nobody had seen her, so he'd probably overreacted. And it wasn't kidnapping. It was a rescue mission.

Would the authorities see it that way?

She wanted to explain how she felt, to get him to understand. She wanted…she wanted him to not be angry with her. Because, what had he said? That the worst part about this was that he'd made her an accomplice? That she could go to prison?

How could he see that as the worst part? As if her welfare was important to him. As if…as if she mattered to him more than he did.

Which didn't make any sense at all.

She settled beside Rabie, who was still focused on his toy.

Derrick had been a good friend to her from the moment they'd met. He'd taken her places. He'd gone out of his way to spend time with her. But there were limits to friendship, at least for most people. Like committing a crime—that was a line most people wouldn't cross, even for a friend.

Yet Derrick had crossed it. To protect her.

Because he was her friend?

Or…

Oh.

Suddenly, she understood what people had been trying to tell her for weeks. Leila had encouraged her to tell Derrick about Khalid and the baby to protect his feelings.

Michael had suggested that the longer she waited to tell him, the more it was going to hurt him.

Jasmine had figured they'd meant that Derrick's feelings would be hurt because she hadn't been honest, but maybe there was more to it.

What had Sophie said the day before ?

You don't think there's any chance he's interested in you?

She'd not understood what her new roommate meant. But now…

Did Derrick's feelings go beyond friendship?

Even as she allowed the question to form, the answer seemed as clear as the buildings passing outside the windows. Of course they did. Why else would he have done this?

She hadn't understood. She'd never had a man interested in her romantically. Even Khalid was only interested in her health and her ability to bear children. He barely knew her. He talked to her, of course. They'd shared a bedroom, and he liked to talk about himself and his plans, but he never expected her to respond with more than nods. He'd rarely asked her questions and never wanted her opinion. He'd never sought to understand her. She was—had always been—irrelevant.

How did Derrick not understand that?

He had done this for her because he cared for her, and she'd taken advantage of him. What a cruel, cruel trick. When he learned the truth, he would never forgive her.

And how could he have such feelings for her? He didn't know her, not really. She needed to tell him the truth about her past, her life. When she did, his feelings would change.

She'd made a terrible mess of things.

But if she hadn't, Rabie would still be in his uncle's hands. He and Basma would still be destined to go back to Iraq to live with Dari. Now that Rabie was gone, perhaps Basma could get away.

Had Jasmine saved Rabie—and, God willing, Basma—only to destroy the friendship, the feelings, or the future of the only other friend she had in the world?