Page 166 of Rescuing You

His suspicion that Jasmine might be a terrorist plant had dissolved. Obviously, Waleed and his men had been determined to get her back, which convinced him they’d never intended to let her go.

She needed protection.

Until she had the courage to tell them all the truth, he would ensure she was cared for. He’d do everything in his power to convince Jasmine that she was safe with him and his team. That she’d be safe in the US and protected from the men who pursued her.

If his guess was right, he was certain that at least one of them would continue the search.

There was plenty of time to worry about all that later.

Time for all the questions that would come. The reprimand he was certain to receive. Maybe even an invitation to leave the team.

Would he lose his job?

Maybe.

But he’d saved Leila and her sister.

God had brought them to this place. He had their future in His hands. Michael didn’t need to figure it all out. He’d just trust the One who’d proved Himself trustworthy over and over.

Michael stretched out under the covers on a twin bed in a tiny room at the hotel where Shehab and his team had been staying.

Michael and Leila hadn’t had a moment of privacy on the boat. As soon as the boat docked, he’d been separated from her and her sister—and they’d been separated from each other. As if they were all enemy combatants.

Michael was too tired to get worked up about it. He’d whispered to Leila during their long ride back to Mytilene that she and her sister shouldn’t give Brock any information until they’d been promised asylum in the US—and had the paperwork to prove it.

He’d nearly told Leila to insist that the paperwork be signed by Travis Price, Michael’s friend in the White House. But he hadn’t. Instead, he’d decided to trust Brock to do the right thing.

Michael could always get in touch with Travis later, if necessary.

He wasn’t going to let Leila and Jasmine be dumped off at some refugee camp in Europe to fend for themselves. After everything that’d happened, and considering all the information the twins could provide, they needed to be in the US.

For now, all of that was out of Michael’s hands.

He’d showered and changed into warm clothes someone had left on the bed for him, thankful to wash away the previous forty-eight hours—filth and sand and salt water and blood. Now that he was clean and dry and warm—and the twins were safe—he felt like himself again.

Outside the window, the clouds had blown off, leaving a gorgeous pink-and-orange sunset.

Michael was just starting to drop off to sleep when the door opened and Brock stepped in. He carried a notebook. “Time for you to tell me everything.”

Michael sat up on the side of the bed, registering his team leader’s aggressive and angry tone. Rather than respond to it, he stood and approached him with his hand outstretched. “Thank you, sir. I can’t thank you enough.”

Brock glared at his hand, then at him.

Maybe there was the slightest softening of his features when he shook Michael’s hand. “Since when do you call me sir?”

“Should have been since always. Sir.”

“It’s not going to be that simple.”

“I know.” Michael had had a lot of time to consider everything he’d done—and done wrong. And all the ways it could’ve gone sideways. “I want to apologize again. You were right about everything. I should have trusted you and the team. I shouldn’t have gone after Leila by myself.”

Brock’s jaw dropped, and Michael worked to stifle a smile. Not because he didn’t mean the words but because, obviously, Brock had never expected him to say them.

“Whatever happens now,” Michael added, “even if you kick me off the team, even if you get me fired from the Agency… Whatever happens, I want you to know that you were right, I was wrong, and I’m sorry.” He stood straight, inhaling a breath for courage. “What do you need to know?”

“What can you tell me?”

Michael nodded to the chair against the wall. “Have a seat.”