Page 174 of Rescuing You

Leila looked at Michael, expecting to see her own shock mirrored in his face. But again, he didn’t look shocked. Only gentle and concerned.

“You knew?” She rasped the words.

“I guessed.”

“How?”

His gaze flicked to Jasmine, who said. “I am curious as well.”

“You called him by his first name a couple of times, and there was something familiar in the tone. In Antalya, when I asked about him, you became defensive. When I asked you what you would have said if you’d felt free to speak, you said, ‘He wouldn’t listen to me.’” Michael quieted, gave her a moment to speak, but she didn’t. “At the time, I thought you meant your father, but then I started to put it together. Especially with…” His voice trailed, and he shook his head. “I wasn’t sure I was right.”

Jasmine’s gaze held admiration, as if she were impressed he’d figured it out.

Leila might be, too, if she wasn’t so annoyed. He’d guessed, and he hadn’t told her.

Maybe he felt her annoyance because he said, “It wasn’t my place to tell you. And I could’ve been wrong. I didn’t want your sister to feel cornered.” To Jasmine, he said, “I wanted you to tell me because you trust me.”

“You should have trusted me.” Leila sipped her water to cool the fire in her throat.

Jasmine squeezed her hand. “I did. I do trust you. You are my sister, my dear sister. I just wanted out, away from them. I was afraid.”

Yes. Maybe she could understand that.

Jasmine pulled her hand back and settled it on her stomach. Was she sick again?

But she didn’t look sick. And the way she rested her hand…

“I am not only his wife. I am the mother of his child.”

Oh.

Oh.

That explained everything.

Again, a glance at Michael showed his lack of surprise.

“I guessed,” he said. “And it wasn’t my place to say.” To Jasmine, “My father asked me if you were pregnant when I called him from Baghdad. I brushed off the question at the time, but the more time we’ve spent together, the more I wondered. I did a little research. It’s called⁠—”

“Hyperemesis gravidarum,” Jasmine supplied, then spoke to Leila and said, “Extreme morning sickness. But…not nothing. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth. I do not wish to have Khalid’s child. Maybe this is why I am sick? Because I don’t wish to be pregnant?”

“Don’t take blame for things you can’t control,” Michael said. “I’m sure my father will have a solution.” After a pause, he asked, “Does he know? Your…Qasim?”

She nodded. “I wish he did not, but yes.”

Leila couldn’t wrap her mind around it. Her sister was pregnant with a terrorist’s baby.

She wasn’t sure how to feel. Babies were gifts.

But this baby, this man’s child, felt more like an anchor. One that would sink Jasmine to the bottom of the sea.

“He’ll never give up,” Leila whispered.

Jasmine’s gaze flicked toward the windows and the night. They were still on the ground, and suddenly, the darkness outside felt terrifying, as if Qasim might materialize and take them both back to Iraq.

Because the man would never stop searching for his wife and child.

Never.