Page 45 of Rescuing You

“Jasmine was sick after we left the compound. Vomiting. So I went to the home of an old friend and⁠—”

“You what!” He leaned as far away from her as he could get without knocking her off his lap. Again, she saw the hint of pain in his expression. “I told you to come straight to Baghdad.”

“I know, but she⁠—”

“There’s no ‘but,’ Leila. You should have done what I said.”

At the anger in his voice, she swung her legs to the floor and paced to the other side of the small room.

When men were angry, distance was always a good idea.

“I do not answer to you, Michael Davis.”

He flinched, but the expression was gone so fast she wasn’t sure she’d seen it.

He pushed to his feet. “I risked everything to… I saved your life. I got you out of there and nearly got myself killed in the process. But you don’t answer to me? Seriously?”

“I don’t answer to anyone.” Her voice sounded strong, determined, even as she pressed back against the wall, looking for something to use to defend herself.

Mama had never fought back, but Leila would. She wouldn’t allow any man to harm her.

A lamp. She inched toward it, planning to grab it. Just in case.

“Knock it off.” His voice was too loud. He took a breath, blew it out. Spoke more quietly when he added, “I’m not going to hurt you. I would never do that. You’d think the fact that I risked my life to save yours would encourage you to at least trust me that much.”

“I’m sorry. You’re right.” The man she’d known in Germany had never been anything but tender and gentle. “Forgive me. I am just…tired and afraid.”

He paced to the kitchen, running a hand over his head. He stood there a long moment before turning back to her. “Did it not occur to you that maybe I knew what I was doing?” His anger was gone, replaced by an emotionless tone. “That I knew what was best?”

“I understand that. But also…this is my country, after all, so I also know things, perhaps things you don’t know.”

“Is it? Your country?” There was no surprise in his voice, only a sardonic timbre that hinted at sarcasm. “And I was supposed to know that how?”

Right. She’d never told him where she was from.

On the other hand… “Even if it weren’t, I’m obviously more experienced with Arab culture than you are, considering I live here.”

“Lived here. A long time ago. Things might’ve changed since then. You should have done what I said.”

Obviously, in retrospect. But she couldn’t have known what would happen.

Which was probably all the more reason she should’ve trusted him.

She wasn’t good at trusting people. Men, specifically. And she definitely wasn’t good at doing what she was told.

“I’m sorry. I will try, next time.”

He stared at her—maybe trying to see through her. After a moment, he ground out, “Fine.” The word seemed to cost him something. “Will you please tell me what happened?”

“I would like to clean up first, okay?” Not that she needed his approval, but no sense antagonizing him.

At his nod, she stepped into the bedroom.

Based on the scent of soap and the moisture hanging in the air, Jasmine had showered. She must’ve taken a short one because she was curled up on the king-size bed beneath the covers, apparently sound asleep.

Leila hadn’t been allowed to shower in days. She was covered in sweat and dirt and filth. She smelled. Her hair was greasy. She was desperate for soap and shampoo.

Plus, she needed a moment to think. To breathe. To consider how much she should tell Michael. Because her sister was right. He wasn’t the salesman he’d claimed to be. Or, if he was, he’d once been in the military. Meaning he’d lied to her.