Page 68 of Rescuing You

Could it be done so quickly?

Perhaps. If they weren’t stopped along the way.

Michael added, “And then we’ll cross into Bulgaria.”

That plan could work, assuming… “Then we will get papers for me in Diyarbakir?”

“One of you will have to cross the border in the crate. If I’d known there were two of you, I’d have been prepared. If we want back into Europe, this is the way.”

“If we’re stopped by authorities…” Leila worked to keep fear out of her voice. “Unless you plan for one of us to be in the crate all the way to Istanbul.”

“If we get stopped, I’ll deal with it.”

“How, by shooting someone?”

Michael’s lips flattened. “I’m not going to murder anyone, but I’ll do what I have to do.”

“You’ll get us all killed.”

He tipped his head back, facing the roof of the van.

She knew he was frustrated, but he needed to understand the danger. “Even if we’re not stopped on the way, the crate will be searched at the border.”

He didn’t bother to look at her when he asked, “Why do you say that?”

“There are many boxes here. The soldiers couldn’t check them all. But if there’s only one⁠—”

“There won’t be just one.” Now, he leveled his gaze on her. “We’ll stack the one you or your sister is in underneath others, so⁠—”

“They’ll look. They’re looking for refugees.” Her words were coming too fast, her voice high and squeaky with fear. “The papers won’t pass, and even if they do⁠—”

“Leila.” Her name usually sounded sweet on his lips, but not this time. He settled his forearms on his knees, water bottle dangling between them. “Do you really still not trust me?”

“It is not a matter of trust.” Was it? No. “It is only that you do not know all that could go wrong.”

“Yeah. That’s how I broke you out of that compound. That’s how I got you out of Baghdad. By not knowing what I’m doing.”

“Splat got us out of Baghdad.” By the way his face reddened, that was the wrong thing to say. “I didn’t mean… I am only saying⁠—”

“I get it.” He was angry, no question. “When you come up with plan B, let me know. I’m going to rest.” He crawled into the crate where they’d been trapped for hours, shoved his backpack against the far edge, propped himself against it, and closed his eyes.

And somehow, if the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest a few minutes later were to be believed, fell asleep.

Apparently, unconcerned about her worries.

And unaware of the dangers he was leading them into.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Michael’s father always claimed that the ability to sleep no matter the circumstances was the result of a clear conscience.

Not so in Michael’s case. He’d learned how to shut his mind off to rest, despite all his worries and frustrations. Even with his training, it’d taken a few minutes for his irritation with Leila—and yeah, he should call it what it was…

Anger.

It’d taken a few minutes for his anger to fade enough for him to drift off. But he’d hardly slept the night before, and he was still recovering from a stab wound—a wound he hadn’t even told her about.

If he did, she’d probably blame it on his incompetence.