Page 141 of Sheltering You

Derrick itched to step onto the patio. If he could pick enemies off as they crossed the lawn, he could stop them before they reached the house.

But he knew his job. It was not to go meet Khalid. It was not to kill the man who would take Jasmine away but to protect everybody in this house.

Help me, God. Equip me for this.

He stepped away from the glass and aimed. Ready.

Across the room, Sam’s focus was on the door that came up from the basement. Maybe he should’ve been downstairs, but Grant had wanted someone watching from the higher windows.

If more men were coming, then the Wrights didn’t have enough manpower. Not nearly enough.

But nobody came. Maybe Dad, Bryan, and the women upstairs had it under control. If the men coming up the cliff were meant to be the distraction, then they’d handled it.

“You see that?” Bryan’s voice held a hint of panic. “They’ve got some sort of a⁠—”

“Take cover!” Summer shouted.

A low whistle.

Glass shattered—upstairs.

An explosion rocked the house.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

The boom was deafening.

“No!” Jasmine lunged for the door. Her shout was loud in her head but muffled in her ears. Where had the bomb hit? Was Leila hurt? Peggy? One of the children?

Please, God. Please…

Another explosion. And another.

Sophie grabbed her arm.

Behind her, in the pale light coming from outside, Summer pointed to their feet.

Jasmine wanted to check on the others, but Sophie yanked her to the floor.

In the strange and muffled silence, a high-pitched whistle was unmistakable.

Summer dove on top of Jasmine and Sophie, knocking them to the hard floor.

Jasmine banged her shoulder and elbow, but everything felt numb in the surreal world.

The next explosion was so close that her hair lifted. She squeezed her eyes closed, but blinding light pierced her eyelids.

Smoke filled the space, thick and heavy. She inhaled an acrid chemical scent and coughed, sure she’d never get another clean breath. She pulled the knit hat from her pocket and covered her mouth and nose, breathing through it.

Summer rolled off them and crawled toward the doorway.

Somehow, despite the bomb, the bedroom seemed undamaged. There was no debris from fallen walls. The bed beside her felt intact. No flames brightened the darkness, and she felt no heat.

What kind of a bomb did no damage?

Summer peered into the hallway, then pointed. “Downstairs. Stay low.” Her words were clear, though faint, as if they’d been shouted from far away. But Jasmine’s hearing was already coming back.

Heeding her instructions, Sophie started for the hallway.