Page 27 of Sheltering You

But what if Jasmine had called his bluff? What if she’d tried to get out of the car, insisting she’d find her way to DC without him? Obviously, he couldn’t have let her. Would the disagreement have caused a permanent rift in their relationship?

He hated confrontation. He could argue with a stranger. He could have a knock-your-block-off fight with an enemy—not that he did that on a regular basis, but he could.

Yet the slightest disagreement with someone he loved scared him to death.

He hated that about himself, and he had way bigger worries than his childish fears right now.

Following the car’s navigation system, he wound the sedan along the narrow streets of Washington, DC.

“It is very pretty.”

He hadn’t been paying attention. He tried seeing the city through her eyes. The sky was overcast and gray. The trees planted along the road were leafless, but even so, they had a stark beauty. The buildings, mostly brick, were somehow both charming and imposing. Not that there weren’t ugly parts of the nation’s capital, but this area was well maintained. “Someday, I’ll bring you back and show you the sights. The White House and Capitol Building, the monuments.”

“I would like that.”

“And the Smithsonian. The Air and Space Museum is my favorite.”

“That does not surprise me.” Her voice held a smile, but he kept his focus on a busy traffic circle. They reached the hotel, but he continued past it, searching for a place to turn around.

Jasmine craned her neck. “I think that was it.”

“I want to be on the other side of the street, in case we’re followed when we leave.” He pulled into a parking lot across from the hotel and backed into a space. “Did Basma email back?”

Jasmine had checked her email periodically during the drive. She did again now. “Yes. She says they just returned from lunch. She’s not comfortable going with you, but she’ll do it.”

Derrick was careful to keep the smug expression off his face, but seriously, it wasn’t as if the woman had a whole lot of choices. Jasmine seemed comfortable with the plan. She’d even used a few contractions, something she only did when she was relaxed.

“She says there’s a coffee shop that opens to the sidewalk.” Jasmine peered across the street. “Do you think that’s it?”

An awning-covered glass door was just down from the main entrance. “That’d be convenient. She’s going to go there?”

“Yes. At three fifteen to get a drink. Or near that time.”

He glanced at the dashboard clock, then his watch to be sure. It was almost three now.

“Basma believes the guards will come. She worries about their ability to get away.”

“We’ll figure it out.” They were probably just going to have to run for it. “Can you tell her where the car is parked?”

“I will email, but I don’t know if she will see. She said she might not be able to check her email again without causing suspicion.”

He watched the traffic passing in front of them. This was a busy road, but only two lanes, and the cars weren’t moving fast. He’d parked no more than a hundred feet from the coffee shop entrance. All he had to do was get Basma and her brother out the door, across the street, and into the car. He could park right in front of the entrance, but he worried about Jasmine’s face being caught on camera. Plus, he wanted to be able to drive straight to Dupont Circle, which he wouldn’t be able to do if the car were facing the opposite direction.

The large, busy traffic circle was only a couple of blocks down. The silver sedan Derrick had rented would easily blend into the city’s afternoon traffic. From there, he’d hit a couple more roundabouts before getting back on the highway toward Dulles.

Once he was sure he’d lost anyone who might follow, he’d find a place to stop so he could remove the old license plates he’d put on the car when they’d stopped at the gas station earlier. When he was a kid, he used to collect all manner of weird things, including memorabilia from his parents’ youth, things they tried to throw out. Even now, though he had no use for the boxes of old stuff, he couldn’t seem to part with them. The plates had been his mother’s from college.

If the guards watching Basma and Rabie happened to get a glimpse of Derrick’s rental, surely they wouldn’t be able to trace them, considering the number hadn’t been registered to a car in nearly half a century. And since they were from New Hampshire, they wouldn’t even lead to the right state.

He’d thought the motto printed on the plate apropos for the situation…

Live free or die.

He was in favor of the first part but, God willing, nobody would have to die to get Basma and Rabie to freedom.

To be safe, Derrick had used a green marker to change one of the numbers on the license plate, turning a three into an eight. It wouldn’t stand up to a close inspection, but as long as he didn’t get pulled over, it should work.

Derrick watched the coffee shop entrance for a few moments, then turned to Jasmine, who was studying her phone.