Page 34 of Sheltering You

Did Derrick’s feelings go beyond friendship?

Even as she allowed the question to form, the answer seemed as clear as the buildings passing outside the windows. Of course they did. Why else would he have done this?

She hadn’t understood. She’d never had a man interested in her romantically. Even Khalid was only interested in her health and her ability to bear children. He barely knew her. He talked to her, of course. They’d shared a bedroom, and he liked to talk about himself and his plans, but he never expected her to respond with more than nods. He’d rarely asked her questions and never wanted her opinion. He’d never sought to understand her. She was—had always been—irrelevant.

How did Derrick not understand that?

He had done this for her because he cared for her, and she’d taken advantage of him. What a cruel, cruel trick. When he learned the truth, he would never forgive her.

And how could he have such feelings for her? He didn’t know her, not really. She needed to tell him the truth about her past, her life. When she did, his feelings would change.

She’d made a terrible mess of things.

But if she hadn’t, Rabie would still be in his uncle’s hands. He and Basma would still be destined to go back to Iraq to live with Dari. Now that Rabie was gone, perhaps Basma could get away.

Had Jasmine saved Rabie—and, God willing, Basma—only to destroy the friendship, the feelings, or the future of the only other friend she had in the world?

CHAPTER EIGHT

Derrick checked the rearview again. Two black SUVs had been following him, courtesy no doubt of the second guard and whomever he’d called on his way across the coffee shop. The vehicles had been no more than a block behind when Derrick had first peeled out into traffic.

He’d replayed the scene in the coffee shop a thousand times.

The whole thing had happened so fast. Thirty seconds from start to finish, and just like that, Derrick had…what? Was he a kidnapper? Was he a wanted man? He had no idea.

He should’ve just left Rabie and run.

Stupid. But the way Basma had looked at him, with such pleading in her eyes…

He hadn’t had the heart.

All well and good, except if he didn’t get out of DC and deliver the kid to his cousins, they’d get caught. Rabie would end up with his psycho half brother, and Derrick and Jazz would land in prison.

God…

What? What was he supposed to ask for here? He had no idea.

At least he knew DC, a city designed to confuse with all the traffic circles everywhere. Between those and some quick turns down hard-to-see alleys, Derrick had managed to lose the SUVs.

How many security people did Basma’s aunt and uncle have? And how in the world did Basma think she was going to escape now that she’d shown her hand? And if she didn’t escape, then what were Derrick and Jasmine supposed to do with Rabie?

Did Jasmine know where their cousins lived or how to get in touch with them? And if not, were they supposed to just take the kid home?

Derrick should have refused this whole stupid adventure. Told her no way would he help her. And then he should’ve told Michael what she planned, and then he should’ve…flown to Florida or something, somewhere away from her and those big, beautiful brown eyes and that sweet, sweet smile.

He was an idiot. A stupid, smitten idiot.

And now he was a felon. And so was Jasmine.

And there were guards searching for them, and no doubt police, and probably FBI.

Maybe this could still work out. Maybe Basma would email Jasmine and find a way to meet them. Maybe they could pass off the kid without incident and walk away from all of this.

Right.

Maybe he should put a down payment on that bridge in Brooklyn too. And keep his eye out for the Yellow Brick Road.

He needed to call Michael. And he would, too, as soon as he had a little time to think through what he wanted to say and what to ask for. Michael had all those CIA contacts. If he couldn’t help, maybe Grant knew somebody in law enforcement who could intervene. He was a detective in Coventry now, but between his time in special forces and his work as a bodyguard, he had to know people, didn’t he?