Page 147 of Rescuing You

Now that she thought of it, she recalled what the men had said right before Waleed attacked her.

What had been like ants?

Soldiers? Police?

They’d been close to where they’d left the van. Had they been watching that place? That parking garage? Maybe the structure attached to it?

Were there men looking for her and Jasmine? With Michael gone…

She couldn’t dwell on that. If she dwelled on it, she’d crumble and be useless.

Were Michael’s people here? His…special CIA team?

If he’d called them, he hadn’t told her about it. Would he have kept that from her?

She didn’t think so.

She didn’t understand and couldn’t make sense of it. Nevertheless, against her better judgment, against all logic, hope gathered strength inside her like an injured bird, flapping its wings.

Trying to fly.

She watched the world outside the window. Tiny, narrow roads lined with restaurants and shops. People hurried along sidewalks, casting gazes at the gathering clouds above. A storm was coming, the world getting darker by the second.

She wished with everything in her to be one of those people. Worried about a little rain. Trying to decide what to eat for dinner. What to wear on a date.

She longed for the everyday worries of an everyday life.

But she’d traded her everyday—completely controlled—life in Iraq for freedom in Germany.

And then she’d had both normalcy and freedom snatched from her. Her hope of a happy life and a happy home were gone forever like the man she’d hoped to share those things with.

Oh, Lord. Forgive me. If she could do it all over again, she’d do exactly what Michael said, every step of the way. She wouldn’t argue with him. She wouldn’t distrust him.

This was her fault. She and Jasmine should have gone straight to Baghdad on that motorcycle. She should have stayed in the truck at the hospital in Diyarbakir. Michael had done everything in his power to protect her, and she’d gone against him and argued with him every step of the way.

Her foolishness had brought her and Jasmine here.

And sent Michael to his grave.

Forgive me, Father. I should have trusted him.

And then she knew something she hadn’t understood before. It wasn’t lack of faith in Michael that’d had her demanding to know—and have her way—in every step of their journey. Michael wasn’t perfect, but he was intelligent and capable and trained. She couldn’t have asked for a better rescuer.

He was…had been…following God’s lead, praying for guidance and wisdom and strength all along.

It wasn’t that she doubted Michael.

She doubted God.

Help me, Lord. Help me learn this lesson.

Let my sister not pay for my sins.

The way Leila would, knowing she’d caused the death of the man she loved.

The way his parents and brothers would when they learned their second-born was gone.

The driver reached a busy road and stopped to wait for a break in the traffic.