Page 34 of Rescuing You

He needed transportation. He needed to get to Baghdad, to make sure Leila and her sister made it safely.

Mostly, he needed to survive the night.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Leila desperately wanted to rest. But just a few minutes after they settled beneath the sheets on the narrow bed, Jasmine grabbed a trash can and vomited.

“Sister, what can I do?”

“Don’t worry.” Jasmine’s words were weak and still somehow harsh, so unlike the pliable, docile twin Leila had left behind a decade before. “It is nothing.”

It wasn’t nothing, and Leila was definitely worried. And the more Jasmine argued the point, the more suspicious Leila became.

Was it cancer? Mama’s had been in the stomach. Did Jasmine have the same thing?

Was her sister dying?

Leila wanted to demand answers, but all she could do right now was try to make Jasmine comfortable and get them to Baghdad. And then out of the country.

To where, though?

Her escape to Europe the first time had been terrifying—being smuggled into Turkey, traversing the country while staying out of the clutches of the authorities, trying to remain hidden as her group made their way over mountains and along narrow country roads in Eastern Europe until they finally reached Germany. And then there’d been the months she’d spent in a refugee camp in Berlin.

Jasmine was already so weak. By bringing her sister along, had Leila endangered her life? If she’d left her with Baba, she might not be happy, but at least she’d be alive.

Please, Lord. Please save my sister’s life. Please, let it not be cancer.

But it was definitely something.

“What can I do?” she asked in the darkness.

The question was met with silence. Had Jasmine fallen asleep?

“I think bread or crackers would help.”

Maybe she should have eaten the cookies Heba had provided. But would sugar make it worse?

“Be right back.” Leila opened the door into the hallway. Light rose from the first floor, and she headed that direction and down the stairs. Heba wouldn’t mind if she helped herself to something that would calm her sister’s stomach.

As Leila neared the door that led to the kitchen, she heard voices, low and vehement. Mostafa and Heba were arguing.

Should she interrupt? Wait until they were finished and then…what? Be caught lurking and listening?

No. She’d come back down after they returned to bed. She started for the staircase.

“…now that Nawra’s here…”

She stopped at the sound of her former name.

Mostafa continued. “We cannot risk it again.”

Leila crept forward to better hear.

Heba said, “But I can’t⁠—”

“It is not your job. Their father will protect them.”

“Can he? He’s not the one they should fear.”