Page 37 of Rescuing You

Jasmine crossed to a sofa, sat, and then reclined.

Leila resisted the urge—barely—to snap at her twin to get up, get out of this strange, malevolent place. But where could they go that would be safer than this? An abandoned house, a shady spot, and a sofa?

“I’ll hide the motorcycle.” Outside, she pushed the bike around to the back of the house where, if Baba or his men—or anyone, really—happened to come this way, Leila and Jasmine would have a chance to escape. Of course, then the desert would claim their lives.

She wouldn’t think about that.

She grabbed water, packets of food, and protein bars from the storage compartment, then returned to the house.

Jasmine was already snoring.

“Wake up, sister. First, we eat, then we rest.”

Jasmine groaned but reluctantly pushed herself up, and together they shared the food.

What came in the packages—marked on the outside with “MRE. Meals Ready to Eat”—was not good, but it would keep them alive. Jasmine took a few bites before setting the food aside and choosing a protein bar instead.

“Tell me about Michael.”

Leila couldn’t help but smile. “We’ve been dating. He lives in the States. Maryland, which is near Washington, DC, but he comes to Munich often for work, a couple of times a month or more. He takes me to dinner and shows and concerts.”

The last time she’d seen Michael, a few days before her abduction, she’d had the day off work, and he’d had a day between meetings. He’d rented a car, picked her up early, and driven them to Kitzbühel, Austria, two hours south of Munich. On the way, they’d stopped at a little village for coffee and croissants, then continued to the tourist town, where Michael had planned a day of hiking and sightseeing.

They’d trekked up a mountain, the trail steep but the views amazing. At a little after noon, he’d stopped at the most perfect vista. Rolling hills covered in wildflowers in the foreground, the snow-topped Alps glistening in the distance. He’d pulled a blanket from his backpack, flattened it over a grassy spot, and directed her to sit. Together, they’d eaten lunch and sipped glasses of wine.

He’d told stories about the farmhouse where he grew up. The family camp on an island off the coast. His five brothers. His stories were sometimes sad, sometimes moving, often funny.

Leila had loved every moment—except the guilt of not sharing her own life the way he did his. But she didn’t talk about her past. Ever. To anyone.

Maybe, she’d thought. Maybe, someday, I’ll tell him everything.

The picnic ended with a kiss, which turned into many kisses. For a moment, she wondered if he’d chosen the spot not only because of the view but because it was so private. Maybe he planned for more than a kiss.

She hoped not because that would have ended horribly what had begun so sweetly.

But he’d pushed away and laughed and apologized like the gentleman he was. Then he’d taken her hand, helped her up, and packed the blanket.

Before they started back down the mountain, he took her hands. Lowered his forehead to hers.

“I don’t know what we’re doing, Leila. I know that I like it. That…it’s important for me.”

Her heart had nearly burst within her.

She cared for this tall, handsome, strong American. This man who didn’t know the truth about her.

In that moment, she’d felt secure.

They’d held hands on the ride back to Munich, quiet but content in each other’s company. At least that was how she’d felt. But as they neared her home, he’d broken the silence.

“There are things I need to tell you. Things I should have⁠—”

Her ringing cell interrupted him. Her boss told her there was an emergency at the hotel. She’d spent the rest of the drive on the phone, trying to find a plumber to come out on a weekend to deal with a broken pipe.

Michael hadn’t had the chance to finish what he was going to tell her.

And then she’d been kidnapped.

She didn’t share any of that with Jasmine, who used to be her closest confidant but now seemed…different. Distant. Leila settled for, “He is…very sweet.”