Page 7 of Rescuing You

While she stood speechless.

Husband?

Baba planned to marry her off?

To Waleed Shehab?

The image of the man floated in her memory. He’d been a student at the international school she and Yasamin had attended, though he was years ahead of them.

A bully, always surrounded by a cadre of hangers-on, he was someone the smart, kind students avoided. She hadn’t been sorry when he’d graduated, believing she’d never have to see him again.

And then he showed up at her house with her uncle.

Waleed had tried to charm her, but while his tactics had changed, cruelty still hummed beneath a predatory smile.

She’d fended off his advances, careful to avoid being trapped alone with him.

But whenever she caught him looking at her, the hunger in his eyes made her skin crawl.

Marry him?

She’d die before she submitted to that man.

Besides, Baba had promised Mama that he would not arrange marriages for his daughters. It wasn’t legal in Iraq to force a daughter to marry.

That wouldn’t matter, though. A little money, a greased palm, and a judge could be convinced to look the other way.

Leila had to get out of there.

She stalked through the small room that held nothing but a narrow bed with dingy blankets, an old end table, the cracked mirror leaning against a wall, and a lamp. A few clothing items hung in a wardrobe, including the abaya and hijab she’d been forced to don after being taken in Munich.

Please, Jesus, get me out of here.

She stalked to the narrow window that overlooked the courtyard between the three-story house and the outbuildings, all of which were surrounded by stone walls. The compound stood isolated in the desert, nothing nearby but scrubby bushes and sand. In the distance, the Tigris meandered toward Baghdad, the Persian Gulf, and freedom.

For some, the Tigris might look like an escape. But the river had nearly taken her life once. She wouldn’t give it the opportunity to try again.

The courtyard and buildings on the far side reminded Leila of an old childhood friend’s home. But why would Baba be at Heba’s house?

It didn’t make sense.

Leila’s family had a place like this, though it had been comfortable, a place of rest. When she was a child, the scent of jasmine filled the air, flowers blooming in pots and beds all around the courtyard.

Here, all she smelled were smoke and dirt.

When her uncle wasn’t visiting, her family’s courtyard had been a place of happiness. Children playing, mamas chatting, fathers laughing or discussing the events of the day. Her aunts and uncles and cousins and friends had overflowed the home.

Here, there were no family or friends in sight, just men, most of whom huddled at a table in the shade of the house. She didn’t recognize any of them.

Was Waleed here? Or on his way?

When would this wedding take place?

How long did she have before the nightmare began?

In the courtyard, the men’s conversation was dark. Their laughter felt sinister. Or maybe it only seemed that way because of the guns they carried.

At least one guard stood outside the gate. She’d seen him when a car had driven through earlier, delivering someone Leila hadn’t been able to see when the doors opened below her.