Page 30 of Sheltering You

Be careful.

The barista called, “Robert?”

Derrick had given his middle name because it seemed wise not to offer the guards any real information. It wasn’t like there was a manual to follow, or a step-by-step plan.

He sure could’ve used one of those.

At the sugar-and-creamer station, he added a packet of sugar, not quite securing the lid when he was finished. He shoved a handful of napkins in his pocket, then headed for the door, giving Basma and Rabie a friendly smile on his way.

Rabie was intent on his cookie, but Basma’s eyes met his for the briefest moment. She saw. She understood.

Derrick neared the exit, nodded to the guard. “How you doing?”

Then he tripped, stumbled forward, and spilled his coffee all over the guard’s shirt.

The man jumped back—toward the door—letting out a string of Arabic that Derrick guessed, by the tone, were curses.

“Ah, dude. I’m sorry. Lemme help.” He grabbed him by the arm and pulled him forward, hopefully giving Basma space to get by him.

The guy tried to shake him off, but Derrick’s grip was solid. He shifted the guard so he faced away from Basma and Rabie, who were already up and headed toward them. “Here, I’ve got some napkins⁠—”

The other guard shouted something.

Still holding guard number one, Derrick backed up farther, pulling him with him. He ran into a chair and stumbled, pulling the guard off his feet.

The guy fell.

“Now look what I’ve done.”

Was anybody believing this Three Stooges bit?

Basma reached the door and pushed outside, Rabie on her heels.

“Man, I’m such a klutz.” Derrick reached down to the guy. “Here, let me help.”

“Get your hand off me!” the guard shouted.

“No need to get testy.” He gave the barista behind the counter a what are you going to do? look, trying to keep her from joining the melee or calling security.

At the door, Rabie yanked away from Basma and ran back inside, toward where they’d been sitting. A glance told Derrick he’d left his backpack.

They’d been so close!

The second guard was closing in, barking words at Basma that sounded like orders. He had a cell phone to his ear.

The first guard shook Derrick off, then shoved at the table and chairs that were hemming him in to give himself room to stand.

Wide-eyed, Basma called Rabie to come to her. She seemed afraid to return inside but was obviously unwilling to leave without him.

Backpack in hand, Rabie started for the door, then caught sight of the guards. One on the floor, the other crossing toward them, shouting in Arabic.

The boy froze, confused. Probably terrified.

Across the street, the door to the sedan opened. Jasmine stepped out.

No.

She’d promised.