Page 35 of Sheltering You

Just what Derrick wanted—to beg his brothers to help him out of a jam. They would give it, but would they ever respect him again? Would they want anything to do with him?

He had to squelch an urge to punch the steering wheel. No need to scare the kid. Or Jasmine.

He checked the rearview again—no sign of the guards—then scanned the area. He’d driven far from where they’d started. The structures here weren’t stately and beautiful, and the streets weren’t tree lined. Instead, though the buildings might’ve been newer, they seemed to sag under the weight of neglect. The sidewalks were decorated with litter and filth. The few people outside seemed wilted, some sitting on steps, others lying on the sidewalk. One trudged forward, pushing a shopping cart.

Derrick drove past a small park that’d become a tent city for the homeless.

Amazing what a difference a few blocks could make.

And a few hours, apparently.

At a stoplight, Derrick turned to check on his passengers. Rabie was playing with a Rubik’s Cube. Jasmine was bent over her phone.

He cleared his throat. “Any news?” He didn’t add from Basma but figured Jasmine knew what he meant.

She shook her head, her expression so distraught he was tempted to stop the car, pull her out, and give her a long hug. Tell her it was going to be all right and promise that he’d take care of everything.

That was the kind of thinking that’d gotten him into this mess in the first place.

The light turned green, and he accelerated, driving toward a small strip mall he remembered from an earlier visit to the city. He parked behind it, catching Jasmine’s eyes in the mirror. “Sit tight.” And then, in case she didn’t know what that meant, added, “Stay in the car.”

Only after she nodded did he get out. He removed the New Hampshire license plates, scoffing at the motto. Ha. Live free or die.

He was going to end up behind door number three, where there were steel bars and barbed wire.

He shoved the license plates into the bottom of his duffel bag, then tossed the cheap red jacket on top. With the Virginia plates showing again, nobody should be able to pick out the nondescript car.

Back behind the wheel, he navigated toward the highway. It was after four, and traffic was heavy and only getting worse.

“Derrick?” Jasmine’s voice was tentative, which made sense, considering he hadn’t exactly been kind to her.

He worked to keep his voice even. “Yeah?”

“What is the plan?”

“We’ll be at the airport in about forty-five minutes.” They were so far backed up at an intersection that they’d probably end up sitting through two rounds of lights, so he turned to face them. “Not sure where we should go, but we’ll fly somewhere.”

Rabie looked up from his puzzle, eyes wide.

Derrick smiled at him, hoping it passed for natural. “How you doing?”

The kid shrugged.

“I’m Derrick. Sorry if I scared you. Have you ever been on a private jet?”

“We came here on a big plane.” His English was almost as good as Jasmine’s.

“Mine is small. I’ll let you ride in the cockpit after we take off, if you want.”

His eyes lit, though the expression didn’t last. “We are going without Basma?”

Derrick let Jasmine field that.

“She will meet us as soon as she can.” Jasmine managed to be gentle but not patronizing. “She asked us to take care of you, and that’s what we’re trying to do. You can trust us, Rabie. I promise.”

The kid focused on Derrick again as if trying to decide whether this strange man who’d snatched him away from his sister truly could be trusted.

Though traffic moved around them, Derrick didn’t break his eye contact. The kid had to be traumatized.