Page 40 of Sheltering You

His heart thumped. This was it. These things were notorious, weren’t they? Weren’t all handheld games connected to the internet these days? He clicked it off, but it was too late.

Adrenaline surged through Derrick’s veins. Were the guards on their way even now? He got up and check the parking lot through the third-floor window, half expecting to see the place surrounded by black SUVs and well-dressed thugs.

But the lot was quiet. The sun had long since set, and falling rain sparkled in the glow of the streetlights. The wet pavement seemed to shine. In the distance, cars sped past on the interstate, moving at a decent clip now that rush hour was over.

Everything seemed fine.

Derrick sat on the sofa and turned the handheld video console back on. It was filled with games from his own childhood—games like Frogger and Super Mario Bros, Space Invaders and Tetris. Weird.

He found the name of the handheld system and looked it up on his phone. Seemed it was considered safe for kids specifically because it wasn’t connected to the internet. If one wanted to plug it into a TV, it came with an actual, good old-fashioned cord.

He turned the thing over and saw the port.

Apparently, this couldn’t be used as a tracker either.

Derrick searched the backpack thoroughly, checking every crevice, then moved his hands along the fabric slowly, carefully, squeezing every inch between his fingers. If there were something there, even a tiny something, he’d feel it.

He was pretty sure he would, anyway.

But he felt nothing except zippers and snaps and stitching.

Maybe they hadn’t been tracked.

Which made sense. If they had been, why would the guards wait until they’d reached the airport, crawling with security? Why not come after them when they were stuck in traffic near the DC Mall? Or inching their way through the worst part of town? Assuming the guards wanted to retrieve Rabie themselves—and the lack of news made him think that was the plan—why wait?

Unless they really hadn’t known where Derrick and Jasmine were.

It was good news, but it came with bad.

It meant Basma’s family had enough manpower to cover every airport terminal in the metro. Derrick couldn’t begin to count how many that was.

Or, even worse, they somehow knew who Derrick was.

That idea didn’t bear considering.

Or he and Jasmine had panicked and the burly Arab-looking men they’d seen hadn’t been following them at all.

The door between the rooms opened, and Jasmine said, “He’s out of the shower and hungry. The food is coming soon?”

He checked his watch. “Fifteen minutes or so. Do you mind hanging in there with him for a little while longer? I need to call Michael.”

Her eyes widened, and she stepped into the living area and closed the door. “Is that a good idea?”

“He can help us, Jazz. He knows people.”

“But he will be angry, no? What if he wants us to take Rabie back?”

“The guy who risked his career—and his life—to rescue you and your sister from Iraq? You think he’d do that?”

“I don’t…think so.” But obviously, she wasn’t sure.

“I’ll feel him out and find out what he thinks we should do before I tell him where we are. I trust my brother. Completely.” More than Michael could trust Derrick, it seemed, all things considered.

She looked as if she wanted to argue, then lifted the pajamas and bag of toiletries. “Can we have his toys back?”

He gathered the boy’s things and shoved them into the backpack, then handed it to her. “I’ll let you know when the pizza’s here.”

She returned to the bedroom, and Derrick pressed his brother’s contact on his cell.