Page 71 of Sheltering You

Because if Dariush Ghazi knew Mahmoud, then he probably knew Khalid.

And if he knew Khalid, then maybe he knew Jasmine was his wife. And if that was the case…

Was Khalid behind this whole thing?

Something scraped, and then Derrick said, “Sit down, sweetheart.” He urged her into a chair he’d pulled close. “Put your head between your knees.”

She did what he told her, concentrating on her breathing, trying not to think about anything but the air going in and out, in and out.

“You two all right?” Michael asked.

“I’ll call you back.” The phone beeped, and then Derrick crouched beside her, rubbing her back. “You’re okay, sweetheart. It’s okay.”

But it wasn’t okay.

Had this whole thing been an elaborate ruse to find her?

Had Basma been in on it?

No, of course not. She would never have betrayed Jasmine. But Dari had used her, guessing Basma would reach out to Jasmine—and Jasmine would come to her aid.

Khalid was coming for her.

All that she’d done to escape him would be undone.

Because Jasmine was a fool.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Derrick managed to get Jasmine to drink her glass of water. She didn’t drink enough fluids. Or eat enough, especially if she was eating for two.

He was still trying to wrap his mind around that.

But her dark skin still had that sallow, yellowish tint to it that told him she was ill. She wouldn’t take more crackers, and she clearly wasn’t up for talking. “Why don’t you go lie down? You’re probably exhausted.”

“It is all right?” She looked up at him with those big eyes. “You don’t mind?”

“Of course not.” He took her hand and helped her to her feet. “Come on.” He led her not to the room she’d shared with Rabie but to the one where Derrick always slept when he stayed here. Queen-size bed, heavy, masculine furniture, red-and-blue plaid comforter, it was a guy’s room, unlike the one where she’d slept, all gauzy and feminine.

“What if you wish to rest?”

He shoved his things into his duffel bag. “I’ll take a nap on the sofa. And this way, if Rabie wants to hang in his room, he can.” Derrick straightened the covers and pulled them back, wishing he’d made the bed. “In you go.”

She climbed in—and it was a climb, the bed so tall he almost gave her a boost—and curled up. She seemed tiny on the large bed, barely taking up any space at all.

“Get some rest.” He tucked the covers over her, then kissed her forehead. Maybe that was too familiar, but he wanted her to feel comfortable. “You’re safe here.”

He stepped away, but she caught his wrist with her cool fingers. “Derrick?”

He turned back, his heart thumping far too wildly for the innocent touch. “Yeah?”

“You are very sweet. If things were different…” She released her grip and curled up again, breaking their eye contact. “I wish things were different.”

She did?

Why couldn’t they be? What needed to change for her to return his feelings?

He wanted to ask, but she needed rest, and his lingering while she lay in his bed didn’t seem like the best idea.