Page 43 of Zero Hour

He turned and left.

She leaned against the doorframe, her heart slamming against her ribs. What exactly did he mean, that her days were numbered?

Was whatever they were planning imminent? Or did he plan to get rid of her?

Or both?

As she went back to her bedroom, Jasmine knew she would get no sleep tonight.

By the timeshe reached the coffee shop the next morning, she was an exhausted wreck. She’d lain awake all night wondering what to do about Riad. How long did she have?

Tony smiled when he saw her. “Hey Jasmine, how are you doing today?”

“I’m okay.” She was anything but. “Can I get my bag?”

“Sure, you having the usual?”

“Oh, yeah. Thanks.” She’d almost forgotten to order a coffee, she was so stressed.

“Coming right up.” He grinned, then reached behind the counter and handed her the bag.

As soon as she got to a table, she grabbed her burner phone and fired off a text message to the emergency number Patrick had given her.

I need to see you.

Trembling, she sat down to wait.

Trying to distract herself, she opened her notebook and recorded Amir’s breakthrough from yesterday. It was important. He’d made real progress.

I can do this. I’m a professional.

Every few seconds, her eyes flicked to the door.

Where was he? Had he even read her message?

Then, the door opened, and in walked Patrick.

She nearly hugged him, she was so relieved. “You came.”

“I got your message.” He slid onto the chair opposite her.

She let out a breathy, “It’s so good to see you.”

For a moment, she just looked at him. The way he moved, the quiet confidence in his posture. His presence filled the space around them, grounding her in a way she hadn't felt in weeks.

He was so reassuringly solid. Those powerful shoulders filled out his jacket, and she had to resist the urge to reach out, just to feel something steady beneath her fingers. He’d be able to help her.

He frowned. “Jasmine, are you okay?”

“No. Not really.” She swallowed hard. “I had a run-in with Riad yesterday, Amir’s cousin.”

His eyes darkened. “Go on.”

“He told me my days were numbered.” She clenched her hands together. “Patrick, I think he means to kill me.”

Before she could process what was happening, his hand was on hers, strong and steady, his thumb grazing her skin in a slow, absent stroke. “I won’t let it come to that.”

The warmth of his touch sent a shock through her. She should pull away, but she didn’t.

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