Chapter 47
RAJAN WAKES UP to some doctor shoving a tube between his ribs.
He swears at them. A lot. Once he’s been wrestled back into the stretcher, they explain that actually, he agreed to this procedure five minutes ago. He has broken ribs and fluid in his chest that needs draining.
Why are his ribs broken? His memory’s a blur. They don’t know, either. He was dropped off at the hospital by an unidentified driver.
It hurts enough to breathe that he lets them finish.
While they do, they ask him what other drugs he took.
Rajan doesn’t remember taking any drugs at all.
His stomach drops when they show him the bruises on his arm, and explain exactly how much Narcan he got.
He relapsed again? And with the needle stuff? What the hell happened?
Rajan asks for something for his splitting headache. Instead of just giving him fucking Tylenol like normal people, they spend twenty extra minutes shining lights in his eyes and poking at his skull. That’s how they also diagnose him with a concussion.
He’s admitted to the hospital for a short stay.
Overnight, he lies awake; he gets only the weakest meds for pain because everyone knows he’s a user.
Gradually, memories float back, in pieces.
The Aces. The ledgers. Simran at Neetu’s engagement party.
Zach Singer. That asshole tried to OD him, didn’t he? So how did Rajan end up here?
Several times during the night, he has the urge to rip out his chest tube and escape.
Everything about this place reminds him of his mother.
The monitors, the beeping call bells, the tubes around him.
The rattling gasps of the guy one bed over.
Rajan wonders if this is how his mother died: accompanied by nothing but the misery of a hospital in her final hours.
He holds it together until around three in the morning.
Then the tears start. So suddenly that it surprises him—body-racking, silent sobs he smothers into the thin blanket.
God, he should have been there. That he is glad he wasn’t can only mean he was a terrible, terrible son, right?
He wishes he were still delirious, if only so he could see her again and apologize.
Maybe he’d be able to take her hand; the same hand that led him to his first day of kindergarten, stroked his cheek when he was upset, corrected his badly made rotis, and sewed him a bunny from scratch.
Her skin would be soft and fragrant from hand cream, not sallow and cold with veins sticking out.
She would hug him. He would tell her he was trying to be better.
And maybe, just maybe, she would believe him.
Eventually his tears dry up. The fog in his brain starts to lift, and with each passing hour, he feels his mother drift farther away. By the time the day nurses come by, he’s itching to get out of this hellhole and away from the memories.
But of course, while he’s waiting to be discharged, he has a visitor. He releases a sigh when she walks through the door. “How’d you know where—?”
Simran sits on the bed next to him, drawing one leg up under her. Her expression is inscrutable. “Nick.”
Of course. Nick must’ve been the one to find him.
Simran flips her long braid over her shoulder. Rajan watches it dangle off the bed as she says, “You almost died.”
He looks up to see her staring at the chest tube running down the side of the bed. “Listen—”
“All I could think last night was, what if they didn’t find you in time? And you know what? Everything I’ve told myself about why we shouldn’t be together seemed so pointless suddenly.” Her voice breaks.
“Stop,” Rajan says, and she does, her mouth quivering, unshed tears sparkling between her lashes. He grips his blankets to keep himself from wiping them away. “You should go. You’re not thinking straight.”
“No. I’m thinking more clearly now than ever.”
“What about your parents?”
“My parents,” she says slowly. Something dawns in her eyes. “My mother came to see you, didn’t she.”
Rajan doesn’t bother denying it. “She told you?”
“No. But she knew when we started volunteering together, although I never told her...She put it together by herself.” Simran shakes her head. “That was out of line. She had no right to guilt you.”
“Yeah, she did. All I’ve done is screw up her daughter’s life.”
“You haven’t—”
“News flash, dude,” he interrupts, because he’s angry she hasn’t given up yet.
“There’s going to be plenty of people lining up for you, including that Jassa guy.
Give them a chance and you’ll never have to settle for me.
You can’t just accept whatever attention’s thrown your way because you don’t think you’ll get anything better. ”
That seems to piss her off. “That’s rich of you to say. You let anyone who doesn’t immediately run away from you use you. The Lions. Zohra. Chandani.” Her voice scrapes. “Me.”
He didn’t know she even knew about Chandani. “I—You? You never used me.”
“You’re the one who pointed it out. Becoming the bookkeeper was my way of escaping my own problems.”
She’s getting a little too honest. It scares him. He keeps his voice light, stretching an arm behind his head. “You can use me anytime you want, Auntie.”
She doesn’t smile. “Don’t flirt with me unless you’re going to do something about it.”
He pauses mid-stretch. Holy fuck. She’s getting bold.
While he’s speechless, she continues. “You should want more than being used. We both should. I don’t see why we can’t have that.
..with each other.” She puts her hand on his cheek.
His breath stalls. The memory of the last time they were on a bed together expands between them until he can’t ignore it.
He pushes her hand away. “No.”
His voice is louder than he intended. He turns his face away—which is how he notices another visitor at the door.
Nick coughs. “I’ll come back.”
“No,” Rajan snaps. “We’re done here.”
“We’re not,” Simran says. Rajan shoots her a glare.
“Let me spell this out for you. If you’re with me, you’re always going to be in danger.
It might be from me, or it might be from my past. If nothing else, someone might come around to finish me off.
Because here’s the thing.” He taps his neck, his tattoo.
“No matter how far I go, I’m always going to be a Lion. ”
Simran stands. She digs into her pocket and throws something at him. He catches it, confused.
“So am I,” she says.
And without explaining further, she leaves. Rajan stares after her, then at the USB.
Nick drops into the chair next to his bed, a plastic bag in hand. “You know, I used to feel bad about your life always going to shit, but I’m starting to think it really is your fault.”
Rajan ignores that and holds up the USB. “What’s this?”
“That’s the reason you won’t get shot the minute you step out of here. Your girlfriend has the Lions by the balls,” Nick informs him. “Manny wants her dead—”
“Great.”
“—except he can’t do shit, because he’s scared of the evidence she stole falling into the cops’ hands.” He nods to the USB.
Simran stole...evidence? “How’d she manage that?”
“No clue,” Nick says crisply. “But it’s working. As soon as we got the ledgers back, Manny locked them away. Last I heard, he was on the phone with the other godfathers, debating whether they should burn them.”
Well, at least that’s Manny sorted. For now. “How’d you find me?”
“We ID’d some van that was parked near the Khullar mansion earlier last night and found it where you were. There were a couple of Aces leaving the scene.” Nick’s voice lowers slightly. “We...took care of them.”
“All of them?” Nick nods. So that’s why no Aces have broken into his hospital room to off him for being the bookkeeper.
All their leads died with Zach Singer. “Where’s Zohra?
Thought she’d want to come gloat, too.” Something on Nick’s face makes him sit up, ignoring the pain to his ribs.
“What? What happened to her? Say something—”
Nick holds up a hand. “The cops showed up while I was trying to get you out. So Zohra distracted them.”
“How?”
“How about...took a cop car for a joyride?” Rajan stares. Nick’s lips tug into a grin. “Surprised?”
Zohra must’ve loved that. “But her law school—”
“We all know she owes you,” Nick interrupts.
“If it weren’t for you, she might be in prison right now.
She knew what she was doing then, and she knew now.
Law school might be toast with her new criminal record, but here’s the thing: She’s gonna have a criminal record.
She’s not squeaky-clean anymore. The Lions can’t use her. So...maybe she got herself out, too.”
Rajan slumps back, dazed. “She shouldn’t have.”
“But she did. Don’t waste it.” Nick stands and stretches. “Well, gotta go. Flight waiting.”
Rajan sits up again. This is too much information all at once. “You’re leaving?”
“Nothing for me here anymore. I’m done babysitting Simran—Manny won’t touch her now—and you’re under her protection.
Manny doesn’t even want my help finding a new bookkeeper, so your friend Maya’s safe, too.
I think the Khullars wanna find some rich white accountant to blackmail.
” He chuckles. “Those guys are a little more predictable.”
“So you’re going back to Surrey?”
“Yeah. They need me back home.” His expression is neutral—but Rajan wonders whether the fact that he’s going back alone, without even Zohra, matters to him. Whether he cares.
Probably not—yet Rajan’s struck with the urge to say he’ll miss him. The words stick in his throat. How can you miss someone you met during the worst time of your life, who objectively made your life shittier? How can you miss someone when you were poison to each other?
Nick pauses halfway across the room. “Oh right, I almost forgot. We found the cab you got kidnapped in. I dropped your suitcase off at your house.” At Rajan’s questioning look, he adds, “I needed to make sure there wasn’t any evidence lying around.”
Right. “That’s a nice little present.”
“No, actually. Here’s your present.” Nick reaches into his bag and tosses something to him.
Rajan catches it. A wrapped Popsicle, sweating slightly. He rips it open and takes a bite. “Knew it,” he says. “Freezer burned.”
Nick chuckles. “You little asshole.”
But the way he says it, Rajan can tell he’s not the only one thinking of what might’ve been.
Rajan’s discharged soon after they pull his chest tube. Kat immediately calls to set a meeting.
Seeing as he’s missed a probation check-in and could be in deep shit, he goes in the same day to explain himself.
It’s obvious he was in the hospital, so all he has to do is tell her why: He got roughed up by people he no longer has anything to do with.
That was all they wanted, he explains. To jump him out.
Break some ribs, scare him...When they were done, that was it.
He keeps his story intentionally vague, avoiding the news story of a gang shootout that conveniently happened the same night.
He suspects Kat reads between the lines anyway. By the end she says, “I’m glad you’re okay. You have a good reason for not attending your check-in in Halifax. I’ll make sure that’s clear.”
How very neat. Unless, of course, she asks him for his medical records from the hospitalization as proof. She’d find some very interesting things. But then again, she tends to ignore interesting things.
Screw it, he has to ask. He can’t stand this anymore. “But I did breach probation—I know the social worker told you. I know there’s photos of me using.”
Kat is silent.
He has to know. “You didn’t rat me out. Why?”
“Sometimes people need more chances.”
“I’ve had a million chances.”
“What’s the point of chances if your odds never change?
” Kat’s ever-present smile fades. She leans forward and touches the photo frame.
“My son wasn’t able to return to a normal life after his first incarceration.
Getting a job with a criminal record is hard enough, but it’s even harder when you spend much of your young life imprisoned instead of learning skills.
” She flips through a stack of stapled papers.
“While you were...gone, one of the community colleges accepted you for a woodworking program. I can help you apply for funding. If you want.”
She pushes the papers over. He stares at them, suddenly afraid. “Kat, I’m going to Halifax.”
“I thought you said the Lion’s Share wasn’t going to bother you anymore.”
He did say that. “Even if I stayed, we both know I’d flunk out.”
“No. I don’t know that. And neither do you.” Kat’s gaze drops, and he realizes he’s jogging his knee up and down.
He stops immediately. “Do you remember that maple tree in our yard?” She nods slowly.
“I finally cut into it, and it was rotting from the inside.” He’d taken the chain saw to it after Simran’s mom had left.
Because suddenly, he had to know. “It’s useless.
I can’t do anything with it, because it was already ruined. That’s why it fell, not the storm.”
She studies him. “Why are you telling me this?”
He has no clue. “Because...clearly, woodworking is a bust.”
“I’m sure they’ll supply you with materials. Nobody’s going to make you chop down your own trees.” Great, now even Kat’s making fun of him. While he glares, her amusement fades. She says, quietly, “You are not rotten, Rajan.”
All his breath leaves him in a rush. He blinks back the sudden burning in his eyes.
Kat, thankfully, doesn’t appear to be looking for a response. She clasps and unclasps her hands, staring down at them. She almost looks like she’s debating something. Then, out of nowhere: “Remember that evening we met in the ER?”
“No, I forgot about you shoving my arm back in its socket.”
She ignores this. “Before you arrived, I was about to leave without being seen. You changed my mind. If it weren’t for that, I wouldn’t be talking to you right now.”
He stares. “What?”
She doesn’t say more. He racks his brain trying to recall their conversation that night. They talked about her son, and he told her not to blame herself. He left after she fixed his shoulder. He still doesn’t know why she was there, she didn’t have any obvious injuries—
Oh. Oh.
“Shit,” he says at last, succinctly. That was the night her son died. “You were gonna...”
Kat clears her throat. “Don’t ever try to tell me you’re not capable of good things. I am living proof. I’m sure your brothers would agree, despite what you think. I know your Hillway mentor agrees.” She taps a heavy stack of Hillway reports. “I may have lost my son, but you—”
“Kat, you don’t have to say it—”
“You remind me of him.” Her smile trembles. “Angry. Lonely. Lost. But so much more, too. And deserving of a life better than the one the system was determined to keep him in.”
“Kat,” he says weakly. He doesn’t know what else to say.
“Goodbye, Rajan.” She closes his file. “I wish you all the best.”