Chapter 12
RAJAN MAKES IT a block from Oliver’s house before he spots an ice-cream truck at the curb. No surprise. Whoever was watching that feed would’ve dialed Nick as soon as Rajan discovered it.
Outside the truck are two white LS guys, passing a cigarette back and forth on the sidewalk. When they notice him, casually tapping his bat against the pavement as he approaches, they drop the cigarette and face him. Like that’s going to stop him. Rajan cracks his neck.
Just then, the back door of the truck cracks open. A girl saunters out and closes it behind her.
Not just any girl. “Zohra?”
She looks nearly the same as the last time he saw her—dressed in a crop top and sweatpants that sag on her hips, although that choker at her neck hints at her expensive taste. Her hair is bottle blond and stick straight, instead of black and wavy like he remembers. But. She’s unmistakable.
Zohra smirks at his speechlessness. “Hi, Rajan. Long time no see.”
“What’re you doing here?” If anything could have defused his mission to personally beat Nick’s ass, it was her.
Zohra is LS, too, but informally. Girls in the LS are valuable; they get away with more.
Cops are less likely to frisk them. Less likely to suspect the pretty girl in the passenger seat.
Hell, she’s carried Rajan’s gun multiple times when they were together, in her Guess purse.
As long as she keeps squeaky clean, no one’s the wiser; and Zohra’s so clean, she’s on track for law school.
Where she’ll inevitably come out the other end defending Lions in court.
She is, after all, really good at convincing people to do things.
Zohra draws closer. His hackles rise with every step. “Would you believe it if I said I missed you, and I came with Nick to make sure you were okay?”
“No.” With her standing a foot away, Rajan can now see the shadows under her eyes are gone, as are the purple-yellow bruises on her arms. Even the way she carries herself—different.
“I like the haircut,” Zohra announces, and he realizes she’s been studying him, too. “Jail was good to you.”
Her flirtatious tone snaps him out of it. “Stop stalling, Z. Where’s Nick?”
As if on cue, the truck’s back doors open again.
Nick looks bored. He’s dressed incognito in an unassuming getup, which can only mean he’s been off suckering somebody. “Leave your pieces with our boys. I mean it.”
“I don’t have guns, I’m on probation.” But the two goons pat him down anyway and take his bat. “Fine. As if I’m the untrustworthy one here.”
“You never get over anything, do you? Come on.” Nick disappears into the van, but Rajan hesitates. Are the Lions about to cut their losses with him?
Nick’s head pops back out. “You still passed the test, you know. Everyone could tell where things were going if you didn’t find the camera.”
“That was fucked up,” Rajan snaps. “That guy—”
“Begged for a chance to get his shit kicked. His debts are cleared. Yours, not so much.”
Rajan grinds his teeth together and steps up to the truck. Zohra follows; the doors shut behind them. Nick flicks a light on. Finally, the inside of the truck is illuminated and...and...
Rajan goes very still.
“Not another step,” Nick says. Rajan barely hears. He can’t take his eyes off Simran.
Simran, leaning against the wall, like she’s on the bus instead of in the lion’s den.
He takes a step forward without realizing, only stopping when Nick cocks his gun. “Did you not hear me?”
“Don’t do this.” He can’t keep the pleading note from his voice. There are zero coherent thoughts in his head right now; his nightmares are playing out in front of him. “Why—why is she here—”
Simran shakes her head infinitesimally. He falls silent. Somehow, she doesn’t look panicked. She looks...Actually, she looks...
His brain blanks out, tuning out the danger of the situation and instead picking up completely irrelevant things about her appearance.
Her lined eyes, appearing even bigger than usual.
Her lips are fuller, too—no, it’s the colour, a deep maroon.
And that fancy blue-patterned top, where’d she get that?
It clings to her, and the V-collar goes nearly to her sternum, although she’s wearing something underneath that covers any cleavage—wait, why in the fuck is he looking there?
“Look at him,” Nick says to Zohra. “He’s found religion.”
That shakes him out of it. He tries again to step forward, but the gun pointed to his head is the more pressing concern. Rocking on his heels, he finally decides to stay put. “Are you okay?” he asks Simran urgently. She nods once, slowly.
Rajan forces a steady exhale even as his anger ignites again. First the setup, now this? They’ve crossed a line. But he can’t act like it. He’s already shown too much of his hand.
So he swallows every emotion he’s feeling and turns to Nick. “Want to explain what the fuck this is?”
“Just having a little chat with your girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend?” Rajan repeats. “Jesus Christ.” He should’ve thought of this possibility. Nick has seen him with Simran twice. They took her to try to throw him for a loop. Well, they definitely succeeded. Just not the way they probably thought.
Girlfriend. Simran...his girlfriend. Two ideas he’s never allowed himself to put together before. Now, they won’t get out of his head.
“Your intel sucks,” he says blandly. “This is my probation volunteering buddy.”
Nick looks unimpressed. “Yeah? Because the guys at your construction job say otherwise.”
Rajan blinks. His job...his probation officer set it up, saying a spot had just opened for a roofer and his timing couldn’t be better. But Rajan has a feeling it wouldn’t have mattered when he got out of juvie; his timing would’ve been spot-on no matter what.
Okay. So he works with Lions. And they saw him leave with Chandani that day. They put two and two together...and got five. “You know there are more than two brown girls in Kelowna, right? It’s not her. Let her go.”
Nick and Zohra exchange looks. Then they glance at Simran, who stares back unblinkingly. Rajan has a feeling he’s missing something as Nick says, “Okay, fine.”
Rajan waits for the but. The next assignment. It doesn’t come. Instead, Zohra reaches into the freezer and hands Simran her kirpan, purse, and phone. Then she and Nick step out of their way.
It’s all too easy. Rajan stares at Nick, then at Zohra, hoping he can see through her facade again, but nope. She’s closed off, too. Fine. They’ll tell him the but later. For now, he has to get Simran out. The rest he’ll figure out on his own.
Rajan and Simran step into the cool night. Nick’s goons clamber into the back of the van, and Nick reaches for the doors to close them.
“Good night.” He grins at Rajan. “Talk soon.”
At the end of that statement, though, his eyes have slid to Simran’s.