Chapter 29 #2
“How would you know?” He’s wearing a big hoodie, it’s not obvious. He squints at her, that paranoid edge returning as he recalls her parting words from earlier. “How the fuck did you know I was gonna get hurt today?”
His voice carries; out of the corner of his eye, the security guards straighten.
“Rajan,” Kat says calmly. “Please sit.”
“Answer me first.” Some part of him knows he’s being irrational, but his longstanding paranoia, combined with the mind-numbing pain, makes it hard to see it that way. “You had weeks to tell me to be careful and you chose today. What kind of fucking coincidence is that?”
One of the security guards comes up to him. “All right, buddy. Leave the lady alone.”
Rajan opens his mouth to tell him off, not caring that he’ll get kicked out, but then Kat’s on her feet, holding a hand up. “It’s fine. He’s my—” She stops, and turns to Rajan. “Today’s the day my son died.”
He blinks. That was the last thing he was expecting her to say.
“Eighth anniversary. He was nineteen.” Her throat bobs. “I always worry more about people on this day. Please, sit.”
She’s struggling to meet his eyes, and that’s what sells him. His anger fades. This is the least fake she’s ever been.
He sinks onto the floor next to her. Kat sits again, too, her expression composed once again. They’re silent until the guards retreat to their corner. Rajan wants to ask her more, but another question distracts him first. “Why’re you here?”
Kat merely says, “Did you get anything for pain? You’re sweating.”
Rajan raises his good hand to his forehead. She’s right. Huh.
Kat presses her fingers to his wrist, making him jump. “Your pulse is high. It must really hurt.”
He jerks away. “The fuck, Kat? You want to read my mind next?”
“Sorry.” She looks anything but. “You know, I have military training. I could put your shoulder back.”
“I’m sorry, military training? Who even are you?”
Kat’s smile widens, genuine amusement entering her eyes. “Will you let me try?”
He mulls this over for exactly one second. “Yeah, fine.” If he doesn’t have to hang around the hospital, he won’t. “You gonna shove it in place on the count of three?”
“Turn toward me.” She shifts to face him, and he does the same. “Sit up straight and relax.”
“Those are two different things,” Rajan mutters, but he tries anyway. Kat takes his hand and puts it on her shoulder. She grips his arm with a gentle pull and, with the other, starts massaging his shoulder. “I don’t need a warm-up, just do it. And warn me first.”
“I said sit up straight. You’re slouching. And relax.”
He tries again. This is so weird. “Jesus, Kat. You sound like my mother.”
The words are out thoughtlessly, and he freezes, but her expression doesn’t change. “Well, once upon a time I was a mother. Just not a very good one.”
Rajan remembers, not for the first time, what she told him about her son. Shot dead. “Why not?” he asks slowly.
She takes a long time answering. “I was young, and had my own problems...I wasn’t ready to be a parent. If I were, maybe he wouldn’t have gone the way he did.”
She says nothing more. Rajan thinks again about the photo frame she hasn’t replaced.
Maybe she can’t stand to look at it, the same way he could never take his bunny out of his suitcase.
“You know,” he says carefully, “I don’t blame my mom for the stuff that happened to me.
Maybe you’re right, maybe she wasn’t completely faultless.
But I still don’t blame her. She was trying her best.”
Kat, still smiling, breaks eye contact to survey the waiting room for a long time. Then: “Well, I hope you also realize you didn’t make her illness worse. She was sick long before you lost your way.”
“Okay, but did you believe the bit I said?” Rajan arches a brow. “Because if you didn’t, I’m not going to try to convince myself of your bullshit.”
Kat laughs before dropping his arm. “All done.”
“What?” He lifts his arm and crosses it over his chest. Holy shit. His shoulder is back in place. And he barely noticed. Now, it’s more an ache rather than a red-hot knife. “But—I thought it was supposed to hurt.”
“Not all healing has to hurt, Rajan.” She pats his hand. “Go home now. And put it in a sling for a few days.”
Rajan gets up, and it’s only once he’s out the ER door that he realizes he still doesn’t know why Kat was there. He turns back, but his view is already obscured by the lineup.
He wanders down the street. It’s getting dark. The buses run less frequently now. On a whim, he calls Nick instead. His paranoia needs to be fully satisfied.
But when Nick arrives in a slick-looking Benz, he seems surprised.
“What happened?” he asks as Rajan gets in, awkwardly holding his arm.
“Well, funny thing, Nick.” Rajan slams the passenger door harder than necessary. “I fell off a roof at work.”
“Sucks.”
“Yeah. Someone happened to leave a hammer on the roof for me to trip on.”
Nick doesn’t say anything for at least a minute as he drives. Then: “Rajan, if I wanted you dead, I would just put a bullet in your brain.”
Well, that’s nice. But Rajan isn’t done. “Someone also narced to my PO that night I got high.”
“Remember how I said nobody in the LS likes you? Any petty little shit at the party could’ve done that. We all know you’re on probation.” Nick shoots him an amused look. “Christ, you’re paranoid. A hammer? Come on.”
Rajan scoffs. “Fuck you, dude.” But now he’s starting to feel stupid. Nick’s right. That’s not his style, and besides, would the Lions really want to kill him? Sure, Rajan is always in Simran’s ear—but it’s not like she listens.
Speaking of...“You have to promise me if anyone gives Simran a hard time about leaving at the end of July, you’ll handle it.
I found you a new bookkeeper. Hell, I’ll come back if it helps sweeten the deal.
” Nick actually tears his eyes off the road to look at him in surprise.
“What? I’ll be done with probation soon. ”
“Don’t be stupid.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know, I can’t replace her, but—”
“You don’t want that. You don’t want to come back.”
That pisses Rajan off. “You’re the one who tried to make me come back.”
Nick’s grip on the wheel tightens. “The godfathers wanted recruits,” he says eventually. “But now they’re focused on other things. Take advantage of it. Skip town. You found us an accountant we can maybe use, good. But you’re not helping Simran anymore, being here.”
Rajan latches onto only one part of his answer. “You mean the godfathers are focused on Simran.” No answer. “They know about her, down south?”
“Not her name. Just that we’ve got one helluva bookkeeper.” Jesus. Rajan rubs his face. Nick’s phone buzzes, and he pulls it out of his pocket. “Yeah.”
Moodily, Rajan tries the glove box while Nick listens to his caller. It’s locked, of course. He’s about to dig through the center console when the car swerves slightly.
Rajan glances at Nick. He’s gone pale.
“Okay,” he says. “On my way.” He ends the call. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit.”
“What?”
“The Aces are retaliating.”
Big surprise. Rajan yawns. “Drop me off at home first. I don’t give a shit about the mess you got yourself into.”
Nick casts him a glance as he accelerates, seeming to consider his words before speaking.
“You should,” he says slowly. “Because Simran is there.”