Chapter Three
A cop? A cop! A cop.
Agent.
Whatever. Same thing. She’d kissed a law enforcement officer. Gross.
Sejal scowled down at her bag. She’d picked the earliest flight out, but she still had an hour to go until her plane took
off. She surveyed the crowd around her from under her lashes. It wasn’t quite five a.m. yet, but it was a busy early morning
at the airport. Families shuffled along their bleary-eyed littles, businesspeople strode through with stuffed computer bags
and totes, and couples ignored each other for their phones. Even if they did look Sejal’s way, her powerful resting bitch
face scared them away.
How could she have been so naive? Not to smell the bacon on the man the second he’d sidled up to her. She’d kissed him! Trusted
him to drive her home! Her gut was clearly on vacation right now if she was that easy to fool.
He wasn’t perfect, she consoled herself. He’d made one key mistake, and that was leaving her alone for way too long with one hand unrestrained. She’d easily slipped the thin needle out of the gold pendant around her neck and picked the lock.
His handcuffs might be government issued, but her father had spent years teaching her unsavory skills. With the right tools,
she could get out of any bindings.
She’d silently opened the window for the misdirect, fled to the kitchen, grabbed her go-bag, and waltzed right out the front
door.
Agent Avi Anand. Even the alliteration annoyed her, so much so that she’d already decided to keep calling him Krish in her
head.
Two years ago, after her mother had been arrested, Mr. Hot Shot Agent had left her at least half a dozen messages. So she’d
tossed her phone. Then, somehow, he’d found her new number.
He just wanted to talk, Krish had said back then, in a smooth voice that hadn’t sounded nearly as gravelly or as low as it
did in person. He understood that she hadn’t had any contact with Rushali since she was a child.
Except, that was a lie, because she, her mom, Mira, and Rhea had had that rather perverse family reunion before her mom was
arrested. Sejal had been drugged up, but she remembered enough of it that she knew she didn’t want to talk to any agents about
it.
So she’d run. Sejal had always been kind of a rolling stone, so it hadn’t been too hard for her to fully embrace a mobile
lifestyle. Compared to the masters in her family, she was an amateur at disappearing, but moving often and using cash and
aliases was enough to keep law enforcement off her tail. Or so she’d thought.
Rhea Auntie, what have you done?
When you showed up to rescue me from our mom, did you do it just to take over Cobra? Or did you really care about your nieces?
You lied to me forever—did I ever really know you? Did you ever love me?
Am I loveable?
Sejal shook her head. Given their complicated relationship, Sejal actually had no problem with confronting her aunt and asking
her what the fuck was going on now. But, bitch, please, she wasn’t about to help a fed. And she knew her sister wouldn’t,
either, for all that Mira was as lawful as they came.
Should she call her sister? Text her? Hi, Mira, I kissed a stranger in a bar, and it turned out he was an FBI agent who’s looking for Rhea, who may now be the head
of Cobra, so I wanted to warn you that he might come to you and also try to use you as bait. Anyhoo, how’s married life going?
Sejal could clearly envision the long-suffering and disappointed look that would take over her sister’s face when she got
that text.
You’re just like Dad.
Nah. Now that she’d had some time to think about it, and her adrenaline had evened out, Sejal knew that Mira was safe. If
Anand really was going to use Mira, he would have gone to her first. She was much easier to find than Sejal was, for one thing.
Sejal checked the screen at her gate. It had been a gamble coming to JFK. She’d wandered off and on subway trains for a couple
of hours in case anyone was following her, but she’d finally decided her best chance of outsmarting the cop on her trail—the
cop, ugh!—was to go to the one place he’d wanted to take her himself: the airport.
Another thing to be annoyed at him for. Forcing her to leave this city without packing a proper bag and collecting her stuff
and saying goodbye to the barista on the corner.
She settled her hands over her backpack.
Her emergency stash of funds was much smaller now that she’d paid out of pocket for a last-minute one-way flight to Heathrow.
The attendant had been confused for sure, since Sejal was probably the first person since 1995 to buy a same-day ticket at the counter with all cash.
Sejal hadn’t put much thought into where she was going. She needed to put some distance between her and this place. Besides,
Kenneth was in London now. Her surrogate dad had lived in America for much of his life, but he’d been born in England, and
had always talked about retiring there.
Speaking of Kenneth . . . she dug her burner phone out of her bag. She dialed a number from memory and waited. It went straight
to voicemail. She cursed, then dialed another number. A chipper British woman answered on the other end. “Hillview Estates,
this is Jolene, how can I help you?”
“Can you please connect me to Kenneth Washington?”
The woman’s voice changed, became subtly annoyed, and Sejal braced herself. “Is this Mr. Washington’s daughter?”
Ken had been the one to call her his daughter, decades ago, and Sejal had never corrected him. Because she loved it. “Yes.”
“Miss, we’ve been trying to call you. Your father has been harassing our aides again.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose. She didn’t need this now. “Harass how?”
“He filed a complaint that they were racist.”
She rolled her eyes up to the ceiling. “I mean, were they being racist?”
“Absolutely not!” Shock dripped from the woman’s words. “Apparently, they refused to provide him with the steaks and cigars
he asked them to smuggle in. Absolutely no one here at Hillview is racist.”
Hillview was a ritzy assisted living facility with a population representing a couple of overlapping demographics that weren’t historically not racist, so Sejal doubted that, but she didn’t have time to argue with this woman at the moment. “I’ll talk to him.”
“Thank you. I’ll connect you to his apartment.”
The phone rang twice before someone picked up. “Sejal.”
“Ken.” She pulled her feet up on the seat to make herself into more of an invisible ball, though no one was looking her way.
“You’re not picking up your cell.”
“I was up late playing games. It must have died.”
Ken stayed away from online poker and the like, but Sejal allowed him a substantial allowance for his mobile games. “You have
to keep it charged. Also, what have I said about making too many waves at this place, Ken? We’re trying to keep a low profile.
Filing fake complaints isn’t the way to do it.”
She could picture Ken sitting back at his small kitchen table. Time had stooped his once-powerful shoulders, and his black
eyes had faded. More lines creased his dark brown skin, and his hands shook now.
When she’d first met Ken, she thought the gregarious Black man was larger than life. She’d been nineteen, in love with a terrible
guy, and found surrogate parents in the man’s driver and the driver’s husband. For two glorious years, she’d been enfolded
in Ken and Kevin’s family. Kenneth had been the first one to voice his concern over how Alexei treated her, and he’d been
the one to eventually drive her away, risking his own life to do it.
Thankfully, when Sejal had gotten free, she’d also gotten Ken away from Alexei without any further repercussions.
Her new dads had kept in touch, asking to see her whenever they could, like she was their own child.
She’d told them about her life, including the mistakes she’d made in the past and why that meant she couldn’t put down roots. They’d understood her.
Three years ago, she’d stood with Ken as Kevin passed, from cancer. It was then that she’d realized Ken was sick as well,
and found out about the crushing debt he was living under. Medical bills and gambling.
She breathed out. So fuck Agent Anand, because she really couldn’t go to jail. Ken needed her. Hell, she couldn’t even let
the feds look too closely at her finances. Her aunt had left her a sizeable sum of jewels that had been instrumental in paying
off Ken’s huge debts and setting him up in the cushiest place she could afford in London. But Sejal hadn’t exactly disclosed
that windfall to, say, the IRS.
“I don’t know what you mean, fake complaints. These people make up stories about me.”
“Jolene said—”
“Jolene! That woman is evil, Sejal. Her parents must have known. Who would name their daughter Jolene after the great Dolly
Parton put Jolenes everywhere on high alert, I ask you?”
“Ken.”
“They weren’t fake complaints. Those aides smuggle all sorts of contraband in for the rich white patients! I told them I was
good for the bribes, and they laughed at me.”
Sejal bit her cheek, hating the hurt pride in Ken’s voice. Whatever happened, all she wanted was to give him a luxurious and
safe home. “Listen, that’s frustrating, but you’re not supposed to be eating steak or drinking whiskey.”
“My memory may not be as sharp as it used to be, but I can eat a damn steak.”
“You also have heart disease, and you can’t.” She controlled her rising voice. “But listen, that’s not the reason I’m calling. I wanted to tell you I’m coming to visit you! I’m at the airport—”
“Are you okay?” His voice was sharp.
“I’m fine.”
Ken cursed, which was weird for him. He was a real stickler for old-school manners and never cursed in front of a lady if
he could avoid it. “Someone is chasing you? Is it Alex—”
“No, no,” she said hurriedly. “I wanted to travel a bit.”
“I don’t believe you,” he said flatly.
She tightened her hand around the phone. “You know how I am. Can’t stay in one place for very long.” He was silent for a beat,
which she took advantage of to end the call. “My plane’s going to board soon. Keep your head down, go to your appointments,
and do whatever exercises they tell you to do. I’ll see you soon.”
“You haven’t come to see me in years, and suddenly you’re at the airport? Is someone after you? Are you sure everything is
okay?”
“Everything is fine.” As nice as it was to have someone care about her, the last thing she wanted was for Ken to be stressed
out. She hadn’t told him much about her mom or their nonconsensual—on her side at least—reunion a couple years ago. Let him
play his candy matching games and try to smuggle in steak.
He wasn’t a part of this world, despite working for Alexei in the past. He was a shining, pure being who didn’t deserve to
be tainted by her or her terrible family. “Bye, Ken.”
“Love you, Sejal.”
She cleared her throat. “I love you.” The words were hard to say, not because she didn’t mean it, but because she’d said them
to so few people.
After she hung up, she let her gaze drift around the gate area. As the sun rose in the sky, more people had filed in, though with over an hour to takeoff, it wasn’t quite packed yet. Families, couples, businesspeople . . .
Her gaze skipped over a platinum blond man sitting a few rows away from her, then went right back. She slipped her phone into
her pocket.
His head was bowed, and he had a newspaper open, obscuring most of his face. He wore pressed khakis and a nice gray sweater.
She wouldn’t have given him a second glance, except he didn’t have anything else with him.
She was traveling light with only a backpack, yes, but he had nothing. Nothing at his feet, nothing on the chair. Nothing
to even put the newspaper in. He was going to rawdog a long international flight with only a New York Times for company?
Had the agent sent someone else after her? Wow.
She wasn’t sure why she felt . . . disappointed in Krish. It certainly wasn’t that she was vaguely insulted he hadn’t come
after her himself. What, she wasn’t worth his time now? After all the work he’d put into her?
You weirdo, get out of here.
She got up slowly and put her bag on both shoulders. Her heart thudded when she started walking, glanced casually behind her,
and noted the man neatly folding his newspaper closed. His gaze met hers.
It had been a few years, but she recognized him instantly. Oh fuck. Not FBI.
Viktor.
Crap, crap, crap.
She walked faster, and faster, intentionally getting lost in what looked like a high school marching band, letting them swallow her up.
She tried to control the fear and anxiety rising inside her. No, sir. She’d kept her head when Anand had snuck up on her,
and she’d do it now, too.
Jesus Christ, how many men did a girl have to flee from in a twelve-hour period?
She beat back the panic and cleared her throat as she walked past the bored TSA agent sitting at the exit, under the sign
that declared she wouldn’t be permitted back into the terminal. “Excuse me.” Sejal hooked her thumb over her shoulder. “The
gentleman behind me? In the gray sweater? White-blond hair? I saw him leave his bag at Gate 57 and walk away from it.”
The agent’s eyes sharpened and went past Sejal. “Thanks for letting me— Hey. Hey! Ma’am!”
Confident that the agent would be far more interested in catching a potential suspect than the well-meaning “see something
say something” witness, Sejal breezed through the double doors, the woman’s walkie-talkie blaring behind her.
Sejal kept walking as rapidly as possible down the hallway, getting pushed along to the AirTrain along with the flow of humanity.
What now, what now, what now?
Vegas. You have to go back home.
No! She didn’t want to.
It’s clear Alexei’s after you. That’s your only choice if you want to get him off your back.
While she was looking over her shoulder, she walked right into a solid wall. She grabbed the closest thing to steady herself—which
turned out to be two powerful forearms.
She looked up into a far too familiar face, partially obscured by sunglasses and a baseball cap, paired with a fearsome scowl.
Aw. Was Krish mad at her? What did he have to be pissed about? That she hadn’t willingly marched along with him to serve up
her only decent blood relative to the dubious justice of Uncle Sam? Give her a break.
He was so big, people flowed around him like he was a mountain in the middle of a stream. A black leather duffel bag was slung
over his shoulder. Still insufferably handsome, still a cop.
His hand slid down her arm, chafing his soft sweatshirt against her skin. He encircled her wrist, his fingers easily meeting
over her skin. “We have to stop meeting like this,” Krish said.