Chapter Five
The enemy of my enemy is my friend.
Okay, “friend” was stretching it. Maybe tentative road trip companion. Possibly her captor. Or her bodyguard.
Sejal grabbed some Combos and added them to the basket she held, already filled to the brim with junk food. Krish had given
her fifty bucks and the order to go get them some dinner while he filled their gas tank. She wondered if he’d ever shopped
at a convenience store for dinner. She doubted it.
She was surprised that he’d let her go in here alone. On their previous stops, he’d accompanied her into the building, standing
guard outside the restroom door while she did her business, hovering while she ordered food. She couldn’t tell if he was ensuring
she didn’t run away or making sure no one bothered her. Probably both, but mostly the former.
He was clearly keeping something from her, and she didn’t know what it was, but she imagined it didn’t end well for her or her aunt.
It didn’t matter what Krish’s endgame was, though, because she wasn’t planning on sticking around to find out.
His whole speech about using her had struck a nerve.
Sometimes the lesser evil was merely lesser, not ideal.
FBI agents at least had a code of conduct. Alexei and his flunkies did not.
Well, a code of conduct and a gun. Handy, since guns had always terrified her, much to the dismay of her father.
She was good at stealing things and running, but she wasn’t a career criminal, as evidenced by how many people had tracked
her down recently. As much as she hated law enforcement, it might be good to have someone trained in evasive maneuvers on
her side.
The thought of a cop as her protection was galling, though, almost as galling as the fact that she’d caught herself eyeing
his biceps in his too-tight long-sleeved shirt a few more times than comfortable while they drove for the last ten, mostly
silent hours. He’d tried, a few times, to ask her questions about Alexei, but she’d shut him down, and he’d finally stopped
talking.
This wasn’t the man she’d so willingly spilled her family secrets to when they’d first met. So she should stop looking at
his muscles, damn it.
Her phone buzzed in her pants pocket, and she pulled it out. She hadn’t shared with Krish yet the fact that she had a phone.
Let the cop think she was without any resources. That is, she was without most resources, but she did, at the very least,
have her little burner.
There was only one number in it, Ken’s. She used to program three numbers into every phone, including Ken’s and her aunt’s,
but her aunt’s was disconnected now. She knew that, because on her last birthday, when she’d been drunk, Sejal had tried calling
it.
What do you mean, you’re not coming? Is everything okay? Best, Kenneth
All these years, and she still hadn’t broken Ken of his habit of signing texts.
She’d surreptitiously sent him a message at their last stop, since she knew he’d been waiting up for her. She replied back.
Everything’s fine! Change of plans, my employee went into early labor, so I have to stay here and work.
To hide how she was paying for Ken’s treatments and living expenses—he would not approve of probably stolen jewels from her
aunt—she told him she’d opened a security firm. It was the kind of work that explained her money and ability to roam around
at will.
Are you behaving?
Of course I am behaving. I am completely steakless, surviving on lettuce and tomatoes, like a rabbit. Best, Kenneth
She put the phone back in her pocket and moved to the next aisle, grabbing some crackers and Pringles. She didn’t love lying
to Ken, but it was better for everyone if he believed she was safe and sound. Occasionally he forgot things and remembered
them later and grew agitated. She worried too much about his health.
And what about your sister?
Mira was still fine. Alexei had known when he and Sejal were dating that the two sisters didn’t talk. He probably didn’t even remember her name, and if he did, Mira was well insulated by her husband’s money and social status now.
You’re just like Dad.
Nearly two decades later, Mira’s accusation still stung. Sejal was not like their dad, damn it. She wasn’t going to keep bringing trouble to her sister’s door.
Sejal approached the counter and deposited her basket on top of it. She glanced around and noted the camera above the register.
She wished she hadn’t taken Krish’s sweatshirt off in the car, but while the man had given her radio control, he would not
cede temperature control. She ran much hotter than him.
“Forty-one forty-two.”
She tossed a deck of cards from the display near the register on the counter and then tapped the lottery tickets under the
glass. “Can I get that five-dollar scratcher?”
She tucked the change and the ticket in her jeans pocket. The doorbell jangled loudly, and Krish walked in.
Damn it. Why did he still look good, even after eleven hours of driving with only two measly stops and a sleepless night?
Sure, there were bags under his too-pretty eyes, but his shoulders weren’t at all slumped from exhaustion.
He spotted her instantly. In any other scenario, she might have found his single-minded focus on her to be quite attractive,
but not when he only cared about losing track of his bait.
Krish came to stand next to her. The slender high school kid behind the counter tensed as he looked up at him. Was he scared
of Krish? She supposed her companion’s size and frown could be intimidating.
Or attractive.
Nope. She didn’t find him either of those things, actually.
Krish nodded at the teen, seemingly unaware of the boy’s unease. “Do you sell maps?”
“A . . . map?”
“Yes. A map.”
The clerk mimed opening a map. “Like, a paper map?”
“Yes.”
“Uh. Hang on. I think my dad has some around here somewhere.” He glanced around the store.
Sejal rolled her eyes and very gently placed her foot over Krish’s and gave it a little warning stomp. She flashed the boy
a winning smile to cover Krish’s inhale. “Sorry for my husband. He’s really old.”
The boy’s expression turned placid. “It’s okay. My dad’s old, too. There might be some over there?” He pointed to a display
almost completely hidden behind the candy.
“Thanks for your help. Come on, dear.”
He didn’t speak until they’d paid for the dusty maps and were outside. “For the record, I am two years younger than you, and
phones have their limitations. It would be good for us to have hard-copy maps.”
“You can’t ask people memorable questions that make them think you’re a time traveler from 1995. It’s uncommon to need a map
these days.”
She thought he might argue with her. He opened his mouth, then closed it. “You’re right.”
Perhaps he was too tired to argue. She could see the strain of the grueling pace around his mouth. In the hours they’d been
driving, she was the one who insisted on bathroom and food breaks. She would have bet that, if it wasn’t for her, he wouldn’t
have stopped at all.
One thing was for sure—there was no doubt as to the man’s determination when it came to his job. She wished she cared about anything like he cared about getting to her aunt. She cocked her head. “Uh-oh. You found it.”
“Found what?”
“My G-spot. It’s activated by men telling me I’m right.”
She couldn’t tell if he let out a cough or a laugh, but she’d take it, along with his eye roll. She shivered as the air hit
her. It was colder here in the Midwest, and the ohio T-shirt she’d bought at their first stop to layer with wasn’t really robust enough to beat the chill.
She paused in front of the elderly woman who was sitting on the stoop in front of the gas station with a cardboard sign. Sejal
reached into her bag, then handed her a bag of chips.
“Thank you so much,” the older woman said, in a scratchy voice.
“That was kind of you,” Krish said, as they walked to the car.
Sejal shrugged it off. “It’s Uncle Sam’s money I spent, right?”
Krish got to the passenger door before her and opened it. “Right. Did you get dinner for us?”
She lifted her bag. “Yup.”
“Excellent. Did you get a receipt?”
“No. Sorry, does that mess up your reimbursements?” She handed him back his change.
He looked at the meager change she deposited in his palm. “You used all fifty?”
“You didn’t say not to.”
“I assumed you’d understand we’re trying to save money.” He pocketed the change.
“Relax, I got us some toiletries, too. Someone didn’t let me pack a bag.”
“You had a bag packed. It’s at your place, abandoned on the floor because you bolted.”
Ah, there was that edge again, a little slip of his controlled temper. She had no idea why she kinda liked it.
Because all you’ve wanted since you first walked up to him is to see how out of control you can make him. If she couldn’t do it in bed, her perverse nature demanded she do it while they were clothed.
“You don’t have a toothbrush in there?” He nodded at her messenger bag.
“It’s a go-bag that I kept stashed under my kitchen sink for emergencies, not a toiletry bag.” A burner phone and cash were
go-bag priorities. Not how smelly she might get.
“Of course you had a go-bag.”
“Everyone has a go-bag.”
He cracked his neck. “Literally no normal person has a go-bag, Ms. Chaudhary.” Krish held his hand out for the grocery bag,
and she gave it to him. He walked around the car.
“If only I was normal,” Sejal said as she got inside. Once he was back in his seat, she asked, “How much further are we driving
tonight?”
“We’re not. I have to sleep.”
Oh thank God. She’d snoozed in the car, but she could use a bed. “I thought you wanted to make it to Chicago by tonight.”
“We’re not far from it. Like an hour or so out.”
“Oh.” She glanced around the small town they were in. It looked like it had about one stoplight. She never would have guessed
a major city was nearby. “Are we going to stop at a rest area and sleep?”
“So you can flag down a trucker and run away?”