Chapter Six
Krish was quite used to waking up well before his alarm. As an adult, getting up before dawn meant that he had time to make
himself a latte in his well-stocked coffee bar, nibble on a light breakfast, and go for a run along the Potomac before work.
As a child, it had meant getting out of bed, taking a shower before his mom and brother used up all the hot water, and getting
a precious hour in the still-sleeping house to read by himself. It had annoyed Avi to no end, both because Krish would garner
their mother’s praise and because he’d usually be woken up in the bottom bunk as Krish clambered down from the top one.
With his ability to come to consciousness lightning-fast, before he even opened his eyes Krish knew that Sejal wasn’t in the
bed with him. Or in the room, actually.
“Son of a bitch,” he muttered in the dark, and tried to tamp down his annoyance. He shouldn’t be disappointed in her. That
would be like being disappointed in a cat for purring. Of course she’d leave at the first chance.
Be disappointed in yourself. How had he slept as deeply as he had?
Krish sat up and switched on the rickety lamp on the nightstand. The clock told him it was a little past midnight. At least he’d gotten a few hours of solid rest. He didn’t feel nearly as snappy and short-tempered as he had when they’d arrived.
As he stood, he gave a deep sigh that came from the soles of his feet. He was so tired, more tired than a person should be
from one sleepless night and driving all day. This was the kind of tired that came from running a never-ending marathon.
Finish line’s in sight. You just have to make it a few more days and this’ll all be over. Once you find your brother, you could even go on a proper vacation. Somewhere
tropical.
He twisted his torso to get out the kinks. He’d never really taken a vacation. Trips, yes. But they were usually for work,
or he turned them into work by waking up early and hitting the pavement to learn as much as he could. What he’d give, right
now, for some sand where he could lie out and listen to the crash of the water on the shore and sip a huge margarita.
But not yet. Not while his brother was out there somewhere, waiting for his help.
Krish refused to consider the alternative . . . that Avi was already gone. There was no point in hurting or killing Avi, and
there had been no sign of a struggle in the house or the car parked neatly in his garage. Surely Cobra wouldn’t waste an FBI
agent, especially one they’d gone to the trouble of setting up for corruption charges.
Come on. Get your ass in gear and track down your little fugitive.
He checked the window first. A quick look outside told him that their rental car sat in the same spot where he’d parked it
when they arrived. The keys were still in his pocket, but he wouldn’t put it past her to know how to hot-wire the car.
He turned away to grab his phone and spotted her bag on the table. The lotto ticket too. So she hadn’t gone far. Sejal was much too territorial to leave her stuff behind.
With no compunction, he opened the bag and searched it. There was a wad of cash in there, which he thumbed through. Not a
lot, a couple hundred, max, but she wouldn’t abandon perfectly good money. No weapons, which made sense. She wouldn’t have
gotten past TSA with one of her switchblades. She’d probably taken the pepper spray with her, wherever she’d gone. That could
be good or bad.
He put the bag back exactly where he’d found it. No need for her to know he wasn’t a hundred percent on board with the whole
trust thing.
He pulled out his phone. A quick glance around the room told him his sweatshirt was missing, which meant she was probably
wearing it. Good.
Paranoid about Cobra making him disappear, too, with no way for his mom to find either of her sons, Krish had sewn GPS trackers
into the lining of both his jacket and his sweatshirt. He hadn’t been thinking about that when he handed Sejal his sweatshirt
to wear while driving her home, but it had definitely come in handy after she had broken out of the handcuffs and fled to
the airport later.
Krish navigated to his tracking app. He frowned at the screen and the blinking green dot. She was across the street? Why would
Sejal be . . .
Oh. The bar.
He let out a breath. Okay. It was better than running off with a trucker, he supposed, but not for the first time he marveled at the way her mind worked.
They had her mysterious ex—who, after a day in the car together, she still hadn’t told him much about, despite his probing—and possibly Cobra after them, and the woman was at a bar, undoubtedly running some game.
She was really cherry-picking the whole concept of laying low.
Krish stomped across the street, his irritation growing with every step. How was he supposed to trust her when she ran off
at the first chance and did things that jeopardized their lives?
There were more cars in the bar’s parking lot now, which made sense, given the time. Loud music spilled out onto the pavement.
There was no bouncer at the scarred wooden door, and Krish pushed it open. The scent of stale beer, sweat, and weed slapped
him in the face, and his eyes took a second to adjust to the dimness.
The music might have been hopping, but nobody was on the dance floor. It took him a second to spot Sejal, because she was
surrounded by a crowd. She’d tied her hair up at some point, revealing the buzzed side of her head. It shouldn’t have been
seductive, the ponytail, but Krish had to curl his fingers into a fist, so great was the urge to touch that shaved head.
Krish stepped into something sticky and kept walking, though inwardly he shuddered. He wasn’t as uptight as Sejal had judged
him to be, but he did like clean shoes.
The twangy music was so damn loud he couldn’t hear what she was saying until he was a few steps away. “Now, this one’s not
a magic trick. It’s a matter of science. Do you see these six cards, Jenny?”
The Black woman across from her immediately nodded. “Yes.”
“They alternate red and black?”
The woman focused on the cards spread in front of her on the table so hard her eyes nearly crossed. “Yes.”
“It’s an established fact that red cards are a little heavier than black cards.
” With a flourish, Sejal gathered up the cards, turned them over so they were face down, and dropped them.
“See?” She picked up the first card and flipped it over.
Then the next. Then the next. All black. The three red cards were on the bottom.
“You moved them around,” a man standing behind Jenny growled, and Krish took a step forward.
Except, Sejal looked amused rather than worried. She’d taken off his sweatshirt, which hung over the chair behind her, so
when she crossed her arms over her chest, her breasts were plumped up over the neckline of her top. A hot pink bra strap peeked
out at the shoulder. For someone who loved neutral clothes, she sure appreciated colorful underwear.
Not that Krish noticed, because he kept his gaze firmly on her face, which was the only place where someone who was a conscientious
FBI agent and therefore on the opposite side of the law from her would keep it.
“How would I move it? You could see my hands the whole time.”
“I don’t know. You did it.”
“Do you trust Jenny here?”
“I do.”
Jenny reached behind her to pat him on the arm. “Thanks, Tim.”
Sejal took a sip of her beer and then put the glass back on the table. She picked up the six cards, shuffled them so the colors
alternated again, and showed them to everyone. Then she handed the cards to Jenny. “Jenny, you drop them.”
Jenny’s smile lit up her face. She dropped them on the table between them, and Sejal reached over and revealed each card.
“Black. Black. Black. Red. Red. Red.”
“You still moved them,” Tim insisted, and the crowd around them booed him. But Sejal just smiled. She took the cards back, and alternated the colors again. Then she reached for her necklace, manipulated it, and pulled a slender pick out of the bar pendant.
Ah. That explained how she’d gotten free from the handcuffs.
He couldn’t even be irritated, because the kid in him that had devoured Hardy Boys books thought that was pretty damn cool.
Sejal exerted a bit of pressure and poked a hole in the cards. “Does anyone have a piece of string or a paper clip?”
Jenny rummaged in her pocket and pulled out a hair tie. “Would this do?”
“Yup.” Sejal took the thin elastic and strung it through the hole, knotting it so the cards hung on the tie. She slowly showed
them to the audience. “Red, black, red, black, and so on, yes? Can you agree I couldn’t reshuffle them now, Tim?”
“It would be hard,” Tim agreed.
“Here, you drop it again.”
With great reverence, Jenny took the cards, held them face down, and dropped them.
Sejal’s eyes gleamed. Her skin glowed, her eyes were bright. She looked almost as excited as her audience. “Flip over the
first three.”
“Black. Black. Black.” Jenny sat back and laughed, delighted, as the rest of the crowd smiled and clapped. “How did you do
that?”
“It’s science, like I said,” Sejal murmured as she turned over the remaining three cards. All red.
“Okay, that’s pretty cool.” Tim finally cracked a smile. “Nice job.”
The crowd started to disperse, but not before stuffing some cash into the empty cup on the table.
Tim lingered, taking the seat Jenny had vacated.
He leaned over the table and placed his hand on Sejal’s.
He was a big, meaty man with a florid complexion and a mustache, probably in his early sixties.
“Still not sure I’m buying it, sweetheart.
Why don’t you show me a couple more of your tricks? ”
Sejal’s gaze dipped down to his hand, so Krish’s did, too. There was a thick gold band on the man’s ring finger.
She looked back up and her eyes glinted. Krish rocked back on his heels, expecting a savage retort to the married man touching