Chapter Seven
Krish had ordered a salad at the greasiest midwestern diner Sejal had ever had the privilege of stopping at. That alone should have rendered him unattractive
to her.
But the bright midday light was bringing out red highlights in his dark hair, and she wanted to stroke those strands.
Do your parents or aunt say their crimes are victimless, too?
Yeah, if that snarky jab hadn’t made him ugly to her, she doubted a salad would do it.
Sejal poured syrup over her pancakes. “You sure you don’t want some?”
“No thank you.” Krish moved his salad around like it was actually edible and not a pile of limp leaves and soggy tomatoes.
“Don’t like pancakes?” She cut into her pile. Steam rose from the perfect circles.
“Pancakes are a breakfast item, and it is three p.m.”
“If someone advertises that they’re offering breakfast all day, it’s because they’re good at making breakfast. Only a fool
wouldn’t take immediate advantage of that.”
Krish eyed her plate. “Looks like you’re taking advantage of the syrup there.”
“Pancakes are mainly a vehicle for sugar.” She put the syrup bottle down and took a bite. Closing her eyes, she sighed theatrically.
“That is some good high-fructose corn syrup.”
“Yes, my salad is quite good, too.” Krish took a bite. Sejal could tell he was trying not to grimace, and she hid a smile.
No, no, no. She was not going to find his fuddy-duddiness the slightest bit funny. She was missing Kenneth, that was all.
“I think they did a study that in a lot of fast-food places the salad is actually less healthy than the burger.”
He took a bite of a tomato, and then did grimace. “Regardless, I can’t eat any more gas station garbage. The Cheetos for breakfast
were especially terrible.”
He’d allowed them exactly two food and bathroom stops, and it was at the second one she bought the Cheetos to share. Maybe
the orange-dyed food had been her vengeance for the crack about her parents.
But he did let you sleep in the bed alone, and gave you his sweatpants.
Sejal was still wearing the sweatpants, in fact. He’d woken her up right before dawn. She’d barely had time to fold her jeans
before he’d grabbed them and the rest of their things—including her unscratched scratcher!—and stuffed them into his bag,
then hustled them out of the room without even stopping in the lobby to see what the advertised free continental breakfast
entailed.
She shifted. His sweatpants were as soft as the sweatshirt she’d already stolen from him, but she dismissed his loaning her some clothes as any sign that he potentially had a heart.
He was just trying to keep his prisoner happy until they got to where he wanted them.
Good luck with that. She wouldn’t allow his sweatpants loan to sway her from her plan to be rid of him before they reached the Nevada-California border.
“Have you always been such a health nut?”
“I care about what goes into my body, yes.”
“Must be nice to always have that luxury.”
“I know that eating healthy is a privilege.”
Ugh, so annoyingly self-aware. The truth was, she liked a little salad moment now and then, but she wasn’t going to insist
on leafy greens when they were running for their lives.
With that in mind, she wasn’t going to offer her pancakes again. She hadn’t really wanted to share them, and it was his own
damn fault for being healthy.
Sejal looked out the window. The place wasn’t that busy, with only half a dozen cars in the parking lot. Or maybe that was
busy for this area? Other than a gas station, there wasn’t much else going on at this exit. The scenery was exactly how she’d
pictured the Nebraska landscape: flat and empty.
She took another bite of her pancakes. There was something nice about all the space. Perhaps she’d find a place like Nebraska
for her next home base. It didn’t remind her of her hometown, and she had the feeling that, after this adventure was over,
the last of her nostalgia for Vegas would be annihilated, at least for a while.
Yes. This is an adventure, and at some point it will be over.
An adventure had an end date and imagined a future. Running for their lives might have an end date, but it might not include
a future. Calling it an adventure was more optimistic. “How much longer until we stop for the night?”
Krish pulled out his phone as he took another bite. “I’d like to get to Colorado, so another eight hours at least.”
Eight hours? They’d already been driving for seven. The man was a machine, a machine with hands set at ten and two. “You’re
really determined to cut this trip as short as possible, huh?”
“I’d like to get out of the Midwest.”
“What, the flyover states hold no appeal for you?”
He ignored that. “If we can hit Colorado tonight, we can power through to California tomorrow.”
She paused. “With a stop in Vegas,” she reminded him.
“Ah. Yes. For your mysterious errand.”
A mysterious errand that would get Alexei off her tail, or so she hoped. “You promised me.” Was he reneging? It wouldn’t be
the first time a man broke his word but—
“With a stop in Vegas,” he confirmed. “I told you we would. Relax.”
Phew. Otherwise, she’d have to ditch him earlier than expected. And steal the clothes that she was wearing while she was at
it, because for such an uptight guy, he had excellent taste in sweats. Was it simply because they were expensive? Perhaps
this was what she was missing by buying all her joggers at warehouse stores. Or maybe it was because they were comfortably
oversized on her.
Don’t think about his body, not even tangentially. “We could rest in Vegas. Stay the night.” That would give her plenty of time to both get what she needed and give him the
slip.
“We’re not staying the night in Vegas.” He took another sip of the far-too-strong coffee. “We’ll do whatever it is you have
to do, and then we’ll get back on the road.”
“Suit yourself.” She could escape him in a couple hours as easily as overnight.
He found you at the bar last night.
That had been lucky. She’d barely been a hundred feet from him and hadn’t been trying to hide. It would be much harder for
him to track her down in Vegas, a city she knew intimately.
“We should get back on the road soon.”
“We just got here.”
“You can eat in the car.” He pulled his wallet out of his pocket and rummaged in it for cash. He turned it upside down, and
a quarter fell out. It skittered along the table, until she put her hand on it. When she picked it up, the coin was gone.
She shook her hand, and the coin appeared again, dancing over her knuckles.
She didn’t realize he was watching her until she glanced up. “That was a good card trick you did yesterday.”
She tried to hide her flush. She hated that she’d let it slip, her need for validation in having some kind of skill, and to
a federal agent at that. Someone who was obviously good at his job and had no real insecurities about anything. “Thanks.”
“Is that always how you make money? Magic?”
She shrugged. “It’s always been reliable. Either bets or busking.” And she did consider it a victimless enterprise, damn it.
Otherwise, every casino on the planet was victimizing its patrons. Now, did she somehow manage to attract annoying cheaters
to her orbit and feel zero guilt taking their money? Sure, but that wasn’t her fault.
But it’s not great that it happens so often you have a “victim profile.” She’d been haphazard and gotten lax about staying under the radar. No surprise that the FBI and Alexei had tracked her down.
“How’d you learn? Do the public schools in Vegas teach card magic?”
“If only. Would be more lucrative than geometry.”
“Did your ex teach you?”
It wasn’t the first pointed question Krish had asked about Alexei. She knew she ought to tell him, and tell him soon, who Alexei was and about his connections to the powerful Ivanovitch mafia family, but self-preservation was holding her back.
Would he still protect her if he knew that Alexei wasn’t some run-of-the-mill rich guy?
You’re letting him fly blind.
Guilt wasn’t an emotion she was used to, and she did her best to bury it now. She consoled herself with the knowledge that
the precautions Krish was taking running from Cobra were about the same as he would take if he thought Alexei was on his trail.
And if they could get to Vegas and that evidence, she’d have leverage to get Alexei off her back, and by extension Krish’s
back. There was nothing to worry about.
She held up the coin in her palm, shook it, closed each finger, and opened it again to show her empty hand. “My dad taught
me how to pickpocket. Once I was truly on my own, I had to make a living, but I didn’t care for straight up stealing. Sleight
of hand is an easily transferable skill.”
“Do you want to have a show one day or something?”
Her laugh was real. “Nah. I’m not, like, a performer. It’s a way to make some easy cash. Pay for rent and groceries.”
“Seems short-term.”
“I have a little nest egg I’ve started for retirement, don’t worry. I know I won’t always be in possession of these hypnotic
breasts.”
His gaze flickered to her breasts, but to his credit, he came back to her eyes immediately. No matter. That was enough time
for her to work her magic. She shook her other hand, and revealed the quarter, safe and sound.
“Impressive.”
“This is amateur stuff. You should see my other tricks.” It was habit that had that invitation coming out breathy and suggestive. Totally habit, and not at all desire.
Not that Krish seemed to notice. He took the coin and placed it on top of his other cash, though the bill hadn’t come yet.
“I need to go to the bathroom.” He hesitated.
Sejal lifted an eyebrow at him. “Thank you for announcing.”
“Do I need to tell you not to run away again?”
“I told you, I wasn’t running away yesterday. I couldn’t sleep.” And she’d hated to admit to even that vulnerability. Imagine
if she’d told him the truth.
A real badass wouldn’t care who they were sleeping next to. Like Krish, who had shut his eyes and fallen asleep in a chair.