Chapter Seven #2
He wasn’t affected by silly anxieties. He didn’t need to see how weak she was inside. Better to let him think she couldn’t
sleep in jeans.
“You did tell me that,” he said, without inflection.
“You have the car keys.” She gestured to the vast nothingness outside. “Where could I even go here? Not a bar to be found.”
“I assume you can hot-wire a car.”
“Actually, that’s not one of my skills,” she lied. She didn’t need to steal any cars right now. “Some of us aren’t hotshot
FBI agents.”
He glanced around. “Keep your voice down.”
She didn’t need to. The place was fairly quiet after the lunch rush, and nobody was paying attention to them sitting in the
corner. “Go.”
He slid out of the booth. “I’ll be back in two minutes.”
“Take your time.” She ate another big bite of pancake.
The second he disappeared from view, she put her fork down and pulled out her secret phone.
Or at least, she assumed it was still a secret.
He’d definitely rifled through her belongings when she went to the bar last night, which she wasn’t upset about—she would have done the same. But she’d had the phone on her.
She’d been planning on texting Kenneth, but now, with the phone in her hand, she hesitated.
Do your parents or aunt say their crimes are victimless, too?
She ran her tongue over her teeth, wishing she could get those words out of her head, but it was impossible. They were too
close to Mira’s accusation from decades ago.
You’re just like Dad.
She wasn’t. She wasn’t the same as the rest of her family.
You’re the eldest daughter of two thieves. And you’ll never be anything more.
Mira was more. She’d escaped. Went to college, became respectable, married an attorney, probably thought long-term and diligently
maxed out her retirement accounts. If Mira could do it, could escape their upbringing, Sejal could, too.
But you haven’t. Not yet. Krish is right.
She opened a message and put in Mira’s number. The third number she always programmed into every phone, after her aunt and
Ken, though she’d never used it.
Sejal had seen her little sister exactly three times since she left home at eighteen. The last time was at Mira’s pre-wedding
party, which she’d semi-crashed and lurked at out of a misguided sense of familial longing. The time before that had been
when Mira rescued her from their mother’s clutches by trading that diamond necklace for her. And the time before that had been when Mira was in college. When Sejal had been running from Alexei and his mafia ties and she’d shown up at her sister’s
door for help and been rebuffed.
You’re just like Dad.
Sejal bit her lip, and typed.
Hi Mira. It’s Sejal. Hope everything is well.
Stiff words, the kind of words a stranger might send to another. It was a networking message, not a text from one sister to
another.
“Such a deep frown for someone who is so pretty.”
She’d spent only forty-eight hours with Krish, but she knew him well enough to know that that wasn’t his voice . . . and he’d
never use such a trite why don’t you smile more pickup line.
Her head came up, and she found herself staring into the ice-blue eyes of the man from the airport.
Don’t panic, don’t panic, don’t panic.
She inhaled and exhaled, managing the kick of adrenaline the same way she had in the airport. Her vision cleared, until it
was almost too sharp. “Viktor,” she said. She was proud of how strong her voice sounded.
Unlike her, Viktor was dressed sharp, in freshly pressed gray dress pants and a white shirt. His blond hair was combed, each
strand in place. He must have carried a change of clothes and proper toiletries while chasing them across the country.
“You remember me. How flattering.”
Yes, she remembered him. He had more lines on his face, and his hair was shot through with silver now, but his physique was
still trim and wiry. When they were dating, she’d often complained to Alexei that Viktor was creepy, always lurking about,
but Alexei had only told her that Viktor was his best employee.
Sejal had learned later that Viktor wasn’t Alexei’s employee at all, but his father’s.
Viktor was essentially the youngest Ivanovitch son’s protector and fixer.
Alexei had been considered far too inept to be folded into the family business, so it was Viktor’s job to make sure he stayed out of trouble.
Unfortunately for Sejal, Viktor took his job very, very seriously. He’d ignored Sejal for the bulk of the ill-advised relationship
between her and Alexei, then tried to eliminate her as a threat when it went sour. Luckily, she’d had her own resources in
her corner.
Viktor sat down opposite her. “Hello, Sejal. You look well.”
“Same. You look like you haven’t gained a single bit of soul after all these years.”
“Put down the phone,” the man said. His tone was even and mellow. He used to have a faint trace of a Russian accent, but he’d
eradicated it at some point.
She licked her dry lips and placed her phone down on the chipped Formica, but not before she swept her thumb over the send
button.
Foolish. Mira couldn’t help her. But the few sentences worked as final words, if need be. “How did you get away from TSA?”
“You have your methods. I have mine.”
“What do you want?”
His smile was chilling. This wasn’t just a man who was doing his job. This was a man who enjoyed his job. “I want you to very
slowly get up and walk out of here. Then you’re going to get in my car, and we’re going for a little ride.”
Going to a second location with a man who she assumed had cleaned up dirty, bloody messes for actual killers didn’t seem like
the most self-preservation-y thing she could do. “Why should I?” she asked.
“Because I have a gun pointed at your legs.”
“How would Alexei feel about you causing a scene?”
Viktor glanced around. “Three other people in this place, including your boyfriend? Hardly a scene. I’ll kill them.” Viktor paused. “And I’ll still take you. But you won’t be walking.”
Her thighs tightened. This was now her third official kidnapping in the last couple years, and her second in the last week.
Boy, did she have a sign over her head or something? Steal me, I could be valuable to you.
She glanced around at the place. For a brief instant, she made eye contact with the elderly guy sitting in the booth a few
feet away.
She believed every word Viktor said, and she wasn’t about to be responsible for anyone in this place getting hurt. “No need
for that.”
“Get up. Now. Slowly.”
She reached for her bag, but he shook his head. “No. Leave everything.”
Fuck. There went the rest of her money.
The stray thought reassured her. If she was worried about her cash, then she was worried about something that would be necessary
providing she survived this.
Yeah. You’ll survive this. Kneecaps intact.
Sejal slid out of the booth and stood. Her head cleared with every step. Being kidnapped was nothing new to her. At least
this guy wasn’t her long-presumed-dead mother, and she didn’t have a bag over her head.
Tell me where it is. I won’t hesitate to kill you, daughter or not.
Sejal stuffed that memory back where it belonged, deep in the depths of her psyche. Best not to think about the three days
her mother had held her hostage. Or had it been four days?
Where is Krish?
Krish would not be able to save her. Would he even try to? She might be a useful pawn, but no single case or career milestone was worth taking on the Russian mafia, right?
The sun beat down on her as they exited the diner. Sejal glanced behind her. The man had his hand in his pocket, and he was
scanning the parking lot. Did he really have a gun in there, or was it a bluff?
Not that it mattered. She wasn’t about to wrestle him and find out. Guns were far too unpredictable.
“Eyes forward,” he said, and she complied. But not before she caught a shadow in the glass door behind them.
Krish.
Relief cascaded over her. This was probably the only time in her entire damn life that she was happy to see a cop.
Don’t get excited. He could easily decide you’re not worth the hassle and find some other way to get to Rhea.
“There’s no need for a gun.” She spoke loudly, both because she thought it might warn Krish, if he was coming, and also to
cover his approach. She fiddled with her necklace. Her aunt had given it to her when she’d left home. In the beginning, she’d
worn it to remember Rhea, but it had gotten her out of so many tight spots that now she never took it off. Hopefully, it would
get her out of this conundrum, too. “Are you going to kill me?”
“If you keep talking, yes.”
That was a lie. He’d threatened to shoot her knees, not kill her. Alexei wanted her alive, and she didn’t know exactly why.
“Why is Alexei doing this now? After all these years?”
“Walk around the corner.”
She did as he asked. A lone silver Mercedes was parked against the low retaining wall at the back of the parking lot. It loomed
in front of her like her own hearse. “I’m not alone, you know.”
“Ah, yes. He’s not a very useful boyfriend if he didn’t realize I was on your trail.”
“Why do you think he’s my boyfriend?” she hedged.
“You think you haven’t been under observation?”
But the only person who would think Krish was her boyfriend was . . .
It clicked. Guess you’re not that clever after all.
That clipped way of talking John had slipped into, it hadn’t been impatience. It had been an accent. A Russian accent.
Her mind raced. Yeah, she’d grown sloppy indeed. John had known exactly how to keep her hooked. That annoying victim profile
of hers. “You must have been really pissed when I didn’t go back to John’s room in Brooklyn,” she managed.
“That asshole was supposed to hold you in place until I could get there. But no matter. You’re easy enough to track.”
“My boyfriend’s also very skilled at, um, finding people.” She took another step, but the sudden sharp pain in her scalp had
her stopping and coming up on her tiptoes.
“What did you tell him?”
“N-n-nothing.”