Chapter Seven #4
“How rich is your ex, exactly? Because that wasn’t some run-of-the-mill mercenary. That man looked like an assassin.”
“He’s pretty rich.” You have to tell him. Viktor saw him. He’s in Viktor’s crosshairs now. Krish has to know who’s after him. “And well, um, connected.”
Krish paused, then glanced at her. He tapped the side of his nose. “You mean . . . ?”
She nodded reluctantly.
“Cobra?”
“No. Russian.”
“Jesus . . . are you kidding me?” Krish’s hands jerked on the wheel, but he righted it. “We could potentially have two mobs
after us right now?”
At least he wasn’t talking like an icy robot anymore. “You’re a hotshot special agent. Does one extra gangster matter to you?”
“How did you get involved with the Russian mafia?”
Her eye twitched. “I was eighteen when my dad kicked me out. I got mixed up with a bad crowd.”
“Russian mafia bad?”
“I thought Alexei was safe enough. He was the youngest son of the current head of the family. He wasn’t really in the business,
you know? He was a dork. Liked sitting in front of his computer, playing games, ready to buy me stuff. He was just a bookkeeper
for some nerds who ran a website.”
“A website that . . .”
She grimaced. “That sold drugs and guns.”
Krish pointed his finger at her. “There we go.”
“Anyway, I haven’t seen him in, like, twenty years. I have no idea what he wants from me, and Viktor wasn’t ready to tell me. But he wants me alive . . . so that’s good?”
“Sure, peachy,” Krish muttered. “How did he find us today? You haven’t used any documentation since the airport, have you?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t say.”
“Are you still in touch with anyone he knows?”
She thought of the texts she’d sent Ken. She doubted Alexei even remembered Ken’s name now, let alone how he’d helped her.
The man hadn’t been great at noticing his employees. “Yes, but I think he’s safe. My texts didn’t say where we were going,
anyway.”
“Who’s he—” Krish glanced over. “Wait, you have a phone with you?”
“A burner, which got left behind at the café, but it shouldn’t be traceable. That’s why I didn’t bring my regular phone.”
Krish pursed his lips. “Oh.”
“What?”
“Do me a favor, and look in my duffel.”
She twisted to see it in the back seat. There was glass all over it. “Why?”
“Your phone is in there. I grabbed it from your apartment.”
She growled. Why this was almost more offensive than Krish kidnapping her, she wasn’t sure. “That’s probably how Viktor traced
us. Did you at least take it apart first? Shut it off?”
His silence was her answer. She swore and unzipped the bag. The phone was barely hidden. She should have searched his stuff
the way he had definitely searched hers.
She held the phone with two fingers like it was a bomb. “You might as well have slapped a GPS tracker on us,” she said grimly.
“Yes. This one’s on me. I should have thought of it.” He plucked the phone from her fingers and casually tossed it out the
window. His conveniently busted-out window.
“Dramatic,” she commented.
“I do hate not disposing of electronic waste properly, but it had to be done.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out his
phone, and tapped something on the screen. She was impressed that he could navigate anything on the phone while barely taking
his eyes from the road.
She was a little less than impressed when he threw it out the window as well. “Was that necessary?”
“Viktor saw my face. He could already know who I am.”
She twisted in her seat, not that she could still see his phone. They were going eighty miles an hour. “That was our only
way to get directions.”
He opened the center console, still keeping his gaze on the road. She caught the paper map he tossed her. “Guess who’s prepared
for that?”
She clutched the worn, folded-up map to her chest. “Let’s hope this wasn’t printed in 1992.”
Okay, buddy. You’re in a bit of a pickle. WWDD? What Would Dad Do?
Channeling her dad wasn’t her favorite, but the man had known how to come in clutch for shady situations. He’d had her and
Mira working on survival skills before she could walk. “You know we have to ditch this car, right?”
“It’s still functional.”
“It won’t be for long, and in any case, what would you do, Mr. Agent, if you were a cop and saw a car that looked like it
had been in a shoot-out driving down the freeway?”
He rested his elbow on his open window. “I take your point. We can’t afford to be slowed down.”
“Or put in the system. We have to think about how that guy tracked us, and how he might be able to track us now. If we keep
going on this trip—”
“We’re going to keep going,” he interrupted. The wind coming through the glassless windows was loud, and he had to speak above
it.
“We can’t use this car, your credit cards—in your real name or fake name. We need to go somewhere safe and regroup. If we
were closer to the West Coast, I’d be able to tap some contacts, but—”
“No. I don’t want to owe anybody in your little criminal network.”
Sejal sniffed. “Not all my friends are criminals. Some of them own perfectly respectable businesses.” Like a strip club, but
it was a classy strip club. “Do you have any better ideas? Maybe it’s time to actually use some real FBI resources?”
“I told you, I can’t risk tipping off a mole. Especially now.” Krish shook his head. “But we won’t have to. I think I may
have a place in mind.”
“Where?”
He signaled and overtook the car in front of them. “A place to rest. It’s off the grid.”
You’re blindly trusting him to keep you safe?
It didn’t matter where or what this new place was, honestly. So long as it was as far from Alexei and his men as possible,
while still keeping them on track for Vegas, where she could access her insurance.
The enemy of my enemy . . .
“Problem is, I only have about twenty-five bucks left. Do you have any money?”
“No. Everything was in my bag.”
“Twenty-five dollars isn’t going to get us a new car. Or even a bus ticket.”
“I can hot-wire a car.”
“You said you didn’t know how to hot-wire a car.”
“I lied.”
“I figured.” Krish shook his head. “We can’t steal a car.”
She tapped the map against her leg. She should be drained, but her adrenaline rush must be keeping her buoyed. Sticky situations
were kind of her jam. “I can get us some money. But you’ll have to be okay with doing something slightly illegal.”
“How illegal? Rob a bank illegal?”
“No. Like not-having-a-permit illegal.”
He gave a soft sigh. “Do I have a choice?”
“Nope. I’ll do it anyway. Don’t worry, I’ll keep my clothes on.”
He was silent for so long that she looked away from the road to glance at him. His hands were back in perfect position on
the wheel, but when she looked at them closely, she could see that his knuckles were white. He cleared his throat. “Fine.”
She opened the map and perused it. “Let me find a good place to stop.”
“You do know how to read a map, right?”
“No. But I’ll figure it out.” She rustled the paper at him. “If there’s anything I know, it’s how to run away.”