Chapter Ten
“There is no way that woman is your girlfriend.”
Krish supposed it had been foolish to think he could shower and change before his mother dragged him into the small office
to grill him.
He waited a beat before turning around. Not because there was anything interesting on the monitor that showed the copse of
trees where they’d been picked up, but because he needed a moment to make sure not a speck of his lie was visible on his face.
He could read people fairly well, but his mother was a human lie detector. “That’s unkind, Mother. You think I’m that hopeless?”
Though he didn’t blame her. Sejal, with her messy hair and too-big borrowed clothes, didn’t fit his lifestyle. She looked
too wild, too free, while he was a buttoned-up, boring suit.
Except when she stared up at him in the moonlight, her lips parted and soft, her eyes limpid pools inviting him to taste her.
Then he felt like he was anything but boring.
You kissed her.
Yeah, he had, there in the cold darkness.
He’d simply been . . . he didn’t know what.
Affected by her unexpected kindness in buying him the salad, or her cool head in a crisis, or the way she’d slumped against him for an hour in that truck while the driver told him about restaurants he’d visited.
Her body had been so soft and warm against his side, her head occasionally drooping onto his shoulder . . .
Focus. Now isn’t the time to dwell on that kiss. Not around your mother. He finally turned around.
“On the contrary, she’s not exactly your type.” His mom leaned against the desk that stood in the middle of the room. The only light in the room came from the desk
lamp and the blue glow of the monitors.
What type? Dating in a big city full of professionals meant an endless merry-go-round of first dates and occasional hookups,
leading to burnout and long breaks. He’d only had two serious girlfriends in his life, and one had been in college. Both of
those relationships had felt shallow, like they were missing something, or like sleepovers for two people with separate lives.
“I don’t quite understand what you’re saying.”
“Your last girlfriend had a Peabody Award, Krishna. This girl does not look . . . like she has a Peabody, let’s say.”
Oh. His mother was being elitist. Yes, she could be like that. Is this how he came off to Sejal? Was that why she called him
Harvard?
Krish tapped his foot. This was a waste of time. He hated that he’d left Sejal alone with Patrick to grab some food while
he’d been shoved into this small room. Who knew what Sejal would say to his stepfather.
Luckily, Patrick didn’t know how to interrogate someone like his mom did. “I don’t care about someone’s educational status.
You do.”
His mother sat in the imposing leather chair behind her equally imposing desk and steepled her fingers together. “Don’t try to make me feel uncomfortable. Why are you with that girl?”
Stop calling her “that girl.” He controlled the odd knee-jerk offense he’d taken. He wasn’t really dating Sejal. She was his prisoner at worst, his reluctant
companion at best. There was no need to feel insulted on her behalf.
In hindsight, he realized that he should have said Sejal was his friend. But he’d made a split-second decision on the assumption
that his mother would be less likely to believe that he was upending his life for a friend. Aarthi was unconventional as far
as Desi moms went, but one thing she was consistent about was marriage and kids. She’d been haranguing him and Avi about having
families since the minute they’d hit thirty. Maybe she’d be so distracted by him having a girlfriend that she’d be diverted
from the real reason he was on this journey?
His mom couldn’t know about Avi and Cobra.
Please, Sejal, do not let your ties to Cobra somehow slip out while talking with Patrick.
“It doesn’t matter what you think.”
Aarthi surveyed him, not missing a thing. She’d had that flannel shirt for as long as he could remember. His mother had been
into sustainability long before it was trendy. There were more lines in her face now, and more gray in her hair, than when
he’d seen her last, but she looked about as sharp and spry as ever. “You certainly look like you’ve been through it. No car,
one small bag. I worried the girl had kidnapped you, until I saw you were holding the gun.”
Yes, it’s kind of the opposite situation.
“I need to know what’s going on.”
She had a right to know some of it. But what part of it, he wasn’t sure.
He couldn’t tell her about his brother. In the letter he’d left, Avi had specifically told him not to get their mother involved, and Krish might have ignored that, except that he knew she wouldn’t help him.
Hell, she’d do anything in her power to stop him.
But at the same time, he couldn’t leave Aarthi in total darkness. The woman was never not on guard, but she’d take extra precautions
if she knew someone dangerous and powerful was after them. It wasn’t fair to not give her a heads-up, not if Alexei somehow
tracked them here despite all their evasive maneuvers.
As if reading his mind, Aarthi spoke. “Does this have something to do with your brother? What did he do now?”
“He didn’t do anything.” Krish knew the next words were unwise, but he couldn’t help but utter them. “He’s never done anything.”
Aarthi closed her eyes, and the elevens between her eyebrows creased. “Krishna . . .”
“Avi is innocent. He was framed.” After Peter had shown up at his door and explained why the FBI was looking for Avi, Krish
had called his mother, expecting her to share his dismay and disbelief over the accusations hanging over his brother’s head.
She had been eerily calm, and not the slightest bit surprised. On the contrary, she’d been all too willing to believe that
her son had skipped town like a coward rather than face his punishment for corruption.
“Avi took money from criminals to use FBI databases to feed them information on active investigations. He took money from
actual murderers and thieves to look the other way, and direct the agency to look the other way, when they were doing their
dirty work.”
Krish crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s not true.”
“People probably died from his actions, Krish. Innocents.”
“That’s how I know he couldn’t have done it. Avi cares about the law as much as you do. I told you, he left me a letter.”
Aarthi raised a fine eyebrow. “Ah, yes. The letter.”
“I can show you—”
“I don’t need to see any letter from Avi proclaiming his innocence when I had to sit through his own partner showing me proof—cold,
hard proof—of my son’s wrongdoing.” Aarthi slapped her hand on the desk. “Your brother looked me in the eyes and lied more
times than I can count when he was young. Always rebelling. Why did I think that would change when he was older? ‘Where did
you get that car, Avi? How could you afford such a big house, Avi?’” She deepened her voice. “‘Don’t worry, Mama, I just invest
well.’ Hah. He can stay on whatever island he’s run off to.”
Krish rubbed the back of his neck. Yes, Avi had been mischievous when he was younger, but those had been small childish offenses.
Sneaking in after curfew didn’t translate to accepting bribes and corruption.
Growing up with a single mother as intense as Aarthi hadn’t been easy. She’d had definite ideas about what her sons should
be like.
Krish had fallen short. He knew that. He hadn’t cared for survivalism or security or the law. Avi, though, had been her little
protégé.
Their mother had been proud of them both, but Krish had always known that there was something special between Avi and their mom.
The two of them had been thick as thieves.
They’d shared a love of the outdoors and movies, while he had preferred to sit indoors and read.
It had been lonely for Krish, to always be outside the bond between mother and youngest son, but he’d learned that being left out wasn’t the worst. His mother’s love for his brother had led her to put Avi on a massive pedestal, and the minute she’d been confronted with his alleged crimes, she’d cut him down.
Things were black and white for his mother, and woe to those who stepped over the line between right and wrong.
Including her own son. “You’re wrong,” Krish said.
Aarthi’s dark eyes glistened. Krish and Avi had gotten their late father’s coloring. “I’m not. I know how much you love him,
and I truly appreciate how loyal and devoted you are. I know part of this is my fault, because I always told you to take care
of him. But this is not a good place to put your faith.”
Krish raked his hands through his hair. “Mom. I’m not looking to rehash all this with you. If you want to do that, I’ll leave.
Actually, we should leave. I wouldn’t have come here if I’d known you were here. If you could loan us a car, and some cash,
I would appreciate it, but if you can’t, that’s fine, too.” Not only did he not want to lead Alexei to his mother, but he
also couldn’t have her figure out who Sejal was. If she was this inflexible about her own son, Aarthi Anand McKenna would
most certainly balk at having Cobra’s kid in one of her precious safe houses.
“No,” she said sharply. “Don’t leave. Tell me what’s going on. Who is after you?” She flattened her hands on the table. “Krish,
you didn’t do anything, did you? Based on Avi’s ridiculous claims?”
Of course not. I merely decided to use Cobra’s niece as a bargaining chip to get to Rhea and find out where Avi really is.
Krish schooled his face to project complete and utter honesty. He hoped. “What could I have done, Mother? I’m not like you
or Avi. I don’t go around catching bad guys.” All truths.
“My one consolation these days.”
That was an about-face from her previous disappointment in him for his choice of profession. “No, the person after us is one
of Seema’s exes.”
“Who is her ex?”
“A man named Alexei Ivanovitch.”
His mom went still. “Of the Ivanovitch crime family?”