Chapter Eleven #2
“Stepfather,” Krish corrected. “My mom remarried when we were in high school.”
“We?” She pounced on the tidbit of information like a hungry cat.
He paused. “My brother and me.”
A brother. This was interesting. “Younger brother,” she guessed.
He stuck his hands in his pockets. “Yes. How did you know that?”
“You have strong big-brother vibes.”
“Do you also have strong big-sister vibes?”
“Probably not.” Sejal looked away. Vibes didn’t survive when they lay dormant for years, did they? “So what have you told your mom? I am happy to lie to anyone, but I need to know what I’m supposed to be lying about.”
“I told her about Alexei, so she could be on guard.”
“What did she say?”
“She was perturbed that we were wrapped up in the Ivanovitches, but I stressed that you were young and didn’t know why he
was after us, and she promised to help.”
Aarthi knew who the Ivanovitch family was, which was odd for a layperson. Sejal filed that away in the little mental file
she was creating. Like, what kind of mom had an empty piece of property in the middle of nowhere Wyoming? A place so off the
grid that an FBI agent felt it was the safest place they could go? “Cool. And why did you tell her we were dating?”
“I thought it would make her more likely to help us. And less likely to ask questions.”
“You thought announcing me as your girlfriend instead of, say, your coworker or your friend would have your mom asking you
fewer questions about me?” Sejal shook her head. “Boy, you really don’t understand women, do you?”
“I’ve never had great luck in that category, no.”
The admission surprised her. False modesty? Because, yes, occasionally he was dense, but he did have those pretty eyes and
big muscles.
“I thought, she’s always nagging me to settle down . . . it seemed like a good distraction. I can’t let her suspect who your
parents are. She won’t help us if she knows you’re connected to Cobra, if only by blood and not actions.”
“Why?”
He studied her with unreadable eyes. “Because Cobra is bad, Sejal.”
Oh. Of course.
Cobra was bad, and as the daughter of Cobra, so was she. Obviously a childish oversimplification, but one she needed.
Look at his healthy family. Look at the love his parents have for him. Of course having sex with you was a mistake.
Why do you care? You never care who likes you.
Besides, it wasn’t like she was good with parents. She was rough around the edges even without the drama of her last name.
She squared her shoulders. Whatever. She’d do her best to play the fuck out of his girlfriend and shove down all of these
feelings and forget last night, just like he was able to do. “So my name is Seema, I’m your innocent girlfriend and therefore
an object of sympathy, my ex is chasing us, I am not connected to Cobra, and . . .”
“And I am not an FBI agent.”
She paused. “What?”
“My mom doesn’t know I’m an agent. She would worry.”
Her lips parted. “You’ve been lying to your mother for decades about your job?”
“Why do you sound surprised?”
“I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“You’d be surprised what I’m capable of.”
“Is all of this really necessary?”
“Yes. My mom is our best bet for getting to California.”
Or in her case, her terminal destination, which was Vegas. She could refuse to play along, but where would that get her?
You are so close. Enemy of my enemy and all that.
Besides, though Krish had seemed awkward before his shower, he was fine with her now, looking her directly in the eye. If he could be cool as a cucumber, so could she, damn it. “Okay. Good enough. For now.”
“Great. You hungry?” He strode past her to the door, a man on a mission.
Not really, but she could fake that, too. “Starving. Let’s hit the stage.”
She followed Krish downstairs, filing away the rustic charm of the farmhouse, the details she’d been too exhausted to absorb
yesterday. Huge windows dominated the first floor, and she looked out as they descended. There was nothing but land as far
as the eye could see, land and beautiful, lonely mountains in the distance. Isolated was the first word that came to mind. “You grew up around here?”
“No, but similarly rural. In Montana.”
“You were born in Montana?”
“I lived there from the time I was about five,” he said shortly.
“Did you live in another state before that?” she persisted.
“We lived in India. I was born there.” He gestured for her to precede him through a door, and they entered a dining room.
It was as neat as a pin, and as minimalist as their room. They went through another swinging door, and the delicious smells
became even stronger, along with the dulcet voices of the Carpenters singing about heartbreak. The kitchen was more modern
than the rest of the house, full of gleaming stainless steel and granite. Patrick stood behind Aarthi, his hands around her
waist as he nuzzled her neck.
Aw. That was cute.
Who are you?
This Hallmark-esque setting with the staged house was clearly breaking her brain. She was definitely not feeling an odd sense of longing, watching this clearly in love older couple, right? She, who was wary of even sleeping in the same bed as a man. Unless that man was Krish.
Fuck.
Krish cleared his throat, and Aarthi cut off her childish giggle immediately, and straightened. “Krish.”
Patrick wasn’t quite so startled. He lingered, keeping his arm around his wife’s waist. “Good morning, kids.”
“Good morning,” Sejal responded, and Krish nodded.
His mother eyed them both. “Interesting choice, these outfits.”
Sejal tugged at her too snug sweatshirt. Did Aarthi not realize these were hers? Please, even if she was a relationship gal,
she definitely wouldn’t be caught dead in matching clothes.
Patrick laughed and gave her a squeeze. “We got those on our trip to Toronto, remember, Aarthi?”
“You got them,” she said archly. “I told you I’m not a matchy matchy person.”
Sejal almost smiled. Seemed like she and Krish’s mom had something in common. Whelp, best to jump into the lie feet first.
“Ugh, Krish is the same way. I’m always trying to put us in cute couple gear.” She swatted him on the arm, maybe a touch harder
than necessary.
“Like mother like son. Hard to crack these nuts,” Patrick said, his grin wider. “Come on in, you two. You hungry?” He picked
up a stack of pancakes, and Sejal’s mouth watered.
“Starving,” she said, and this time she meant it.
“Have a seat here at the table. We’re informal when it comes to breakfast, hope you don’t mind.”
Sejal sat down in the sun-dappled breakfast nook, ignoring another stab of longing. Kenneth had had a little breakfast table like this. When she’d visited her adopted dads, this was how they started their days, too. Like a real family.
This is not your family. Krish is not your boyfriend. These are not your surrogate parents. Your surrogate dad is sitting in an assisted living facility that you are paying out the nose for, and if you want to keep
him in that fancy place, you better focus. “Thank you so much.”
“Not a problem.”
Krish poured orange juice for her and then for himself. “This smells wonderful,” he said. “And thank you for the clothes,
Patrick.”
“Yes, it was nice to change,” Sejal chimed in.
Patrick dimpled at them and brought over the eggs and bacon. Her stomach took that moment to growl, and Patrick gestured at
her. “Eat, eat! You must be starving. Looked like you two had a long journey yesterday.”
She filled her plate as quickly as she could. She didn’t need to be told twice. Aarthi sat opposite her, but the woman didn’t
take a plate, only sipped her water. “Aren’t you hungry?” Sejal asked her.
“I’m intermittent fasting. I’ll eat later. So I understand you and my son are dating.”
Sejal took a bite of her pancake. Let the role commence. “That’s what I understand as well.”
“Funny how he hasn’t mentioned you before.”
Krish shifted next to her. He’d taken eggs and bacon, but not a single pancake. “You and I haven’t spoken much the last few
months, Mother.”
“So that’s how long you’ve been dating? A few months?”
“Approximately.” Krish took a bite of his eggs.
Aarthi leaned forward and placed her elbows on the table. She was wearing an oversize denim button-down that hid her trim figure. But when she moved, it couldn’t conceal the bulge under her arm.
Sejal’s gaze shot to Patrick. His plaid shirt was cut to fit him almost perfectly. No place to hide anything.
The puzzle pieces started to come together.
“What is it that you do, Seema? Other than magic, like for a living.”
I used to help my con man dad, then I worked various gigs of dubious legality before coming into a possibly stolen inheritance
of jewels from my aunt, who is actually not dead and may be the head of an organization you despise. I spent most of that fortune settling my surrogate dad’s debts and
saving for his future, and now I’m back to fleecing morally gray people, but it’s mostly legal. “I’m in sales,” Sejal said.
Aarthi looked down her patrician nose at her. “Sales of what?”
“Rolexes.”
“How’s everything going at home, on the ranch?” Krish interjected.
“Excellent, thank you.” Patrick dabbed his lips with a napkin and went back to demolishing his pancakes. “We’ve hired three
new people this fall. It’s getting harder to keep up—”
“Rolexes. How fascinating. And you live in DC as well?” Aarthi sipped her tea.
“Yup.”
“What neighborhood?” Aarthi shot back.
Krish stirred next to Sejal. “Mother—”
Sejal placed her hand on his arm. She was familiar enough with DC. “Adams Morgan.”
“Bit far from Krish, then.”
Sejal smiled politely. She had no idea where Krish lived, but hopefully it wasn’t Virginia. “Nothing’s that far in DC.”
Aarthi pursed her lips. Her hands were still and steady around her mug of plain water. “You must be so rattled. All this drama
with some criminals chasing you.”
“Oh, of course.” Sejal glanced up at Krish and smiled softly. He looked down at her. There was strain around his lips and
eyes, like he was stressed.
Well, he probably was stressed. Lying to a parent was nothing new to her, but she imagined Mr. Straight and Narrow didn’t do it regularly. This
grilling needed to be cut short, for both their sakes. “But Krish has been amazing and protective. I don’t know if we’d be
alive if not for him. He’s really one of the good guys. You did a good job of teaching him all of his skills.”
Krish frowned, but it was Aarthi’s reaction that Sejal was really interested in. The other woman put her mug down. “I’m sorry?”
“Well, since you’re law enforcement. Or former law enforcement?” Sejal turned back to her plate and started eating again with
gusto.
“Is that what Krish told you?” Aarthi’s gaze moved to her son. Her face was as unreadable as his often was, but her eyes had
grown darker.
Bull’s-eye. It was always nice to be right about something. Like she’d told Krish, she could spot a cop a mile off.
Krish shook his head. “I didn’t tell her anything.”
“No, he didn’t. Are you CIA? FBI?” She’d bet Aarthi had some kind of intelligence training.
Patrick cleared his throat. “Aarthi’s actually a retired florist.”
Definitely intelligence, then. Sejal helped herself to more pancakes.
It was nicer to have Aarthi on the defensive and not the offensive.
“Oh. I see. I assumed because there’s so much security around your safe house.
And the fact that you have a safe house at all.
And you are carrying a gun.” And you hate my family, and most laypeople don’t know my family exists, let alone have a beef with them.
A muscle tic in Aarthi’s jaw really highlighted the resemblance between Krish and his mother. “You’re very observant, Seema,
if wrong in your conclusions. Perhaps you should go into intelligence and leave sales behind.”
Please. She’d never pass even the most basic of background checks.
“But yes, I am carrying. Seemed best, given the dangerous people after you.” Aarthi’s accent had been flatly American before,
but there was a bite of British in it now.
“As far as our house being inaccessible, it’s just that we don’t care for solicitors.” Patrick’s smile was jovial, as usual,
but it had lost some of its sunshiny-ness. “Needing all-wheel drive and some know-how to get up here keeps away the people
trying to save our souls.”
He’d provided that explanation a little too quickly, like he was used to excusing overkill security devices. “Gotcha,” Sejal
responded. “So, not a cop.”
“Not a cop,” Aarthi and Patrick said in unison, which was probably the best way to convince Sejal the woman was a cop.
“A florist. That sounds like a cool job.”
Aarthi bared her teeth. “Very cool.”
“Are you finished?” Krish asked suddenly, and it took a second for Sejal to realize he was speaking to her.
Sejal nodded, though she wasn’t sure if he was talking about the food or about needling his mother. “It was delicious, thank you both.”
“Why don’t you two run into town and get yourselves some clothes that actually fit?” Patrick said, then shooed Sejal away
when she tried to pick up her empty plate. “We’ll clean up.”
Seemed like the stepdad was suddenly eager to get them gone. Sejal caught the narrow glance he shot his wife.
Well, Krish had called her his girlfriend so she could be a distraction from whatever he didn’t want his mom to know. Here
she was, distracting.
“Going out may not be wise,” Krish said, which Sejal actually concurred with. Parading around town with Viktor after them?
Definitely better that they stay tucked away up here.
Aarthi stirred. “The town is safe. You’ll be fine.”
Some secret communication seemed to pass between son and mother, because Krish finally nodded. “Okay.”
Patrick pulled out his keys, followed by his phone and a credit card. “Here you go. Go on, have some fun for the day. Call
your mom’s phone or the house if you two need anything.”
Fun wasn’t really possible when on the run for one’s life, but Sejal smiled like the besotted Rolex sales girl she was supposed
to be.
Aarthi smiled back at her, but Sejal was sure Krish’s mother didn’t buy her act. Which was fine, because Sejal didn’t buy
Aarthi’s act, either.