Chapter Twenty-Three
“We don’t have to do this.”
Sejal steadied her hands on the cold metal table. The windowless room was gray, from the table to the walls to the floor.
“You helped me. Now I’ll help you.”
Krish folded his arms over his chest. Before they’d left the hotel room, he’d quickly donned the suit he’d bought on Alexei’s
dime, the better to lend credence to their cover. Sejal had put on her maroon dress. She hoped they passed as lawyers.
“My brother set you up. All we’re probably going to find out is that he was a Cobra operative.”
“We don’t know that. But if he was, maybe he had a reason.” Sejal shrugged. “In any case, this is my mom, and my decision.
Don’t worry about it.”
“It will be painful for you to see her, Sejal.”
Warmth bloomed in her chest. She couldn’t get too used to this. They wouldn’t be together for long, especially now that he
was seeing in real time the world she’d come from.
It was nice, feeling the warmth of someone’s protectiveness. Not many people had ever considered her worthy of protection before. “I’m fine. Don’t—”
The door opened and cut her off. Chains rattled as a guard escorted the prisoner in.
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 days her mother
had held her hostage.
Two years ago, when Rushali had ripped the hood off her head, Sejal had no problem recognizing her. She’d seen a couple photos
and had some vague recollections of what the woman looked like. Plus, Sejal shared her nose and eyes.
But since she’d come to prison and lost access to hair dye, Botox, plastic surgery, and the money and minions that cushioned
general stress, Rushali looked way more hardened. She was still incredibly beautiful, but Sejal knew that, in her vanity,
her mother must have hated losing the trappings of luxury. It was petty to feel good about that, Sejal told herself, even
as she embraced the satisfaction. Pleasure at her mother’s expense was better than being scared of her.
Rushali raised an eyebrow when she walked in and saw them waiting in the visitation room. She waited for the guard to leave
before she spoke. “Well, well, well,” she said dryly. “I did think it was a bit strange that my attorneys came to visit again
so soon.”
Sejal met her mother’s gaze squarely, though it wasn’t easy. When a heavy palm settled on her thigh, under the table, she
realized that she’d been jiggling her leg. She shot Krish a look, and hoped he saw her gratitude for steadying her. “Seemed
like the easiest way to see you without cameras.”
“Oh, no, I love it. Nice to see one of my daughters can stretch the truth. Your sister is a terrible liar.”
Sejal’s hand tightened so hard into a fist that it hurt. She’d been dazed back in that hotel room, but she remembered her
mother and Mira having a similar exchange there.
“I am your daughter.”
“I guess you are. More than your elder sister. She couldn’t evade me at all.”
“Rhea helped us with the cover.”
Rushali sneered at the mere mention of her ex-sister-in-law. “That bitch. Tell her I’ll get her back for that frying pan to
the head if it’s the last thing I do.”
“Big words for someone in prison,” Sejal said dryly, and it was the realization that that was all her mom had now that really
calmed her nerves. Four walls and bars and cement. Rushali couldn’t do shit to her. “Sit down.”
Rushali narrowed her eyes at Sejal, but her curiosity must have been greater than her offense at her daughter’s short tone,
because she did as asked. Her gaze slipped over Krish. “You look familiar.”
“My name’s Krish Anand,” Krish said. There was no inflection in his voice, but Sejal could tell by the way he sat, by his
face, by his posture, that he hated everything about the woman in front of him.
Your mother. He hates your mother. You think he’ll still find you interesting and all those other nice things he said about
you after this?
“Anand.” Rushali tapped her finger over her lips. “Now, why does that name sound familiar?”
Her mom was playing cat and mouse, and Sejal refused to let Krish be the mouse. “Cut the shit. You know something.”
“Could you be related to that annoying little FBI agent? What was his name? Ari?”
“Avi.”
“Right, right. Avi. Sorry, I know so many agents.” She tsked. “Shame about the internal investigation. Heard he flew the coop
rather than face the music.”
Krish leaned forward. “Did he work for you? Where is he?”
“Oh, that I couldn’t possibly tell you.” Rushali rapped her knuckles on the table. “Is that all? I should get going. A creative
writing teacher comes in on Thursdays, and I’ve been working on my poetry.”
Sejal stood when her mother did. “Sit down, you smug bitch.”
Her mother’s eyes grew dangerously hard. “You watch your tone when you speak to me, daughter.”
“I’m not your daughter. You may have birthed me, but you’re not my mother. You will tell this man where his brother is and
whatever else he wants to know, or I will make sure that your time in this prison is far more unpleasant than it needs to
be.”
“And how will you manage that?” Rushali’s smile was ugly. If she hadn’t had chains around her wrists, Sejal might actually
have felt physically threatened. “I slit my own father’s throat, did you know that? None of my daughters could ever intimidate
me. None of you amounted to anything.”
Weird flex. “Rhea is out of Witness Protection, and she recently came into possession of a password that accesses a rather
large fortune. She’s happy to use every last dollar of that fortune, she told me, to make your life behind bars an absolute
nightmare.”
Rushali growled. “She took my necklace?”
“She did.”
Her mother tossed her gray-streaked hair. “Threatening me with your aunt? You can’t even scare me on your own?”
“Yeah. I guess I’m nothing like you.” Sejal drew in a deep breath, suddenly lighter than she’d ever been.
Krish was right. All those insecurities, for so many years, and for what? She was nothing like her mother. Nothing like her father. Nothing like anyone but herself. “I am strong as fuck, but my strength includes having people who love me, not just my muscles. Now. Talk.”
Rushali glared at her, then switched to Krish. “Your brother did some work for me.”
Oh no. Sejal looked at Krish. His face was immobile. Not by even a single twitch did he give away his dismay.
“Not much work,” Rushali clarified. “He was always too scared of being caught. Searched up a few associates, then said he’d
rather not do any more. Anyway, I understand a fall guy was needed, and since his partner and supervisor were more enmeshed
in my operations, so to speak, Agent Anand was the one they fingered. Foolish man, truly. You either go big or go home, but
you don’t leave a half-assed paper trail of corruption and then quit.”
“What did you do to him? Is he dead?” Krish asked quietly, and Sejal’s heart twisted at the heartache underlying every word.
Rushali’s eyes glinted. “Now, how am I supposed to know that? I no longer even run Cobra, or don’t you remember?”
“So who does?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t care.” She came to her feet. “This meeting is over.”
“Tell me where Avi is.” Sejal stood, and she was gratified that her mother took a hasty step back before apparently remembering
that she wasn’t supposed to be scared and stood her ground.
“Why do you even care?” Rushali looked back and forth between her and Krish. A cruel smile touched her lips. “Oh, are you
two together? How odd. Because you can thank your boyfriend’s brother for finding you for our last reunion, Sejal.”
So Avi was the reason her mom had been able to kidnap her. Little son of a bitch. He’d given up her location twice? How good was Krish’s brother at finding people?
Oddly enough, the news should have angered her, but it didn’t. It was like she’d been able to place a layer of cotton between
herself and her mother that insulated her from Rushali’s toxicity.
The chair behind her screeched as Krish stood. “Please just tell me if he’s dead. Despite whatever he’s done, my mother deserves
to know that much. Surely you can understand that, as a mother yourself.”
Sejal almost laughed, because there was no one less motherly than Rushali, but her mother’s expression changed, became pouty.
“I do understand the plight of a mother,” said the lady who had threatened to kill both her daughters for not producing a
goddamn necklace. “No one thinks about us.”
“You gave me a black eye and drugged me for days,” Sejal muttered, but her mom didn’t look at her.
“I do,” Krish entreated. “Please, as a mother, help me out. Our mom weeps every night.”
Sejal couldn’t picture Krish’s interrogator of a mother weeping every night, but what did she know?
“I truly am in the dark. My previous associates have abandoned me and embraced new management with a fervor that has broken
my heart.”
“So who would know?”
“Cobra’s current leader, of course. The best I can do is tell you where Cobra has been doing business.
” A smile touched her lips, like she actually was a normal human, instead of a sociopath who had no conscience and felt no remorse.
“There’s a new restaurant in Artesia, right on Pioneer.
It’s called Naan Negotiable. It’s a front.
Go ask for them there, and you can get all the answers you’re looking for. ”
Sejal was going to put that terrible pun aside for a moment. “We’re hours from LA.”
“Then hope there’s no traffic. Maybe they’ll have the answers you seek. I do need something in return for all this information,
though.”
There it was. Sejal gritted her teeth. “What?”
Rushali’s expression turned all business. “I want some mackerel.”
“Is that . . . is that jail talk for money?”
“No, I want you to get me some mackerel. In a tin. It’s good currency in here, and the commissary is often out of it.”
Tinned fish? “Um, okay. If your lead pans out.”