“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.”
