Her gaze skipped over a platinum blond man sitting a few rows away from her, then went right back. She slipped her phone into her pocket.
His head was bowed, and he had a newspaper open, obscuring most of his face. He wore pressed khakis and a nice gray sweater. She wouldn’t have given him a second glance, except he didn’t have anything else with him.
She was traveling light with only a backpack, yes, but he had nothing. Nothing at his feet, nothing on the chair. Nothing to even put the newspaper in. He was going to rawdog a long international flight with only aNew York Timesfor company?
Had the agent sent someone else after her? Wow.
She wasn’t sure why she felt... disappointed in Krish. It certainly wasn’t that she was vaguely insulted he hadn’t come after her himself. What, she wasn’t worth his time now? After all the work he’d put into her?
You weirdo, get out of here.
She got up slowly and put her bag on both shoulders. Her heart thudded when she started walking, glanced casually behind her, and noted the man neatly folding his newspaper closed. His gaze met hers.
It had been a few years, but she recognized him instantly. Oh fuck. Not FBI.
Viktor.
Crap, crap, crap.
She walked faster, and faster, intentionally getting lost in what looked like a high school marching band, letting them swallow her up.
She tried to control the fear and anxiety rising inside her. No, sir. She’d kept her head when Anand had snuck up on her, and she’d do it now, too.
Jesus Christ, how many men did a girl have to flee from in a twelve-hour period?
She beat back the panic and cleared her throat as she walked past the bored TSA agent sitting at the exit, under the sign that declared she wouldn’t be permitted back into the terminal. “Excuse me.” Sejal hooked her thumb over her shoulder. “The gentleman behind me? In the gray sweater? White-blond hair? I saw him leave his bag at Gate 57 and walk away from it.”
The agent’s eyes sharpened and went past Sejal. “Thanks for letting me— Hey. Hey! Ma’am!”
Confident that the agent would be far more interested in catching a potential suspect than the well-meaning “see something say something” witness, Sejal breezed through the double doors, the woman’s walkie-talkie blaring behind her.
Sejal kept walking as rapidly as possible down the hallway, getting pushed along to the AirTrain along with the flow of humanity. What now, what now, what now?
Vegas. Youhave togo back home.
No! She didn’t want to.
It’s clear Alexei’s after you. That’s your only choice if you want to get him off your back.
While she was looking over her shoulder, she walked right into a solid wall. She grabbed the closest thing to steady herself—which turned out to be two powerful forearms.
She looked up into a far too familiar face, partially obscured by sunglasses and a baseball cap, paired with a fearsome scowl.
Aw. Was Krish mad at her? What did he have to be pissed about? That she hadn’t willingly marched along with him to serve up her only decent blood relative to the dubious justice of Uncle Sam? Give her a break.
He was so big, people flowed around him like he was a mountain in the middle of a stream. A black leather duffel bag was slung over his shoulder.Still insufferably handsome, still a cop.
His hand slid down her arm, chafing his soft sweatshirt against her skin. He encircled her wrist, his fingers easily meeting over her skin. “We have to stop meeting like this,” Krish said.
Chapter Four
Sejal pushed Krish away like he’d burned her.
“Fuck me,” she muttered.
He cocked his head. “Going somewhere without me?” If there was an edge to his voice, so be it, seeing as how he was on yet another night of almost no sleep. He would have been here earlier, but her trail had gone cold for a while there.
It had been extra annoying to hunt Sejal down only to find her at the exact airport he’d wanted to take her to in the first place.
