Hi Mira. It’s Sejal. Hope everything is well.
Stiff words, the kind of words a stranger might send to another. It was a networking message, not a text from one sister to another.
“Such a deep frown for someone who is so pretty.”
She’d spent only forty-eight hours with Krish, but she knew him well enough to know that that wasn’t his voice... and he’d never use such a tritewhy don’t you smile morepickup line.
Her head came up, and she found herself staring into the ice-blue eyes of the man from the airport.
Don’t panic, don’t panic, don’t panic.
She inhaled and exhaled, managing the kick of adrenaline the same way she had in the airport. Her vision cleared, until it was almost too sharp. “Viktor,” she said. She was proud of how strong her voice sounded.
Unlike her, Viktor was dressed sharp, in freshly pressed gray dress pants and a white shirt. His blond hair was combed, each strand in place. He must have carried a change of clothes and proper toiletries while chasing them across the country.
“You remember me. How flattering.”
Yes, she remembered him. He had more lines on his face, and his hair was shot through with silver now, but his physique was still trim and wiry. When they were dating, she’d often complained to Alexei that Viktor was creepy, always lurking about, but Alexei had only told her that Viktor was his best employee.
Sejal had learned later that Viktor wasn’t Alexei’s employee at all, but his father’s. Viktor was essentially the youngest Ivanovitchson’s protector and fixer. Alexei had been considered far too inept to be folded into the family business, so it was Viktor’s job to make sure he stayed out of trouble.
Unfortunately for Sejal, Viktor took his job very, very seriously. He’d ignored Sejal for the bulk of the ill-advised relationship between her and Alexei, then tried to eliminate her as a threat when it went sour. Luckily, she’d had her own resources in her corner.
Viktor sat down opposite her. “Hello, Sejal. You look well.”
“Same. You look like you haven’t gained a single bit of soul after all these years.”
“Put down the phone,” the man said. His tone was even and mellow. He used to have a faint trace of a Russian accent, but he’d eradicated it at some point.
She licked her dry lips and placed her phone down on the chipped Formica, but not before she swept her thumb over the send button.
Foolish. Mira couldn’t help her. But the few sentences worked as final words, if need be. “How did you get away from TSA?”
“You have your methods. I have mine.”
“What do you want?”
His smile was chilling. This wasn’t just a man who was doing his job. This was a man who enjoyed his job. “I want you to very slowly get up and walk out of here. Then you’re going to get in my car, and we’re going for a little ride.”
Going to a second location with a man who she assumed had cleaned up dirty, bloody messes for actual killers didn’t seem like the most self-preservation-y thing she could do. “Why should I?” she asked.
“Because I have a gun pointed at your legs.”
“How would Alexei feel about you causing a scene?”
Viktor glanced around. “Three other people in this place, including your boyfriend? Hardly a scene. I’ll kill them.” Viktor paused. “And I’ll still take you. But you won’t be walking.”
Her thighs tightened. This was now her third official kidnapping in the last couple years, and her second in the last week. Boy, did she have a sign over her head or something?Steal me, I could be valuable to you.
She glanced around at the place. For a brief instant, she made eye contact with the elderly guy sitting in the booth a few feet away.
She believed every word Viktor said, and she wasn’t about to be responsible for anyone in this place getting hurt. “No need for that.”
“Get up. Now. Slowly.”
She reached for her bag, but he shook his head. “No. Leave everything.”
Fuck. There went the rest of her money.
