“Yes. I did, actually.”
The Bureau will not help you. Don’t trust any of them.
“I see. That’s pretty damning evidence all right.”
“This isn’t easy for me, either, Krish. I loved your brother, too. It’s taken me a hell of a lot of time to believe the things I heard about him.”
Bullshit.And Krish knew that was bullshit, because Cobra hadn’t funded that trip. Krish had. He knew that, because though they’d traveled separately, they’d met up once they were there.
It had been Avi’s birthday present. A lavish one, but Krish had just gotten a raise and a promotion, and it wasn’t like he was spending the money anywhere else. He’d wanted to treat his little brother to a vacation that he couldn’t otherwise afford.
They hadn’t spent as much time as Krish would have liked together during that trip, but that was because they had vastly different ideas on what a vacation consisted of. Avi had lounged around the hotel and drank hot chocolates in cafés while Krish had spent his days milling around every museum and bookstore he could find.
One thing was clear, though: if there was a paper trail of Cobra paying for that trip to Paris as a bribe for services rendered, it was most definitely fabricated.
“Krish?”
He licked his lips. This was a small discrepancy, but he’d take any errors he could find. “I should, uh, get going.”
“Okay. Are you going to tell me where you are?”
Abso-fucking-lutely not. “No. I don’t think I am.”
Peter paused. “We can find you, Krishna.”
Krish almost laughed. They’d probably already tried to track this phone, but there was no way in hell his mother had given him anything that could be easily traced. “You can try.”
He hung up. Where this confidence had come from, he wasn’t sure, but he liked it.
Avi was at leastå partially innocent. Now what was he going to do about it?
He hauled himself off the bed. He needed to take a walk. To clear his head. He probably didn’t have much time before Sejal returned.
He left the room and found the living room blessedly empty. Krish was in no mood to make small talk. The ice bucket was overturned on the wet bar, so he grabbed it and walked out.
He found the ice machine in an alcove near the elevators. He placed the bucket under the spout and pushed the button.
A thick piece of fabric dropped over his head, blinding him. Something strong and narrow was yanked against his windpipe.
Krish didn’t think, not really. The summer he’d been twelve, his mother had cleared out the living room and had him and Avi practice getting out of holds.
Attempted strangulation from behind? Please. This was literal child’s play for his family.
He shoved his hands up, under the cord, and leaned back, trying to use his head to knock out his assailant. The person was shorter than him, but just as strong. The rope bit into Krish’s hand as he tried to prevent it from putting pressure against his windpipe.
His fingers, wet from the ice, slipped on the rope, and it pressed tighter against his throat. He gasped, his air momentarily cuttingoff, and a voice whispered in his ear. It was low and raspy, unidentifiable as man or woman. “Stay away from Sejal, or I’ll make your brother pay.”
The person behind him gave a grunt when Krish kicked his leg backward, into what he hoped was the guy’s crotch but seemed to be more like his thigh. Over the sound of Krish’s own heart in his ears and the still-running ice machine came the high-pitched squeals of laughing children.
God, it was one thing to be choked out. It was another for children to find such a gruesome scene. “Kids,” he gasped out.
The rope loosened. Krish dropped to his knees, coughing. It took him a second to catch his breath, but as soon as he did, he ripped the fabric off his head. He held it up in front of him.
A standard-issue hotel pillowcase. The alcove was empty, and when he scrambled to his feet and peered outside, the hallway was, too.
I’ll make your brother pay.
Krish fisted the pillowcase and leaned against the wall, his other hand on his throat, still breathing rough. A bubble of elation filled his chest. Yeah, he’d just been almost strangled, and he’d never been a glass-half-full person, but there was a definite bright side here.
