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“Don’t smile at me. I find nothing in this situation amusing.” Laying her flat on the floor, I pulled her jacket and shirt open. “You’re going to have some serious bruising, woman.”
“It’s par for the course in this business.”
I touched all the spots where the metal plates held evidence of bullet impact.
My hands shook as I realized Shah had fucking set her up to die to keep me from having her.
He’d orchestrated the very thing I feared. I could have lost her.
“Hey.” She grabbed my arm. “I’m okay. Just dazed. I’ll be fine in a few minutes.”
Ignoring her, I rose to my feet. Rage coursed through me as I readied to complete what I’d kept Neil from doing.
Erase Ashok Shah from existence.
Suddenly, I froze, unable to comprehend the sight before me.
Ashok Shah and Arun Joshi’s bodies lay slumped on the floor, eyes open and hollow. Blood oozed from single bullet wounds to their foreheads. The placement of the entrance wounds was so perfect, so precise, the person taking the shots had either trained long and hard or ranked as a professional.
Then I focused on the shooter.
Smita Joshi.
She stood regal in the doorway of the conference room. She held two pistols, one pointed toward her now dead husband and the other at her rapist.
In any other circumstance, the former model, with her flawless makeup, impeccably tailored clothes, and emotionless stance, would have looked like she posed for a clothing campaign.
“I’ve waited thirty-four years to do this,” she whispered. “I’m free now.”
A tremor shook her body, and she swayed.
Without thinking, I jumped up, running toward her. The adrenaline surge she’d just experienced would turn into a catastrophic crash within moments.
Neil and I reached her a second before her legs gave out. I grabbed her guns as Neil cradled his mother against him.
He crooned to her, “I’ve got you. It’s over.”
She buried her face into his chest as he brought her to a nearby chair and placed her in it.
Devani moved in beside me, holding out a towel. Without a word, I took the cloth, wrapped the firearms, and then placed them inside a bag she held open.
As I pulled my hand out of the satchel, our fingers lingered, and we stared at each other.
Everything over the last few months had led to this point, to an end we hadn’t expected.
I could have lost her.
How the hell would I have survived without her?
“Your mom, Veda.” Smita Joshi’s voice broke the trance between us, and reluctantly I shifted my attention away from Devani.
“She wasn’t only meeting your grandparents that day. She was meeting me.” A sob escaped her lips. “It’s my fault she died.”
A chill shot down my spine. Slowly, I moved in Smita’s direction, only stopping when I was within her eyesight.
“Did you tamper with the bus?” I asked.
She shook her head.
