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“I can’t answer those questions.”
With a sharp turn of the wheel, Sandesh swings the car to the side of the road.
I slide along the seat, my stitched side shooting off hot protestations.
Sandesh throws the car into PARK. Plumes of gray dust mushroom over the headlights.
Turning in his seat, his blue eyes stab me with ice and steel and accusation. “Actually, you have no choice—says the only guy willing to help you. I need to know what I’m up against.”
Whoa. He’s playing a dangerous game of chicken. If we’re going to implement our plan, we need to keep moving.
I shift and roll my shoulders as if it’s all the same to me. Silence, along with the vast cold of the desert night, quickly seep into the truck and my bones. We lock eyes for long moments that stretch into impossibly longer ones. I fist my hands in my lap. Tension rides my neck. Crap. Judging by Sandesh’s chilly stare, he’s not going to break first. I shiver, then give in for the sake of winning the larger battle. “Drive. I’ll tell you what I can.”
With the unhappiest winner’s smile I’ve ever seen, he turns in his seat, shifts into drive, then peals onto the road, kicking up sand. The tires eat up ground with a steady chomping sound.
His patience snaps quickly. “Let’s hear it, Justice.”
Oh hell. “I do what Salma does. Sort of.”
“Sort of?”
Damn, sharing the truth hurts. My chest feels like someone has taken a scalpel and cut strips called loyalty from my heart. I’ve never told this much to anyone before. It’s about the hardest thing ever—though not quite as bad as facing the fact that one of my siblings has betrayed me. That makes this telling not only easier, but necessary.
“Salma helps the women and girls being lured or sold or tricked into sex slavery. I go after the men who are doing the luring, tricking, and selling.”
In this instance, anyway. The Guild is just as likely to go after men who stone women, burn them with acid, beat them, gang-rape them, and commit femicide with impunity. Wherever society lets bad things happen to women, The Guild is there. No need to tell him that.
Sandesh breaths out a sound that’s part curse. “But she saves girls. You aren’t saving these men.”
“No. I’m saving many girls and women bykillingthe men.”
Shaking his head, he taps the steering wheel.
I’m not sure if that’s disgust or curiosity on his face. Or maybe something more complicated.
“Your mother obviously knows. Is this what she does? Is this why she covers her face?”
“No.” Anger at the suggestion drives my teeth together. Momma doesn’t hide her face out of fear. “She was a teenager, a pre-teen really, when she refused a man. He attacked her with acid because of it. That man picked the wrong girl.”
That gets another glance in my direction. Now, I can read his expression easily. Curiosity.
“I read that she was adopted from Pakistan by two wealthy women and brought to America. It would seem the happy end to a sad beginning. But she wasn’t satisfied—she wanted vengeance?”
Sonot going to answer that. Subject change. “The men who chased us work for a sex-slaver called Walid. Earlier tonight—or I guess that was yesterday now—I killed his brother. If I had gotten them both, their business would’ve crumbled.”
“An underling wouldn’t simply take over?”
“No. That’s actually how they got their business. Killed the boss. Not wanting to meet the same fate, they hoard power and are militant about it actually, changing out their second-in-command regularly. So, it really is ‘get the head of the snake and the rest collapses’. I would’ve gotten away clean yesterday but for Amal. Obviously, I couldn’t leave her.”
For a moment, only the sound of the tires spinning against the road fills the cab.
“I’d wondered why your mother would fund my charity.”
Okay, he’s not easily distracted—like a dog with a bone. No matter how I try to steer him away from Momma, he keeps going back to her.
“A start-up with no reputation. Obviously, that’s exactly what she needed. Give them money, use them, control them, and I played right into it. Idiot.”
I hate that he’s angry with himself. Hate that I used him. I don’t want him to feel suckered.
