“Right.” She rolled her eyes.

“You said you don’t know who I really am,” I said calmly. “What did you mean by that?”

Veronica chewed her lip. Something was up.

“Did Dekker say something to you?”

She nodded. “He told me I really didn’t know you. Who you are. What you are.”

Well, that stopped me in my tracks. What did Dekker know about me? I was off the grid. Hell, I didn’t even have a social security number.

“Oh, yes,” I said quietly. “You should definitely take the word of a man who kidnapped you and dumped you unconscious in the worst part of town.”

She threw her hand up into the air. “What is it with you men anyway? How in the hell did I end up in this weird situation? I was perfectly happy in my little apartment at the university. But now I’m on a carney’s private jet after being kidnapped by some Dutch wrestler in Mongolia!”

“That is a lot to think about. Maybe you’re bad at decision making?” I teased.

“The only bad decision I made was to think I had feelings for you, Coney Bombay!”

Now, that hurt.

Chapter Twenty-four

Luisa, the family’s staff on the Bombay private plane, interrupted us with plates of pastries and cups of tea. She smiled at me, touching me briefly on the shoulder before returning to her suite at the rear of the jet. She’d been with us for years, replacing her mother, Inez, who had worked with us since the 1950s. Luisa was petite and gorgeous, with a knockout grin and a sharp mind. She was only twenty-five, and most of my cousins had hit on her from time to time-with no success whatsoever. I never did. Maybe that was why she always flirted with me.

“And who was that?” Veronica asked, her voice a bit strained.

“That is Luisa,” I answered, sipping my tea. It was Darjeeling. My favorite.

“She’s a bit forward, isn’t she?” The jealousy she was trying so hard not to show was adorable.

“She likes me.” Why should I tell Veronica that Luisa and I were just associates? She wasn’t giving me anything on Dekker.

“Is she one of your carney groupies?” The words had a sharp edge to them.

“No.”

Veronica crossed her arms over her chest and fumed in silence for a moment. I took the opportunity to eat and drink.

The silence was tense, but I needed it to figure a few things out. First of all, what was I going to do with Ronnie? She would have to go home so I could continue to pursue Dekker. Maybe she’d take Sartre with her. That would give me an excuse to look her up when this assignment was over.

And what did Dekker mean when he said he knew who I was? I was a carney, a drifter, totally forgettable to most people. What could he know? The Bombay family of assassins had been a closely guarded secret since 2000 BCE. There was no way any vic could know about us.

Then again, a man like Dekker had many, many enemies. It made sense that he would guess there was a contract out on him, even if he didn’t necessarily know exactly who was targeting him.

Because of his contact with Veronica, he knew my name. He knew I was a Bombay. A chill slid down my spine. He could get to my family. That was bad. Very bad. I pulled out my cell phone and texted Monty. Within minutes he replied with an expletive I was pretty sure his mother didn’t let him use.

“Isn’t it dangerous to use a cell phone on a plane?” Veronica asked.

“No,” I answered, slipping the phone into my pocket.

“Aren’t you interfering with the plane’s guidance system or something?”

“No. It has nothing to do with that.”

“Why not?”

I turned to look at her. “The real reason they don’t want you to use cells on a plane is because you might crash the cell phone service by taking up too much of the power from towers on the land.”

She smirked. “And yours won’t?”

“No. Mine is special.”

Sartre squeaked and lunged off my lap toward Veronica. Ronnie responded by taking the little pig into her arms. Traitor.

“When we get to London, I’m getting off. The pilot will take you to your nearest airport. Will you take Sartre with you?”

She frowned. “You want me to go home? What are you going to do in London?”

“Take care of some business. I’ll pick up Sartre when I’m done.”

Ronnie shook her head. “No. I’m going with you.”

“What? No. You aren’t.” I hadn’t anticipated this reaction. I thought she’d just want to get as far away as possible. At least from me.

“You are going after Arje, aren’t you?”

“That’s between me and him, Veronica.”

She snorted. “Oh, yeah. I wasn’t involved at all.”

I thought about this. She was right. But I didn’t want her to get hurt again. And I needed time to sort out my feelings…without her around.

“I’m not going home, Cy,” she said firmly. “That’s the deal.”

“This isn’t your fight,” I replied. “He hurt you to get to me.”

“Then how do you know I’ll be safe back home?”

She was right. The safest place for Veronica Gale was with me. But I didn’t want her to be there when I killed him.

“And you are not backing out on your promise.”

My eyebrows went up. “My promise?”

She nodded smugly. “You said you’d help me solve Senator Anderson’s murder.”

Shit. I did. Didn’t I? “I can do that once I’ve taken care of Dekker.”

“And just what does ‘taken care of’ mean, anyway? Are you going to kill him?”

Veronica’s words vibrated through me. She hit too close to home. Did she think I was going to kill him?

“What did Arje Dekker tell you about me?”

She looked uncertain. “He said you were hired to kill him. Is that true?”

“No.” Yes.

Her shoulders relaxed. “Who is he? And why did he attack you like that?”

It kind of warmed my heart a bit that she was more concerned about him hurting me than him hurting her.

“He’s a mercenary. The worst kind. A mass murderer on a global scale.”

Ronnie looked shaken. “What do you mean?”

So I told her. I told her everything about the nice Dutchman she thought was so cute. And I left nothing to the imagination. She deserved to know the truth. And yes, I wanted her to hate him. Sue me.

“Oh, my God,” Veronica whispered when I was through. “I…I had no idea.”

“I’m sorry, Ronnie.” And I was. “But now you know you can’t stay with me. A man like that will kill you next time. He’s just not the sentimental type.”

“Why don’t you call Interpol or something? Why do you need to go after him?”

Good question. Too good. I had no answer. What was I going to say?

“Do you think someone like him was responsible for Anderson ’s murder?”

“What?” I hadn’t expected that response. “Ronnie, there’s no evidence Anderson was murdered.”

She actually unbuckled her seat belt and stood. “You said you would help me. You promised.” Veronica wavered a little unsteadily on her feet. Maybe she’d left the hospital too soon. I led her over to a divan and forced her to lie down.

“And I will. But you have to realize that one of the possibilities is that Anderson died of a heart attack.”

She nodded, but it was only a physical agreement. Her eyes told another story.

“Look, we have a few hours. Let’s go over what you have.” Then I could make good on my promise and change the subject. Maybe by the time we landed at Heathrow I could convince her to go home and drop this case. A two-for-one deal, if you will.

Veronica’s file on Senator Anderson was three inches thick. And because she had the time, she had managed to review more than one hundred and sixty-two suspects. These suspects had, at one time or another, threatened the senator. Unfortunately, she included in with the serious threats people who had threatened to have city hall nab him for not mowing his grass, two pastors, a thirteen-year-old paper boy and a conservative talk-show host.