Free Chase Baker and the God Boy: (A Chase Baker Thriller Series Book No. 3) by Vincent Zandri

too.”
    “Compliments of Mr. Baker.”
    I hear the door close. Suddenly I
feel my heart beating just a little bit faster than it was five minutes ago. I
head into the bathroom, look at myself in the mirror. Running the water, I wash
my face and attempt to straighten out my short hair as best I can for someone
whose hairline is receding faster than the Red Sea for Moses. Then, satisfied
that my appearance isn’t going to get much better any time soon, I make my way
back across the room, set my left hand on the knob of the interior door while
wrapping with my knuckles on the door panel with my right. Twisting the knob, I
open the door just enough to poke my head inside.
    “Are we decent?” I say. Spotting
the food and champagne set out on the bed, I open the door wider. “What’s that,
lunch?”
    Anjali is kneeling beside the bed,
her hands folded in prayer. She’s wearing nothing but a thick white towel with
the Kathmandu Guest House logo printed on the breast pocket.
    “Really, Chase Baker,” she says
after a beat, looking up at me with her deep brown eyes. “What if I were kneeling
here entirely naked?”
    “If wishes were fishes,” I say.
“We’d all have a fry.”
    “What’s that mean?” She smiles.
    “I’m not sure. My mother used to
tell me that every time I wished for a new toy.” Then, “Hey, you’re praying
just like my mother taught me how to pray. Hands pressed together and
everything.”
    “Are you surprised to see that I am
a Christian…a Roman Catholic…and a devout one at that, Chase?”
    “Not at all. Millions of Catholics
in Pakistan, India, and Nepal.”
    She stands, slides onto the bed.
“Now,” she says, smiling slyly while softly patting the empty space beside her
on the mattress, “you mentioned something about a toy. Is that what I am to
you, Chase? A new toy?”
    “Right now, it looks like you’re
lunch, and I thought you were a devout Catholic.”
    “I’m also a big girl who is free to
do what she chooses with the gifts God gave her.”
    “And how does my employer, Dr.
Singh feel about that?”
    “We divorced not long after Rajesh
was born. He left the country, moved to New York.”
    So it’s true…she is divorced…
    “Too bad,” I say, praying that the
smile trying to form on my face isn’t noticeable.
    I step into the room, slowly make
my way to the bed, setting myself down beside her, resting my back against the
soft, down pillow. The sumptuous lunch is laid out before us.
    “Would you care to join me, Chase?”
    “If wishes were fishes, boss lady,”
I say, bringing my arm around her, pulling her to me, my lips meeting hers.

 
12
     

     
    “So much for maintaining the boundaries of the sacred
employer-to-employee relationship,” Anjali says through a sly but attractive
smile while sipping on her second glass of champagne. “But then, I’m not really
your boss, am I?”
    We’re both sitting up in bed, the
metal pans of food devoured along with most of the champagne.
    “Shall I call down for another
bottle?”
    “Or we can get some work done,
lover,” Anjali says, feeling for my hand under the covers, giving it a squeeze.
“Any ideas about finding your ex?”
    Shaking my head. “I’m still trying
to wrap my head around the fact that she might still be alive. Took me quite a
while to get over her.”
    Anjali snickers. “This proves it,”
she says, referring to our little late morning interlude. But then, her light
moment suddenly takes on an air of substantial heaviness. “Perhaps you feel it
wrong of me to think of making love at a time like this…when my only child is
in danger.”
    “I’m no judge of that.”
    “This here…you and I enjoying one
another’s bodies for a brief moment…it is also a kind of defense mechanism.
Something to keep us, or myself anyway, from imagining the worst.” She looks
away. “Sometimes I need to stop my mind from working, churning up bad thoughts
of