Sanskar left Swara at the parking garage and walked the few blocks back to Jameson's where he'd left his truck behind the building. Compared to the s*xy curves of Swara BMW, his 1968 Chevy picked up looked like a rusty bucket of sh*t. He rubbed his temples in a feeble attempt to stave off a burgeoning migraine. Prithvi had been right; the girl was might out of his league. How could he ever hope to impress her with a fold- out sofa bed and piece of sh*t old truck that started with screwdriver in the ignition? The only thing he had to offer her was s*x, and a girl like Swara needed much more than a roll in the hay to keep her attention.

He needed to make her see that he was serious about changing. Maybe he should take her out on a real date, pull out all the stops. The next time they parted, she'd know the meaning of ecstasy or he'd turn in his man card. She saw through his b*llsh*t; he liked and respected her for it, but she didn't know the real him. What he really wanted seemed a much more daunting task. He wanted her respect and that required a whole different skill set, one he wasn't sure he possessed.

His cell phone vibrated again.

Sanskar- What the h*ll do you want?

He asked when he saw the caller ID.

Sanskar- I said I would be there in a minute.

Kamini- Sanskar, I'm scared. Please hurry.

Kamini's voice sounded small and uncertain.

Sanskar- Did it ever occurred to you that I might be in the middle of the something? That maybe I can't just drop everything the minute you call?

Kamini- I'm in trouble. I messed up. Please come and get me. I'm scared.

Her voice quivered, thick with tears, words slightly slurred.

Sanskar- Fine. I'm on my way. Just hold tight.

He sighed and turned the screwdriver in the ignition of the old truck, willing it to life with half dozen pumps of the gas pedal.

He made a quick stop at Felony to pick up his gun and prayed he wouldn't need it. Prithvi was there, stocking coolers and cleaning the bar. He raised a ruddy eyebrow when he saw Sanskar take the gun from the safe. Something in Kamini's voice scared Sanskar, made his gut clench as it did when danger lurked. The cadence of her speech made it evident that she was using again. God only knew when he would find when he reach her. The address she gave him put her somewhere around the abandoned glass factory near First Street. A derelict part of town littered with crack houses and prostitutes, it was nowhere any self-respecting person would visit in broad daylight, let alone at night.

Even though he knew better, he couldn't help but blame himself for this fiasco. He'd been the first one to put a needle in her arm and she'd liked it way too much. Some people were like that. He'd been able to break the cycle but Kamini... Remorse and guilt squeezed his gut until he could barely breath. The moment Kamini arrived on his doorstep he should have put her on a bus back to Chicago or -- better yet -- driven her home himself. Not that she had anywhere to go when she got there. Her parents had washed their hands of her years ago. That left him to pick up the pieces every time she fell apart and he was so very tired of it.

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