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vendors. “I’m telling you, she's not here.” There. A woman in blue. He grunted. The woman wore a sari, not scrubs.
    At every juncture where he’d expected her to fail, Shiloh Blake had surpassed his expectations. And now, she went in one door and out another without him ever noticing.
    Again he honked and demanded the woman in green clear the road. She flashed her palms at him, a scowl etched into her face as if saying to hold his horses. He leaned out the window and shouted for her to move—and froze. No way. He narrowed his eyes. Hers widened.
    “I’ll be the son of a monkey,” he murmured.
    She hustled into a throng of people on the sidewalk opposite him.
    Reece tossed the phone on the passenger seat and glued his eyes to the road ahead. Hands planted on the steering wheel, he peeked in the rearview mirror as his mark tucked her head and rushed onto the sidewalk. She quickly disappeared into a shop.
    Whipping down the next street, he knew he’d have to dump the Jeep and follow her on foot. She’d spotted him. As he jogged back up the street he stuffed his arms through a kurta . The thin tunic would buy him some time in tracking her. He donned a pair of sunglasses. Hands in his pockets, he rounded the corner and didn’t slow.
    Then he located her. She hugged the door of a shop and watched the corner, feigning interest in a black bag with crystal beads.
    A couple of yards east, Reece stopped and purchased a plain black cup of thick coffee. Sipping it, he crossed to Shiloh's side of the street and slowly made his way toward her. Amazement mingled with frustration as he took in the sight of her. A choli left her tanned, trim waist bare. The brightly colored sari accented her auburn hair and blue-grey eyes. He’d never forget those wide orbs staring at him when he’d nearly run her over.
    Incredible. She didn’t have any resources, yet she’d managed to change clothes, exit unnoticed, and almost lose him. Brilliant.
    Who was this woman?

    Shiloh licked her dry lips. It was him—the man from the Indian Coast Guard boat, the one with the brown beard who’d bumped into her at the hospital. At first she thought paranoia had tied her mind in knots, but now she had no doubt he was following her.
    Who was Mr. Brownbeard, and who were the other men? Were they working together? Separately? The second seemed unfathomable. What could be big enough that two different forces would pursue her? Maybe they thought she saw Mikhail's murder.
    More than ever she wished Khalid was here. With his help, she could talk through this. Alone, her mind couldn’t stitch together the threads of information.
    Shiloh shrugged off the thoughts. She needed time to figure it out, but first, she had to ditch her tail. She surveyed the busy marketplace. A mother and daughter shopped a few feet away, admiring the bindi and bangles laid out across a scarved table. Arms crossed, an Indian man chatted with another who sat in his car, his elbow sticking out the open window. Her real focus, however, lay on the opposite corner of the street. Ten minutes and the man still hadn’t appeared.
    Perhaps she was finally safe. Nearing the sidewalk, she stepped into the last rays of sunlight twinkling past the small huts. She reveled in the warmth and breathed in deeply of the scent of curried chicken. Now to make it to the beach. She was certain she could find food there. Her stomach rumbled.
    “Okay, let's get this over with.” Just as her toes touched the curb to cross the street and head south, she glanced right.
    Brownbeard. Though Shiloh wanted to snap away her gaze, she steeled her response. Definitely him, but now he wore a white kurta and black-tinted sunglasses. She’d recognize those broad shoulders anywhere, especially in a sea of shorter Indian men.
    She veered away from him and had taken only a dozen paces when uniformed men leapt out of the throng. Hostile eyes met hers—Kodiyeri and his minion.
    Her heart jack-hammered. Trapped between