IN THE CROSS HAIRS

Chapter 2

From where he sat in the back seat of the SUV with Sanjana, Barsad watched the verdant French countryside whip past the darkened window. The tortuous mountain roads lay behind them now, giving way to a gently rolling roadway with few vehicles. More and more vineyards filled the landscape, neat rows of vines stretching away over the low hills, surrounding chateaux both aged and sparkling new. It wouldn't be long now before they reached Chateau Blanc.

They had been traveling in silence for the past few miles, their two bodyguards in the front seats also quiet, impassive behind dark sunglasses.

Sanjana squeezed Barsad's hand and exchanged a smile, her eyelids still heavy from taking a nap. The fresh mountain air—as well as their love-making—had tired her out. She leaned over and kissed his stubbled cheek.

"It was a perfect day," she murmured. "Thank you, bunny."

Barsad felt his cheeks warm in embarrassment with Sanjana's use of his pet name in front of his men. But he didn't scold her, afraid he'd taint her contented mood. Instead he simply drank in the sight of her flawless cocoa skin, her bottomless coffee-colored eyes, and her long raven hair before he kissed her full lips, lingered, felt a stirring in his loins. Their faces still close, he grinned, remembering how they had made love in the lush meadow where they had had their picnic earlier today. Sanjana blushed, and he knew she was thinking of the same.

"Do you think James behaved for Talia and Bane today?" she asked, as if to distract herself from her desires. Though her English was near perfect these days, the hint of her native Hindi accent still flavored her words.

"That depends how much Henri tempted him to misbehave." Barsad chuckled. "That boy is a bad influence, just like Bane's a bad influence on me."

"I missed him today, though, didn't you?"

"Of course I did."

"He would have had so much fun exploring. Such a beautiful place. We should take him with us next time."

"Mmm, maybe." His grin turned sly, and he kissed her again before leaning back, freeing her hand. "But I enjoyed having you to myself, darlin'. It doesn't happen enough, you know."

"I know. I'll treasure today."

"Me, too."

He sighed, his head lolling against the headrest as he continued to gaze at her, remembering the silken strands of her hair gliding between his fingers when they had lain together. Sanjana sighed and closed her eyes again, and he returned his attention to the window. His reflection looked back at him, Sanjana an ethereal shape in the background. How had he ever deserved this gorgeous woman, so much younger than he? While she never seemed to age, he easily saw the lines multiply on his broad forehead and around his heavy-lidded eyes as each year passed by. Would she still want him in a few more years?

He reflected on how different she was now from when they had first met, when she had been a mere servant for Maysam, a product of the Jaipur slums and a disastrous betrothal. Because she had been a victim of sexual assault twice, it had taken Barsad a long time to win her trust, but he had thoroughly enjoyed the challenge. And once he convinced her of the genuineness of his love, she had allowed herself to love him in return. James had come along more than two years later. His son's birth had been worth the wait as well.

Sanjana had fallen into the role of mother with amazing ease. After James's birth, she never returned to servitude, and she grew more comfortable as an equal to Talia and Maysam, thanks to their shared experiences of motherhood. The transition had eased the anxiety Barsad had felt over Sanjana's previous feelings of inadequacy when around the two formidable women. True, Sanjana did not have a close relationship with Maysam—more so with Talia—but Barsad hoped that eventually the lingering employer/servant dynamic would fade away.

At last the driver made the familiar turn onto the narrow, half-mile lane that led to Chateau Blanc. Sanjana sat up straighter in her seat, and she craned her neck as if looking for her son behind every tree or amidst every row of vines they passed.

Barsad glanced at his tactical wristwatch. "Just in time to have a minute to clean up before supper."

"Good thing," Sanjana said with a teasing smile. "You know how Bane demands punctuality. If we had been late returning, you would never have heard the end of it."

"You, on the other hand, my love, would've been spared, like we'd arrived at two separate times. He spoils you. So unfair." Barsad shook his head in mock sadness.

Sanjana giggled.

She had not always been so pleased by Bane's attention. She, like anyone when they first met Bane, had been intimidated by his size, charisma, and mythical persona, and fearful of his lethalness. But Bane had eventually won her over with his kindness and gentlemanly ways of speaking to her. When he had first met the young woman, Bane had worn a tarantula-like mask that delivered a vapor of drugs to kill the constant pain from age-old facial damage suffered in prison. But once Talia had discovered that she was pregnant, Bane had undergone numerous surgeries to repair his face so his son wouldn't have to grow up looking at that ominous dark mask every day. Bane's physical transformation had eased Sanjana's nervousness around him.

The chateau's two-story portico loomed in front of them, its stately columns glistening pale in the sunlight. Then shadow darkened the SUV as it pulled beneath the portico's second-story and halted in front of the main doors. One of his men deftly left the vehicle to open Sanjana's door. Barsad rounded the SUV to accompany her inside. A young servant boy appeared from the manor to retrieve their picnic basket and other items taken for the day trip.

They had just entered the chateau and reached the bottom of the main staircase when their son's high-pitched voice echoed from above.

"Daddy! Mommy!"

Barsad looked up to where Maysam stood near the top of the stairs, James in her arms, the boy reaching toward them with wriggling fingers.

Sanjana made a small sound of excitement and rushed upward, calling to their son, her yellow crepe caftan billowing in her wake. Barsad chuckled and followed at a more reserved pace.

James squealed with delight as Maysam surrendered him to his mother, the two women laughing at the boy, all talking at once.

Maysam's gaze reached past Sanjana as Barsad drew near, and they exchanged smiles, an age-old privacy reflected in their eyes. Even in her seventies, Maysam was a striking woman. She had never colored her black hair, which was now threaded with streaks of silver, a hue that lent an air of wisdom, not decay. Her dark eyes were as sharp and alive as they had been when Barsad met her more than twenty years ago, her lips still full and alluring with her broad smile. Like Talia, she kept her body in shape, watching what she ate and exercising regularly, including daily swims in the pool.

"Daddy!" James reached over Sanjana's shoulder, and Barsad grasped the boy's hand and kissed it.

"Looks like someone's been swimming," Barsad said as he tousled his son's damp hair.

"We got frog!"

"A frog? Where is he?"

James pointed vaguely.

"The frog is where he should be," Maysam said. "Outside. You and Henri may try to catch him again on another day."

"Thank you for helping Talia watch James today," Sanjana said.

"You know it was my pleasure," Maysam smiled. "And you have just enough time to freshen up for supper. I am assuming you are all eating with the rest of us, yes?"

Twenty minutes later Barsad was carrying James on his shoulders into the dining room. Like in the music room, the walls here were an ivory color with gold trim, the same golden color as the richly coffered ceiling. Over each of the two interior-wall fireplaces hung enormous mirrors with a third mounted between them. Opposite, three ceiling-to-floor windows provided a view across the front courtyard and rows of snarled vines. Coral-colored drapes were tied back to allow in the day's failing sunlight. Large candelabra supported by sculpted cherubs placed at precise intervals along the walls provided more illumination. The carpet's color matched the drapes, with beige and brown designs. Barsad had always felt a bit odd having meals here, for the room could easily accommodate forty people for dinner, but instead the staff had only eight people to serve.

Barsad and his family were the last to arrive, for James—energized by his parents' return—had scampered around their suite, squealing with happiness as his father chased him down to change his malodorous diaper.

Bane, Talia, Henri, Maysam, and Aaron Abrams sat clustered on one side of the long mahogany table, occupied by casual conversation, something centered around Henri, as was often the case. No one sat at the head of the table; that was reserved for the League's commander when she came to Chateau Blanc on business or to visit her mother. Only on those occasions did Nyssa's mother join them for meals, coming from the cottage where she lived behind the chateau. Even after more than a year of coexisting, Diya Panjabi was afraid of Bane and even Barsad to a certain degree. The Indian woman still found it difficult to accept her daughter's association with the League of Shadows. She would have preferred to be back in her village in Rajasthan, but Nyssa insisted that she was safest here.

"Jiddah!" James cried to Maysam.

"Our little prince has arrived upon his steed," Maysam said with a warm smile.

"You are late," little Henri chastised them from his highchair, crossing his arms with such a sincere air that everyone nearly laughed. But all knew what Henri really was averse to was Maysam paying attention to James instead of him. He often scolded James for referring to Maysam as grandmother; he felt only he and his mother should be allowed to use such a word.

"We're late," Barsad said, "because a certain somebody," he reached to tickle his son's belly, drawing giggles, "was playing the hare and the tortoise with his parents with a full diaper."

He put James in a highchair across from Henri, then held Sanjana's chair for her to sit on their son's left before he took his own seat to James's right.

"I still can't picture you changing diapers, Barsad," Aaron Abrams chuckled from where he and Maysam sat to the right of Bane's family.

Abrams was a gruff, older man, Maysam's bodyguard and lover, and once a fellow inmate of Bane's in prison. The most distinctive feature on his stocky, square body was his cleft upper lip, giving him a slight speech impediment, barely noticed now by those at table after all this time together. It was easy to see past Abrams's salt and pepper hair—more salt than pepper nowadays—and the careworn lines on his face to see that, regardless of the cleft lip, he had been quite a handsome man in his younger days, and still was, Maysam insisted.

"I leave the diaper changing to Sanjana as much as she'll let me," Barsad said with a grin as two servants brought in the first course.

Once served, those at table leisurely consumed the basil salmon terrine, garnished with sliced cucumbers and grapes, as Barsad and Sanjana described their picnic. The children often interrupted, wanting to share the story of their frog capture. Barsad continued speaking even as he had to pick up some of the chopped strawberries his son tossed from the highchair tray. When Henri thought it fun to do the same with his food, Bane growled a brief warning.

Barsad had noted Bane's mood right away when he had entered the dining room; his expression was closed, gaze distracted, and he said little. Something while he and Sanjana were away had irritated the big man. Bane's moodiness was not unfamiliar to Barsad, but here at Chateau Blanc where he could enjoy his family, Bane was more often contented, if not downright happy, a transformation Barsad always welcomed. Anything that disturbed that utopia concerned Barsad, so, after he and Sanjana had related their day's activities, he decided to probe for what had disturbed his commander.

"What did we miss while we were away?" he asked, looking at Bane. "Besides the boys' frog, that is."

Bane would know that he had noticed his disposition; sometimes Bane appreciated Barsad's intuition, other times he grumbled about his lieutenant's "nosiness" when it came to his emotions. Talia's glance at Bane told Barsad that she already knew what was troubling her lover. But before Bane could answer, Maysam began to tell them about a shopping trip to Paris that she was planning. The quiet sigh from Abrams made it clear that he was not particularly fond of the idea, but, of course, he would acquiesce to Maysam; the man loved her deeply, something Barsad could completely understand, having had an affair with her many years ago when he had worked for her husband.

Once Maysam fell silent, Barsad looked again to Bane, one eyebrow raised leadingly. "We've been left to our own devices here for a while now; seems like we should be ordered into the field any time, though I have to say I'd rather take my son fishing."

Henri and James both gasped with excitement, turning their attention from the servants serving the main course—pot au feu.

"Fishing, Uncle John?" Henri cried. "Can I go, too?"

"May I go." Talia corrected his English with a smile.

The boy frowned in annoyance. "May I?"

Barsad wagged a finger at him. "Only if you promise not to catch all the fish."

Henri laughed and, licking his lips, watched the servant place cooked carrots and turnips on his plate.

"You must enjoy your leisure time as much as possible," Bane said to Barsad. "Nyssa will be paying us a visit in the next few days, so I would imagine we will receive an assignment at that time."

"Maybe," Maysam said, "she's just coming to visit her mother." Worry wrinkled her brow, for she hated whenever they had to leave Chateau Blanc, fearing for their safety not only because she loved them but because she dreaded the children losing their fathers to a foe's bullet.

"To be honest," Bane said, "I'm not certain what her purpose is precisely; she was vague on that, only saying there was a matter she wanted to discuss in person with me."

Talia's expression grew grave and a bit suspicious. She and her sister were not close, though neither were they adversarial as they had been when Nyssa had first appeared unexpectedly in their lives to claim the Demon's Head as the elder heir to Rā's al Ghūl. Barsad had half-expected the two to eventually form some sort of bond. After all, it wasn't as if Talia particularly coveted the position any longer; her focus was on her children. Yet the two women remained cool toward one another whenever Nyssa came to Chateau Blanc. Barsad thought their aloofness a bit foolish, for he had loved his only sibling—James was named after him—and would have enjoyed nothing better than to have him here today. He reminded himself, however, that Talia had always been a unique woman, standoffish to other women except for her grandmother. No doubt that came from her early years of life when she was exposed only to men until, as a teenager, she had been sent to the prestigious Le Rosey in Switzerland.

"I wish Nyssa wouldn't come," Maysam muttered as she cut into the tender beef on her plate. "Nothing good ever results from her visits." Her dark gaze flicked between the two children. "These boys need their fathers here."

Barsad chuckled. "We're still soldiers, Maysam. And we follow orders."

"Maybe it is time you didn't," she said with a defiant lift of her chin.

"Oh, boy," Abrams murmured with dread, suddenly finding his food the most interesting thing in the room. He had witnessed this battle before and was wise enough to stand clear.

Sanjana looked up hopefully from her meal. On occasion, she would broach this same subject with Barsad, but she preferred Maysam argue the point, especially because the older woman had the authority to address both Bane and Barsad. Talia, however, merely glanced at her grandmother with little reaction. She wasn't indifferent, Barsad knew; it was just that she knew Bane's mind better than anyone, and Bane would do only what Bane desired when it came to this topic. She alone had the power to cause Bane to forsake the League, but she would never ask him to do such a thing; it had to be his decision alone. Like Sanjana, however, Talia would certainly welcome having the father of her children safe from the dangers of field work.

When neither Bane nor Barsad immediately addressed Maysam's statement, the older woman prodded, "Don't you wish to see your children grow up? You have both missed valuable moments in their lives, things you cannot retrieve."

"It is not that simple," Bane said with a gentleness he showed few others. "We can't expect the League to support us and our families if we offer nothing in return."

"You have already given them everything," Maysam said. "As I see it, the League owes you a lifetime of gratitude. And, besides, if money is an issue, you know I have the means to support all of us."

"That is not what we would want," Bane said.

"Hell, no," Barsad added.

"It is what I want," Maysam continued, "if that's what it takes to preserve your lives for all our sakes."

Hisham slipped inside the dining room doors, carrying a cellphone. Barsad almost didn't notice him, so consumed by the conversation. But soon the servant was at Maysam's side, murmuring into her ear and offering the phone.

"If you will all excuse me," Maysam said with a hint of annoyance, "my brother is on the phone, and he says it is urgent." She pushed her chair away from the table and stood, taking the phone from Hisham. "Please continue your meal. I won't be long." She left the room, her caftan swirling about her, Hisham in her wake.

"I hope it's not bad news," Talia said, glancing between the door and her son's beef as she sliced it for him. "Ayman doesn't call very often."

"It's probably nothing to worry about, habibati," said Bane, though his gaze also darted once to the closed door.

"Maybe I should go see," Abrams said, setting down his utensils.

"Give her a moment," Talia cautioned.

James banged his spoon against his tray. "Jiddah!"

Sanjana used her index finger to wipe away some stray food from her son's cheek. "Jiddah will be right back, sweetie. Eat your peas now. Here, open wide."

As promised, Maysam returned shortly. Barsad did not like how the color had faded from her cheeks or the way her gaze reached for his before touching briefly on Sanjana, who continued to be busy with James. When she halted behind her chair, no longer holding the phone, all eyes went to her.

"What did Ayman want, Jiddah?" Talia asked.

Maysam hesitated. "I'm afraid I have some bad news."

Barsad's first thought was that Maysam's brother-in-law, Nashir, head of the El Fadil family, had been killed. He was a warlord of sorts back in Rajasthan, with several sources of income from both legitimate business ventures as well as many more in the shadows, and thus had numerous enemies. It was why Maysam had bodyguards, even this far from her in-laws.

"News from Jaipur reached the palace today," Maysam said, the mention of Sanjana's hometown raising the young woman's head. Maysam frowned, her fingers kneading the back of her chair. "It was a message for Sanjana from her family."

"My family?" Sanjana echoed in surprise, the color draining from her face.

Barsad reached for her shoulder. She grasped his hand.

Rarely did she hear from her relatives since the day she had gone to work at the palace; her father had disowned her after her betrothal had fallen apart, and her mother could neither read nor write, even if Sanjana's father had allowed her to communicate with their daughter. About once a year, though, a brief, poorly-written letter would reach Sanjana, dictated by her mother to one of Sanjana's uncles and secreted to the palace. Sanjana's family had no idea that she had moved to France, nor would they ever be told.

"I'm terribly sorry, Sanjana," Maysam said, her words heavy with emotion. "The letter said your father passed away two days ago."

Sanjana gasped, her fingernails digging into Barsad's hand. James looked up at her with concern.

"Mama?"

"How…how?" Sanjana choked out.

"He was struck by a car. I'm so sorry, Sanjana."

Sanjana said nothing else, staring blankly at her plate.

"Mama," James said, banging his spoon again.

Talia and Bane both offered heartfelt condolences.

"My poor mother," Sanjana murmured as if hearing nothing that was said to her. Suddenly she looked at Barsad, tears filling her eyes. "I have to go to my mother. She needs me."

Bane cleared his throat, and Barsad saw the caution in his commander's eyes.

"Darlin'," Barsad said, "I don't think—"

"I have to," Sanjana interrupted with new force, turning to him. "She wants me there; otherwise, why would she have sent word to the palace?"

James banged his spoon even harder. "Mama!"

"Be quiet, James," Henri scolded, then leaned toward his mother and loudly whispered, "Mama, why is Sanjana crying?"

"Hush, sweetheart," Talia said, then murmured into his ear. Henri frowned with the confusion of one too young to understand the gravity of the situation.

"I don't want you traveling alone," Barsad said to Sanjana.

"Then come with me, John. Please. I want to see my mother. It's been so many years. She needs me."

"I'd need to ask for a leave of absence, and, knowing Nyssa, there's slim chance of getting that," Barsad said with complaint in his tone; he had never been a supporter of the League's new commander.

"But you could ask?" Sanjana pleaded.

Barsad looked across the table at Bane and Talia, surprised neither of them was offering an opinion on his dilemma. In Talia's gaze, he saw a hint of encouragement for him to defy her half-sister. He turned back to Sanjana, who was chewing her lower lip.

Maysam came around the table toward them, said, "Here, Sanjana. Let me help James with his supper while you and John take some private time to discuss what should be done."

"Thank you, Maysam." Sanjana stood, still holding onto Barsad's hand, wiping away her tears with her linen napkin.

"Sanjana," Talia said. "We will be happy to watch James for you, of course. Do what you must do. We all know how much you've missed your family over the years."

"Thank you, Talia." Sanjana's lips trembled. She bent to absently kiss her son's cheek.

Barsad put his arm around her.

"Where Daddy go?" James asked.

"Mommy and I will be back in a little bit, son. Be good for Jiddah."

"Come too," the boy requested.

"Don't you want to stay with me?" Maysam said, feigning hurt feelings, tilting her head.

James squirmed as if ashamed. "Okay, Jiddah."

Maysam smiled and brushed her fingers along his temple, making the child squirm even more and laugh.

"Tickles!"

"Here, take a spoonful of these peas, my love."

Barsad nodded his thanks to Maysam then escorted Sanjana from the room.