Chapter 28
28
A rmaan’s mind was in turmoil even after he’d returned to Dubai. They had no answers from Vedant regarding their search for the man who had shot him. The search for the man who had attacked Armaan had also resulted in nothing so far, and now, after the latest phone call, they had hit another dead end.
Armaan walked towards Mihir’s office in O-Corp’s Dubai tower. They each had offices on the fortieth floor of this skyscraper. These days, both Mihir and he ended up working late. With Vedant still out of action, the two of them had to hold the fort, which meant working late into the night had become the norm for them.
His phone beeped. As usual, he hoped it was Navya, but it wasn’t. Actually, it had been four days and seventeen hours since her last text to him, begging him to give her a call. After that, she had stopped. There hadn’t been a peep from her since then. While it was exactly what he had wanted, he now hated that it was happening. She was moving on, and he ought to be happy with that, but his heart wouldn’t settle down. It demanded that he go see her, at least once. Even from a distance would be fine. But so far, he’d prevented himself from doing that. If he saw her, no matter from how far, there was no way he’d be able to stop himself from going to her.
Armaan knocked and entered his brother’s office. Mihir turned to face his window as he continued to talk into his cell-phone.
“I said it will be done,” Mihir said stiffly. “You don’t need to worry. You do your part, and I’ll do mine.”
Mihir hung up the phone, looking agitated.
“What’s going on?” Armaan asked.
“Nothing. Sit.” Mihir pointed to the sofas in the corner of his office.
Once seated, Mihir said, “I have an update for you. I requested Rajiv to look into the background of his employees on duty that night of your attack at Club Poseidon. He reverted that they were all vouched for. I’d also requested him to check the surveillance footage from inside Club Poseidon as well. Again, he found nothing suspicious. Anyway, I’ve asked him to forward the footage to me so we can scan it and see if we recognize anyone from that night. He’ll send it across soon.”
“That’s great.”
“One more thing,” Mihir added. “The security team that you insisted to be put behind Navya reported that there was a car following her yesterday to work and back.”
“What?” Fear exploded inside him. Armaan shot up on his feet. “What happened? Is she safe?”
“Yes. Her brother’s security team tried to intercept the car, but it got away. It was a standard black Toyota sedan with tinted glasses. The license plates were fake.”
Armaan sat down slowly. “Does she know?”
“No, but I’ve spoken to her brother. He’s chosen not to tell her. But now he knows that we also have security following her.”
Armaan frowned. “How come you are so much in touch with Rajiv Mehra?”
“We talk when it concerns the safety of the people we care about. And Navya is important to you, right?”
Armaan didn’t respond. Fear still stabbed at him. It had become a constant companion now. Navya was being followed, and most likely because of him.
“She needs to be told Mihir. She needs to know that maybe she’s unsafe. Rajiv shouldn’t keep it from her.”
Mihir leaned back against the sofa. “Well, then you tell her.”
“No.”
“What do you mean no?”
“Not many people knew that she and I were together. Our enemies can only assume she’s important to me since Navya was with me that night in the parking lot, and she helped me fight those men. All the more reason I need to stay away from her. Once sufficient time has passed, and no one sees her visiting our house or meeting me, they will understand that we are not together and that she’s not important to me. She will then be safe forever.”
“You sound ridiculous, you know that,” Mihir remarked. “You can keep her safe. Just talk to her.”
When Armaan stayed silent, Mihir stood up. He went to the tall corner table in his office. Muttering something inaudible, he poured a shot of vodka into a glass and downed it in one go. Turning, he returned back with two glasses.
“You’re being stubborn, Armaan,” Mihir said, handing him a glass.
“ Na zdorovye ,” Armaan said, clinking his glass with Mihir’s. He drank his shot at the same time as Mihir.
“So, what’s going on?” Mihir asked, once he was seated again. “What did you want to talk about?”
“Our team in Delhi called. Dorab was found dead in his apartment. His throat was slit.”
“Fuck,” Mihir swore. “How the hell did that happen? Where were our guys?”
“They followed Dorab through the day and were keeping vigil in the car as was usual for them at night. When he didn’t come out till afternoon, they went inside and realized the door of his house was open. They found him lying there in a pool of his own blood. Apparently, he was tortured before being killed. They hightailed it out of there and called the cops.”
“Fuck. Did they see anyone enter the house? What have they learned?”
Armaan pressed a hand to his head. It was starting to ache again. “Last night, they only saw the ice cream delivery guy. It was only later they realized that they were so used to Dorab’s daily ice cream deliveries that they hadn’t seen the guy enter. They only saw him leave.”
“Which means he was already waiting inside when Dorab entered his house.”
“Yes,” Armaan replied, yawning. “They’re looking into who possibly could have killed him. Knowing Dorab, it could have been anyone who held a grudge against him.”
“And now we have zero links to Karina,” Mihir sighed. “Fucking hell.”
“With Dorab dead, our guy said that Dorab’s boss, JD, has decided to return to India. I’ve asked the team to keep a watch on him.”
“We need to get a hold of this guy when he returns,” Mihir said.
“Yes, he may know something about her,” Armaan said.
“Armaan, I finally got a photo of Karina…” Mihir leaned forward. “Armaan… are you okay?”
Armaan pressed a hand to his head. Everything around him was tilting. What was happening to him? The edges of his vision began to blur. He blinked several times, forcing his vision to clear.
A worried look crossed Mihir’s face.
“I’m feeling woozy in the head,” Armaan said, and then his eyes fell on the shot glass, and fear stabbed him. “Mihir, the vodka… something’s off with it. Get help.”
His throat clogged; no words would come out. Darkness descended upon him. Two thoughts whispered in his brain—one that the enemy had gotten to them, and more importantly, he should have made the call to Navya. What if he never could?
Armaan woke up with a jerk and a loud gasp. He blinked several times to clear his vision. He looked around. Fuck, he was in his bedroom in his home. He looked down and realized his hands were tied at the back of a chair—his chair. What. The. Fuck?
Memories of before he’d lost consciousness rushed to him. He tried to make sense of everything. He remembered drinking vodka with Mihir in his office, and then he had blacked out. He recalled being lucid for a moment when he was being hefted down a service lift. A service lift?! And who had been with him then? He couldn’t remember. The last thing he recollected was waking up in a moving car. He’d been alone, sprawled on the back seat. After that, everything was a big blank.
Through his curtains, he could make out the darkness outside. The clock on the wall showed that it was about ten, which meant he’d been unconscious for a short time only. Fear thrashed inside his head. Where was Mihir? If Armaan was here in his bedroom, perhaps Mihir, too, was tied up in his bedroom. But how had their enemies bypassed all their security protocol and taken over their house? How was that even possible? Where had they gone wrong? Who had they trusted incorrectly?
He tested his restraints. Strangely, they weren’t too tight. He struggled against them, and they loosened some more. If he could just… The sound of the door knob twisting made him stop. He looked up, and his mouth dropped open as a different kind of panic assaulted him.