Page 17 of The Pursuit
The tumbler shattered against the wall, the amber liquid trickling down the expensive wallpaper. But I barely registered the mess, rage boiling inside me as Marco’s words echoed in my mind. Trisha was alive. That two-faced snake, the woman I had trusted and cared for—she had played me this entire time.
“How can she still be alive?” I bellowed, grabbing Marco by the shirt. “You told me our men would find and finish her.”
He shook his head desperately. “We tried, boss! Her team was too quick to hide her away. But our insider just confirmed she’s holed up in some kind of safe house now, but not in Malaysia.”
I shoved him backwards in disgust and began pacing like a caged tiger.
“Then where is she now?”
“Singapore,” he replied.
Trisha, my beautiful Trisha, had been selling me out for god knows how long, feeding intel to the cops about our operations. Why else would our two big drug shipments have been intercepted recently? It had to be her. And I was too blind, too enamoured by those big doe eyes and playful smiles to realise I was being played—that she was an undercover agent implanted in my gang. But no more. Now, I saw her for the conniving viper she was. I wouldfind where she was hiding and kill her myself. Watch the life drain from her eyes as I choked the breath from her lying throat.
She would pay for making me look like a fool, for betraying my trust and affection. I had opened up to her like no other, letting her see sides of myself no one else was privy to. And she had twisted it all to use it against me. My hands shook with the urge to wrap my hands around that delicate neck and squeeze until it snapped. I would find her, no matter where she cowered. And I would be the last person she ever saw once I dug my fingers into those big betraying eyes. She would regret the day she decided to make an enemy of me.
Because this wasn’t just about wounded pride. If my brother Ron found out about this—about me being duped by an undercover agent—he would have my head on a platter. The great kingpin, brought down by his idiot younger brother’s weakness for a pretty face.
No, I had to locate Trisha and eliminate her in a week before Ron arrived in Malaysia. He knew I liked Trisha and had been waiting to meet her from long. I could invent some story, pretend she had simply disappeared—as long as there was no living proof of how stupidly I had been played.
Turning back to Marco and the others, I straightened to my full height. “Find her location now. I don’t care what it takes—hack security cameras, torture her contacts, pay off informants. Just bring her to me before my brother gets here.”
They scrambled to obey as I poured myself another drink with shaky hands. I would give Trisha one last chance toimpress me—with how gracefully she could beg for her life on her knees before I ended it. Then I would get rid of her for good. Because the time for games was over. She would regret stepping into my playground, thinking she could outwit me. I was the predator here. And she was nothingbut my prey.
KRISH
It was our first morning together in the safe house. The previous night had passed uneventfully with us retreating to our respective rooms after polite but strained conversation. Then I took care of some phone calls with my team back in Austria, getting updates on other missions I’d my eyes on.
This morning felt different, more intimate somehow, our guards down in the soft morning light. I was scrambling eggs in the kitchen when I heard Trisha’s door open. I glanced up and instantly froze. I couldn’t tear my eyes away as I watched Trisha emerge fresh from the shower, hair damp, clad in just an oversized t-shirt that barely reached mid-thigh. She had worn it with denim shorts, flaunting her long, creamy legs. She stood there fresh from the shower, rivulets of water still glistening on her bare skin. Her hair was wrapped in a towel, a few damp tendrils framing her beautiful face. For a moment, I felt my heartbeat race on seeing her in this relaxed outfit. After months of seeing Trisha only in conservative work attire, her casual appearance now left me momentarily stunned. And undeniably aroused.
Those endless legs... the curve of her hips as she walked... the fluttering glimpse of collarbone peeking from the wide neck of the tee...
My heart pounded louder than a Dolby music system. Abruptly, I wrenched my gaze back to the eggs I was mauling as she caught me staring. Just act normal, I scolded myself. But I could still feel her presence like a lightning rod as she entered the kitchen.
“Who packed my bags for here?” she asked, sounding annoyed.
“Not me. Why?” I replied, puzzled.
“What do you mean why, Krish? There’s barely anything decent in here,” she huffed. “Just shorts and tees, like I’m on vacation.”
I couldn’t help chuckling. Trisha shot me a look.
“This is serious, Krish. I need some real outfits.” she snapped.
“Sorry, but you should be thankful your team grabbed anything before getting you out of there. And you don’t look half bad in these.”
“I look like a clown.” She rolled her eyes.
“Oh, come on, you look fine,” I said lightly, then added before thinking, “Honestly, you look pretty sexy.”
Trisha’s eyes widened in surprise, so I quickly added, not wanting to offend her, “I… I mean, a sexy clown.”
She again rolled her eyes and sighed.
“C’mon, Trisha. It’s hardly a matter of two weeks.”
“That’s what I’m saying. Two whole weeks stuck in this stuff around you. Great,” she muttered, regretting it immediately while I grinned.
She didn’t mind wearing these revealing outfits that exposed more skin. Her concern wasn’t about the clothes, but rather about my presence while she wore them.
