Page 2 of The Pursuit
I ignored his taunts and kept trying in vain to open the door. Krish looked seemingly entertained as he washed his hands and offered to help.
“Should I try?” he asked with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
My anger made me reject his offer.
“Don’t mess this up more for me. Just move away,” I snapped, my patience wearing thin as I kicked the door again in irritation.
Krish, undeterred, continued his playful banter, leaning against the wall next to the door.
“Let me guess, he’s two-timing you. That’s why you’re so pissed off. Or he’s ready to marry someone else because of family pressure and is dumping you. Actually, in both cases, I don’t think he’s worthy of a strong woman like you. You’ll find better men than him. All you have to do is look around. Do you believe in serendipity? Like meeting someone who could be your forever, in a completely unexpected place… like a men’s washroom?” he teased.
Enough was enough. I stopped kicking the door, gripped the lapels of Krish’s suit and pinned him to the wall. Stunned by my move, Krish met my gaze, his lips parting in shock as I reprimanded him up close.
“Shut the f*ck up. He’s not my boyfriend; he’s the son of a drug cartel. I was chasing him for months. And because ofyou, I’ve lost focus and missed my chance.”
“You lost focus because of me?” Krish grinned, undeterred by my anger. “Women only tend to lose their focus around irresistible men. So does that mean you find me irresistibly charming?”
I gritted my teeth, momentarily forgetting the dire situation, and scanned his face. Although he was getting on my nerves, there was something about this man that I could not pinpoint. He was funny and mysterious, too, and was completely unaffected by why I was here. He was so not my type. Yet, there was something about him which made me look at his handsome face more than once. But he didn’t have to know that. So, with a nod, I replied to his previous query, “Charming fool.”
Another grin popped on his face at my reply, but that very instant, the door I was trying to break was pushed open, and three strong men barged inside, escorting the drug cartel’s son who had locked us up here. He had brought reinforcements to deal with me. Krish and I exchanged glances, instantly alert.
Even as the men advanced toward them, Krish managed to maintain his teasing demeanour. “Well, well, well. It looks like your charming fool needs to help you out. Should I negotiate your release with these gentlemen?”
I shot him a doubtful glance. “Get out if you don’t want to lose your life. These men are dangerous.” I stepped behind, trying to find a way to rescue Krish and me from this situation. Whatever it be, I am not letting a civilian get hurt, nor am I leaving this place without arresting the drug cartel’s son.
“Are you sure you don’t need my help? I can fight at least one, if not all three,” Krish teased again.
Damn! Who was this man? He wasn’t even scared for his life. Why was he even interested in getting into my mess?
“Trisha,” the drug cartel’s son leered, taking my name lasciviously. His laughter echoed in the background, blending with the pulse of the nightclub beyond the door, which he had locked again to ensure no one interrupted us. “You think you can still arrest me? These men are going to love breaking your bones.”
“And I would love breaking yours,” I retorted, lunging forward to fight his men, turning this confined space of the washroom into a makeshift battleground.
The first thug came at me, and I sidestepped his attack, landing a swift kick to his midsection. Krish, surprisingly joined the fight, taking on another assailant. I didn’t know he could fight. His unconventional, unorthodox fighting style threw the men off guard, buying us a moment of advantage.
My training kicked in, and I dodged a punch, retaliating with a series of precise strikes on the attackers who kept lunging at us.
“Watch out,” I shouted at Krish, who ducked at my warning, then swiftly turned around and kicked the man who tried to attack him from behind. His agility and resourcefulness shocked me to the core. How could he fight so well? Who was he? Together, we fought as an unlikely duo against the imminent threat.
Soon, the three hired attackers of the drug cartel’s son struggled to fight back, their energies quickly dwindling.That’s when the drug cartel’s son decided to take matters into his own hands. He lunged at me with a frenzied determination, fuelled by rage and desperation. I dodged his attacks, while Krish, though not a trained agent, showcased an uncanny ability to subdue the rest of the men.
After what felt like an eternity, I finally managed to secure a hold on the drug cartel’s son while Krish restrained the others. The door was kicked open, and my men and the local police entered the washroom. I took a sigh of relief, finally realising that the mission I was here for had succeeded.
“You okay, Trisha?” Paul asked, and I nodded at him, still breathing hard. “Good job,” he added, equally relieved.
As my men dragged the attackers and the drug cartel’s son out, Krish returned to me. He was about to touch me when I stepped back, confused by his sudden display of affection.
“Stop fussing. I’ve washed my hands, if you remember,” he playfully chided before guiding me toward the basin and turning on the tap. The cool water flowed, a stark contrast to the heat and tension that lingered in the air.
With a dampened tissue, he tenderly touched my forehead, where a cut, unknown to me, had been silently oozing blood. Krish’s touch was surprisingly gentle, leaving me momentarily breathless.
“So, Trisha, huh?” he inquired, his tone taking on a softer note now that he knew my name. As he cleaned the wound, his touch felt warm and comforting, and a subtle chemistry seemed to ignite between us. “Narcotics Control Bureau, CBI, state police...? Who do you workfor?”
“It’s none of your business,” I retorted, perhaps a bit harshly, as I snatched the tissue from him, attempting to regain my composure. Although I tried to keep a distance, an unspoken connection lingered, an invisible thread that seemed to pull us closer. The touch of his fingers on my forehead had sparked something beyond the physical—a connection that hinted at the possibility of more encounters and more shared moments amid the unpredictability of our lives.
“Next time, don’t get involved in my mess. You may lose your life,” I warned him. Unable to handle this tension, I was about to turn around and leave, but he interrupted me.
“Next time?” he teased, his expression a mix of amusement and genuine curiosity. “You look quite interested in meeting me again.”
