(A/N) This is inspired by a James Bond story I skimmed some years ago, where he 'rescued' an enemy. I only thought of it recently and remembered the basic premise and then wondered to myself how such a situation might work between Roma & Don. May get dark, may not…but you are forewarned.
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CHAPTER ONE
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It was an overly warm summers day and the heat inside the shopping centre was stifling. Roma wiped sticky strands of hair back off her forehead and continued perusing the racks of sportswear in front of her. She wanted cycling shorts; preferably ones that weren't bright pink.
She was living and working for Interpol in London now, after a couple of Don's associates (wanted, of course) had been spotted in the city several months ago. They had surfaced intermittently, but there had been nothing for weeks and her superiors had pushed her into taking a two-week holiday.
She was three days into it now and already felt antsy to get back to work. She had literally had to turn off her phone and hide it in the bottom of her underwear drawer. And her computer was unplugged. In her head she knew she deserved a break, but in her heart she knew that to even attempt to rest was futile. It had been two years since the Berlin incident and she had heard not a peep, seen not a blip, of Don.
But he was up to something; she knew it. So that was why she had turned her attention to those close to him, hoping they would lead her in the right direction. And yet she had been stumbling blind in the dark for so long. Sometimes, alone in her house in a quiet London suburb, she would curse herself for hesitating to shoot him when Vardhaan had told her to.
After all, that was what she had wanted. Revenge for her brother's death, revenge for Kamini's death. Hadn't the look in his eyes been a lie, just as before?
Angrily, she slid the shorts along the rail, barely even looking at those she passed over. Arjun had bought her a bike. They would go riding together. It had been his tentative anniversary present. One month of dating because she had to settle down sometime and an international criminal just wasn't viable marriage material, especially when she veered madly between wanting to kiss him and wanting to kill him.
A bored voice sounded through the shop's speaker system advertising a special sale in the lingerie department and advising customers to pick up a loyalty card. Roma gritted her teeth and gave up on the shorts. She had been an idiot to think shopping was a good idea. When was the last time she had even attempted it? She didn't even remember how. Once upon a time she must have understood how to hunt for bargains and mill around aimlessly and care about trends and shoes and hats.
That had been before. Before Don. Now she wore only black, white or gray and ordered everything online so that not a moment of her time would be wasted.
Defeated, she headed toward the exit and out into the street. She was immediately swept along by the pedestrian traffic. A man somewhere close by said something in Hindi that she couldn't quite catch. A French couple hurried by, bickering over the contents of a shopping bag. Two English girls spoke loudly about their outing the previous night. And then, again, the same man's voice. She had been waiting for it and picked it easily out of the crowd.
He was counting down from ten. She counted with him, searching for anyone she could pinpoint. Her heart was thudding in her chest, though she couldn't say why.
Suddenly a loud deafening BANG sounded and she was thrown backwards off her feet. Her back collided with a wall and she coughed, her ears ringing. People were screaming, streaming wildly out of the closest building. Another bang sounded and she watched as the building exploded. Flames bloomed out, debris scattering everywhere. Her vision hazy, Roma crawled further into the alleyway she had been thrown into. Time seemed to move in slow motion. Eventually she coughed, getting to her hands and knees and then pushing herself to stand. She looked back out into the street and saw that people were bleeding and crying. There was rubble in the alley too; the wall opposite her was half destroyed. She was very lucky, if anyone had been caught under it….
Rushing forward she began to call out, shifting as much as she could. Then she saw him. Just a metre or so from where she was looking, at the opposite end from where she had entered, he lay half under a large chunk of stone and plaster. Roma ran over, ignoring the dust she was inhaling. Bending down she checked for a pulse and then, only then, did she look at his face.
Immediately her world narrowed, the destruction around her fading into nothing. All she could see was him. Her body went cold, her hands clammy. She glanced furtively over her shoulder to check that no one had noticed them.
"Don," she said finally, prodding his shoulder. He didn't respond.
The debris was covering his legs, probably crushing them. Ignoring the twinge in her back she summoned all her strength to push it off him and to the side. Sirens were audible now, the police and firemen and ambulances arriving on the scene.
Her mind whirred at an alarming rate. She could leave him there for someone else to find, just wash her hands of it. She could stay with him, tell the police who he was, have him taken to hospital and then…then what? Was he connected to what had just happened? What was he currently wanted for? Wouldn't he just find a way to slip out of her grasp once more? Even prison bars couldn't hold him. She could finish him off. True, she was unarmed, but there were plenty of ways she could kill him and no one would ever suspect he hadn't died in the explosion. But he wouldn't know either, and she wanted him to know that she, Roma, had had her revenge.
So that left one option. She could hide him. He was dressed in a grey suit and tie. He looked like a businessman. If she said he was her husband, who would doubt her? Running to the street at the opposite end she saw that it was empty. Everyone had evacuated, or gone to help. There were cars parked very close to the alleyway. Glancing once more over her shoulder, she removed the grips from her hair and dashed over to the nearest one. She had posed as a criminal and now she was a police officer, she knew how to start a stolen car. Once she was sure she could work it, she hurried back to him.
Then she hesitated. You're crazy, a voice in her head said, What are you going to do with him? How can you think you wont get caught? You're crazy.
"He's made me crazy," she said aloud.
It was risky to move him, especially if his spine was broken, but she didn't think that it was. And more than that, how much of her cared? Right now she was possibly in shock, and very probably panicking. There was a good dose of anger too, and a slight swell of victory.
I'll show you, she thought, I show you how it feels when someone else is in charge, when you're at someone else's mercy.
Decided, she picked him up. It was lucky that they were both close in height and that she was strong, and it didn't hurt that she was fuelled by adrenaline. Half carrying and half dragging him, she got them both to the car and lay him across the back seat. His legs dangled limply and awkwardly and she was sure they were broken. Then she closed the door and got in the driver's seat. They would be putting up roadblocks soon and she had to move before that happened.
As she drove, her hands gripping the wheel so tight that she could feel them cramping, she tried to rationalise what she was doing, but all she could think was:
He lied to me.
He killed my brother.
He killed Kamini.
He lied to me again.
I'm in love with him.
But I hate him.
And I want him to know how it feels to be powerless.
It was as if God had judged her anger righteous and simply planted him in her path. What were the chances of him being there? What were the chances of her being there? What were the chances of her finding him? The whys and what for's could wait. She had always told herself she would take any opportunity for revenge. Well, she had failed the last one. But this one, this one she had seized.
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TBC