The first to enter had long black hair tied into a ponytail. He was a little taller than Naveen but far more muscular, built like a tank. His ruddy face looked like he’d taken a few punches over the years, his nose crooked and irregular. A colorful rattlesnake tattoo was visible on the back of the hand that held a big black gun. He wore a black leather overcoat and black jeans, and cut a sinister, hulking figure. This was the one Naveen had fought, given his size and the fresh bruise decorating his eye.
Good. At least Naveen wasn’t the only one hurting. Even if he was the one hurting more.
The other man’s skin was so pale his blond eyebrows were nearly invisible. The neat tan turtleneck, pressed black pants, and designer coat he was wearing was almost more threatening than the other guy’s hired muscle aesthetic.
Naveen tried to calm his racing heart and focus clinically on their bodies and the way they held themselves. He might be able to fight them, but he needed at least one hand free. Or a foot. Anything.
The blond’s eyes went to Naveen, and he nearly recoiled at how empty and cold they were. “The guy’s awake.” His voice was nasally, with a thick Brooklyn accent.
“We’re supposed to talk to her first.” The other man walked straight to Mira.
Naveen stiffened. He might not know who his ex was anymore, or why she’d lied to him about basic things like her family or name years ago, but he didn’t want her hurt. “What do you want? Money? I can give you money. Don’t bother her.” Only the words came out as muffled.
The dark-haired guy grabbed Mira roughly by her shoulders and brought her to a sitting position, leaning her against the wall next to him. Naveen renewed his twisting against his own bonds, but not subtly enough. The other man shot him a warning glance and placed his hand on the gun holstered on his hip. Naveen stilled, his adrenaline spiking.
Mira shifted and made a face, murmuring something. The one with the gun sighed. He lifted his hand, and Naveen lurched forward, his panic increasing. He tried yelling, but of course it was useless.
But the man didn’t shoot her or even hit her. Instead he pulled a bottle of water out of his big coat pocket and tossed the contents in her face. She sputtered and her eyes flew open. Water droplets scattered as she shook her head, and the men took a step back.
The blond slowly crouched in front of her. He had a scar on his cheek, running from eye to lip. Naveen focused on these details. He understood details. He may not be able to rush these men right now, but he could describe them accurately to the police once they were free.
Once, not if.
He must have made a noise, because Mira’s gaze darted to him and her eyes widened. He tried to project confidence and reassurance to her, but it was hard when he was tied up like a prize hog at a fair.
She managed to sum up their dire situation far faster than he had, her eyes ricocheting around the room before landing on the two men.
The snake-tattoo guy ripped the duct tape off her mouth. “Hello, Mira.”
Naveen stilled, the words penetrating his panic.
They knew her name?
She blinked up at him and moistened her lips. “Who—who are you? How do you know me?”
“We know lots of things about you. You, your family.”
“Both of you, actually.” Mr. Burberry Coat ran his finger over the floor, then frowned at the dust on his hand. “Though you’ve been difficult to find, Mira.”
“How did you find me, then?”
Burberry gave her a chilling smile. “We didn’t. Mr. Desai did it for us. Took us some doing to tap the phone at his office, but as soon as we heard you were on your way down, we decided to meet you there.”
His phone lines were tapped? Oddly enough, all he could think was that Aparna would be so livid she’d missed that. She took their security very seriously.
Snakes capped his water bottle and tossed it aside. It came to lay next to Naveen’s leg. He eyed it. Could he hone a shiv out of plastic?
“Seems like a lot of trouble to find someone who doesn’t want to be found. Why go through that?”
Naveen’s first date with Amira—Mira—had been at a bar. He’d been running ten minutes late, and when he walked in, a clumsy drunk guy had been leaning far too close to her, his eyes firmly focused on her breasts.
He’d walked up to hear her rebuff the other man. Her words had been firm and measured, but when she’d turned around, blunt-cut hair swinging, her eyes had been full of fire. It had been a work of art, the way she’d so cleanly put the other man in his place.
Amira had been calm and collected under stress. Mira was cold as ice, every inch of her face, eyes included, frozen rock solid. She was speaking to their kidnappers like a queen instead of a captive.
Burberry smiled, and the scar on his face creased. His blue eyes turned to chips of icy murder. “It’s about your father. Vassar.”
Her father? But her father had died when she was young. She hadn’t ever wanted to talk about it, and Naveen hadn’t pressed.
“You’re a year too late. He’s dead.”
Naveen made an incredulous noise. He should have pressed, clearly. If the father had died a year ago, then he’d been alive and well when they were dating. She told you she didn’t have a sister either. And a different name. Assume everything you knew about this woman was a lie.
Was Hema Auntie doing any kind of vetting on her clients these days?
Neither of the villains seemed as surprised as he was to hear her flat announcement. “We know that,” Snakes said.
“So why are we here?”
“Vassar took something that belongs to our boss,” Burberry growled.
“I don’t know your boss,” Mira said. “I don’t know who you are, and I barely knew my father. In fact, I hadn’t spoken with him for years before his death. So whatever he took or you think he stole, I don’t have it. You’ve wasted your time.”
Burberry didn’t seem to be listening to her. “We want the necklace back, Mira.”
Naveen’s gaze went to her neck, though her shirt was still buttoned all the way up. What necklace? Mira didn’t care for jewelry. The only jewelry she wore today were her aunt’s earrings.
“Again, no idea what necklace you’re talking about.”
Burberry pulled his phone out of his nice coat, tapped something on the screen, and showed it to her. “This necklace.”
She peered at the screen, then shook her head. “Pretty. I’ve never seen it.”
Burberry studied her for a long moment. In a swift move, he slapped her.
Naveen jerked forward.
Snakes pulled a knife out of his pocket, flashed it open, and pressed the shiny blade against Naveen’s throat, right against his pounding pulse. Naveen tried not to gulp, though the instinct was there. Remember this. Remember everything about this.
“Maybe we can jog your memory,” Snakes said silkily. He put more pressure on the weapon, and something wet and sticky slid down Naveen’s skin.
Mira appeared unimpressed, which was kind of annoying. He was quite impressed by the knife at his throat. “That’s not going to do anything, because I have nothing to tell you.”
The knife pricked Naveen harder, and he swore. Burberry pulled the duct tape off his mouth, and he inhaled at the swift shot of pain. “What’s that, lawyer?”