FF: All the Right Moves - Chapter 14, page 129 - COMPLETE - Page 51

its been a week ...update karo ...plz

Breathtakingly beautiful..

waiting for mon eagerly to see if asya are discovered in each others arms

Update update update update update update update...

Itsss monnndddaaayyy :D woohoo update day,can't wait

CHAPTER TEN

The next morning Zoya comes downstairs, exhausted and sleep-deprived, with circles under her eyes. She holds to the rail tightly with her good hand while tucking her injured left arm close to her body. The front door unlatches. Asad comes in from his run, dressed in sweat pants and a t-shirt. Unlike Zoya, he's energized and alert. He looks immediately to the staircase.

Zoya hesitates then continues down to him. She gives him her usual sunny smile. "How was your run, Mr. Khan?"

"Fine." He stops at the foot of the staircase. "How is your arm, Ms. Farooqui?"

"Sore but better." Her smile is a bit wobbly and her eyes don't quite focus. "The pain killers are kicking in."

She stops on the last step so they are at eye level to each other. She sways a bit and he puts his hand on her waist to steady her.

"I can see that." He brushes her bangs aside and frowns at the heavy shadows under her eyes. "Why are you down here? I sent you up to get more sleep."

"No." Even in her drugged state, her voice is clear and determined. "We have to pretend everything is normal. I get up first to start coffee and breakfast."

"Everything is not normal." His voice is calm but his body is rigid. "You're still weak from blood loss and you're on medication. Let Najma make breakfast."

"But then I'll have to tell her what happened and she'll be upset," Zoya protests.

"She'll be more upset when she finds out on her own," Asad points out. "You can't hide it from her for long. You two share a room. She'll notice you can't lift or carry anything. I won't let you risk pulling on your stitches."

She sighs and leans forward so that their foreheads touch. "You said you'd support me."

His arm tightens, going from her waist to the middle of her back. "Do you want me to make breakfast?"

She laughs, low and intimate. "You would do that for me?"

"I don't think there's anything I wouldn't do for you." His voice is light but his eyes are dark and serious.

Her smile fades and they stare at each other, so close that they're breathing each other's air. Asad shifts, aligning their bodies, and cups her face with his free hand.

"Good morning!" Rohan calls out cheerfully. "What are we making for breakfast?"

Zoya jerks and Asad stiffens. She pulls away and goes around him. Rohan leans out of his bedroom, dressed in another one of his crisp new kurtas, and smiles at her. His eyes are clear and shiny, his smile bright and warm, no signs of last night's activities visible in his sunny expression.

"Good morning." Zoya gives him an equally friendly smile. "What would you like?"

"Zoya, what's wrong with your arm?" Rohan's smile dies. "Why are you holding it like that?"

She looks down at the arm she had tucked close to her body. "It's an old injury. It acts up sometimes."

"Maybe you pinched a nerve," he suggests. "Did you sleep on it incorrectly?"

"No." She frowns. "Mr. Khan made sure I didn't sleep on that side. He--"

She stops and slaps her good hand over her mouth as she realizes what she just revealed. Rohan's eyebrows rise so high they disappear under his bangs and he looks from her to Asad then back to her.

"Not that we slept together. We were only sleeping together," Zoya tries to explain, her eyes unfocused and overly bright. Then she frowns again, her eyebrows drawing together in confusion. "Wait. That's the same thing."

Asad puts his hand on her good arm and gently shifts her aside. "The medication is confusing you. Why don't you go up to Najma and I'll talk to Rohan?"

Zoya looks from Asad to Rohan then back again and bites into her lower lip. She nods and turns for the staircase, her movements slower and less graceful than usual. Both men are silent as they watch her go up the stairs.

Then Rohan turns and grins at Asad. "Wow, Asad. You're one lucky guy."

Asad grabs him by the throat and slams him into the wall. Rohan grunts in response.

"Don't say another word," Asad advises him. "Ms. Farooqui is a member of my family. I have the utmost respect for her. If you say or do anything to make her feel uncomfortable in her own home, I will rip your head off your shoulders."

"You misunderstood me, Asad." Rohan puts his hands up to Asad's wrists but doesn't try to pull away. "I'm not saying you're lucky because Zoya sleeps with you."

"How dare you?" Asad snarls, his hands tightening around Rohan's neck. "Ms. Farooqui is not that kind of person."

"That's exactly what I mean!" Rohan pulls on Asad's wrists. "You're lucky because Zoya's in love with you."

Asad releases Rohan and stumbles back as though his words are a physical blow. Rohan touches his throat where the skin is red and irritated.

"I can easily find women who'll sleep with me, use me and leave me more alone than I was before. I've never found a woman who accepts my faults, cares more about me than herself and makes me feel whole." Rohan's eyes become dark and bitter, altering his face from angelic to demonic. "Why are you so lucky?"

Asad takes a deep breath. "I make my own luck. I've worked hard for everything I've achieved." He turns and heads for his room. "I deserve what I have."

"Including Zoya?" Rohan challenges.

Asad stops in his tracks but doesn't look back. He's silent for a moment, staring down at his scarred knuckles, remembering the times people had tried to snatch Zoya from him. He takes a deep breath and nods. "Especially Zoya."

"Then maybe she's the lucky one."

Rohan's eyes are dark and cloudy, for the first time revealing the full extent of the aching emptiness in his soul. Asad has his back to the sports star. He doesn't see the grim resignation of a man going through the motions of life but not truly living. Asad misses Rohan's desperate loneliness, a stark reflection of his own former hollow existence before Zoya.

***

Zoya comes out of the washroom a little while later. She looks brighter and fresher now, dressed in jeans and a bright blue kurta. Najma, dressed in a pretty blue and yellow salwar kameez, comes to her side and takes her good hand.

"Najma, truly, I'm fine," Zoya insists.

"That's a matter of opinion." Najma glares at her in a very un-Najma-like way. "I can't believe the risks you took last night!"

"Shhh," Zoya hisses. "It's a secret from Phupee and Rohan, remember?"

"And I can't believe you let me sleep through the whole thing!" Najma lowers her voice as she guides Zoya to the dressing table. "At least Bhaijaan knows now. Between the two of us, we should be able to take care of you."

She picks up a hairbrush and runs it through Zoya's hair.

"I didn't tell him about your part of this investigation," Zoya admits. "I thought it would be enough that he was mad at me."

"What?" Najma stops brushing. "Why not? I'm a part of this, too."

Zoya meets her eyes in the mirror. "I wanted to protect you."

"No." Najma goes back to brushing Zoya's hair. "We agreed that I would take equal responsibility. I knew going in that Bhaijaan would be angry. I accepted that was the cost of protecting Ammi. We've done nothing wrong and you've guarded me at every step." She puts the brush down. "In fact, I'll tell him myself."

Zoya nods. "Okay. Then I should tell him about your Ayaan Bhaijaan too, shouldn't I?"

"You didn't tell him?" Najma gasps. "Who did he think was with you at the abandoned lot?"

"That wasn't his focus last night." Zoya gently touches the bandage. "Your Bhaijaan was more concerned about my bleeding arm."

Najma shakes her head as she swiftly braids Zoya's hair. "Zoya, how could you take such a terrible risk?"

"What was I supposed to do?" she counters. "Allow those men to beat up Rohan so badly that he couldn't finish his charity events? I didn't know one of them had a knife."

Najma finishes off the braid and wraps her arms around Zoya, careful to avoid her injured arm. "I'm just thankful you're okay. You know how much I love you, Zoya."

Zoya's eyes tear up and she reaches up to wrap her good arm around Najma's neck. "And you know how much I love you, Tamatar."

Najma kisses Zoya's cheek then helps her up from the chair. Zoya is alert but a little unsteady. They go downstairs and into the kitchen. Asad and Rohan are already there. Rohan pours coffee into mugs while Asad takes items out of the refrigerator. Both have bathed and dressed for the day.

"Good morning!" Najma calls out.

"Good morning." Rohan adds milk to three half-full cups. "I started coffee."

"Wonderful!" Najma smiles warmly. "Did you add sugar?"

"Yes." Rohan hands her a cup. "Two spoonfuls for you." He holds out another cup for Zoya.. "And three spoonfuls for you."

"Thank you." Zoya smiles shyly, her cheeks reddening in remembered embarrassment.

Asad stiffens, ready to defend Zoya if necessary. But Rohan's return smile to her is warm and friendly, no innuendo or disrespect in his open expression. She accepts the cup gratefully but Asad plucks it out of her hand before she can take a sip.

"Hey!" she protests. "That's my coffee. Allah miya, what's wrong with you, Mr. Khan? You don't like milk and sugar, remember?"

"You can't have coffee for a few days." Asad puts the cup down on the counter, out of her reach. "The sugar and caffeine will spike your blood sugar. That's bad for your injury."

Zoya looks at the cup longingly. "Then what can I drink?" She makes a face. "Please don't say more prune juice."

"Prune juice?" Rohan repeats. He mimics Zoya's disgusted expression. "Isn't that for old people with intestinal problems?"

Zoya and Najma giggle but Asad isn't amused.

"I've made you chai with extra milk, cardamom, cloves and cinnamon." Asad gestures to the stove. "That will give you calcium and blood sugar control."

"Oh, boy, that sounds great," Zoya says but her voice lacks enthusiasm.

"So what should we make for breakfast?" Najma puts down her own untouched cup of coffee in a supportive gesture.

"Pancakes," Zoya responds immediately.

"Omelets." Asad puts a bowl of fresh eggs down near Najma's elbow. "We have chicken saag left from last night's dinner for the filling."

Zoya's face falls. "I want pancakes."

"You need protein and iron." Asad puts the cup of chai down at Zoya's usual seat. "Sit and have your chai while I get the newspaper."

She turns to watch him go. As soon as he's out the door, she reaches for her coffee cup. Rohan gets to it before she does.

"My coffee!" she protests.

Zoya tries to dodge around him but Rohan is an expert at fielding opponents. She tries again but she's hampered by her weak arm and her sluggish reaction from the painkillers. Rohan laughs but his amusement is friendly and affectionate as he gently twists around her.

"You can't have it, remember?" Rohan turns his back on her.

"Why can't she have it?"

They all turn to greet Dilshad, who looks serene and elegant as always. She returns their greetings and smiles indulgently at Zoya and Rohan's antics.

"Why isn't Zoya allowed to have that coffee?" she asks again. "Did she have too many cups already?"

Zoya sees Rohan is distracted and reaches for the cup. Rohan easily side-steps her so she tries again. This time he holds the cup over his head, his grin wide and mischievous. She swipes for it a third time and he leans back, laughing. Suddenly his laughter dies on a sharp gasp. The coffee cup slips out of his hand and shatters on the marble floor.

"Rohan!" Dilshad hurries to his side. "Are you alright? Did you burn yourself?"

But Rohan isn't holding his hand. He's doubled up in pain, arms wrapped around his sore midsection. Before he can answer, the front door is thrown open.

"What happened?' Asad demands, wild-eyed. He has the newspaper clenched in one hand while the other is curled into a fist.

"Rohan dropped a coffee cup," Najma explains, throwing a towel over the mess.

"Rohan, what's wrong?"Dilshad asks. "Why are you holding your stomach like that? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine, Dilshad-ji." Rohan straightens slowly. "Zoya isn't the only one with an old injury acting up again."

"Again?" Dilshad turns from Rohan to Zoya then back to Rohan. "What's going on here?"

"I hurt my arm again, Phupee," Zoya confesses.

"How?" Dilshad demands. She brushes Zoya's bangs aside and smoothes down her braid. "What happened?"

"It was dark and I wasn't careful enough," Zoya explains honestly.

Dilshad tips her chin to study her face. "You do look pale. Have you taken pain killers? Asad, should you take bechaari Zoya to see the doctor today?"

"Ammi, your bechaari is a musibat magnet." Asad sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Yes, I made sure she took pain killers first thing this morning. No, she doesn't need to see a doctor today."

"I'm fine, Phupee." Zoya nods and smiles reassuringly. "Trust me."

"You don't have to worry about Zoya, Ammi." Najma soothes. She pulls out Zoya's chair and hands her the cooling chai. "I'll take very good care of her."

Dilshad cups Najma's cheek with her other hand. She looks between the girls and smiles. "I'm so lucky to have such wonderful girls who love and support each other so much."

Zoya and Najma exchange smiles. Zoya takes the cup and sits at her usual spot.

Dilshad turns to Rohan. "What about you? How serious is your injury? Will you still be able to perform at the cricket stadium today?"

Najma gasps. "He has to. Imagine what his fans will do if he cancels at the last minute." Her eyes widen. "They'll riot in the streets!"

"Ya Allah." Dilshad's face pales and she puts her hand to her heart. "We cannot allow that to happen!"

"Don't worry, Dilshad-ji," Rohan reassures her quickly. "I won't cancel today's program. I aggravated an old muscle pull, that's all. I'll simply have the trainers tape my ribs. It will be fine, I promise you."

"Allah ka shukar hai." Dilshad sighs with relief. "All our hard work would be destroyed in an instant if something that terrible were to happen."

"It won't." Rohan gives her a reassuring smile. "Trust me."

Dilshad smiles back at him, reassured. Zoya and Najma exchange anxious glances, the tension clear on their pretty face. Asad's mouth flattens into a grim line, not reassured at all.

***

Later that morning, Asad stops his SUV in front of Najma's college. Zoya is seated in the front passenger seat while Najma sits in the back.

"We're here," Asad announces.

Najma isn't listening. She's staring at the shattered back window, tracing the cracks with her fingertip.

"Najma, we're here." Asad's voice is louder now.

"Yes, Bhaijaan." Najma nods and takes a deep breath. "Bhaijaan, I have something to tell you."

Asad sigh and looks at her in the rearview mirror. Najma sits up straight, her jaw lifted in determination. Asad looks at Zoya then back to Najma.

"I don't know how many more of your confessions my heart can take." His features are tight but his voice is calm.

Najma takes a deep breath then blurts out. "I was helping Zoya with her investigation." Her voice quivers only a little.

Asad nods. "Yes, I know."

"You know?" Najma and Zoya say together.

Asad glances at Zoya then looks back to Najma. "You went to the cricket club together, you share a bedroom and I've seen you two trading glances all week. I knew you were plotting something. I just didn't know what it was." He looks hard at Zoya. "I wish I had. I could have saved you a lot of pain and worry."

"That wouldn't have saved any pain." Zoya turns in her seat to look at both Asad and Najma. "It would have just transferred it from me to you."

Asad's expression darkens. "That would have been better."

Zoya and Najma look at each other then look down. Neither contradicts Asad but their mouths are set in stubborn lines. Najma gathers her belongings and wishes them a good day before she exits the SUV.

Asad is quiet until Najma enters the building. Then he turns and glares at Zoya. "It would have been better if I'd known. I'd never have allowed you to wander around in the middle of the night, especially not with one of your silly, incompetent friends."

Zoya sighs but her cell phone rings and interrupts her before she can speak. She takes it out of her shoulder bag and glances at the screen. "Speaking of last night." She brings the phone to her ear. "It's Raabert."

Beside her, Asad stiffens. "I want to talk to him."

Zoya answers the call. "Hello, Raabert."

"Mona, are you okay?" Ayaan demands, his voice high and sharp.

"Of course," she says lightly. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I saw blood on my jacket and on my bike this morning." Ayaan's voice is still anxious. "I didn't notice last night. I didn't know you were hurt."

"Raabert, can you hold on for just a second?" Zoya doesn't wait for him to agree before she mutes Ayaan. She looks at Asad, who is sitting, rigid, in his seat. "Mr. Khan, let me finish this call before you say anything? Please?"

Asad's face is grim but he nods. Zoya puts the phone down between them, turns off the mute and turns on the speaker function.

"Raabert, are you still there?"

"Mona, are you sure you're okay?" Ayaan's boisterous voice fills the SUV. "That was a lot of blood. I would have called you sooner but I didn't see it until now."

Asad stiffens and his mouth drops open. Zoya puts her finger up to her lips in a 'shush' gesture, her eyes wide. Asad nods stiffly and rubs his forehead.

"I got a cut but I didn't notice it at the time," she admits. "I'm fine now."

"Are you sure?" Ayaan sounds uncertain.

Zoya forces out a little laugh. "Of course I'm sure. You can hear me, can't you? I'm fine, Raabert. Trust me."

"Okay, if you're sure." Ayaan's relief is evident, even over the phone connection. Then he whoops. "Man, last night was intense. Wow. What a rush!"

Asad opens his mouth but Zoya puts her hand on his arm. Her eyes plead with him and he closes his mouth, lips pressed tightly together. Zoya turns her attention back to Ayaan.

"Oh, really?" Her voice is tart. "Last night you said your Bhaijaan was right for calling me a musibat magnet."

Asad winces but Ayaan laughs.

"You are trouble, Mona. But that's not a bad thing." Ayaan's voice returns to his usual confident drawl. "So how did your sher do last night? Didn't I promise I'd protect you?"

"You were wonderful, Raabert." Zoya smiles indulgently. "I wouldn't have gotten this far without you."

"Of course not. No one is better than Ayaan Ahmed Khan," he boasts. "In fact, it brings a sher to mind."

Again, Asad opens his mouth to speak. This time Zoya covers his mouth with her good hand and shakes her head. Asad's eyes narrow but he doesn't try to free himself. Ayaan clears his throat dramatically.

Shers are fierce and fast

Able to win any fight

No enemy can ever last

Against a sher's courage and might

Zoya blinks and stares at her phone. "That...was actually good, Raabert."

"Actually?" Ayaan sounds insulted. "All my shers are good. In fact, my poetry skills are only second to my fighting skills. You saw how good my fighting skills were last night."

Zoya cautiously takes her hand away from Asad's mouth. His jaw is locked tight but he remains calm. His eyes are fixed on her like laser beams.

"Yes, Raabert, I saw. You were amazing." Her voice softens. "Thank you."

"Did last night help you?" Ayaan asks. "Did you learn anything to help us figure out what Rohan's up to? What's our next step?"

Zoya frowns. "I'm not sure. Let me review our pictures from last night and your footage from the cricket club yesterday. I'll get back to you."

"Okay, cool. Let me know what you find out." He pauses then his voice drops. "You know, Mona. We never did get a chance to see each other last night. Maybe we can get together, have a cup of coffee or..." His voice trails off suggestively.

Asad's face flushes and he sucks in air on a harsh breath. Zoya frantically shakes her head at him. Asad crosses his arms but remains silent.

"That's not a good idea, Raabert," she says hurriedly. "You know how your Bhaijaan is. He's already upset with me for sneaking out last night. I think he's going to keep a close eye on me for a little while."

"He caught you, huh?" Ayaan's voice returns to its normal pitch. "How angry was he?"

Zoya looks over her shoulder at the shattered rear window. "Very angry."

"Mona, I warned you Bhaijaan makes a bad enemy." He pauses. "Why didn't you tell him about me?"

She jerks in surprise. "How did you know I didn't tell him about you?"

"Because if you had, he'd have called me and burned my ears with the same lecture he probably gave you," Ayaan points out. "He's a big believer in tameez and tehzeeb."

Zoya looks over at Asad. His face is set and expressionless but his eyes are burning hot as he watches her, a slight pink tinting his cheekbones. She smiles mischievously.

"Maybe not always, Raabert," she teases.

Zoya winks at Asad. He blinks and his arms uncross, his mouth falling open in shock. Her smile widens into a delighted grin.

Ayaan laughs. "Always. You don't know Bhaijaan the way I do, Mona. Nothing is more important to him than respectable behavior and maintaining his good standing in society."

Asad goes rigid and ducks his head. Zoya's grin dies as she watches annoyance replace the startled embarrassment in his expression. She reaches over and rubs his clenched fist.

"You're wrong, Raabert," she says softly. "There are a lot of things he values more than society. He'd give up everything, even his own reputation, to protect the people he cares about. You, Phupee and Najma have his heart. He'd do anything for you."

Asad shudders and opens his fist. Turning his hand, he laces his fingers with hers. He keeps his head down, staring at their entwined fingers.

"Mona, maybe you should tell him about me." Ayaan drops his usual smug confidence to speak seriously. "It's not fair that you take the whole blame when I willingly went with you."

"He won't blame you," she assures him. "Not when I tell him how clever and brave you were. Once he knows how much you helped me and how you fought those goons to protect me, he'll be proud of you. He knows my nature. I would have done it with or without you."

Asad tightens his grip on her hand and finally looks at her. His face is stark and pale, his mouth flattened into a thin line and his eyes are deep and fathomless, a dark counterpoint for his ashen face.

"I didn't give you a choice, Raabert." Zoya takes a deep breath. "You knew if you hadn't come with me, I'd have found someone less brave and able. No one else could have protected me the way you did." Her breath catches. "I wouldn't have made it home safely without you. Thank you."

Asad shudders again and covers their joined hands with his other hand, as if he can't hold her enough, the lingering horror of last night visible on his face.

Ayaan is quiet for a moment. "I'm going to call Bhaijaan and tell him," he decides. "I won't leave you alone in this."

"There's no need. I'll take care of it. Trust me," Zoya assures him. "You're a good friend, Raabert. The best."

Ayaan laughs. "Like I already told you, north, south, east or west..."

Zoya laughs, too. "Ayaan Ahmed Khan is the best."

"Over and out, Mona."

"Over and out, Raabert."

Zoya tries to tug her hand free. Asad uses his right hand to turn off her phone but keeps his left hand entwined with her good hand. She watches him but he stares out the front window, his body stiff and his face expressionless. For a long moment there is only silence in the car. Finally, Asad turns to face her.

"Tell me exactly what's been going on," Asad orders. "Don't leave out any details."

"Promise me you won't be angry?" Zoya hedges.

"No." He glares at her. "I will be angry. But I promise to remain calm. That's the best I can give you, Ms. Farooqui."

He turns to face front again, releasing her and resting his hands on the steering wheel. Zoya puts her good hand over her hurt arm to replace Asad's warmth. She sighs and tells him about the investigation, including Ayaan's following Arun and their trip to the abandoned lot. As she talks, Asad's face flushes darker and darker and his grip on the steering wheel gets tighter and tighter.

True to his word, Asad doesn't interrupt her. He remains quiet and stares straight ahead even after she finishes, the muscle throbbing in his locked jaw. Zoya bites into her lower lip, observing his fierce control.

"Are you alright, Mr. Khan?" Her voice is soft and subdued.

Asad speaks but he doesn't look at her. "You conspired with my sister and my brother against me?"

His words are tense but his voice is still calm. Zoya shakes her head.

"No, I conspired with your sister and your brother for you," she corrects. "We all wanted to expose Rohan without hurting you or Phupee."

Asad gradually releases his death grip the steering wheel, as though focusing all his energy on the simple task allows him to channel the fury so evident in his rigid frame. He takes deep, calming breaths. Finally, some of the stiffness eases out of his body and he looks at her. He takes in the shadows under her eyes, the strain lines around her mouth and the wounded arm held close to her body. He shakes his head.

"You will never put yourself at risk again. Ever." His voice is still tight and controlled. "No matter what the situation, no matter how much it will hurt me, you tell me and you tell me immediately. In exchange, I promise to listen calmly, like now. Agreed?"

She releases the breath she's been holding. "Agreed."

"Never again, Ms. Farooqui." He puts the SUV in gear and pulls away from the college. "No matter what, never again hide things from me, even to protect me. Understand?"

She nods. "I understand."

"Once we get to the office, I'm going to have a very long talk with my brother," Asad mutters. "He's need to understand that life isn't an Ajit movie. The bad people are real and so are the injuries they cause."

Zoya stares at him. "You caught the Mona and Raabert reference?"

Asad glances at her. "Despite what you may think, Ms. Farooqui, I am usually good at putting facts together."

"I know you are, Mr. Khan,' she agrees gently. That's why I worked so hard to keep you distracted. I knew it wouldn't take you long to pick up on Rohan if I didn't keep your mind busy elsewhere."

Asad goes rigid and nearly hits the car in front of him. Quickly he returns his attention to his driving. He merges into traffic and nods to the tall brick wall surrounding the college. "It looks like we're not the only ones who have a problem with Rohan Saxena."

Zoya leans over to see. Workers are sticking up some of Rohan's sports posters but they are having trouble keeping them up. They are surrounded by a large group who are tearing down the posters. Some are even trying to take the posters away from the beleaguered workers.

"Good, I'm glad there are some people left in this town that have sense." Asad nods in agreement. "They're taking down those annoying posters. I hope they burn them."

Zoya looks closely at the group as they drive past. Her mouth curves up in delighted mischief. "Look again, Mr. Khan. They're hugging the posters." She giggles. "I don't think they plan to burn them!"

Asad gives her a decidedly sour look but doesn't comment further. Zoya looks out the window, relaxing in the comfort of the SUV, as Asad takes them to his office. She's half asleep by the time Asad pulls into his parking spot.

"Come on, musibat." Asad's voice is gentle and indulgent as he helps her out of the seat. "You can sleep on the sofa in my office."

"No." Zoya blinks her unfocused eyes. "I need to review the new Rohan footage Raabert gave me. I know Rohan's route out of the country club but I don't know his disguise. How does he get past all his fans?"

"You can do that after a nap," Asad urges, pressing the button to call the elevator.

"No. We're running out of time, Mr. Khan."

On the ride up to his office, she reminds him of Ayaan's visit to the country club, the back door from the men's locker room to the kitchen hallway, the restaurant's garbage schedule and the increased security.

"It's not enough that Rohan knows where the back door is and when it's opened. He also has to get out without his fans mobbing him," she explains. "I know he wears a disguise. I need to identify it so we can follow him. According to the schedule posted on the country club's website, Rohan is free this afternoon, after the practice. I want to know where he goes."

Asad sighs heavily but follows her into the conference room. "What about the lot you went to last night? Give me the location and I'll find out more about it."

"I don't know the location but Raabert does." Zoya inserts a USB drive into the computer and uploads the new files. "I'll call him after I bring up these files."

"No need. I'll call him myself." Asad's voice hardens."My little brother and I need to have a long chat about responsibilities and limits."

Zoya winces in sympathy for Ayaan.

"I saw that, Ms. Farooqui," Asad chides but his voice is gentle. "Don't think that, just because I haven't lectured you, I'm okay with what you did. I'm not."

She sighs and busies herself with the computer. A moment later she brings the images up on both the monitor and the overhead projector. She starts with Ayaan's footage from behind the country club. It's a mob scene with fans and detractors clashing against each other, women in burkas and men in thobes and kuffiyehs waving protest signs, fans of different cricket teams in their team jerseys goading fans wearing Rohan's team's insignia and what appears to be half of Bhopal's police force amongst them, keeping order.

"How does Rohan get through that?" Zoya murmurs. "If any of those people saw him, they'd tear him apart, no matter if they were fans or protestors."

Asad shakes his head. "What nonsense. Don't these people have anything better to do with their lives?"

Zoya shakes her head. Knocking interrupts her before she can speak. She and Asad both look to the door. Prasad is there, holding up a slim file folder.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," he says. "I have the report you requested, Ms. Farooqui."

Zoya pauses the video playback and eagerly takes the file from him. She lays it down on the conference table and reads the single sheet of paper inside. Then she sighs heavily and looks at Prasad.

"It's just as we suspected," she says sadly.

Prasad nods. "Yes, it is. I'm sorry, Ms. Farooqui."

"What is it?" Asad comes around the table to see.

"It's the security report from the day the Center Park files were deleted from the server." She puts her good hand on her hip. "Remember how I told you the system is read-only? It takes special logins and additional steps to delete a file."

"So this report tells us which user deleted those files?" Asad picks up the paper. "That's great news. Who was it?"

Zoya and Prasad are quiet as Asad skims through the report. They watch as Asad's brows draw together in confusion.

"This can't be right." He slaps the paper down on the table. "According to this report, I deleted those files!"

Zoya and Prasad remain silent.

"But I didn't," Asad protests. "I would never have deleted those files."

"No, Mr. Khan, it doesn't say you deleted those files," Zoya corrects gently. "It says your ID and password were used to delete those files."

"But no one knows my password--"

Asad stops speaking when Prasad takes a square of sticky paper out of his pocket.

"I took this off your drafting table once I read the report." Prasad clears his throat. "I believe it's your handwriting."

"Yes." Very slowly, Asad takes the paper. "I wrote down my ID and password when Ms. Farooqui was still setting up the system. I didn't think there was any harm in it. It's just a file storage system."

Zoya blinks rapidly, her eyes dark and wounded. "Yes, it's just a file storage system. There's no reason to safeguard your login credentials. It isn't important." Her voice tightens with remembered pain. "It's not like anyone was hurt by it."

"I didn't mean it like that." Asad closes his eyes and shakes his head. "I'm sorry, Ms. Farooqui."

Prasad looks away and shifts uncomfortably.

Zoya smiles wearily at Asad. "Don't mind me. I'm still tired."

"Your storage system is important, Ms. Farooqui." Asad tears the sticky paper into tiny pieces. "I'll change my password right now."

Zoya's smile brightens. Asad strides across the hall to his office. Prasad stares at the image on the overhead projector.

"I don't mean to be culturally insensitive, Ms. Farooqui." He clears his throat. "But why are they dressed like that?"

Zoya glances up as the screen. "Some women in our culture wear those head-to-toe robes as a sign of modesty. It's called a burka."

Prasad nods. "Yes, I've seen ladies in burkas but rarely men in robes."

"True," she agrees. "Men rarely wear them in India and usually only for ceremonies. These men are wearing them to protest Rohan's corrupting modern youth and--" She stops speaking and shakes her head. "Allah miya! That's it! He said himself that he hides by not being what people expect him to be."

Asad rushes back into the conference room. "What is it? Why are you screaming?"

Zoya grabs his hand. "Hurry! We have to go!"

"Go where?" Asad looks around in confusion but allows her to pull him along.

"To the country club." Zoya drags him into his office to get his keys and jacket. "I know how Rohan gets around his fans and protestors. We have to be in position before he disappears again."

***

An hour later, Asad and Zoya are in his SUV, parked on a side lane behind the country club.

"I couldn't get any closer." Asad's mouth is set in a grim line as he observes the chaos around them. "This place is a mob scene."

Zoya nods. Even this far away, the street is still jammed with fans and protestors. Adding to the confusion are photographers, reporters and news vans.

"How do you plan to spot Rohan in this crowd?" Asad demands. "It's wall-to-wall people here. Even if he wasn't wearing a disguise, how would you pick him out in this mess?"

She reaches down to lift Asad's laptop from where it sits by her feet. Quickly Asad grabs the laptop and opens it for her. She's a bit awkward maneuvering with only one hand but she brings up a video clip of Rohan from one of his games.

"See how he moves, Mr. Khan?" she explains. "How every muscle is compact, toned and works in perfect harmony? His motions are as sleek, graceful and distinct as a jaguar. A jaguar cannot hide its stride. Even in silhouette, you know it's a jaguar. Rohan is like a jaguar."

"A jaguar, huh?"Asad is quiet for a long moment. "You know a jaguar isn't in the same league as a lion."

Zoya gives him a sideways glance. "Are you comparing Rohan to my sher, Raabert?"

"No, I mean me." Asad's mouth tightens. "My name means 'lion'."

"You're not a lion, Mr. Khan." Zoya turns her attention back to the laptop. "You're a tiger."

"No, I'm a lion." Asad sits up straight. "Lions are the king of the jungle. They're the strongest and most courageous of the hunting cats."

"That's actually a myth." She brings up the National Geographic's webpage. "Lions are called 'the king of the jungle' because their mane looks like a crown. They are courageous but tigers are bigger, stronger and more cunning." She turns the laptop towards him. "Lions are dangerous because they hunt in packs. Tigers are deadly because they hunt alone. And you, Mr. Khan," she finishes softly, "are sometimes the most alone person I've ever met."

"Not anymore," Asad whispers.

He looks up from the webpage and his gaze traps hers. Time stands still. They're lost in their own little world until loud screams erupts from the crowd. Zoya breaks their connection to look down at the clock.

"It's eleven-thirty," she reports. "If my hunch is correct, Rohan slipped into the crowd when the kitchen staff opened the back door. Raabert said fans pushed into the back hall and had to be pushed back outside. Security monitors the doors to see who gets in but not who goes out. He'll slip into the hallway from the back door to the locker room and blend in with the people security pushes back outside."

Asad nods and watches the crowd passing by them. He glances again at the laptop screen. "So, if a tiger can easily defeat a lion, you know a jaguar doesn't stand a chance against him?"

"A jaguar?" Zoya laughs. "Of course not. Jaguars are fast, sleek and agile but they're no match for a tiger's strength, cunning and ferocity. The tiger will win easily."

"Yes," Asad agrees softly. "If it comes to it, the tiger will most definitely take down the jaguar."

They wait in tense silence. People flow in an endless wave around them, some eager and happy, others in tears and shock. Then they see a group of men, dressed in their thobes and kuffiyehs, some wearing sunglasses and all holding protest signs, cross the intersection before them. Zoya and Asad are silent as they watch one man, taller and more graceful than the rest, wearing reflective sunglasses and a protest sign held strategically near his face, lingering at the back of the pack.

"Did you see him?" Zoya asks softly.

"Yes." Asad puts the SUV in gear. "Once I knew to look for the way he walked and held himself, it was easy to spot him."

He's about to pull into the street when Zoya's phone rings. She takes it out of her bag and checks the readout.

"It's Najma." She puts the phone to her ear. "Najma? How are you? What? Najma, calm down. I can't understand what you're saying."

Asad's phone rings, too. He puts the car in park and takes out his own cell phone. His mouth tightens as he reads the name in the display window. "It's Ammi."

Zoya nods, still trying to understand Najma's excited, anxious words.

"Hello, Ammi, is everything alright?" Asad asks. He listens for a moment and his face goes pale with shock.

He and Zoya turn to each other, both wide-eyed and horrified as they finally understand what Dilshad and Najma are trying to explain to them. They both speak at the same time.

"There's a riot at Najma's college!"

Author's Notes: As always, all mistakes are mine and made accidentally. This story is not intended to hurt anyone's feelings, culture or beliefs. Much thanks to my wonderful beta readers for their support, assistance and endless patience!

Thank you to everyone for the overwhelming response to last week's chapter and your kind words about my award. I know some of you are disappointed that I didn't focus more on Zoya and Asad's relationship in this chapter. Please remember I'm writing an adventure story. Zoya has to discover Rohan's secret and protect Dilshad. She and Asad must stay focused on their goal.

I also want to thank everyone who leaves me feedback and sends private message. Your responses are so appreciated!

Take care,

Paly

I'm first...yay...fab as ever...wats gonna happen nxt...excited...

Another awesome update. Loved the way Asad was protective for Zoya. The Mona Raabert interaction was nice. I couldn't stop adoring how Asad has controlled himself from killing Rohan for all this just because Zoya has requested him. And the cliffy. The riot. Eagerly waiting for next monday. Keep on writing such beautiful stories.