Page 63 of Born in Sin (Phoenix #3)

Chapter Thirty-Two

CARA

“Kabir, can you hear me?” Virat murmured.

“Loud and clear, Shadow.” Kabir’s voice was edgy with excitement.

Virat closed his eyes, muttering about aggravating divas who didn’t know when to let go of their main character energy and try being the extra. Cara grinned, something warm and fuzzy unspooling inside her at the sight of her love and her friend interacting.

“For the last time, we don’t need call signs,” Virat said, watching the screen where Kabir stood on the side of the road outside Mohan’s building.

Kabir pouted on screen. “But we do. I adore mine. Please use it.”

Virat sighed and looked up at the roof of the van. “Somethings are worth my dignity,” he reasoned out loud. “This would be one of them, right?

“I’ve found that it’s best not to argue with Kabir,” Cara murmured.

“Can you hear me, Rogue?” Virat forced the words out, painfully slowly.

“Loud and clear, Shadow.” Kabir grinned, clearly enjoying tormenting Virat.

Cara shook her head, scanning the street around Kabir.

They were parked within visual distance of him.

Vikram had snipers on the rooftops and another van at the other end of the road poised to intercept if necessary.

Vikram himself sat with Virat and her in this van, clearly fighting a smile at the interaction between the men.

“Sir.” A voice crackled over the speaker. “I see movement.”

From the lobby of the building, a figure emerged.

Black pants, black t-shirt, average, garden variety looks, nobody they knew.

He signaled to Kabir who told his security to stand down and walked forward to meet him.

The two of them disappeared into the building.

The camera in Kabir’s suit gave them a ringside view of what was going on.

“Run the guy using facial recognition,” Virat murmured.

Shourya nodded and started working on it.

Beside her, Vikram shifted uncomfortably.

Clearly, he didn’t like the idea of police work or detective work being done by a measly civilian.

But Shourya was no measly civilian and was worth fifteen police officers.

A fact Cara had figured out within minutes of meeting him.

The man on the screen handed Kabir a small, crumpled piece of paper and left, not bothering to look back. Kabir unraveled the grimy, sweat dampened paper and peered at it.

“Lonavala,” Kabir breathed, walking out and heading for the Lexus waiting for him. His security surrounded him and hustled him into the car.

“Kabir, where in Lonavala?” Virat snapped, the min the other man was safely in the car.

“Shadow, I insist you take a chill pill and follow protocol.”

Virat looked like he would pop a blood vessel. This time, it wasn’t only Vikram who was smirking, Shaurya hid a smile as well.

“Rogue, where are you headed?”

“To a holiday home in Lonavla, Shadow. Sending you the deets.”

Virat hung his head even as the van peeled out, following Kabir’s vehicle at a respectable distance. “Grown men don’t use words like deets,” Virat grumbled.

Vikram outright chuckled this time. “He’s a character.”

Virat glared at Cara. “Don’t laugh. You’re not even supposed to be in the van with us.”

“Yes, yes, I’m supposed to be sitting at home, wrapped up in bubble wrap,” Cara’s sardonic response has Vikram’s grin widening.

“Sent you the deets. Also, my friend,” Kabir’s voice came through, startling her out of his thoughts. “Best of luck telling Celi to go home and stay safe.”

Virat’s jaw clenched. Cara’s grin widened. She was going to be harder to shake off than a leech.

Cara leaned forward so her mouth was closer to the microphone. “I love you Kabs.”

“Love you too Car,” Kabir said. “Buckle up sweethearts. We’re in for a long, wild ride.”

The ride to Lonavala was uneventful, tension running quiet beneath the surface.

The three vehicles shadowing Kabir’s SUV kept up a rotating formation, switching positions every few kilometers—just enough to blend in, never sticking out long enough to be remembered. No sudden moves, no tail too obvious.

They had the address. They didn’t need to chase. They just needed to stay invisible.

Finally, Kabir’s SUV turned off the main road, taking a smaller, dimly lit lane lined with dense foliage. At the end of it, large wrought iron gates stood waiting, closed and still.

The vehicle eased toward them. Without hesitation, the gates began to open. He drove through.

The gates shut behind him with a quiet, decisive thud, leaving Virat and Cara parked just beyond their reach, cloaked in darkness.

“Vir,” Ishaan’s voice came over the speaker. Amay and he were in the other vehicles. One with each team of officers.

“Yeah.”

“This is one of the properties we had on our recon list.”

“Noted. Intel?”

“The owners are a shell company based out of the Gulf. They have a guard patrolling every twenty minutes with sniffer dogs. The security system is decent but we can take it down in less than eight minutes.”

Far ahead, past the curve of the driveway, Cara caught sight of the house, sleek and contemporary, its exterior glowing with warm light. Inside and out, it blazed with activity.

She adjusted her earpiece and muttered, “Showtime.”

“We have twenty minutes,” Virat barked, watching the guards patrolling the perimeter with German Shepherd dogs. “Let’s get to it.”

“On it,” Vikram muttered before calling his associates and passing on instructions.

On the screen, Kabir had gotten out of his car and told his guards to stay with the vehicle.

He straightened his suit and walked towards the large house.

The door slid open automatically, revealing no one standing on the other side.

Kabir stepped through the open door and into the house, the door sliding shut behind him.

“Shourya, jam their security protocols, take them down, cameras, automation, everything.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Twenty minutes less the eight to take the security down,” Virat said almost to himself. “We’re cutting it fine.”

“Vir,” Cara inhaled sharply, her gaze on the screen.

A large hall with gilt edge furniture filled the frame of Kabir’s camera.

As they watched, a figure appeared, covered from head to foot in a black, hooded cloak, a black mask obscuring the top half of his face.

With one hand, the figure pointed to the black robe Kabir held in one hand.

Kabir shrugged into it, pulling it on over the suit, making sure to let the lapels gape open so it didn’t obscure the camera.

The robed figure wordlessly gestured for Kabir to follow.

Kabir followed the figure out of the hall and down a long corridor that was lit by sconces.

“Shourya,” Virat said quietly. “Time to deactivate?”

“Five minute window, Sir.”

On the screen, Kabir walked to the end of the corridor. A grand, double door stood, firmly shut. The figure that had led him there, disappeared in the direction they’d come from.

Cara wrapped a hand around Virat’s bicep, her nails digging into it as she stared at the screen.

The doors swung open into pitch darkness. Kabir took a hesitant step forward, the doors slammed shut behind him, closing him into the dark. From the depths of that darkness, an electronically distorted voice boomed.

“The Sons of Andhaka welcome you, Kabir Raizada.”