Working for Him...

Chap.17

Two updates in one day? Blimey I'm on a roll aren't I?

haha

Enjoy x

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“Anaya,” I stroke Anaya’s hair as we sit on the edge of her bed, “please tell me what happened.”

“I don't want to talk about it,” she shakes her head and looking at me with eyes filled with anger she says, “and I don't want to talk to you so please, get lost.”

“Please just tell me and then I’ll go I promise but you have got to tell me what happened, who you were with, where if you know...please,” I plead, needing to know who is behind all of this, who Hassan is working for.

“I have nothing to tell you apart from that I never want to see you again, please get out.”

“What has gotten into you?”

“I am tired of this shit!” Anaya yells.

“What shit?”

“Everything,” she whispers, not being able to put on a front anymore, “everything, I’m so tired of it all, I can’t do this shit anymore.”

“What can’t you do?” Realising that there is more to it than finding out who Hassan’s boss is and also how frightened Anaya looks, I plead again, “Please.”

“He threatened me, he said that if I utter a word to anyone about any of this I’ll be putting many people in danger, I’ll be putting myself in danger. Isra I trust you enough to tell you, but please keep this information to yourself; Melissa is heavily pregnant she doesn’t need to know anything, Marc has just gotten married, he and Amanda don't need to know and Dayyaan is one of the best human beings in the world, he doesn’t need to know,”

“I understand,” I motion for her to continue.

“He said that I should be prepared, he promised not to hurt me but if I make any stupid moves then he won't hesitate to punish me. I mean, I'm scared but if me being hurt means that everyone else is safe then...I don't care, he can do whatever to me for all I know.”

“He...who’s ‘he’?”

“I can’t...I can’t tell you but please Isra,”

“I won't say a word to anyone but are you sure you can’t tell me who he-“

“He’s planning on telling you himself, the plan is that I will somehow make sure that you visit the park when it’s dark and he would show up later, but I wouldn’t be there.”

“It’s already dark.”

“We should be there by now.”

“You don't have to come,”

“But what if-“

“I’ll be fine, I promise,” I get up to leave but stop and turn back to Anaya, “And Anaya?”

“Yeah?”

“Take care of yourself,” she nods, “I mean it...”

"My dad."

"What about him?"

"He said that my dad is the cause of all this..."

**

I don't intend on wasting any time, I made my way to the park as fast as I could. Pulling my sleeves over my hands, I continue sitting on the bench, looking around for ‘he’. I ponder over who ‘he’ could be as I continue to wait. Who could it possibly be?

It’s not Marc, it’s not Dayyaan, it’ not Hassan... “What other man is close to me?”

Zayn.

It must be Zayn, right? It makes sense. He’s married to Melissa which is probably the easiest way he can get to Marc. He’s going to be the father of Marc’s niece or nephew, Marc probably considers him part of the family, without a doubt. So why wouldn’t Zayn be the ‘he’ that Anaya was talking about? Because, who else could ‘he’ be?

Maybe...

My thoughts come to a stop as a figure stands over me, looking up I see “Jamal.”

My heart beat speeds up involuntarily and with a sense of foreboding, I stand up.

“’tis I,” he nods, evilly may I add.

“It’s you isn’t it?” I ask, feeling betrayed, angry and so, so stupid. How could I not know that it was Jamal behind it all?

His smile turns into a smirk as he looks over my shoulder and before I can look behind me his rough hand is over my lips and his arm tightly around my waist, dragging me out of the park. Soon I am pushed into a car. He ties my hands behind me with a tight rope and places a cloth between my teeth.

“Don't make a sound,” he orders. I give him a flat look, how the hell was I supposed to make any sound when I had some stupid crap on my mouth stopping me from doing so? Honestly.

He peers in the rear-view mirror and starts the car, soon after another man enters the car, sitting beside me. He has a hood over his face and because it was already dark outside, I couldn’t make it out properly.

I try and scoot as far from him as I can, Jamal locks the car as I do so, probably thinking I might try and escape like say I know how to. I mean, I’ve only seen kidnapping in films so I’m new to this crap. I lean my head against the cold window, deep in thought.  I won't try to escape anyway, as stupid as that may sound, maybe this is what I deserve. Maybe I need to get away from everyone and stop being a burden: to Neha, to my mother, to baba, to Kashif. The list is endless.

From the corner of my eye I see the man beside me peering at me, trying to make sure that I don't see his face I guess. Why he’d be trying to hide from me, I don't know.

He clears his throat, “We’re here.”

I stare at him, literally unable to say anything. Wallahi I can be so clueless at times, how could I not realise that it was Hassan. He stares at me, apologetic. I can’t make out why and I don't get the chance to as he is opening my door and helping me out moments later. Jamal is nowhere to be seen and I couldn’t care less as I try and figure out where we are.

There is barely enough light but just enough to make out the large building, warehouse, in front of us. Hassan grabs my wrist rather gently for someone that’s supposed to be evil. I peer up at him and he all but avoids eye contact.

He leads me towards the entrance and inside the building. Once inside he lets go of me and switches the light on.

I spot a chair and don't hesitate in sitting on it. When Hassan sees this he raises an eyebrow at me, amused. I mirror his expression but rather than being amused, I keep a straight face.

“You haven’t changed Ali,” he bends down to remove the cloth over my lips.

“What do you mean by that?” I ask, finding it weird being able to speak again. “And where is Jamal?”

“He should be back in a bit,” he hands me a bottle of water which I rudely shove out of my face.

“I’m not thirsty, I want answers,” I demand, “And I want actual, non-confusing, answers.”

He laughs, “Okay, ask away.”

“Hold the questions, habibty,” Jamal stands at the entrance.

I don't feel scared or small at the sight of him, just irritated, “Exactly what is it that you want with me?”

“I need you to do something for me.”

“And that is?”

“I want you to poison Marc.”

Oh my.