Chapter Five, Part Two

Part Two

Oliver drew back and then to the right, bypassing car after car, circling the guy until he was behind him, two rows away.

Inching forward, Oliver advanced, never taking his eyes off the man.

One row down, one more to go. Oliver came close, his black leather dress shoes making no sound on the interlocking stones below.

And then, he was directly behind him, able to see the folds of fat in the back of his neck.

The accomplice swung around, surprised to see a white man standing right behind him. His brows merged, his eyes started to narrow and then Oliver smiled.

“Hello sir, can you tell me if I’m in the International Conference Centre?”

The man’s face relaxed slightly. He eyed Oliver. “Yes, yes, you are.”

“Thank you very much, sir.”

And as the man began to turn back to face the entrance of the park, Oliver dug his hand into his jacket, pulled out a gun and rammed it into the guy’s flabby side.

The man froze, eyes round. Uncomprehending. Scared.  He mumbled, “What?”

“Give me the detonator now.”

“I don’t know-”

“Don’t tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about because I’m not in the mood. I’m hot and I’m angry and my fingers are itching to blow your fat stomach into smithereens. Give me the detonator. Tell me where the bomber is.”

The man’s eyes roamed the park, searching for help.

Oliver leaned in close, sticking the muzzle of the gun deeper into his side. He flicked the safety.

“Oh God, Oh God, save me.” The man dissolved into a blubbering heap, tears leaking from his eyes and down his cheeks.

“You’re a coward, just like every other terrorist. Tell me what I want to know.  Now!”

“Okay, okay.” The terrorist wagged his head. “I-I’ll tell you b-but it won’t really help. She… She h-has orders to d-detonate the bomb if she doesn’t h-hear from me in five minutes.”

***

“Hot Chocolate, you’re looking very pleased with yourself. What have you done?” Tari said, grinning at Dare.

Dare stretched his legs out and shook his head, struggling not to smile. He said, “I don’t know what you mean, Tari.” The taste of Wumi remained on his tongue. And he could still smell her scent even though she was backstage and he was here.

“Yeah right.” she jacked up an eyebrow.

Tari was sitting on Dare’s right, in the front row. On her right were three empty chairs. Music was blasting from hidden speakers. People were taking their designated seats. Voices raised in greeting rang all around them.

“Do you think they’ll be here in time to catch the show?” Dare asked, glancing at Tari.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I hope so.”

“What do you know about this threat?”

“Not much.”

“Come on, Tari. You’re dating one of them. Didn’t Steven tell you anything?”

“All he told me was that some Boko Haram fanatics wanted to infiltrate this event and cause some mayhem.”

“Like a bomb?” Dare stared at Tari.

“He didn’t say bomb, actually.” She sighed, then said, “I trust Steven and Oliver and Kema. They’ll take care of everything.”

Dare wiped his face with his hand. God help them all.

Tari tugged at his arm. “Hey, lighten up. We’ll be fine. How’s everything at the Lagos office?”

“Same old.” Dare muttered. He added, “Sometimes I miss the time I spent working here.”

“Of course you do, because you miss working with your best friend.”

He grinned at her. “Yes, I do.” Amazing how his forced transfer to Abuja had led to him gaining a new best friend. It took Wumi months before she could finally accept his relationship with Tari.

He remembered the day Tari had strolled into his office, calling him ‘Hot Chocolate’ and asking for his underwear size. He had thought she was nuts. His opinion hadn’t changed much since then. And maybe that was why she was the only woman in the world who could influence Steven Braithwaite.

“I miss you too.” She squeezed his arm. “Hot Chocolate.”

“Will you ever stop calling me that?”

“Never. Don’t fight it. Go with the flow.”

“You know Wumi hates the name.”

“Awesome.”

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Chapter Five, Part One

Part One

With his eyes on the man in the white caftan, Steven pulled his phone out of his jacket inner pocket. The man ahead of him was a senator in the House of Representatives. As well as a traitor and a Boko Haram collaborator.

Dialing Oliver, Steven trailed behind the senator, watching him leave the hall through the doors, swerve to the right and go down a corridor.

“Hey.” Oliver came on the line. “Do you have eyes on the senator?”

“Yes. He’s heading east.”

Honorable Bala Adoo paused in front of a wooden door on the left. He pushed it open and entered.

Steven murmured into the phone, “He’s in the gents. I’ll just go up and make his acquaintance.”

“Great. Let me know what he has to say.”

“Sure thing, bro.” Steven ended the call and walked into the room.

The man was in front of the urinal, fiddling with his trousers.

At Steven’s approach, the senator glanced up automatically, and then nodded blankly in greeting.

Steven nodded a response and started to pass behind him, as if he was heading to the next urinal.

Head bowed, the senator returned to working on his trousers.

Too easy.

Steven shot his arm out and using the side of his right hand, slammed it into the back of the senator’s neck.

He fell forward, crying out.

In seconds, Steven was upon him. He hooked his right arm around the man’s neck, pressing against his throat, jerking him backward. With his left hand, Steven captured his prisoner’s right arm, twisting it up and behind his back.

His trouser tumbled to his ankles, exposing dirty white briefs. The senator screamed in pain and shame. Sweat oozed out of his pores, his eyes jumped crazily.

He struggled to croak, “W-what d-do you w-want?”

“Thanks for asking.” Steven said, grinning. “We know you’re working with Boko Haram-”

“N-no! I-I s-s-swear, I’m not.”

Shaking his head, Steven continued, “Sure you are. We know.”

“I s-swear, I-I’m not-”

“Hush now. Tell me where your partner is. The one with the remote detonator.”

“I d-don’t k-know…”

Steven laughed, and then whispered into the man’s ear, “Thanks for making this fun.”

And then he shoved the man straight into one of the wall-mounted mirrors.

***

Right in front of the double entrance doors, Oliver paced. What was taking Steven so long?

Every minute, more and more guests flooded in. The place was filling up. They were running out of time.

He peered at his Bulgari watch for what seemed like the zillionth time.

His phone buzzed. Oliver blew out air in relief and answered the call.

“What took you so long?” Oliver asked.

“He was shy.” Steven said. Then, “His accomplice is at the car-park. A fat man with a full beard, wearing white. He says he’ll be easy to spot.”

“Okay, I’m on my way.” Oliver cut the connection and headed toward the area. Once he was out of sight from the VIPs exiting their cars, he broke into a jog.

The harsh African midday sun reigned in the sky, bathing the earth with its heat. The hot air fanned his face.

Other guests, those not fortunate to be dropped off at the entrance, strolled toward the entrance. A few of them stared at him as he passed by. They were probably thinking: ‘Who is this oyibo man in a suit and why is he running in the heat?’

A few minutes later, Oliver arrived at the park.

His gaze skimmed the area and then zoomed in on one individual lingering at the edge of the car-park: A heavy-set, full-bearded man, clothed in white: white shirt and trousers, eying his watch. Got you.

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Chapter Four, Part Two

Part Two

Perched on the edge of his seat, Oliver's fingers tapped and tapped his thighs. Come on, Kema.

"Hey, bro. Where's your lady?"

Oliver glanced up. Steven and Tari had arrived. He jumped up.

"Backstage. With the others." He replied to Steven, smiling at Tari. "How do you manage to look more beautiful every time I see you?" He bent over to kiss her cheek.

"I'll never tell." She murmured cheekily, grinning up at him.

"It's great to be back here, to see you."

"So sweet. As always, Oliver, you know just what to say."

Oliver asked, “How’s baby Korede Alexander?”

“Perfect. The epitome of cuteness. Just like his mother.” Tari teased, eying Steven. He rolled his eyes. “And your daughter, Lisa?”

“She’s vacationing with my dad and mom in Miami. I spoke to her this morning. She’s having a glorious time.”

Steven said, “She needs a brother… or a sister.”

Oliver narrowed his eyes at his friend. “We know. Shut it.”

Steven chuckled. Tari grinned.

Steering his girlfriend to her chair, Steven said, "Babe, are you okay to wait? I don't want to leave you-"

"Shush." Tari patted his lips with an index finger as she slid into the chair. "I'll be okay. And anyway, I'm sure Dare will join me as soon as he can extricate himself from his woman."

"Are you sure?" Steven asked, gazing down at her with tawny-gold laser orbs.

She waved him away, rolling her eyes. "I'm sure."

Steven grinned at her. "Don't roll your eyes at me."

She stuck out her tongue.

Taking a step closer, Steven drawled, "Do that again and I'll take that tongue in my mouth, here, in front of everyone and I won't let go."

Oliver faked a clearing of his throat. He said, "Take it easy, you two."

Steven chuckled. Ripping his eyes away from his girlfriend, he glanced up, catching sight of Kema. "Kema!"

"Steven!" Curling her right hand into a fist, she bumped it against his rolled fist.

Oliver shook his head at the two of them.

Kema said to Steven, "You're late."

"Only by a few minutes."

"Umhmm. Right."

"I love the pantsuit... but then, you look perfect in whatever you wear." Steven murmured, beaming widely.

"Way to change the subject." Kema murmured and then glanced down at Tari.

She said, "Hello, Tari dear," and leaned over to embrace her.

Pulling back, Kema let her eyes travel over Tari, lingering on her feet in six-inch peep-toe heels. "Your clothes and your shoes are lovely but I don't understand how you and Wumi manage to walk in these heels."

Kema flicked a glance at her own platform pumps with two-inch heels. "These are the highest I can wear without toppling over."

Tari laughed. She said, "Fortunately you don't need them. You are the only woman who always looks incredible in flats."

Kema smiled, squeezing Tari's shoulder. "We'll chat later."

Flapping a hand at the three of them, Tari said, "I know. You guys have work to do. Go, save the world."

Oliver strode out, trailed by Steven and Kema. They passed through the hall double doors and into the foyer.

Stopping, and swerving to face the other two, Oliver said, "So. We need to agree on our plan."

Kema bit her lips, brow furrowing. She muttered, "What do we know? Our source in Boko Haram revealed that a senator in the House of Representatives, Honorable Bala Adoo is working with them. He's given the guy in charge of remotely detonating the bomb access to this compound. But we don't know who that guy is. And we don't know who the bomber is, or where he is. Correct, so far?"

"Yeah." Steven nodded. Removing his phone from his jacket pocket, he pressed the screen. A photograph of a man filled the screen. "But we know the good senator. I'll find him and talk with him."

"And once you get the information we need, give me a call. I'll locate the other guy." Oliver said.

"What about the bomber?" Kema asked, eyes flying from one man to the other.

"We'll handle that after."

"No." Kema shook her head. "I'll handle him."

"No!" Oliver exploded, glaring at his wife.

"What? So you think I can't help out?" She snapped, glowering at him, fists clenched at her sides. Gosh, Oliver could be so infuriating sometimes.

Oliver stared at Kema and then his eyes darted to Steven. "Help me out, bro."

Folding his arms over his wide chest, Steven muttered, averting his best friend's gaze. "Um, you're on your own there."

"What?" Oliver glared at Steven.

"Look, bro. At some point, you have to let her do some of the things we do. She's been trained, she's super intelligent..."

"But Steven, we're dealing with a bomb."

"I'll take care of it." Kema eyed Oliver. "And if I sense things are getting out of hand, you'll be my first call, okay?"

Oliver took in a deep breath. He muttered, "Okay. But be careful."

"I'm always careful."

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Chapter Four, Part One

Part One

I hate this… I really do.” Wumi muttered, eyes zooming around the room. “I haven’t walked a runway in over five years. It’s a little nerve-racking. I’m a modeling agent now, no more a model. Why did I agree to be the star of Yaya’s show? Why, why? I’m struggling to calm my nerves. I don’t know if I can do this.”

Dare stared at her. Damn, she was freaking out. He had to do something. Stretching out his hand to hers, he said, “Come with me.”

Her smooth forehead rumpled. She gazed up at him. “What? Where?”

He put one index finger to his lips. “Shh.” He whispered.

Wumi eyed her fiancé. He had a mischievous glint in his eyes.

She asked, “Where are we going? You know I have to be made-up and dressed in about twenty minutes.”

“We’ll be back before then. Trust me.”

“O-okay…” She took his hand and allowed her to lead her, past the racks of clothes and shoes, past the kitchen and to a door marked with the word ‘Toilet’ and the symbol of a woman.

As he pushed open the door and led her to a stall, she murmured, “This is the ladies, baby.”

He grinned, his white teeth flashing. “I know.” He said and drew her into the stall and shut the door behind them.

Pointing at the toilet seat cover, Dare ordered, “Sit.”

She plunked down on it, skin tingling with excitement. She loved it when he became all macho.

He went down on his knees before her, positioning himself between her thighs. As he yanked at the belt of the bathrobe, Wumi’s stomach churned. She could guess what he wanted to do and her whole body clamored for it.

Dragging the robe off her body, Dare gawked at her. That sleek mocha skin, those enormous breasts and prominent nipples, her flat belly and the triangle of soft hair between her legs.

He pushed her legs apart, breathing hard.

Wumi gazed down at him, reveling in the sight of his shaven head, the trace of sweat on his forehead and those sexy, dreamy chocolate-brown eyes taking her in.

She could even see his massive erection. Gosh, he was hot. And all hers.

Being here with him, in the toilet stall, reminded her of the first time they had had sex. They had been at a party in a hotel. She had pursued him to a room, intending to explain why she had also brought her then boyfriend to the party but they had ended up making love there and then. She couldn’t resist him then and now, she didn’t want to.

Dare placed his mouth on her sex and sucked.

Wumi groaned, arching her back, spreading her legs wider as his tongue glided into her vagina, licking and circling and then licking and circling some more…

Clutching his head in between her hands, Wumi closed her eyes. “Yes, baby… yes, yes, yes…”

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Chapter Three, Part Two

Part Two

Folding her arms over her chest, Wumi went back to sink into the chair.

With one eye on his fiancée, Dare asked, “These terrorists… are they Boko Haram?”

Kema shrugged. “We’re not sure.”

“Do they actually plan to bomb this building?” Wumi asked, eyes bright.

Shaking her head, Kema lied, “I doubt it. It might just be rumors but we have to check it out.” She smiled, allowing the smile to reach her eyes and drive out the tension and stress, “You shouldn’t worry. Nothing will happen.”

Throwing her head back and glowering at the ceiling, Wumi murmured, “Why did they choose this show…my first show in years… Oh God…”

“Well… a lot of influential and prominent people are attending…” Dare said, “The Vice President, the Minster for Tourism, dignitaries from UNESCO, officials from the embassies…”

Wumi lowered her head to glare at him. “I know that. What I mean is… why must it be the one last fashion show where I get to walk again as a model after my retirement years ago?”

Dare stuck both his hands into his trouser pockets and said, “No-one knows, baby. But like Kema said, everything will be alright, right?” He glanced at Kema.

She nodded. “Yes, it will.”

Wumi directed her gaze at Kema. She said, “I hope there are no surprises for the 12^th and 13^th of February, my maid of honor?”

Kema laughed. “None. It’ll be a perfect day. Don’t worry.”

Dare placed a hand on Wumi’s shoulder. “Everything will go as planned on our traditional engagement ceremony and church wedding, baby. Your brother, my best man, Jasper, calls me every day to discuss wedding plans. He’s excited, to say the least. And our friends are prepared.”

Wumi pursed her lips. “Our wedding has been a long time coming and I won’t let anything ruin it.”

“Nothing will ruin it, Wumi.” Kema said, beaming. Her wide, joyful eyes met her friend’s and Wumi’s eyes contracted.

“Hmm, there’s something about you… You’re glowing…” Wumi murmured, tipping forward to stare in Kema’s face.

“I am?” Kema muttered. Yikes. Wumi had eyes like an eagle.

“What’s making you glow? Tell me now.”

“Wumi, I’ve got to go. I promise, we’ll gossip after the show.”

Waving at them, Kema added, “Bye, my friends. Wumi, we’ll all be there to watch you when you come on the runway, I promise. ” and she escaped.

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The Unhinged Book Series; Book 1, 2, and 3 will be out this 2016. Find out more at the Unhinged Books page

Chapter Three, Part One

Part One

Thirty year old Wumi Osoba settled deeper into the swivel chair, winding her arms over her ample breasts barely covered by the white bathrobe she wore. Her braided hair was piled up on the top of her head and secured with pins. One leg was crossed over the other and her left slippered foot danced nervously. She wound her gold and diamond engagement ring round and round the third finger of her right hand.

The man standing beside her tilted down and wrapped his arms around her. Nuzzling her neck, he whispered, “Stop worrying, Wumi. It’ll be okay.”

She stared up into her fiancé’s dark chocolate, love-filled eyes. Stroking his lean face with one hand, she said, “Babe, I’m trying. But I can’t help it.”

Dare DaSilva said, “We will get through this show and it will be the best you’ve ever done.”

“I really hope you’re right. But this terrorist threat…”

“It may be only a threat, nothing more. Would the organizers have allowed the show to go on if they were sure of a definite attack?”

She gasped. Her eyes widened. “Of course they won’t. You’re right. And Kema didn’t give us a lot of information. So maybe… it really isn’t such a big deal. After all there are lots of police officers here.”

“Exactly.”

***

After displaying her backstage pass to the tree-trunk bouncer standing guard at the entrance, Kema stepped in and then stopped.

The whole place was a hub of frenzied activity. Make-up artists and hairstylists worked on some of the models, leaving the others to roam the room, looking bored. Press people and photographers scuttled about, taking pictures and doing on-the-spot interviews.

Kema’s eyes zipped across the room.

Ah, there they were. Wumi and her fiancé, Dare.

As Kema watched, they moved apart.

He straightened up, tall and built like a bodyguard, clothed in a sky-blue native-style linen shirt and trousers.

And then Wumi glanced down at her lap, one hand tugging her right ear.

Kema frowned.

They had been best friends for over ten years and knew almost everything about each other. Kema could tell that her friend was feeling stressed. She did that thing with her ear whenever she was anxious. And, OMG, Wumi did not do pressure – at all.

About two years ago, her father, the billionaire Chief Osoba, and the rest of her family had pressured her to marry another guy and dump Dare. Her stepmother had even gone so far as to have Dare demoted from his position as a Senior Producer in Glow Force Media in Lagos and then relocated to the Abuja office.

To put it mildly, Wumi had not taken it well.

***

 “Hello, beautiful people.” Kema said as she advanced on both Wumi and Dare.

Wumi glanced up and grinned. Kema had arrived. Thank God. She sprang up and grabbed her friend, enveloping the smaller woman in a hug.

“I’m glad you’re here. I was going crazy.”

“I know.” Kema muttered dryly, rolling her eyes at Wumi.

Wumi drew back, smiling down at her friend. “I’m not as fearless as you.”

“Right. Sometimes…”

“Kema…” Dare came closer, holding out his arms.

She smiled at him, extricating herself from her friend’s grip and then went to him. They embraced.

“Dare, how are you doing?”

“I’m fine, Kema. Nice to see you again. It’s been a while.”

“I know… I’ve been busy with Oliver, with Olympus Security-”

“Are the rest here?” Wumi cut in. She had invited all her friends to this show two weeks ago and they had all promised to attend. Then only two hours ago, Kema had called saying something about receiving a tip-off about a security threat concerning the show. What horrible, horrible luck. Argh. This better not happen on her wedding day. Better not.

Kema left Dare and turned to her friend. “Well, I’m here with Oliver. And I guess Steven and Tari are close by.”

“You can’t expect bad boy Steven to ever be punctual.” Dare muttered. He really didn’t like Steven that much. Every time the two of them met, Steven always made sure to refer to Dare as ‘kid’ even though there was only a seven year age difference between them. Why did he have to keep harping on it? Was he subtly trying to remind Dare that at thirty, Wumi was three years older?

Smiling slightly, Dare remembered what he had heard some time ago that long before he and Tari came into the picture, Steven had once asked Wumi out and she had rejected him. Bet he didn’t like that!

Wumi chuckled at Dare’s comment.

Kema said, “He’s not that bad. Tari has been a stabilizing influence. Anyway… I’ve got to go. I have to return to Oliver.”

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Chapter Two, Part Two

Part Two

Kema glanced up into the light blue sky, shutting her eyes for a moment and breathing in the cool late-morning air. A smile decorated her mouth. Nothing could spoil this day for her. Today she was sure. It was really happening.

At last!

She couldn’t wait to tell Oliver. He would be overjoyed and then probably become even more protective. But today… she was invincible. She wouldn’t die today and neither would anyone else.

The doors swung open. A female usher, carrying a clipboard, in a white shirt over a green African print skirt stepped forward. She beamed at them.

“Good morning, sir… madam… Welcome. Your names, please?”

Tapping her chest, Kema said, “I’m Kema Constantino.” She inclined her head at her husband. “He’s Oliver Constantino.”

The usher consulted her clipboard. Seconds later, she lifted her head, her smile even wider. “You’re both in the front row, on the right. Please go straight through into the hall.”

Walking on the marbled floor, through the lobby and into the hall, Oliver glanced at Kema. Her eyes gleamed intelligently, shoulders up, marching like she feared nothing and no-one.

He had always admired her boldness and her single-minded focus. How many people could transit from a career as a web developer to that of a security agent and private investigator? Only Kema.

But this new career had nearly gotten her killed twice.

Grinning up at him, she murmured, “Baby, you have to stop worrying about me.” He tended to take things extra-seriously, sometimes acting older than his thirty-six years. Totally different from his loose-cannon best friend and business partner, Steven who was just two years younger.

“I can’t help it.” Oliver muttered, his gaze scanning the huge room.

Rows and rows of orange chairs formed a semi-circle around a black runway. The name Yaya Obo in large silver letters formed a backdrop to the catwalk. White light shone down on them from overhead bulbs.

The hall was gradually filling up with both Nigerians and foreigners. Black-uniformed policemen loitered at various corners of the room. Where was the bomber? Was he already sitting somewhere, among these unsuspecting people?

“Come, let’s head to our seats.” Kema said, tugging at her husband’s hand.

Following, Oliver murmured, “We have to get to work. We don’t have long.”

“I know, baby. I only want to say a quick hi to Wumi, let her know we’re here. Just two minutes.”

“Fine.” Oliver said, perching on the edge of one of the chairs on the front row. “I’ll be here. Tell her I’ll see her after the show...” He paused and added, “Hopefully…”

Kema raised one eyebrow, glowering at her man. “We will see her after the show.”

Oliver shook his head, and then smiled. She was right. They would sort everything out, as they always did. “Yes, we will.” He said softly, staring into Kema’s perfect face. He couldn’t wait to kiss those lips again, to taste that mouth and do more, so much more.

With a saucy wink, she pivoted around and headed backstage to meet Wumi, her best friend.

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Chapter Two, Part One

Part One

Oliver Constantino shook his head at his wife, Kema striding up to the double glass doors of the International Conference Centre ahead of him. He had been deliberately lagging behind, waiting for the right moment to slow her down and to try once more to convince her to sit this one out.

But instead, she was marching forward, eyes straight, honey-blond Mohawk haircut as fierce as ever.

She passed the flag stand bearing aloft the Nigerian Green-White-Green flag and approached the main entrance.

His eyes narrowed as his gaze descended to her tiny waist and further down to her enticing, heart-attack-inducing wide hips that her burgundy jumpsuit just couldn’t conceal no matter how hard it tried.

He felt an answering throb in his groin. Damn. As anxious as he was for her, his body couldn’t resist the swing of those hips.

Forcing his eyes off her backside, he swallowed air. Damn. This was serious. There was a suicide bomber somewhere in this building, intent on blowing them all to paradise. And all she wanted to do was to charge in there and find the bomber. Didn’t she understand how serious this was? She could get killed. Hundreds of people could get killed.

He didn’t care about himself. His business was a dangerous one and almost every day he put his life at risk but her life was the most precious thing in the world to him. He couldn’t lose her. No. Never.

They arrived at the doors.

Kema halted, raising her eyes to Oliver. At five-two, she usually found herself glancing up at her six-two husband.

A second later, he reached her, lips curled.

Kema rolled her eyes. She could guess what his problem was. He didn’t want her to work this investigation. Well, he couldn’t stop her. She was also a trained security agent, although maybe not as well-trained as he, but still.

Grabbing his rock-hard upper arm, she flashed him a smile. “Stop frowning, baby. We’re here. I’m not leaving.”

“Baby, I know you want to help, but this is a bomb… a bomb.” Oliver said, his forehead creasing.

“I know it’s a bomb, of course! But I also know that we’ll find the bomber in time, defuse the situation and be able to relax and watch Wumi sashay down the catwalk.”

“Well, I hope so.”

She stared at him. Gosh, she loved this man. He was her first lover and would be her last. She had waited until three years ago when she was thirty years old to have sex for the first time and it had been worth it, with Oliver. 

It sometimes still felt unreal. She had thought she would end up with her ex boyfriend, Ikenna until she came face to face with this dapper, extremely handsome Italian-American guy and her whole world turned upside down. 

He looked good enough to eat in another of his smart bespoke black suits, with a black shirt, dark-blue tie and a dark-blue pocket square visible in the front pocket of his jacket. He wore his black hair brushed back from his forehead and his beautiful hunter-green eyes peeked out from under his long lashes.

They had been married for nearly three years, working together in his company for roughly the same time. To think she had almost walked out on him when she discovered what he had done in South Africa to those young men. Yes, those men hadn’t been innocents. They had raped and killed a girl, yes. Some would say they deserved what they got.

But she had chosen to stand by Oliver, although, on some rare occasions, she still found it hard to swallow what Oliver and Steven had done to those young rapists.

But she had pushed such thoughts deep, deep inside her, where no light could reach because she knew that despite his faults, Oliver was a good man.

He was a wonderful husband, loving, generous, patient. He was a great father to his ten year old daughter, Lisa he had with his ex-girlfriend, Amy.

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Chapter One, Part Two

Part Two

Steven’s gaze slid from her face to her slim, delightfully shapely, milk chocolate-skinned body draped in a yellow Grecian-style dress. Her skin glowed even more, highlighted by the yellow, flawless and perfect.

How did he get so lucky? He had known many, many, many beautiful women but Tari was something… otherworldly.  With a flick of her tongue over her lips, or the batting of her lashes, he was reduced to a ball of raw need. Brought to his knees before her.

He would do anything for her.  He shut his eyes briefly, remembering the day when he had heard she had been kidnapped because of what he… and Oliver… had done those years ago in South Africa.

She could have been murdered. And it would have been his fault. He had very nearly lost the only woman he had ever loved who was also the mother of his son. Oh God.

But amazingly, she had forgiven him. She had seen the dark regions within his heart and yet, she had stayed. How many women would have done that? He only knew of two; his Tari and his best friend’s wife, Kema.

“Tari Johnson…” He murmured, releasing her hand to sweep his hand over the mass of loose curls framing her heart-shaped face.

Bending over, he pressed his lips on her silky-smooth forehead, at the same time, inhaling her perfume. Mmmm… Jasmine and orange blossom.  The smell jumped from his nose to his organ between his legs. It stirred.

“Tari… you drive me crazy…” he whispered. “I can’t get enough of you.”

She glanced at his pink, full lips. Her heart thudded. She whispered, “Same for me.”

Darting a glance forward to the burly, bald headed driver at the wheel, she breathed in deep, fighting to bring her body under control.

They were on their way to the International Conference Centre to meet with their friends, Dare, Oliver and Kema at a fashion show, mostly to support the star of the runway, Dare’s girlfriend, Wumi.

Steven’s tongue traced a path from her forehead to her left ear. Alternately licking and kissing behind her ear, he felt her body tremble.

Her hand gripped his thigh, kneading.

“Steven…” Tari murmured, flicking a glance at the driver, “We’re in a car.”

“I know.” He drawled and then sucked on her earlobe.

Unable to stop herself, Tari moaned. Her body hungered for his touch. Her pulse skyrocketed.

Steven’s right hand grasped her knee. Then he tore his mouth away from her ear to glare at the driver through the rearview mirror. “Akin, keep your eyes on the road.”

“Yes sir. Of course, sir.” Akin replied; face impassive, eyes focused on the road. He was not just an Olympus Security driver, but also a trained bodyguard, wholly loyal to Steven.

Returning his mouth to her ear, Steven whispered, “Don’t worry about Akin.” He pushed her dress up to the middle of her thigh. “Did you wear panties?”

Tari’s eyes opened. “Yes… Steven… Don’t.”

Chuckling, he nudged her legs apart slightly. His hot breath on her neck and ear sent fiery tingles down her spine. His hand slipped in between her thighs, reached her silk panties.

Tari’s fingers dug into his lap.  Her breathing accelerated.

She groaned. “Steven… no.”

“Tari, yes.” He whispered huskily, digging his hot tongue into her ear as his fingers shoved aside her panties, entered her core and captured her clitoris.

“Steven… oh yes…” Tari whispered, closing her eyes, abandoning herself to his touch.

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The Unhinged Book Series; Book 1, 2, and 3 will be out this 2016. Find out more at the Unhinged Books page