Chapter Ten

It was nearly ten P.M. when Oliver and Kema were able to get back to their room. They had ridden up in the elevator with Dare and Wumi who had come off first. Steven and Tari were the first to leave the restaurant, claiming they were rushing back to see their baby.

Kema stuck the key-card in and pushed the door to their hotel room open. She walked in, Oliver right behind her.

The instant the door shut after them, Oliver veered on Kema, pressing her to the wall by the door with his big body.

She stared up into his eyes, flaming, vivid eyes, with pupils dilated. Automatically, damp heat gathered between her thighs.

“Why didn’t you drink any of the champagne? I watched you all night. You didn’t drink one drop.”

Kema smiled. She murmured, “Sometimes I forget how observant you are.” Gulping air into her lungs, she added, “Oliver, I’m… we… are pregnant.”

His eyes expanded and he staggered backward. His voice shook. “What? H-how far along?”

“Over two months.”

“Two months! Kema. Why didn’t you-”

“I wanted to be sure. After that scare I had, remember? …I had to make sure, before I told you. But, baby…” framing his face with her hands, she whispered, “I’m sure now. We’re going to have a baby.”

“Kema… I’m… Kema, we’re going to have our own child… together… I’m… speechless…”

Kema laughed softly. He looked like a small boy, eager, galvanized. Like Santa Claus had just presented him with the world.

“I’m overcome, baby…” He murmured.

“Yes, I noticed.” She giggled.

And as he stared down at her, the wonder in his eyes magnified and transformed into flaming arousal. His gaze zoomed in on her lips.

With a groan, he swooped down on her, imprisoning her mouth with his.

She raised her face to his, giving him full access to her mouth. Her body hummed, on the verge of bursting into song.

He devoured her. She let him.

Their tongues melded into one. And then the warmth from their linked mouths surged throughout her blood, to her nerve endings, through to the pores in her skin.

Electrifying her. Making her ravenous.

Her hands flew forward, yanking at his belt, plucking open the button on the waistband of his trousers, and then zipping down.

Oliver’s mouth scorched hers. He reached out for her trousers, tugging them down, over her hips and butt.

Twisting his head to the right, digging inside her mouth with his fiery tongue, he moaned.

Damn. He couldn’t wait one second longer. Powered by an instinct older than time, Oliver’s groin pushed against hers, rotating. He dragged his mouth from hers to gawk at her face and stare into her eyes. 

Breathing like she had run a marathon, Kema took her trousers and panties off completely, abandoning them on the carpet.

Oliver’s trousers fell to his ankles. His thick penis rose, hungry, questing.

He clutched her buttocks, lifting her to his waist.

She wrapped her legs around him and then flinging her arms around his neck, she watched him insert his penis into her hot nub.

“Yessss.” She hissed as he thrust deep into her, his bulk filling her totally.

With eyes shut, mouth open, Oliver flexed his hips, his hard organ pounding into every spot in her vagina.

Oh my, so wet, so tight. He could only moan, “Kema baby, Kema baby…” on and on and on.

Moving in unison with him, Kema felt him quiver. Her legs around him tightened.

And then he opened his eyes, fixing his gaze on her beautiful face. His wife, his soul.

Bringing his mouth near her lips, he whispered, “I love you, Kema, my darling.”

The End

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Chapter Nine, Part Two

Part Two

Through the doorway, two people sauntered in. The woman in a short black dress and high-heeled shoes, the man in a white shirt and black jeans.

Wumi’s eyes met Kema’s. She grinned.

“They’re here.” Kema said.

Steven half-turned to look. He said, “Hey, look who’s late this time.”

Dare and Wumi joined the rest at the table. Wumi said, rolling her eyes, “We’re not late.”

“You guys are staying in this hotel. You should have been here, waiting with Oliver and Kema.” Steven said. And then with a wicked grin, he asked, “Were you making sweet love to each other?”

Tari slapped his arm. “Stop.”

Kema grinned. Oliver shook his head.  Dare and Wumi exchanged glances and then burst into laughter.

“See,” Steven murmured, “I told you.”

Oliver snapped his hand at the waiter. He dashed over, all smiles. “The champagne.” Oliver said.

“Yes, of course, sir.” The man murmured, and departed.

“What are we drinking?” Dare asked.

“Veuve Cliquot. Brut Yellow Label.” Oliver answered.

“Nice.” Dare said.

Oliver glanced around the table. “I thought we should have some champagne and make a few toasts before we order, okay?”

“Good idea.” Steven said. The others nodded.

The waiter returned with a sweating ice-bucket and a bottle of champagne.

“Fill us up.” Wumi said, raising her flute.

“Yes, madam.”

Going round the table, he filled everyone’s glasses, left the bottle and bucket on the table, and withdrew to his post.

Oliver lifted his glass “First, I want to toast my wife and best friend…” inclining his head at Kema and then Steven. “Together, we took out terrorists, disarmed a bomb and saved lives. No-one died today.”

“Hear, hear.” Kema started clapping and the others followed.

Wumi stared, wide-eyed at Dare. She whispered, “So there was a bomb? Thank You, Jesus.”

Everyone raised their glasses and then sipped from them, except Kema. She put the cold drink to her lips, but didn’t swallow.

Oliver eyed her. She smiled. She had a secret to reveal to him, but later, much later when they were both back in their room. That secret had been fueling the feeling of invulnerability that had enveloped her throughout the day.

“To Wumi, for the greatest catwalk in history. She strutted like a supermodel!” Kema said.

“To Wumi!” Dare slipped his hand around Wumi’s shoulders. She grinned.

“To the almost brand-spanking new couple, Dare and Wumi.” Steven added. Dare laughed, nodding at Steven.

“To Wumi and Dare.”

Tari gave her toast. “To friends.”

“Friends.”

“To family.” Wumi added.

“Family.”  They echoed.

“To love.” Dare said, his smile sweeping the table.

“LOVE!”

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Chapter Nine, Part One

Part One

Kema and Oliver sat side by side, backs facing the wall. Across the white-table clothed table, four empty chairs waited. It was past 6 in the evening and the restaurant was sparsely populated. Their table was one of the only five occupied tables.

Not too far away, a waiter dawdled, keeping their table in sight.

Oliver turned to his right, to gawk at his wife. Her golden-brown skin sparkled and glittered in the light from the wall-mounted bulbs. The grey blouse she wore was open at the back, almost to her waist. Those generous hips strained in skin-tight trousers. My, my, my. She was making his mouth water.

It had taken a superhuman effort for him to watch her leave the room, without pushing her down on the bed, undressing her slowly and licking her all over.

He leaned over to whisper, “Maybe we should go back up and forget about dinner.”

She stared at him, eyes wide. “No, babe. The others will soon be here.”

“I’m craving you, right now.” Oliver said, breathing on her neck.

“Babe, we’ll be up in about two hours.”

“It’s torture to wait.” Oliver muttered. His penis swelled and hardened. His breathing intensified. Resting his right hand on her back, reveling in the silky-softness, he bit his lips. His hand traveled down, inch by inch and then stopped.

Kema’s hands on her laps fisted. Her breathing hitched. Gosh, the heat and fire from his hand. Melting her skin.

Oliver’s hand resumed its exploration, sliding past her waist on her right, and moving to the front of her blouse. His hand reached its target. A lace bra.

With a muttered groan, Oliver sneaked his hand underneath the bra and found the thick nipple.

He flicked it, rubbed it between his thumb and index finger. It enlarged.

“Kema…” Oliver’s moan was ragged.

Keeping her face toward the door, Kema placed her left hand on her husband’s sturdy thigh. The hand rose, to between his legs, and then settled on the gargantuan erection itching to burst out of his trousers.

Massaging, stroking.

Oliver’s head dropped, his eyes half-closed. “Kema, baby…”

Then, her hand stopped. She said, “Steven and Tari are here.”

Oliver’s head shot up. Damn. Bad timing. He slipped his hand out from his wife’s bra and left it around her shoulders.

“Hey guys.” Steven said, holding out a chair for Tari. “Where are the other two?”

“On their way here, I presume.” Kema said, smiling and fighting to control her breathing. Her hand still lingered on her husband’s hard-on.

Tari sank into the seat, followed by Steven.

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Chapter Eight, Part Two

Part Two

Tari leveled up, pivoting to face him, an eyebrow raised. “Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Hmmm, promises, promises.” Tari murmured.

Her mother chose that moment to sweep into the room through the open door.

Tari whispered to Steven, “Talk of the angel.”

“Yeah.” He whispered back. Damn. Hope she didn’t hear any of what he had just said.

Tari’s mom was ebony-black, with a short haircut. Only her large eyes, heart-shaped face and proud nose revealed the physical similarities between her and her only daughter. Dressed in a purple and yellow bou-bou, she held out her arms to the baby.

“Go, you two. Have fun.” She smiled up at Steven and Tari. “I can never have enough of Korede. Come on, give him to me.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Steven placed the baby in Mrs. Johnson’s arms.

“Ooh, you’re so cute. Who’s the cutest, most darling baby in the whole, wide world, hmmm?” She lifted him up, leaning him against her shoulder and rubbing his back.

Korede’s hands reached for his grandmother’s lips.

Watching them, Tari smiled. For most of her life, it had just been her and her mother. Her father had been absent, insignificant. A foreigner her mother had met when she was in University. Her mother had never married, although she had had lovers. But Tari had been her mother’s only child. She was used to growing up without siblings even though it had been lonely sometimes. She fully intended to give Korede a baby sister or brother sometime in the future.

“Get dressed.” Her mother said and carried the child out with her.

Tari muttered, “You were saying?” and stuck out her tongue at Steven.

He growled and then pounced, planting his mouth on hers. Her tongue met his. Twinned. Fused.

The heat registered in the pit of her stomach and between her legs. Pity they had somewhere to be. She savored his taste and then slowly, ripped her mouth away.

Steven was breathing hard, his mouth slightly ajar.

She grabbed one of his jean-clad butt cheeks. “You owe me hours of fucking.”

“No.” Steven drawled, “Days.”

***

Dare eased his hands around Wumi’s waist.

She gazed up at him. Even in her six-inch heels, he was at least an inch taller. She loved that.

“What are you doing?” she said. They had halted in front of a bank of elevators on their way down to the restaurant. 

Dare drew her closer. His warm voice tickled her right ear. “When a man loves a woman, can’t keep his mind on nothing else, he tells the world of the good thing he’s found…” He sang.

He had a lovely voice, strong and deep. It never failed to turn her to pap.

She threw her arms around his neck as he continued the song, both their bodies swaying to the music. Dancing by the elevators.

“I remember when I first saw you…” He whispered, “In church, over ten years ago. My dad had just finished the sermon. I came on the stage with the choir and then, for some reason, I stared down at your pew and… I saw you. Sitting next to your mother and father, Jasper on your other side. I knew your parents. They were my father’s friends. And I knew Jasper. But I hadn’t seen you before.”

“Yes, I was out to school more often than not.” She murmured, smiling.

“I couldn’t sing. Gaping at you, I froze. Lost my voice and for the rest of that song, I was silent.” Dare laughed. “Thank God no-one noticed. And then after the service, as subtly as I could, I tried to pump Jasper for information about you. I learnt a few things. And then, later that night, I couldn’t sleep. I was hard as a rock, dreaming of you. I-I had to help myself, use my hands to bring myself to ejaculate. I told myself that one day, I would marry you.”

Wumi’s eyes watered. “And here we are, about to get married. Oh baby, I love you. Every part of me loves you.”

Pushing her mouth on his, she thrust her tongue inside, moaning low in her throat. Her hands crept up to his neck and his smooth head. Blood thrummed in her ears.

He shoved her body closer, as if wanting to dissolve her into himself. Dare captured her tongue, drinking in the taste of her.

They consumed each other, bodies blended into one.

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Chapter Eight, Part One

Part One

Minutes later, leaving Tari and Wumi together, discussing wedding and bridal train dresses, Dare strolled over to join Steven and Oliver at the buffet table. He glanced down at the lavish spread. His stomach growled at the sight of the food. It was almost two P.M., past his lunchtime.

Oliver grinned at him. “I heard that.”

“I didn’t realize how hungry I was until now.” Dare said, picking a saucer and some napkins.

On his left, Steven gnawed on a smoked chicken drumstick.

“Yeah, it happens.” Oliver said, cleaning oily hands on a napkin. He glanced at Dare. “So… nervous?”

Dare looked at him, replying, “About the wedding?”

Oliver nodded.

Steven finished off the chicken and dived on a platter of shrimps.

“Not really. I should be, I suppose but I’m not. Probably because Wumi and I have gone through so many things together and there’s no-one else I’d be with. She’s my soul-mate, my other half. She stayed with me even after what I did, even after I cheated. She defied her father to choose me. I love her very, very much.”

“Awww, kid, that’s touching.” Steven muttered, wiping his mouth.

Dare glared at him, teeth clenched. He snapped, “Stop calling me kid. I’m twenty-seven years old.”

“Like that’s so-o-o old.” Steven said.

“What is it with you?” Dare’s chocolate-brown eyes hardened. “If I had my way, you wouldn’t be at my wedding.”

Steven pretended to double over. Straightening, he said, “That hurt, kid. Really it did. But you can’t disinvite me. Your best friend is my girlfriend.”

Oliver scowled at Steven. “Stop it, Steven. Don’t be an ass. He’s not a kid, he’s a man. Who’s getting married in about two weeks. Congratulations, Dare. You’ll soon join me. There’s nothing like being married to the woman you love. And as for you, Steven, when will you make Tari an honest woman?

Steven flinched, staring from Dare to Oliver. “Guys, give me a break. I came from sleeping with at least ten different girls every week to settling in a monogamous relationship with Tari and then having a child with her. Give me some time to get my head around that first.”

Dare and Oliver laughed.

“Anyway,” Steven patted Dare’s broad back, “Dare, I don’t mean to insult you or anything like that. Kid is a form of endearment.”

Dare chuckled. “What?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Steven said, “And our suits, shirts and shoes have already arrived from Milan. Oliver and I are ready to be your groomsmen. We’ll make your wedding the wedding of the century, even better than Kema and Oliver’s.”

Oliver snorted.

***

Ten minutes after the end of the event, the visitors from Lagos: Kema, Oliver, Dare and Wumi returned to their rooms in the Nicon Luxury Hotel, Steven and Tari to Tari’s house in Garki Area Two.

Now in the master bedroom, bare-chested, with a pair of blue jeans hanging on his trim waist, Steven rocked his son from side to side, grinning down at him.

“You’re perfect, aren’t you? Daddy’s perfect little boy…” Steven cooed.

Baby Korede Alexander gurgled, tiny mouth open to expose pink gums and a small number of teeth.

Her back to him, butt in the air, Tari slipped on a pair of black sling-backs on her feet. They were due to be in the hotel restaurant for a celebratory dinner with their friends in twenty minutes.

Steven’s glance strayed to his girlfriend’s backside. “You better stop doing that or I’ll drop the boy in his cot, tear off your dress and ram my dick into you and fuck you so hard that you’ll scream and your mom will come running.”

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Chapter Seven, Part Two

Part Two

"Come on, up." Dare said, hooking his arm in Tari's and forcing her to her feet.

She stared up at him. "I'm enjoying the music."

"You’ll still be able to hear it backstage." Dare said. "I have another pass for you. Let's go congratulate my fiancée."

"Do we have to?" Tari muttered, leaning into him as they left their seats and headed through the back entrance.

"Yes."

Flashing their passes at the bouncer, they pushed into the crowd that seemed to have suddenly materialized backstage.

Dare scanned the room. Who the hell were all these people? And then he saw her.

Wumi. In a white sheath dress that hugged her curves. Her long braided hair was wound up into a bun at the back of her head, giving him a perfect view of that sleek, gazelle-like neck. Damn, she was stunning.

Their gazes linked over the throng.

Grinning, Wumi rushed over. She flung her arms over his neck, eyes glowing. "Babe, I did it!"

"You did." Dare smiled, slipping his hands around her waist, and drawing her body nearer. He whispered against her mouth, "You were superb. I'm very proud of you."

“Awww, baby..." Wumi crooned, touching her lips to his.

Dare's body stirred. The feel of those soft, bouncy breasts against his chest, the delicious smell of her perfume... coconut, and a hint of musk.

"Take it down a notch, please. I'm here too." Tari announced, one eyebrow cocked.

Dare and Wumi laughed, but they inched apart, one of Dare's arms still wrapped around her waist.

"Wumi, you were... amazing..." A man, face half-covered by large round black-framed eyeglasses, in a linen shirt over blue jeans, launched himself at them.

"Yaya!" Wumi exclaimed, beaming. He kissed her cheeks, one after the other.

"You walked the runway like you owned it, oomph!" Yaya shouted, laughing. "And who are these cool people?"

Wumi patted Dare's cheek, saying, "This is Dare DaSilva, my darling." She tilted her head toward Tari. "And that's my friend, Tari Johnson."

"Pleased to meet you, Dare, Tari."

Wumi added, nodding at Dare and then Tari, "He's the designer, Yaya Obo."

Dare shook his hand. "Great job."

Tari did the same. She smiled at him. "You're very talented."

"Thank you, both." Yaya said.

Wumi said, "Yaya studied fashion in London. He's done shows in London, New York, Milan... I love his clothes."

Tari nodded. "I agree. The orange and teal one she wore... love, love, love."

Pushing the glasses up his nose, Yaya said, "Thanks. I designed that one with Wumi in mind. I was invited to show my clothes at this event, a fabulous opportunity I couldn't pass up and for some reason, I sketched this dress minutes after, thinking that this had to modeled by Wumi Osoba. No-one else. And even though she was retired, I knew I would have to persuade her to do this one final show. And luckily, she agreed."

"Thanks for thinking of me, Yaya." Wumi said.

"It's always a pleasure to work with you, you know that.”

“Will you be able to make our wedding?” Wumi asked him.

“Of course, Wumi. I wouldn’t miss it, though I wish you had given me more than a month’s notice. I would have designed the perfect wedding dress.”

“That’s so sweet of you, Yaya.” Wumi said, “But my stepmom insisted on buying me a Vera Wang. She practically begged me to allow her handle that.”

“I understand. Anyway, I hope you all had a great time. You know, I love being in this building... It's one of the safest places to be in Abuja." Yaya said, smiling.

Dare, Wumi and Tari traded glances.

"Couldn’t agree more." Dare said.

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Chapter Seven, Part One

Part One

The three Olympus Security agents and their police liaison, Solomon hung together in a tight group, to the side, away from the hall's doors.

The fashion show had ended and now, a famous Nigerian artiste performed a popular number inside the hall. Those who had been milling outside were rushing back in, drawn by the song.

Wiping his forehead with a white hanky, Solomon whispered, "I'm relieved that it’s all over."

"Yeah, we caught the bad guys - and girl." Oliver said, with a smile and a gleam of his sea-green eyes.

“They are in our custody, for now.” Solomon said and then shook his head. “It’s a pity about the girl. These terrorists specialize in brainwashing young innocents. She should have been in school. Yet, she was here, ready and willing to blow herself and thousands others up. Her jacket was lined with cylinders filled with ammonal and acetone peroxide, plus three millimeter ball bearings, connected by a wire to a trigger on her chest. Primitive… but effective.”

“Pity.” Oliver murmured. “The only way we can stop this from happening is to cut off the head of the snake. You guys should be able to make them talk. We need to discover who else is linked to the organization, and take them down too.”

Solomon nodded. “Definitely.”

Kema socked Steven in his left upper arm. "You didn't have to push one of them into a mirror."

"Says the lady who broke a teenager's fingers."

Mouth pursed, she snapped, "She was about to blow us all up."

"Precisely. You don't handle terrorists with kid gloves. And anyway, the guy is on his way to hospital... well, hopefully." Steven said, with a dimpled smile.

He glanced at Oliver who was standing feet apart, both his hands in his trouser pockets. "And as for you, Oliver… Don't look so innocent. You used your gun where anyone could have seen you... under the blazing sun, in the afternoon..."

"How else did you expect me to subdue him without triggering an explosion?" Oliver flashed wide eyes at Steven.

Solomon guffawed. Shaking his head, he declared, "You Olympus Security people are something else."

"Thank you." Kema said. Steven laughed.

“I want a word.” Oliver said, clutching Kema’s wrist and drawing her away. “Baby… I’m sorry for being so hard on you. I love you very much and I can’t imagine ever losing you. I just want you to know that I believe in you, I do, really. So, please forgive me.”

Kema sighed, gazing up into those glorious green eyes. She stroked his belly through his shirt. “I forgive you, baby. I know you do it because you love and care for me. But, you have to remember… this is my job now. I’m no longer a web designer. And despite the risks, I love it. I wouldn’t do any other job. The day Steven offered me a job in Olympus Security almost two years ago was one of the best days of my life. Those men had attacked me in my own home, almost raped me and then put me in a hospital! I swore that nothing like that would ever happen to me or to someone else. So, baby, I’m always going to be a private investigator and a security agent, okay? You have to try to live with it.”

“Ughh.” Oliver shut his eyes briefly. “I know, I know. But baby, you’re awesome. You know that, right?”

Kema grinned and said, “Of course I do. That’s why you fell in love with me and that’s why you proposed to me and asked me to marry you.”

“Remember the day we first met?” Oliver asked. He hadn’t been able to drag his eyes away from her. Even though she had stared at him as if he was a freak.

“Sure… in Steven’s sister’s house… when you devoured me with your eyes…”

“And you enjoyed it…” Oliver’s voice was a husky whisper.

“No.”

“Liar.”

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Chapter Six, Part Two

Part Two

Wumi waited backstage, the last model on the queue. Then, one of the girls on the queue strutted out onto the catwalk to a thumping rap beat, leaving one other model and Wumi.

Drawing in a deep breath, Wumi lifted her shoulders, ready for her moment. Dare’s mouth and tongue working inside her core had brought forth a tremendous orgasm that had radiated throughout her limbs and entire body. Gosh, her nerves were still tingling.

And it had worked, calming her down and at the same time, burning her up. Fantastic.

And even better, no bombs had gone off… yet. Maybe, they would all survive this. If anyone could stop a Boko Haram terrorist, it would be the Olympus Security crew. Everything would be fine.

Wumi raised her head. Almost time. She could do this. She would do this. It was like riding a bike… well, sort of. This wasn’t her first time. Yes, years had passed since she last walked the catwalk but she still had it. Oh yes.

The girl ahead of her took her turn. Now, Wumi was alone.

She glanced down at the gorgeous dress on her body. Gosh, Yaya was a wonderful designer.  The orange lace V-neck sleeveless top flowed over her torso, managing to subtly reveal some cleavage, and merged with a full, teal chiffon maxi skirt that swirled around her ankles. A gold wide belt cinched her waist and on her feet, gold sandals strapped her feet and ankles. Around her neck, she wore ropes of multicolored beads extending from underneath her chin to the top of her chest.

Oh Yes. Her moment had arrived. This was it.

Sticking her breasts out, chin up, one gold sandaled foot in front of the other, Wumi climbed onto the runway. Lights sparkled, the music boomed and Wumi grinned.

She had forgotten how much she had enjoyed walking the catwalk.

One, two, three, four… she gave in to the rhythm, gazing straight ahead.

Then, her gaze skimmed over the mass of people clustered around the runway, catching five excited, beaming faces in the front row.

There they were. Dare, Tari, Steven, Kema and Oliver. They had all managed to make it in time. Fantastic!

She reached the end of the runway and posed for a few seconds, giving the pack of photographers enough time to completely capture the dress.

Then Wumi pivoted, sashaying back up the catwalk to a thunderous applause, winking at her friends.

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Chapter Six Part One

Part One

Kema glanced at Solomon, the Olympus Security police liaison in Abuja, and inclined her head toward the row of chairs. “I can see her. Fourth row. Wearing black.”

Up  on the stage, a comedian entertained the audience, eliciting some whistles and claps. The show had started.

Solomon peered forward. He nodded. “I’ll send my men in to capture her.” Tall and wiry, with a thick afro, his manner radiated a mixture of confidence and solemnity.

“No.” Kema shook her head. “We don’t want to startle her and make her trigger the bomb. I have an idea. Have your men order an usher to speak to the people on either side of the bomber and get them to vacate their seats. She should make up an excuse, any excuse to get them to leave.”

Solomon stared at Kema. “What do you intend to do?”

She sighed and said, “Try and get her to lower her guard.”

“Are you sure about this? Where are Oliver and Steven?”

“They’ve apprehended the bomber’s two associates. Now, it’s my turn.”

“Be careful.” Solomon murmured and walked away.

Kema bit her lip. This better work.

It had taken some minutes to convince Oliver that she could handle the girl. When he called in earlier to inform her of the bomber’s location, he had insisted again on taking care of it himself.

Ughhhh. He didn’t get it. She needed to play her part. She wasn’t an Olympus Security agent only on paper. She could do this and thus prove to her stubborn husband that she could pull her own weight.

Gazing ahead, she watched a smiling usher approach the man on the girl’s left. The usher bent down, whispered something into his ear.

He glanced up at her.

Biting her lip again, Kema ran her hand through her Mohawk.

The man smiled, stood up and left.

Kema sucked in air.

The usher departed.

Kema twisted her hands together.

From the right, another usher advanced. She leaned over, talking to the man sitting there. 

The man hunched forward, flinging his hands about. He shook his head.

Oh, crap, crap, crap. The air seeped out of Kema’s lungs. Why were stupid, obstinate people ever born?

The usher persisted, smiling wider.

After a few long seconds, the man got to his feet and followed the usher out of the building.

Now, the chairs on either side of the bomber were unoccupied.

Time to act.

Adrenaline surged into Kema’s bloodstream. She moved forward, heart rattling in her chest, mouth as dry as the Sahara. This was the third time she would be confronted with danger and certain death. Would she escape this as she escaped twice before? She would. She was invincible.

Entering from the right, Kema squeezed past people seated on the fourth row.

There was the bomber. And an empty chair beside her.

Kema dropped onto the seat, keeping her head forward while examining the girl from the corner of her left eye.

Gosh, she was young. Maybe fifteen, at most seventeen. The poor, silly girl. Her head was draped in a black hijab; her torso was covered in a bulky black cheap cotton jacket. The hijab couldn’t hide the darting of her fear-drenched eyes and the sweat dripping off her skin, soaking the black material.

Kema spun to face her. Smiling, she said, “Hello.”

The bomber’s head jerked sideways. Her eyes widened. She stared at Kema and slowly her eyes constricted. Glancing away, she fumbled under her jacket.

No!

Kema lunged, throwing her right arm over the girl’s shoulders and pinning her left arm. Then, with her left hand, she bore down, hard on the girl’s right.

The bomber thrashed about, muttering unintelligible words.

With all her might, Kema yanked at the girl’s right arm, forcing it away from her chest.

Like a wild rat ensnared in a trap, the girl fought, desperate to trigger the bomb. The metallic scent of fear oozed from her body.

“Stop. Stop!” Kema snapped. The surrounding guests were beginning to turn to stare.

The suicide bomber shrieked, speaking in Hausa, saying something Kema didn’t understand.

Kema had had enough.

She seized the girl’s right hand. Grabbing a hold of the thumb and the index finger, she wrenched them in the opposite direction.

The girl screamed, collapsing into the chair. She glared at Kema with hate-filled eyes that were rapidly filling with tears, but stopped struggling.

Breathing hard, Kema nodded at Solomon.

His men converged on them.

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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