Secret Obsession

by D. M. Mortier

  “Sir?”

  “As usual, Colonel Ragnarson arrogantly thinks that he controls the universe. However, he’s forgotten that he employs hundreds of people.” The vice president smirked. “Hundreds of employees that he’ll arrogantly assume he can save.”

  “You’ll have to be careful, sir.”

  “No need to worry, Edmond. I’m always careful. Besides, they have no idea who I am.”

  “What do you need done, sir?”

  “I want every manager from every one of his offices taken.”

  “But, sir, that will generate tremendous media coverage. That can’t be done.”

  The vice president glared at his chief of staff. “I don’t give a damn how you do it. Get it done and don’t get caught. Let that bastard know that I will kill one of them for every hour that Ms. St. John is not delivered to me.”

  “Sir, how about we threaten to harm his people or his company if you don’t get a chance to meet with Ms. St. John? And better still, let Senator Casey present your threats to him. The senator has been eager to gain your favor, sir. That way you’d know where she is, you won’t have to harm anyone, and they can’t go to the media if the senator hasn’t done anything other than request a meeting.”

  “Always thinking of protecting my bid for the presidency, Edmond?” The vice president smiled, but it never reached his eyes. He hated being manipulated and forced to consider his public life. He hated living in this damn fishbowl. He vowed that when he got this formula, no one was going to force him to do anything he didn’t want to going forward. And he would become president if he wanted. No one could come close to being able to stop him. He was fast losing patience. This would be last time he’d wait to claim what was rightfully his. John Thomas had no right to deny him the formula all those years ago, and his daughter sure as hell didn’t have that right now.

  “The bastard called and said he was aware of the family being moved.” Colt let out a frustrated sigh. They’d been back at the ranch for almost two days, and still the vice president hadn’t contacted them or tried to apprehend Imani again. “He’s not going to make an attempt here.” He paced as Mac reviewed the data in front of him.

  “Spartan’s scheduled for a state visit to Japan tomorrow,” Mac informed him. “We probably shouldn’t wait until he acts. I know you want to be sure it’s him behind this. If you confront him, it may just take him by surprise.”

  “No, that’s what that motherfucker wants,” Colt growled. “Senator Casey has invited Imani and me to his office tomorrow. I doubt that that’s a coincidence.”

  “Probably not, but Spartan can’t do anything to you in Washington. It would be a visit on record. And political suicide to take such a bold step. How does he gain anything by it?” Mac frowned in confusion. “Besides, Spartan would have to be on a plane today in order to make his appointed visit with the Japanese prime minister.”

  “His flight is scheduled to leave in a few hours,” Imani confirmed. She didn’t bother to look up from her laptop.

  Colt wanted to smile at his wife’s calm demeanor. He was beginning to understand better how her mind worked. Ever since they’d arrived back at the ranch two days ago, she’d taken on the Justine Price persona, a very cool, precise businesswoman that seemed to make decisions with no emotion, only cold hard facts. And she only shed that persona when he had her under him. Then, she was his insatiable young wife who was as lustful as he was.

  On their first night back, he’d had to collect her from her old guest bedroom, which she’d insisted on occupying. She’d still been mumbling some bullshit about him forsaking all others.

  Colt had picked her up, thrown her over his shoulder, and taken her to their bedroom.

  She’d lost that cool persona then too.

  He smiled now thinking about all the names she’d called him. No, all the names she’d screamed at him. At the time he had been beyond pissed that he had to look for his wife to bring her to their bed. Hadn’t they already dealt with this? Didn’t she yet understand that she was his wife and no one, not even her, was going to deny that she was his? He ignored her furious words and her pitiful struggles. Easily overpowering her, he’d torn the nightshirt and matching panty she wore with easy strength. And even while she yelled at him, he’d sucked one taut nipple into his mouth and buried himself deep inside of her wet sheath with no preliminaries. He wasn’t fucking around with her anymore.

  And it seemed neither was she. Imani stopped yelling then. She instead grabbed a fistful of his hair, held him to her breast, and slammed her hips up to meet his while crying out his name in a loud lusty voice.

  He powered in and out of her, reminding her with each thrust who she belonged to. He’d made her come twice, and he was still hard as a rock. Two orgasms in, he was still fucking her and didn’t stop even after she was weakly telling him that she couldn’t take any more. He turned her over onto her stomach, grabbed her by the waist, and drove into her tight sheath until she screamed in blistering release one last time. Only then did he flood her with his hot seed.

  In the past two days he’d barely let her out of his sight. She’d started that Justine Price persona almost as soon as they’d arrived at the ranch. He saw it as a direct challenge and had ensured she knew that, no matter what she called herself, Imani, Justine, or Jane, she was his. And he made love to her as much as he could to prove it.

  “How the hell did he get Senator Casey to do his bidding though?” Imani wanted to know. “Casey is a Democrat; Spartan’s a Republican.”

  “The senator probably isn’t aware of what’s really going on.” Colt shrugged. He knew well the interest his weapon and bulletproof shield had garnered over the years. If Congress even got a whiff of his invisibility shield, Imani would come under tremendous scrutiny. “He’s the chairman of the Senate Armed Services Committee. It wouldn’t have taken much for him to be convinced he needed to call us in.” Colt lowered his voice as he thought of their recent activities. “We weren’t exactly cautious in our dealings with Lippman and his many attacks. Now Lippman’s dead. I would be surprised if no one asked us any questions about it.”

  “But the question isn’t how to deal with Casey, right?”

  Colt understood Imani’s impatience to get back on topic. She wanted to deal with Spartan once and for all. “No, I’m not concerned about men like Casey. It’s unpredictable motherfuckers like Spartan that we need to deal with now. Spartan wants us in Washington. Let’s give him what he wants.”

  “Good, then we agree. No more debating what moves Spartan wants us to make. Let’s go ask him what he wants, give him what he thinks he wants, and then fry his ass when he crosses us and comes after me.”

  Colt grinned at the bloodthirsty grit in her voice. However, he had to caution her. “We would have no way of convicting him in the court of public opinion if we kill him without a very public reveal.”

  Mac nodded in agreement. “Unfortunately, the file the FBI has gotten on you, Spartan, and the project your father was working on aren’t sufficient information to prosecute him. You’d be hurting yourself and not him, since you have the formula and it could potentially be argued that you’ve been engaged in illegal weapons production.”

  “Let them try. I own a company that has a license to produce weapons, and anything I do is under that license.” Imani glared at Mac as if he were the one making the accusations. “I’ve made one weapon for my husband, a gift!”

  “Ah, you don’t have to convince me.” Mac held his palm up to defend himself. “I was just pointing out that Congress will argue if we don’t get Spartan the right way.”

  “Would a video of Lippman’s kidnapping and interrogation of me work?”

  “You have a recording?” Colt was stunned. He shook his head in wonder as she continued to surprise him.

  “I can’t explain how I got it, but yeah, I have a video of Lippman threatening us with his very powerful friend. Spartan doesn’t have to know that Lippman did
n’t live long enough to tell us his name.” Imani’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “Let him think Lippman told us about him. I don’t know a politician alive who wouldn’t be scared shitless at this possibility. It would be political suicide for him to ignore us.”

  Colt smiled.

  Mac grinned.

  Imani sent a thirty-second video excerpt of her kidnapping and interrogation to Spartan from a burner phone so he couldn’t trace it back to her. However, they were relying on Spartan immediately knowing that the video came from her. They wanted a reaction.

  Colt reacted badly to how the soldiers had taken her in. They had not been gentle, and he took deliberate note of who the men were. There was no way he’d let that go unpunished.

  Imani sent another thirty-second video excerpt ten minutes later. Not only did they want a reaction, they wanted Spartan to lose his damn mind.

  It took three videos for the reaction from Spartan to come. It seemed that the vice president wasn’t going to Japan after all.

  Spartan: You don’t know who you’re fucking with!

  Of course, the phone call came from his personal phone direct to Imani’s phone. He sounded almost demented with rage. Their plan had worked. The vice president was filled with such rage that he made a huge mistake by using his personal phone. Imani put the phone on speaker to allow both men to hear the conversation.

  “That’s definitely a threat,” Mac whispered so that the vice president couldn’t hear him. He was more than pleased by the reaction. And pleased that they had the vice president so rattled he’d made such a colossal mistake as to use a phone that could be traced back to him.

  “Yeah, now we just need to help him get a little more aggressive.” Imani was stoked.

  Imani: Spartan, I know who and what you are. It’s the American people who don’t know you. I’m about to change that.

  Spartan: I can destroy you and your G.I. Joe!

  Imani: You can try. However, I guarantee you’ve no idea what damage we can inflict on you.

  Spartan: He might have hidden his family for now. How long will they remain so? How long before I find them? Can he also hide all his employees? Can you hide yours?

  Imani: Ooh threats? I like it! So, what do you want in exchange to leave us alone?

  Spartan: You know what I want. And because you’ve pissed me off, I want you as well.

  Imani: Wow, your poker hand is that good? How about a counteroffer?

  Spartan: No counteroffer, no negotiation. You and the formula at the airport in two hours. I’ve sent a jet for you. You come alone! If I even smell that sonofabitch colonel near, I will kill some people just for the hell of it.

  Imani: And if I’m not on that jet?

  Spartan: Someone from either your employ or Ragnarson’s will die.

  Imani didn’t bother to object. There was no way she’d risk anyone’s life, and Spartan knew this. Although they had Spartan on his phone, it was something, but it wasn’t enough to bring him down.

  “I’ll call in backup.” Mac frowned with concern and placed his phone to his ear. He walked away from them to start talking to a few agents he felt he could trust.

  “We wanted him in the open, but this isn’t him in the open,” Colt muttered. He started strapping on his knives, his original shield, and gun.

  “Yes, he’s been very clever in remaining hidden until now. We could try using the phone call, but that may not be enough for his sycophants. We need him on video or making a public attempt for me and my father’s formula. We go after him, we can’t miss,” Imani warned. She checked the battery in her faux watch and put her palm out to get Colt’s, and after checking it placed it back on his wrist. “You need to be careful and stay hidden until Spartan reveals his plan.”

  “I know what needs to happen. You, however, need to stay out of the line of fire. You don’t try to protect me; I protect you. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes, sir.” Imani tried not to smile at Colt’s disgruntled tone.

  He grabbed the back of her neck and forced her to look up at him. “I’m not fuckin’ around. You follow orders, no questions.” He didn’t wait for her to answer him but covered her lips with his, letting her know he didn’t expect an answer.

  She melted against him as his taste overwhelmed her senses. He hadn’t touched her since the night he’d rescued her from Lippman. It had been inconvenient then, and it was inconvenient now. She felt his absolute possession in the firm band of his forearm at her lower spine and hard kiss. Imani whimpered as his kiss obliterated every thought from her head, and the feel of his virile male frame against her sensitive skin had her wanting to climb him. Dressed in skinny jeans and a cotton tank top, she felt every hard curve of his muscles and helplessly tried getting closer to him by wrapping her arms around his neck and her jean-clad legs around his lean hips.

  They only pulled apart as Mac coughed loudly to get their attention. Colt peeled her arms from around his neck and her legs from around his hips. They groaned at the sudden separation.

  “When this is over, I’m keeping you in bed with me for a month,” he promised darkly.

  Imani looked over at Mac to see if he’d heard what Colt said. The grin on the agent’s face told her all she needed to know. She pushed at Colt’s massive chest and rolled her eyes in frustration, as he didn’t budge no matter how hard she pushed.

  He wrapped an arm around her lower waist and anchored her against his side as he turned toward Mac. “Are we set?”

  “We’re not sure where Spartan is at the moment.” Mac was all business now, the smile of a few moments ago gone.

  Imani tried not to let the worried frown on his forehead influence her optimism about finally getting Spartan for killing her father. She’d promised herself that if she ever got the chance, she’d ensure Spartan paid for his crimes. This was probably their only opportunity.

  “We have some friends in the Secret Service who can help us locate him,” Mac continued. “However, there is a chartered jet sitting on the tarmac waiting for your arrival.”

  “Well, let’s not disappoint our host,” Colt drawled.

  “I need to finish checking your shield and gun. I also need to change my clothes to store a few weapons I want Secret Service to find so I can hide the gadgets I don’t want them to find.”

  “Remind me never to get on your bad side.” Mac smiled in amusement.

  All in all, Imani had packed several guns and knives in the pockets of the khaki jacket and combat-styled pants she wore. And as expected, as soon as she boarded the jet, a man and a woman, who appeared to be security, approached her at the entrance and proceeded to give her a pat-down. The woman introduced herself as Agent Leonard, Secret Service.

  Imani wanted to smile as they ignored her watch, bracelets, rings, the clip in her hair, and the heels of her boots. Hey, they were ridiculously stylish boots, and she couldn’t blame them for admiring them instead of confiscating them. They just happened to be lethal as well.

  As the jet started to taxi down the runway, Imani knew Colt had to be ticked that he was so helpless to stop this. He hadn’t wanted her to take this chance or be anywhere near Spartan. But Imani was tired of this cat and mouse game. She wanted this over with.

  As soon as the flight leveled off in the air, speeding toward their unknown destination, Imani unfastened her seatbelt and looked around at the five-man-one-woman security team that was dispersed around her. It was an elegantly appointed jet with six large armchair leather seats set in a spacious interior with muted earth-tone decor. The opulence of the décor alone showed that the owner of the jet had spared no expense. The thought that this jet could be owned by Spartan made her wonder what or who he’d sold out to earn such wealth.

  Ten minutes into the flight, the vice president and his chief of staff suddenly appeared from behind a closed panel in the jet. Imani was surprised, but she smiled because finally she had the proof that Eric Spartan had killed her father. She co
uld now see clearly her eight-year-old self, peeking out and looking at this villain’s eyes as he pulled the trigger of the gun that killed her father.

  Imani had no idea why she was suddenly crying over an incident that happened so many years ago. She thought that she’d dealt with her grief over the death of her family. It felt as though it had happened just yesterday. She was still hurting.

  “Ms. St. John, we meet at last.” Eric came toward her and acted as though he was greeting an old friend.

  Imani swiftly wiped the tears from her eyes, not wanting him to see that she was upset. “I don’t know, Mr. Vice President. I can’t say that I’m that enthused about meeting the man who murdered my family.”

  Eric stared at her glacially and didn’t appear in the least bit embarrassed by her comment in front of the agents. “Is it too much to ask that you have a civil tongue when addressing me?” He smiled.

  Imani was amazed that, instead of the smile making him look happy or approachable, it only made him look even more sinister. “Civil to the man who killed my family and is now threatening the lives of my current family and employees? You believe in miracles I see.” They needed Spartan to admit what he’d done.

  Eric sat down in a leather armchair next to her while his chief of staff sat in front of her with a folder filled with documents. “Ms. St. John, I have a few documents that require your signature.”

  “It’s Mrs. Ragnarson actually. You should try using it. And I’m not signing any documents today.”

  “I don’t think you understand the situation here, Ms. St. John.” Eric smirked.

  “I’m sure you’ll enlighten me, but I’m still not signing any damn documents.”

  “Where’s the formula?” Eric suddenly asked in a no-nonsense voice.