Secret Obsession

by D. M. Mortier

  “What formula would that be?”

  Eric smiled again. “It seems you’re not a believer, Imani. I can call you Imani, right?” The cheesy smile that had been on his lips a few moments before disappeared. His gaze became hard and cold. “Edmond, please show Imani what happens when she doesn’t do as I ask.”

  Edmond pulled out his phone and turned the screen for her to see it.

  “I think you’d do well to note that this young man, who, I may add, has a lot to live for, deserves to enjoy his life. Will you allow him to enjoy his life, Imani?” Eric murmured in almost a bored voice.

  Imani stared at a picture of one of her young engineers, who was sitting at his computer, typing vigorously and bopping to the music from the wireless Beats he wore, one headphone on the ear and the other around his neck. Jeremy had only started with the firm a few months ago. “Yes! He deserves to enjoy his life! I will give it to you.”

  “Imani, Imani…” Eric shook his head as though disappointed in her. “I really can’t have you disobeying me.”

  “No, I won’t disobey you again. No one has to die here.”

  Eric shook his head at her again, but when he nodded at Edmond, Imani yelled at him in frustration.

  “You do this, I will ensure you never get that damn formula or anything else you think you need!”

  Eric grinned in delight. “I will make you regret those words.” He looked to Edmond again.

  “Edmond, if you send that message, I’ll make you squeal like the pig that you are.” Imani stood and grabbed the phone out of his hand. He sprang from his seat and tried to take the phone back from her, and she slammed her knee into his balls.

  Edmond howled in pain.

  Eric roared in outrage as Imani threw the phone to the ground and crushed it with the heel of her boot. The vice president yelled at his security detail to stop Imani, but none of them moved from their positions.

  “You will fuckin’ pay for that!” Edmond roared.

  “Yeah, probably, but not by your hands, little toad,” Imani scoffed.

  The agents stared at the scene before them without moving a muscle or showing any emotion.

  Eric reached for Imani.

  Imani slapped him with all the pent-up anger she’d carried around for years over the murder of her family.

  Eric crashed to the floor. The left side of his face was bright red with all of her four fingers imprinted on his cheek.

  The Secret Service agents moved forward then. “Ma’am, we can’t let you hurt him.” They helped the vice president up. He slapped their hands away, fuming at them for not coming to his aid sooner.

  “I will kill several of them to repay you for this insult!” Eric snarled at her.

  “Enough!” Three large men suddenly came from behind the same panel Eric and Edmond had used before. They were dressed in full Arabic robes and headdress.

  Imani took a step back in shock. Finally, when Spartan had issued the explicit threat they needed to bring him down, this shit happened. Who the hell were these guys?

  The Secret Service agents appeared more alert now. Gone were the disinterested stoic expressions they’d been wearing for the past half-hour.

  “Spartan, we’ll take the girl now,” one of the men announced in a heavily accented voice.

  “No, I haven’t gotten my formula as yet!” Eric glared at her and looked as though he wanted to kill her.

  “Have you been betraying your country again, Mr. Vice President?” Imani asked in a singsong voice.

  “Urgh!” Eric screamed in frustration.

  Imani smiled as though she didn’t have a care in the world. “Is that a yes or a no?”

  “Bitch, I can’t wait until you get what’s coming to you. These men are here to take you back to Saudi Arabia. Women aren’t given many rights there. Mouth off to them and let’s see how far you get with that.”

  “You only brought three of them?” Imani laughed and retook her seat. She put her head back and closed her eyes in a relaxed pose. “Wake me up when we arrive at our destination.”

  “Oh no you don’t! I want my damn formula!”

  Imani felt the vice president come toward her in a violent rush. She opened her eyes, lifted her arm to block the descent of his palm to her cheek, and lifted her foot to connect with satisfactory precision on his groin.

  The vice president again dropped to the floor of the jet writhing in pain.

  The Secret Service agents looked around, everywhere but at him.

  “You African American women are always difficult,” the Arab man who stood in the middle muttered. He seemed to be the leader of the three. The others had yet to speak and looked more like bodyguards.

  “Caribbean,” Imani said cheerfully. “I’m Caribbean, not African American. But then that’s worse for you. Caribbean women don’t take shit from anyone. I suggest you rethink this desire to take me to your homeland. I can guarantee I will do everything in my power to make you and your king’s life hell.”

  “You’re threatening us?” the Arab leader asked menacingly. “You threatened our king?” He was almost frothing at the mouth in outrage.

  “Nope.” Imani grinned up at the seething men. “I don’t have to threaten. Most people know what I can do, so they usually have enough sense not to fuck with me.”

  “Don’t listen to her,” Eric wheezed out, finally finding his voice.

  “What? You haven’t had enough yet?” Imani smirked. “Like the little boy in Home Alone asked, do you want some more?” She knew it was playing with fire to tease him, but the vice president was so easy to rile.

  “You arrogant bitch, it will be my pleasure to see you taken down a peg or two,” Eric growled.

  “Yeah, well, there’s a good reason for my arrogance. I don’t understand how a smart man like you could possibly think that these career-dedicated agents would allow a bold kidnapping of an innocent woman.”

  “They work for me. And will do whatever the hell I tell them to do.”

  “I don’t know, Mr. Vice President. They may keep your secrets, like the fact that you’re screwing other men, but I don’t think they do kidnappings,” Imani told him dryly.

  “Shut your fucking filthy mouth! How dare you!” Eric launched at her again. However, this time the agents moved quickly to hold him back.

  The Arabic men looked on in disapproval.

  “Mr. Vice President, may we speak with you in private?” the Arab leader asked.

  Imani wanted to grin at the confused looks on the Arabic men’s faces. She knew that they had no idea how to handle her. However, there was no way she could let them out of her sight. She had to protect her and Colt’s employees from the vice president’s wrath and control what happened next. “I don’t think so, gentlemen. Any conversation y’all gonna have, especially if it involves me, I want to hear it. And just so we’re clear, I ain’t making shit for y’all.” Imani realized that her Caribbean accent was becoming more pronounced with her escalating anger, but there was nothing she could do to stop it. Just the thought of these men trying to force her to do their bidding was enough to tick her off.

  “Shut up!” The Arab leader was shaking with rage, and his two guards trained their guns on her.

  The agents also palmed their guns. “We made sure that you weren’t armed before you got on this flight. Where did those weapons come from?” Agent Leonard demanded.

  “They needed to protect themselves from this obnoxious woman,” the vice president said defensively.

  The agents looked at him as though he’d lost his mind.

  “We’ve paid you millions of dollars for the shield and gun the colonel had,” the Arab snarled at the vice president. “You promised us those weapons! You promised she’d make them for us.”

  Imani laughed. “Bunch of dumbasses. He also promised the Russians, the Serbians, the Chinese, and the Venezuelans the same. They probably gave him money too,” she said dryly and then ruined the
effect by dissolving into another round of laughter.

  “Stop laughing!” Eric screamed. “You’ve been a pain in my ass since you were a snot-nosed kid, always in the way, always where you’re not supposed to be!”

  “Geez, Eric. Tell me how you really feel.” Imani knew she should stop now. The vice president was now clearly unhinged.

  “Promise me that you’ll make her pay,” the vice president appealed to the Arab. “You have her for three months. Please make her pay for the insults.”

  “Mr. Vice President, I don’t think you understand.” The Arabic man’s voice seemed strained and impatient. “We need those weapons now,” he bit out.

  Imani started to get nervous. Eric’s friends were still pointing their guns at her and the agents while the agents kept their guns on the Arabic men.

  “You promised that the female agent would come with us to ensure the engineer builds our weapons. Have you betrayed us?”

  Imani stood from her seat. Although she’d deliberately stoked their anger, this wasn’t exactly the response she’d been trying to get. She’d hoped they would see what a fraud the vice president was and make his plans moot. However, with them waving their guns around, there were too many people in the room who could be unnecessarily hurt.

  “We’ll get her to make the weapons, don’t worry,” Edmond said confidently. “We’ll make her cooperate.”

  “Well, good luck with that,” Imani scoffed.

  “Shut up!” Eric pushed the agents away from him and came at her again.

  Imani stood her ground. “Ah man, please come at me, because I can’t wait to bitch-slap your ass again.” She couldn’t help poking at him again. “You have to know I will never give you my dad’s formula. He watched you kill his family and died himself to keep it away from you. And you still think I’d give it to you? You’re an idiot.”

  The vice president roared with rage and flew at her.

  “Sit down.” The Arab leveled the gun at the vice president and stopped him in his tracks.

  One of the agents aimed his gun at the Arab. “Drop the gun!”

  The Arab ignored him and fired his gun.

  The agent fired at the same time.

  Imani immediately activated her invisible shield but not before she felt a sharp pain in her shoulder.

  Colt deactivated his invisible shield and entered the fray.

  Along with the loud sounds of gunfire, there were screams of terror and people running from other areas of the plane toward them. Flight attendants, White House staff members, and other Secret Service agents.

  It was clear that the Arabic men were military. They were proficient in using their weapons, and their movements were very precise and cold when going after their targets.

  Imani watched in horror as two of the agents went down from fatal wounds in their unsuccessful attempt to save the vice president from gunfire. Colt made short work of the three Arabic men in bringing them down after that.

  It might have been seconds or minutes later when all gunshots ceased. However, Imani was too busy clenching her teeth to stop the scream lodged in her throat. The excruciating pain in her shoulder made her stomach roll with nausea, and beads of perspiration coated the surface of her skin.

  Colt turned to her, his face etched in fury. “Don’t you ever fucking do that again! Don’t sass a mad man who’s pointing a fuckin’ gun at you!”

  Imani deactivated the invisible shield to ask him to help her, but the words remained stuck as the plane suddenly took a violent nosedive, and because she wasn’t wearing a seatbelt, gravity propelled her directly into Colt’s chest.

  Everything not anchored down flew toward the front of the plane.

  Colt looked around to see what was happening. “The pilots,” he murmured urgently. He lifted her off him and crawled to the front of the plane.

  Imani followed him.

  They found the door to the cockpit opened, an agent with a bullet wound to his chest and another Arab facedown at the threshold, blood pooling around his head. Apparently, there had been another Arab on the plane and had gotten into a gun fight with the agent. It appeared that none of them survived the fight. Imani was mystified by the sloppy security on a plane that housed the vice president of the United States. It was inexplicable.

  The jet continued to descend at an alarming rate, and everyone was screaming and yelling at the same time.

  Colt tried dragging the dead man away from the door. His task was made that much more difficult as everything in the jet continued to move and roll around, slamming into him.

  Imani watched as Colt eventually got the man moved and entered the cockpit. She crawled toward Colt, and while she’d suspected as much, it was still shocking to see that both pilots had been shot and appeared dead in their seats, probably from the gunfight between the agent and the Arab. The alarm beeps from the flight deck were loud and urgent.

  Colt quickly moved the captain’s body to the side and climbed into his seat. The muscles on his forearms strained as he tried to pull on the control stick to get the nose of the jet back up.

  Imani tried to push the other pilot’s body from his seat, but he was tangled in the seatbelt and wouldn’t budge. The seatbelt was impossible to release.

  Colt swore as he pulled and strained on the control stick to gain elevation. The aircraft shook violently in protest with no change in its rapid descent, but he was unrelenting in his determination.

  Imani made the mistake of looking out of the cockpit windshield and was shocked to see the rooftop of a building quickly rising up to meet them.

  Colt roared as he pulled with herculean effort to redirect the aircraft upward.

  Holding on to the dead pilot’s seat to stop her body’s momentum forward, Imani covered her eyes with her palm as her stomach rolled from the unnatural gravity drop and from increased anxiety. She stiffened in anticipation of the violent impact. “Oh Jesus, please help us,” she whispered in a continuous chant.

  Seconds passed before there was a violent shudder and a swift shift in the plane, but not the impact she anticipated. Imani slowly lowered her palm from her eyes.

  The jet was no longer shaking under the too-fast descent. It was finally leveling out and proceeding in a much more controlled manner.

  “I think the praying helped,” Colt said softly. He still maintained a death grip on the control stick.

  Imani started to smile at his dry humor, but then it was as though her brain finally registered the bullet wound in her shoulder and an intense throbbing in the back of her head. Pain unlike anything she’d ever felt before licked throughout her body like hot lava. Not wanting to distract Colt, she stuffed a fist into her mouth to stop the sound of her scream as tears slid down her cheeks and blood oozed from her wound. Imani felt as though she were drowning. All her other senses muted, and only the pain existed, sharp and overwhelming. Even with her senses dull with pain, Imani listened in as he used the radio to call air traffic control for the closest runway to land. She heard him as though he were a far distance off and only vaguely heard Colt repeat the coordinates for LaGuardia.

  All went black.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Colt was out of his mind with worry. Three hours had passed since Imani was wheeled into surgery. It wouldn’t have been so bad if she’d at least opened her eyes.

  In the middle of receiving instructions from air traffic control, he’d turned and seen her on the floor of the jet passed out cold. The jacket she wore was soaked with blood. He’d had no idea what was wrong. Had she gotten shot, or had she gotten hurt from the turbulence of the jet? Almost an hour from the nearest airport, landing the plane became paramount.

  Getting Imani off the jet to receive immediate medical care was his only priority. The shitstorm of having to explain to the multitude of White House representatives, police officers, airport personnel and media he left to whomever was still alive on the plane. He had no idea who’d survived or what story
they’d tell. He simply wanted Imani out of there and for her to open her eyes. She hadn’t moved once since she’d passed out on the plane. Frantic with worry, he’d felt for a pulse and had gotten a very faint beat.

  Given the numerous injuries on the jet, several ambulances and police vehicles had met them on the tarmac. However, he ignored all of them to climb into the lone helicopter that had come to transport the vice president.

  The pilot had started to protest, but Colt wasn’t having it. He leveled his gun on the man. No further conversation was needed.

  Now waiting for the damn doctor to show his face was killing him. Mac had called to tell him that some agents were coming by to offer protection. Apparently, the world outside had gone insane trying to find out what happened on the jet.

  “Colonel Ragnarson, sir?” The doctor spoke softly behind him.

  Colt turned and leveled the physician with a cool stare. He’d wanted to demand the guy’s credentials because he’d looked so damn young. However, he’d been so worried because of Imani that he’d ignored the impulse and simply let the guy examine her.

  “Is she all right?” Colt asked.

  “Your wife’s in the recovery room.”

  “May I see her?”

  “Not yet. The nurses are getting her comfortable, but I wanted to talk to you first.” The doctor started to look slightly uneasy, as though he were searching for the right words. “We took two bullets from her left shoulder and bicep, and repair the bullet wound to the back of her head. She’ll be sore there for a few days, but she will make a full recovery. The bullet to her head went through and didn’t hit anything vital. The procedure took longer than expected because we had to run some routine tests before medication and going in.” The doctor looked away from him then, and Colt glared at him for drawing this shit out.

  “Spit it out, man! Is my wife okay? Is there something wrong with her?”

  “Nothing wrong per se, but did you indicate that you only recently got married to explain the lack of proper identification?”

  Colt narrowed his eyes. “I didn’t fuckin’ indicate anything. Imani and I were married a few days ago.”