LOVE AND BULLET
PART 1
The air in Lagos was thick with the smell of roasted plantain, diesel fumes, and something else—danger.
Detective Adaobi "Ava" Nwachukwu adjusted the tight red dress clinging to her curves, her high heels clicking against the cracked pavement as she walked toward the most notorious nightclub in the city—"The Viper’s Nest."
This wasn’t her.
Ava was used to bulletproof vests, not sequins. She was trained to chase criminals through the slums of Ajegunle, not sway her hips to Afrobeats in a room full of drug dealers and killers. But tonight, she wasn’t Ava the detective.
Tonight, she was "Lola Adebayo"—a runaway Lagos socialite with a fake criminal record, a sharp tongue, and a body men would kill for.
Her mission?
Get close to "The Lion."
Obinna "The Lion" Eze.
The most feared drug lord in Nigeria. The man who controlled the underworld from Lagos to Port Harcourt. The ghost the NDLEA had been hunting for years.
The club’s bouncers—two massive men with scars and cold eyes—eyed her as she approached. One of them licked his lips. The other gripped her arm a little too tight.
"Who sent you?" he growled in Pidgin.
Ava smirked, slipping into her role like a second skin. "Tell Obinna that Lola is here. And that he’s been ignoring my calls."
The bouncers exchanged glances. Then, with a sharp nod, they let her pass.
Inside, the club was a different world. The bass of Burna Boy’s latest hit vibrated through her bones. Smoke curled in the air, mixing with the scent of expensive whiskey and sweat. Men in designer agbadas and gold chains lounged on plush couches, their eyes tracking her like she was fresh meat.
But Ava didn’t look at them.
Her gaze locked onto him.
At the very back of the club, surrounded by armed men and beautiful women, sat Obinna Eze.
Tall. Dark. Impossibly handsome. Dressed in an all-black agbada that screamed power. A gold Rolex glinted on his wrist. A cigar dangled between his fingers.
And his eyes—God, his eyes—were watching her like she was the only person in the room.
Ava’s heart pounded, but she didn’t falter. She sauntered toward him, hips swaying, lips curved in a confident smirk.
One of his bodyguards stepped forward, blocking her path.
Obinna lifted a single finger.
The guard moved.
Silence fell over his table as Ava stopped in front of him.
"Obinna," she purred.
He took a slow drag of his cigar, his gaze traveling down her body and back up. "Lola," he finally said, his voice deep, smooth, and laced with danger. "I’ve been hearing stories about you."
"Good ones, I hope."
"Depends." He leaned forward, his cologne—something expensive, something foreign—wrapping around her. "You’re either the best thing that’s walked into my club… or the worst."
Ava held his stare, her pulse racing. This was the game. One wrong word, one wrong move, and she’d disappear before sunrise.
But then Obinna did something unexpected.
He smiled.
And in that moment, Ava realized something terrifying—
She wasn’t scared of him.
She was scared of herself.
Because the way her body reacted to him?
That was the real danger.
And that… that could get her killed.
TO BE CONTINUED…