LOVE AND BULLET
PART 7
Dawn crept through the curtains like a thief, painting gold stripes across tangled limbs and rumpled sheets.
Ava woke to the weight of Obinna’s arm draped possessively over her waist, his breath warm against her bare shoulder. For one hazy moment, she forgot—forgot she was a detective, forgot he was a criminal, forgot the world outside these four walls existed at all.
Then reality crashed back in.
The safe house was quiet except for the steady drip-drip of last night’s rain from the gutters outside. Obinna’s phone buzzed insistently on the nightstand, the screen lighting up with a message that made his arm tense around her.
“We need to move.” His voice was rough with sleep, sending shivers down her spine.
Ava turned in his arms, their noses almost brushing. “Who was that?”
Obinna’s thumb traced idle circles on her hip. “My brother’s making his move.”
The bathroom mirror reflected a version of herself Ava barely recognized—smudged mascara, kiss-bruised lips, the ghost of Obinna’s fingers still branding her skin. She turned the shower knob too hard, letting the scalding water punish her for last night’s weakness.
But when she stepped out, steam curling around her, Obinna was leaning against the doorframe—shirtless, a fresh scar she hadn’t noticed before slashing across his ribs.
“You stare like you’ve never seen me before,” he murmured, taking the towel from her hands.
Ava swallowed as he dried her shoulders with agonizing slowness. “I haven’t. Not like this.”
His lips quirked. “And how do you see me now, detective?"
Dangerous. Addictive. Impossible to walk away from.
She didn’t answer.
Breakfast was a tense affair—fresh mango, warm puff-puff, bitter coffee. Obinna spread a map across the table, his fingers tapping Lagos Island.
“My brother controls the docks now,” he said. “But he’s vulnerable here.”
Ava studied the markings—warehouses, patrol routes, escape points. “This is a full-scale assault.”
“It’s war.” Obinna’s gaze burned into hers. “And you’re going to help me win it.”
Ava laughed incredulously. “Why would I do that?”
He leaned forward, catching her wrist and pressing her palm flat against his chest. His heartbeat thundered under her fingers.
“Because last night wasn’t just sex.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “And we both know it.”
The Intimacy of Conspiracy
Obinna dressed her himself—black tactical pants, a fitted bulletproof vest, knives strapped to her thighs. His hands lingered at every buckle, every strap, as if memorizing her.
“This isn’t a disguise,” Ava realized as he braided her hair back with surprising tenderness. “It’s armor.”
Obinna’s lips brushed the shell of her ear. “Today, I need you to be a weapon.”
When he stepped back, Ava saw the change in his eyes—the softness from this morning hardened into something lethal. The Lion was back.
At the door, Obinna caught her face between his hands. His kiss tasted like coffee and goodbye.
“When this is over,” he vowed, “I’ll peel this armor off you one piece at a time.”
Ava’s breath caught. “If we survive.”
His smile was all teeth. “When we survive.”
Then he was gone, leaving Ava with the ghost of his touch and a terrible realization—
She no longer knew whose side she was on.
TO BE CONTINUED...