by Amarie Avant
The sound of water rushes. I focus myself enough to step inside the bathroom just as Jagger is pushing Frank down into the bathtub. His face is perilously close to the white stream of water. Smoke begins to billow up.
“It’s hot. It’s hot. It’s hottttt!”
“Hand me a towel,” Jagger growls.
For now, just a few splashes of the piping hot water have gotten onto Frank’s now ruddy face. Steely ice blue eyes glare back at me. “A towel.” Jagger orders again.
Fingers trembling, I move around until I’m in the hallway, opening up a wooden cupboard. I grab a daffodil-yellow towel, but the color does nothing to calm my jittering nerves. When I return to the bathroom, my shoes have stopped right before the tile at the entrance. I toss it toward Jagger, who grabs it and places it over Frank’s face.
He’s gonna kill him.
Why did the thought strike me so profound and compelling? I’ve seen Jagger murder before, but nothing could ever prepare me for it. Gurgling sounds force me right back out into the hallway, pulling at my hair.
“This isn’t real . . . this isn’t real.”
“This is real, and it’s all about your Uncle Qaaim.” Jagger steps out. His beefy forearms glisten with water.
“Is he . . .”
“I just said Qaaim had something to do with this, Mikayla. Who gives a fuck about the stiff in the bathroom?” Jagger ties his hair into a man bun. His brain appears to already be in overdrive, like the one time he murdered someone and wouldn’t speak to me. He’d cleaned like his life depended on it. Instead, he stops, looks down at me, and asks, “How many men went to jail for Qaaim Mthembu?”
“Tw-twenty,” I stutter.
“And their wives, their sons, their parents? Where are these men’s families now, Mikayla?”
Hesitantly, I suck in oxygen. Elder Chumi had highly suggested that each of their mates stand trial as well to understand how aware they were of their husband’s crimes. Knowing the consequences of their possible responses, I had decided to send them all away. Not because I’m some bleeding-heart idiot of a queen, but because there’s a difference between the Western society that I grew up in and the one that I currently head.
We’re far from Wakanda’s technological and social advancement. Women in my culture do what they’re told. Their being aware or not doesn’t make a difference, at least, not until I’ve taught my people to give women more rights. So, instead of possibly condemning wives and mothers to jails, I sent them away.
“They’re all gone, Jag. None of them live in Nivean anymore. I couldn’t very well get rid all these parents. There’d be orphans everywhere. What they could not take with them has been liquidated into our nation’s finances. That is how they paid their penance.”
“How democratic of you, Mikayla,” Jagger replies, although it didn’t come out as a sneer. His beautiful eyes are narrowed in thought. Jagger wants to right all of the wrongs that Nivean is dealing with, though he would leave a bloody trail in doing so.
“Who hired Frank?” I assert myself, arms folded.
“Once the flat has been wiped down, we can talk about that, Kayla.” Jagger returns to the bathroom.
“Wait . . . wa—” Frank’s muffled cries are silenced, by what I don’t know. I move into the living room as far away from Jagger’s sadistic activities as possible. At the sound of footsteps in the hallway, I stumble back into the couch.
When forever has passed, I move ever so slowly back into the bedroom past Frank’s soiled duvet. I peer just inside the bathroom. Trick’s duffle bag of horrors is open on a rug in the center of the floor. My eyes zip to the bathtub to see crimson stains smeared all across the ledge. A few drops of blood are on Jagger’s face when he turns around to offer a pleasant smile.
Doing an about face, I make a mad dash into the kitchen, throwing up into the sink since there is no other bathroom in the home. I can hear Jagger making a call for a cleaning crew. I pool clear water into my cupped hands and wash my mouth out.
“You have to get used to it, uthando.” Jagger’s soothing voice reaches out to me.
“I never will, Jag.” I grit back, reaching down under the sink for bleach. It’s not that I don’t trust X Member’s perks of ensuring that killing grounds are free of DNA, but I splash most of the bottle around the basin of the sink.
“You are leaving evidence of a cover up, Mikayla,” he states matter-of-factly.
I turn on the water to wash down the strong chlorine scent and give a flippant response. “Can you add a little bit of give-a-fuck to your tone, Jagger. I really hate the way you get after killing someone.”
He sighs, coming around. His hands rub over my clammy skin at my hips and sides. “We will figure this out, Kayla.”
His mouth begins to descend on mine when there’s a knock at the door.
“Who-who is it?” I mumble, sounding quite like Frank did. Damn, I’ll never get this out of my head.
“It’s the cleaning crew.”
“Wow, that was fast. Bu-but you literally called them a second ago.”
“Correction. I confirmed that they can enter just now. We both knew Haskins was dying today. I lined up the appointment. They usually knock for discretion.”
“How thoughtful.” I trail behind him to the door.
Three men in white suits enter, bustling by us. One eyes me before heading on. Outside, we head back to the car.
“Jag, when we get home,” I assert, while he puts the key into the ignition, “Elder Chumi and I will handle the issue. Just let me know who did it.”
“That’s not so simple.”
Moving in my seat, I glance at his face. It’s awe-inspiring chiseled marble, a face you could fall in love with—if a murdering pyscho is your fancy. “What do you mean ‘that’s not so simple?’ Or are you referring to allowing someone else to lead? Or who . . . who did this?” The treachery I had hoped Chumi and I had dealt with sets my soul on fire. We did a lot of clean up . . . new elders. . . kicking out entire families. Damn, why does it sound so conceited that I don’t want to be a hated queen?
“Just know that I’ll ensure your safety, Mikayla.”
“Oh, from shutters flashing and candid photos?” “Tell me there aren’t more Qaaim supporters.” I almost beg. “Tell me that Qaaim sent Frank from his jail cell. Tell me . . .” I stop murmuring. This request is outlandish.
Tell me that it can’t have been Qaaim acting without his minions because he’s been sitting in jail for two months and unaware of this just about “spur of the moment” holiday.
Anger flashes before his gaze, leaving just as instantly. The only telltale sign that Jagger is unable to keep tabs on certain things is the way his mouth tenses just so. He takes my hand into his. “Mikayla, you will have a long, fruitful reign in Nivean. You have my word. But right now, you have to allow me to do my job.”
The back of my head kisses the seat. But you’ll go about this the bloody, deadly way.
“They may have other plans for you,” he growls.
Sighing heavily, I mumble. “Alright, Jag. Do what needs to be done. But are you telling me you know who they are yet?”
He shakes his head, reaches over and kisses me tenderly.
“Alright, alright . . . shit, I keep saying that. I’m grateful for you, Jag. It’s just.” I pause. A memory of my father’s quest to gather the support of Niveans comes to mind. Lord knows life wasn’t easy for King Bannan. “I have a list of things that I’d like to change for Nivean. I want equality for women and more teachers for the one school we have. There are so many challenges that I’m facing just to run the kingdom and keep food in my people’s mouths.”
I stop speaking, clinging to a single seed of hope.
It’s one in the morning once we return to Trick’s jet. Cruising at a high altitude, Jagger holds me in his arms. His hand brushes the kinks of hair from my cheek. There’s a look of sheer determination on his face. I sigh heavily, knowing that Jagger won’t allow me any peace of mind.
>
“Mikayla, in order for me to investigate who is still in your kingdom with ties to Qaaim, there are more things that I need to know.”
Groaning, I burrow my face into his neck. “If you’re able to figure out who reached out to Frank let me know. If not, Chumi and I are still handling it. We removed the obvious poisoned fruit but not everyone.”
“Tell me about your father, Kayla.”
I rub a hand along my chest. “I never talk about him.”
“I need something, Mikayla.” He shakes my forearms. “Baby, I understand that you have only a select few childhood memories with Bannan. However, I cannot help you while in the dark.”
Night terrors that plague my mind when I’m all alone begin to rear themselves. It’s not that I don’t have good memories with my dad, but Jagger isn’t asking about the good shit. He’s interested in the bad.
“Okay, I’ll tell you what I gathered from our conversation with Chumi and MamLalumi,” he says, planting a kiss on my lips. “King Bannan was an Austronesian from the Malagasy group in Madagascar. The island country is located much further north east than Zihula and running parallel to Mozambique, Africa. But it’s not part of the South African nation. Bannan and your mother met in college, and the Nivean warrior hero whom your mother was betrothed too—”
“She wasn’t really betrothed,” I mumbled. “Our nation took great pride in marrying our royals with other African royals. Nevertheless, a commitment between a Nivean Okeke warrior,” I mention Abayomi’s clan, “and a Mthembu was always blessed by our diviners.”
“Like that guy who came to Long Beach, attempting to save you from me?”
“Abayomi Okeke.” I nod with a smile.
“Alright, so your mom was really close with another Okeke, until she fell for Bannan, bringing division to your country. Which also gave her avaricious brother, Qaaim, a stronghold. There has to be a group of traitors still meeting on your land, Mikayla. Who all was aware of our trip?”
“The entire palace staff.”
“Anyone else?”
“No.”
“Frank received money from a South African bank account. He’s made a career as a paparazzi, Mikayla. While it wasn’t much money, it was enough for him to take that tip and sell those photos.”
I bat my eyelashes, biting back the sting of tears.
“Have any red flags about anyone in your circle, sweetheart?”
I gulp, sniffling back tears. It’s always in these moments where I feel like I’ve taken a step forward that I’ve been literally shoved two paces back. I could be in med school, practicing on patients who need me instead of being pushed down by my people who’d rather I hadn’t returned to Nivean.
“You will survive this.” A voice speaks inside of my head. This one doesn’t mirror my tone of voice, nor does it say all the wrong words. It’s the encouraging support of my ancestors.
A momentary comfort surrounds me like a blanket in the frigid snow, warming me from the inside. I’m able to weed through the worry and focus on what’s important. A light goes off in my brain. “There is one person that I don’t fully trust.”
“Who?” Jagger’s tone is heavy. I’m sure he’s conjuring up so many deadly ideas in his brain.
“Abayomi’s cousin, Kmota Okeke. She’s one of my servants.”
In anger, Jagger grits out, “I murdered him, Mikayla. Because I thought he’d take you from me! Why would you employ—”
“Jagger, I didn’t even know who he was when he shot at you.”
“You are not proving your point!”
“Can you just listen? Listen for a second and let me get it all out.”
“Tell me everything.”
“She’s been a servant in the household since Uncle Qaaim ruled—Jagger, her parents and her parents, parents, and the list goes on—someone has always worked for us at the palace. And here’s more transparency for you, Kmota was at the palace the day my cousin stole me from you in Nevada. Elder Chumi has suggested that I remove her from my presence—meaning the entire nation.”
“Then what would possess you to keep the cousin of the best friend who died coming to save you, Mikayla? I understand that Qaaim sent him to California in hopes that he’d bring you to him and cut out the middle man.” He pointed to his chest. “But, sweetheart, you have to rule with an iron thumb not a forgiving heart.”
“Jagger, I am a just queen.” I breathe heavily. “I won’t cause any further divide than there already is. Chumi did not find any connection to Kmota with the hostiles.” I shift in my seat. “It’s tricky with the Okeke. I just explained that they’re the Mthembu clan’s greatest allies.”
“I am aware.”
“I can’t just kick her out. Besides, I have a great number of guards that I do trust—and those that are slowly coming around. So, unless she pulls out a dagger—”
“Mikayla—”
“I know, I know. This is the perfect case of keeping your enemies close, Jagger.” I stare into his eyes, so he understands that I’m steadfast in my convictions. “Either she’s a traitor, and I catch her and the rest of the Okeke, or she’s not.”
Time passes, and I get the notion that I’ve won the debate until Jagger’s jaw clinches. “Over my fucking dead body! I won’t have you playing Russian Roulette with your enemies just to see if they wanna kill you fucking a little bit or a lot. Dead is dead. Show me who she is when we reach your home, and I’ll have all the answers we need from her in seconds.”
I pull away from the warmth of his arms. “What, with Trick’s bag of goodies? No thank you, Jagger.”
He clasps my cheeks, glowering at me. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
A fear that I have never seen flashes before Jagger’s gaze. “If something . . . something happened to you, Mikayla,” he says. His usually confident voice is stripped bare, steely and rough with anger. “I wouldn’t play the game of judge or jury. I’m executing every fucking body. There will be no Nivean nation.”
“What do you suppose we do then?”
He reaches over, grabs my cellphone from the cup holder, and firmly hands it to me. “Make the call. She can be a part of your welcome home crew in Durham, or we all take a little drive to Nivean.”
I make the call.
13
Jagger
Once Mikayla had requested to have her servant Kmota along with a few other guards in Durham, she moved to the opposite side of the jet. Her arms are folded, legs crossed in anger.
We’re halfway through our ten-hour flight. Neither of us can sleep, and the time is not being utilized to our mutual benefit. A while later, Mikayla is asleep with her arms still tensed around her midriff.
Seated, legs wide, fingers steepled, my rage is just held at bay as I hear her soft breathing while she sleeps. My eyelids are heavy with a need for sleep, but soon, Mikayla will be on her gilded throne. I’ll sleep then, and I’ll have to take an assignment. I will need to feel my hands painted with hot, red blood just to survive without her. Taking lives is as natural as taking my next breath of air, and it will soothe the ache of not having her in my bed every night.
The soft breathing ceases.
Mikayla turns her head toward me. “You’re still up?”
My gaze, still consumed with rage, turns toward her. Having said I couldn’t live without her took something from me. It hurt badly.
“I just plan to talk to her,” I grumble. I’ll feel Kmota out, and if I don’t trust her, then she has to die.
Agreeing to the only compromise, I’m willing to make, Mikayla comes and sinks between my legs. She glances up at me. Her eyes say that we’ll figure things out. I run my hand over her hair where it stops at her jaw, then I caress her silky dark-brown skin.
She unzips my manhood. The warmth of her breath is hypnotizing. It’s enough to strengthen my cock into a fiery beast. Her tongue lingers over the skin.
When we touch down, the sun is ablaze outside. I’ve been awake this entire time, contemplating on
how I’ll ensure Mikayla’s safety when she’s out of my sight. I rouse Mikayla awake with a kiss on her earlobe. “Arise, my gorgeous queen.”
A beam of a smile brightens her face. She opens her eyes then her beautiful face is marred with thoughts of last night. Giving a tiny whimper, she murmurs, “Can you kidnap me again, Jagger? Force me somewhere far away, where it’s easier for me to agree to your bully demeanor—and where I’m amongst people that love and want to be bothered with me.”
Shrugging my shoulder, I reply, “Okay.”
“Damn, that was too easy.” She sits up, stretching deeply. “Complicating factors aren’t part of your repertoire.”
“Not at all. When I receive a mission, there’s always a decline button, uthando.” I crouch before her, caressing her cheek with my thumb. “You desire a tropical island in an uncharted area of the ocean? We can do that. And then we don’t have to be bothered with anyone, unless I say so.”
“Would be nice, but I don’t have time for wistful thinking.” Mikayla kisses me. I step back, and she stands up, starting to grab her purse and the black hoodie she took off last night.
I block her path. Then I’m biting my tongue. For a man who is used to getting what he wants, either nicely or with brunt force, asking her to choose me over her nation is an asshole tactic, even for the likes of me. My fingers seek out hers. I clutch them up toward my chest.
“We will be married one day, Mikayla.” The words that come from my mouth are powerful, confident, and shock her just as much as they shock me. But she has revived my heart, made me give a fuck about a human being for the first time in ages.
“If this is your idea of a proposal,” she murmurs.
“It’s not. Just a simple promise that you must keep in your mind anytime Elder Chumi or any other of your advisors attempt to sway you toward a more appropriate choice.” I kiss her forehead as she chuckles softly.
