Kola

By Kiru Taye

When sassy heiress, Tari Essien, needs a place to escape the pressures of the hounding press, she turns to Kola Banks, a deeply scarred ex-soldier who's also the Essien chief of security. Kola can't offer Tari anything more than his protection. She's family for goodness sake, even if they share no blood ties.

It’s a weekend of lessons for both of them. Together they can't avoid the explosive heat that sizzles between them, nor help pushing each others' boundaries physically as well as emotionally.

But when the weekend ends and Tari's life is in danger, will Kola put his body as well as his heart in the line of fire to keep her safe?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Love Africa Press
• Release date: Jun 16, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311822376

Kiru Taye

As a lover of romance novels, Kiru wanted to read stories about Africans falling in love. When she couldn’t find those books, she decided to write the stories she wanted to read.Kiru writes passionate romance and sensual erotica stories featuring African characters whether on the continent or in the Diaspora. When she's not writing you can find her either immersed in a good book or catching up with friends and family. She currently lives in the South of England with her husband and three children.Kiru is a founding member of Romance Writers of West Africa. In 2011, her debut romance novella, His Treasure, won the Book of the Year at the Love Romances Café Awards. She is the 2015 Romance Writer of the Year at the Nigerian Writers Awards.

Book preview

Kola

The Essien Series, Book 4

By

Kiru Taye

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Kola

Smashwords Edition

ISBN: 9781311822376

Copyright© 2015 Kiru Taye

Editor: Zee Monodee

Cover Artist: Love Bites and Silk

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be used

or reproduced electronically or in print without written

permission, except in the case of brief quotations

embodied in reviews.

KT Press

www.kirutaye.com

Blurb

When sassy heiress Tari Essien needs a place to escape the pressures of the hounding press, she turns to Kola Banks, a deeply scarred ex-soldier who's also the Essien chief of security. Kola can't offer Tari anything more than his protection. She's family, for goodness sake, even if they share no blood ties.

It’s a weekend of lessons for both of them. Together, they can't avoid the explosive heat that sizzles between them, nor help pushing each others' boundaries physically as well as emotionally.

But when the weekend ends and Tari's life is in danger, will Kola put his body as well as his heart in the line of fire to keep her safe?

Dedication

This book is dedicated to everyone who has been waiting for it.

Prologue

Twenty-two years ago.

Olori, here he is.

The boy standing behind Kola shoved him and he stumbled forward on the uneven floor. His thin body trembled as it normally did on a cold morning when he had nothing to shield himself from the harsh Harmattan winds blowing from the Sahara Desert into Nigeria. Except now, the sun blazed in a clear blue sky, stifling him in afternoon heat.

Sweat made his palms clammy. He pressed his arms to his sides and blinked at a rapid rate as he stared at the group of five boys surrounding him. They were a raggedy bunch in tired torn shirts, some in trousers and others in shorts. Most of them appeared around his age of eight, not much taller or bigger than him.

One stood apart. A tall, older teenage boy with dark-skin that reminded him of burnt rubber tyres wore a plain grey t-shirt stretching across muscular chest and arms, blue jeans, and a pair of dust-smudged red sneakers. He lounged against the exposed grey brick wall of the uncompleted building. Kola's gaze riveted to the boy he assumed to be the leader of this gang and the pen knife he used to pick his nails.

Tunji, who is this? the burnt rubber-skinned boy asked, waving his pen knife in Kola's direction.

I found him scavenging without your permission, Olori, the boy who'd pushed Kola replied.

Is that so? Olori straightened. His flat, wide nose flared, reminding Kola of an angry bull as he swaggered over, his pen knife now in his fist.

Breath bursting out of his open mouth, Kola couldn’t seem to control his shaking body. Like a cornered, wounded animal, his gaze didn't slip from the boy who looked at him as if he was prey and open for the kill.

Blinking several times, he gulped, determined not to cry. Surely the boys wouldn’t hurt him because he'd been at the rubbish dump, scavenging for anything he could resell so he could make some money to buy food.

He sucked in a deep breath and the smell of stale food and burnt rubber clogged his nostril. Swallowing the bile in his throat, he tried to quell his trembling body. There wasn't anything in his stomach so even if he heaved, nothing would come out of his dry mouth. Hunger pangs cramped his tummy. He needed food. The last time he'd eaten anything had been the day before yesterday when he'd scavenged partially rotted plantains off the rubbish heap where he now lived. At least when his mother had been alive, he'd eaten at least one good meal a day. Now, he was lucky if he ate anything all week.

I—I was just trying to find something to sell so I can buy some food, he said when he finally worked saliva into his mouth and could speak.

Do you not know that you need permission to touch the patch of garbage? Olori said, now in front and staring down with hard, dark eyes. It belongs to me.

Kola's mouth dropped open. How could a boy this young own the dump?

I didn't know, he squeaked in reply.

The other boy flicked his knife shut and crossed his arms. How long have you been working here?

Kola scratched the flaky skin on his elbow and darted his gaze from Olori to the other boys as they looked at him with a mix of curiosity and menace. After his mother's death, his neighbours had let him stay for a few days. Until one of them had tried touching his body the way he'd seen other men touch his mother. He'd bitten the man hard and ran as far away as he could, ending up at the rubbish dump. The people over here didn't care about him or his plight. They lived in a worse state than the slum he'd run from. He had to fend for himself, which was how he'd ended up scavenging in the first place.

Just this week. I only started this week. He rushed his words, hoping the boy believed him.

The gang leader eyed him from head to toes, making him cringe. This means you owe me a week's worth of taxes for the work you've done so far.

Taxes? Kola swallowed and clutched his hands tight. He'd barely earned enough to feed on from the items he'd sold. How could he afford to give money to someone who wasn't going to give him food? But I don't have any money.

Before he finished speaking, two of the boys grabbed him and turned the pockets of his shorts inside out.

He is empty, Tunji said, confirming what everyone else could see.

Olori shook his head and went back to leaning against the wall. Then your parents have to pay. You have to ask your mother to give you the money.

Muscles jumped under Kola's skin and his hands clenched as he fought back tears. Nobody had mentioned his mother in weeks. The sympathy he'd received from his old neighbours had vanished not long after she was buried. He didn't blame them. They all had their own concerns. Life in the slums wasn't easy for anyone. Why would they add taking care of the son of a dead prostitute to their worries?

He sucked in another deep breath. My mother is dead.

What about your father? Olori didn't even blink, although one of the other boys shifted his stance.

Parental death wouldn't be a new thing for this gang. They probably were all orphans like him. Although he didn't know if his father was alive or dead.

I don't have one, he replied.

So who do you live with?

Kola shrugged, shoved his hands into his pockets, and stared at the ground under his tattered sandals. Weed grew between the holes in the broken concrete.

Olori sighed. You broke the laws of the garbage dump by scavenging without permission. On top of that, you owe me for working on my turf. What do you think I should do with you?

Kola lifted his head, meeting Olori's gaze. The older boy didn't look angry but he didn't look as if he'd be willing to let Kola go free without some form of compensation.

I don't know. Perhaps if you let me forage some more, I can make some money to pay you back, he said, squeezing the hands in his pockets into fists.

It probably meant going hungry for a few more days. But he couldn't dare think of what these boys would do to him if he didn't pay up. And if he couldn't search in the refuse dump, how would he survive?

Humm. Olori tilted his head as if he was thinking about Kola's proposal. Then he gave a toothy grin of a shark. Okay. I'll let work on my patch but you'll pay half of everything you earn and stay with us here. This is your new home.

The other boys cheered and smacked him on the shoulders, now welcoming him into their gang. It took a few moments for Kola's shock to wear off after Olori's announcement.

Is he serious? Kola asked in a low voice, not wanting to jinx his luck.

Of course he is, Tunji replied with a huge grin. You are just like the rest of us, runaways and orphans. You'll fit in.

Kola nodded and surveyed his new home. It had four walls and a roof, although the two windows lay bare so that a small breeze swept through in cross ventilation. The boys used piles of breeze blocks as chairs and a centre table was formed out of clustered blocks with a sheet of plywood on top. Soon, they were playing cards on it.

Tunji pulled him aside. Come, let me show you where you will sleep.

He led Kola down a short corridor with two shut doors opposite each other. He pushed open the one on the left, revealing a shadowed room with bare walls, a boarded-up window, and uncovered foam mattresses on the floor.

That night for the first time in days, he had food in his stomach when he went to bed. He shared a loaf of bread and lukewarm coke with the rest of the boys. They ate as the sun set, the room lit with a kerosene lamp. The power outlets were not connected in this unfinished house. Not that it made much difference to him. There'd been a patchy power supply to the one room face-me-I-face-you flat he'd lived with his mother. And since he'd been homeless, lack of electricity had been the least of his problems.

Instead of sleeping alone on a hard cardboard sheet with a torn Ghana-must-go bag as cover, he had a soft mattress to sleep on and other boys sleeping beside him. Instead of being exposed to the elements, he was in a room with a roof over his head and a window that wouldn't let in sunshine or rain. Or wind. Yes, it felt stuffy in the room. But he preferred the hot and airless space as long as he had company.

Being alone had been the worst part of the past few weeks.

Now, he had a new family. The boys were his brothers and Olori a father figure of sorts. He didn't go anywhere without one of them being with him; most often, it was Tunji. He didn't have to worry about anything bad happening. When he got into any scrapes, the boys were there to fight with him. Every night he went to bed, he had food in his stomach.

One evening after a day of scavenging, Kola went into the communal outdoor lean-to bathroom to wash up. A nightly ritual, he liked to wash off the dirt and stench of the dump that seemed to permeate his body and clothes. One habit he'd learned from his mother. No matter how broke she'd been, she'd always insisted on cleanliness.

He unlocked the tap for the outdoor storage tank that Olori made sure was filled up whenever the water tanker came around the neighbourhood. There was no running water in this slum.

After scrubbing his body and rinsing off the soap from head to toes, he towelled off and got dressed in clean shorts and a cut-off sleeve top he wore to sleep. Then he hand-washed his dirty clothes before hanging them against the low brick fence to dry.

He grabbed the soap dish and turned to return to the room he shared with the other boys when he saw Olori talking to two men he didn't recognise.

Huddled together, the men spoke in low, rumbling voices. Although curiosity tugged at Kola to find out what they were saying, he wasn't stupid enough to eavesdrop on Olori who had shown him more kindness than anyone else had done since his mother's passing.

When the men turned to look at him, he bowed his head. Both men looked so similar they had to be brothers. Both sporting dreadlocks, they wore loose-fitting washed jeans although one wore an Arsenal football shirt while the other's blue t-shirt had a large D&G logo on it. On their feet were tan-coloured Timberland boots.

Who is this? the one with the Arsenal shirt asked. He looked not much older than Olori but there were more lines around his hardened dark eyes.

This is my new boy, Olori said and crooked his fingers for Kola to come forward. Kola, these are my friends.

I'm Stinger, the first one spoke.

And I'm Stone, the other said.

Kola sucked in a sharp breath. He'd heard of the two of them from the other gang members. They were indeed brothers and very notorious criminals, according to the rumours. They'd never been caught in the act or perhaps there'd never been any proof of their guilt, so they were free men. When the other boys had spoken of the two brothers, there'd been awe in their voices. Some of the gang aspired to be like them.

He looks very sharp, Stinger said.

Yes, he is. And a hard worker, too, Olori said proudly.

Then perhaps he's just the right boy we need for the upcoming job, Stone said.

I don't think he's ready for that. Olori looked at Kola with a frown.

Kola wondered what the job was about but he had the good sense to keep his mouth shut.

I agree with Stone, Stinger said.Kola will be the perfect boy to use. He's good-looking and looks sympathetic enough."

Olori nodded. Kola, go inside. I'll talk to you later.

He nodded and left the men, going inside to find Tunji who was with another boy, Osei.

Stinger and Stone are here. That means there's a job coming up, Osei said in an excited voice.

Yes, I know, Tunji said.

What's going on? Kola asked.

Did you see the two men talking to Olori? Tunji asked.

Yes. Stinger and Stone, Kola said.

That means there's a job coming up.

But we already have jobs at the refuse dump.

Ah, this one is a better job. There will be big money involved.

Big money?

Yes. I've had my eyes on the latest sneakers I saw in the market.

Kola made just about enough to feed with and half of it went to Olori, anyway. So he couldn’t imagine even having enough money to buy a new pair of shoes. But since he had a roof over his head, food in his belly, and the gang around him, anything else would be a bonus.

He waited patiently as the other boys carried on talking about all the things they would buy with big money. He would wait to hear Olori out when he got back inside. He joined the boys to eat dinner of beans and yam that they'd bought from the local mamaput roadside kiosk.

Olori called Kola and Tunji aside later and told them about the job they would be accompanying him on the next week. The following day, he took Kola to the local bend-down boutique at the market and picked out some second-hand clothes for him—two t-shirts and trousers and even a new pair of shoes. Apparently, the job required for the boys to be smartly dressed.

Kola was so excited about the new clothes, his apprehension about the job receded until the day in question. He had to wash early and get dressed. He and Tunji didn't go to scavenge. Instead, they got on a bus with Olori. Kola had never been outside of the area that he'd grown up in until that morning. So he marvelled at the sights and sounds around him.

For one thing, the perpetual stench didn't follow him. The air smelled fresh albeit fused with exhaust fumes and the smell of food from roadside vendors. The buildings he saw were made of bricks and painted in beautiful colours. They went past residential homes behind gated compounds as well as towering office blocks. The roads had fewer portholes than the unpaved ones in his locality and the cars were a lot newer and sleeker than the rickety ones he was used to seeing.

The journey seemed to take forever and they changed buses a couple of times. Olori even bought them snacks to eat on the way. Eventually, they got off the bus and walked the rest of the way until they came to a gated house. Olori spoke to the gateman who let them in.

Inside, they met Stinger who had a roll of marijuana in his hand. He waved for them to sit down. Stone will be back soon and then we'll be off.

The house turned out to be a one-bedroom ground floor flat. But it had nice furniture and a functioning kitchen which was a lot more than Kola had seen. Where he lived, the kitchen was outdoors, as well as the bathroom. And they were communal. For him, this was luxury. There was even a fan circulating cool air in the room as opposed to the handheld plastic discs they used to keep cool in their house.

If big money brought this kind of life with it, no wonder the other boys aspired to be like Stinger and Stone.

While they waited, Stinger finally told him what his job would be. He was to be a decoy. Kola was confused about what it would entail even after Olori said, Just do as you are told and everything will be fine.

Before he could reply, Stone arrived, carrying a black bag which he dumped on the wooden coffee table.

Stinger unzipped it as the young men gathered around. From the bag, he withdrew a shiny black metal object. It took Kola a few seconds before he realised it was a gun.

He shrank back into his seat, heart pounding in his chest as Stone and Olori pulled out more. Guns? No one had told him there would be guns. He'd watched enough movies on their old neighbour's TV to know those things were designed to kill. Only armed robbers and police carried them.

Although no one offered him one, did that make him an armed robber now?

I c—can't do this, he stammered, his whole body frozen on the chair.

The men turned around to look at him. Even Tunji eyed him up.

Of course you can, Olori said. You're not going to handle the guns so don't worry about them.

But people could be killed. What about the police? We could be shot. He'd seen it happen in the movies.

Nobody is going to get shot, Stone said. This is just a precaution to make sure the people do what we say.

Exactly. Stinger pointed his gun in Kola's direction. People are always scared when they see a gun and they will do anything you tell them.

The weapon levelled at him didn't waver. Kola tried not to pee in his new trousers. His heart thudded painfully against his ribcage and he found it difficult to breathe as he stared into the barrel of a gun for the first time. Was today the day he would die? He didn't want to show any fear and tightened his grip on the seat to stop his hands from trembling.

"Like now, when I tell you to get in the car outside, you' do it or I'll put