Page 15 of Bodyguard My Heart

“Aye, boss man, Grant approaching to the left.” Fabian alerted me. Royale and I both sat up, placing our guns on our laps. We knew Grant wasn’t coming in peace. He wanted smoke for his fuck ass son Kashus and his nephew Rah. Both of themniggas deserved what they’d gotten. He was better off picking up the pieces of his dying ass mafia and moving on. Snooping around us was gon’ have him lying in the grave next to his crackhead ass son. I watched as his old white ass waltzed into our section with his goons. His face turned up.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” I greeted him. I ain’t care how many times he popped up where we were. He was always going to get the same response.

“My son's body was delivered to my house last Saturday stuffed in a bloody box. My grandchildren were there.” He hissed. I could hear the pain in his voice. Losing a son, even one as fucked up as Kashus, must have been hard. It was why I’d given him the gift of being able to bury his son. I usually had all evidence of dead bodies discarded.

“Damn, you got any clue what could have happened?” Royale questioned. “Sounds like your son made an enemy.”

I darted my eyes to Royale. That nigga was so good at playing dumb. I almost believed he hadn’t been the one to put a bullet in Kashus’s head.

“I’m confused as to why you keep informing us. Do we look like detectives?” I questioned.

“My son came down here to look for that bitch, and now he’s dead. Then I hear Dr. London here has married her.” Grant’s nostrils flared as he approached Royale. Ro quickly stood from his seat, and we all joined him.

“I change lives, Mr. Grant. I don’t take them. Monroe and I getting married has nothing to do with your son’s disappearance. I assure you that.” Royale smirked. Grant attempted to close the space between them, but the pistol Polo had aimed at the back of his head had him second-guessing his decision. The guys with Grant pulled their guns, and Fabian and I did the same. A few of the strippers screamed as they ran out ofthe section. I would have to pay the owner extra for scaring the girls. I cocked my head at Grant.

“I know you and that fat bitch had something to do with my son’s murder,” he spat. If there weren’t so many witnesses around, I would kill his ass now for disrespecting Monroe. She was my sis and I ain’t play that fat shaming shit.

“Is that so?” I replied. “Then I suggest you call the police. I’ve told you before. We can’t help you.”

“I might just do that.”

Royale and I withdrew our guns, tucking them back in our pants. Just like we wouldn’t shoot around all these witnesses, neither would Grant. He knew he didn’t stand a chance going up against the police and the judges we had on payroll here in Miami.

“We are sorry about your loss. Both of them, but I suggest you stop coming around here pointing fingers. We don’t take well to threats. We might have to withdraw our contract. Don’t forget who is keeping your bills paid.” I patted him on the pocket and stepped around him, leaving his old, wrinkled ass standing there. Royale, Polo, and Fabian followed. There was no point in staying there now. I didn’t chill in rooms with my enemies. Besides, Grant had killed the vibes.

“We’re going to have to kill his ass,” Ro blurted as he followed me out of the club.

“I’m already on it,” I replied. Fabian ran to get the car and pulled it around as we stood in front of the club. Few motherfuckers were bold enough to run up on us, let alone pull their guns out. That alone warranted his death. I had killed people for less. This pop up, like the other ones, was not a coincidence. Grant was watching us and plotting. I wouldn’t expect anything less from a man of his stature. I knew we would have to get him before he got us.

“Y’all niggas might as well meet me at the warehouse,” I stated. Polo and Royale both stared at me, bobbing their heads. They already knew that an impromptu trip to the abandoned shoe factory I kept just off the ocean meant somebody was being disposed of. I didn’t have to explain or consult them before setting my plan in motion. It didn’t matter. They were gon’ shoot first and ask questions later. That was how we all moved when it came to each other. My eyes meet Ro’s. It had been a long time since he’d been to the warehouse. He was retired.

“I figured since you started this shit, it’s only right you finish it.”

“I’m down,” he replied just as Fabian pulled my blacked-out SUV in front of the club.

“Y’all riding?” I offered. There was no need to take multiple cars if we ain’t have to, but knowing these niggas they would want to drive their own shit.

Ro held up his hands in protest. “Naw, Monroe at Samara’s having a girls’ night. I’m going to follow just in case I got to dip at any time to pick up her drunk ass.”

My eyes darted to Polo.

“Yeah, there’s no way I’m leaving my baby parked out here.” Polo declined my offer as he headed to his red Lamborghini.

“Meet y’all niggas there then.” I climbed into the back seat of the truck.

“Have someone snatch up Grant. I want to show him the warehouse,” I instructed Fabian.

“Say less, boss man.” He sent a message on his phone before pulling off and merging onto the main intersection. I didn’t plan on spending my night working, but it was a welcomed change from thinking about Samara. Chopping up Grant would stop me from ending up at Samara’s doorstep, because signed divorce papers or not, she was mine and always would be.

I pulled out my phone and swiped her number. I wanted to call her. Shoot her a text or something. The sound of screeching tires in the distance had me pulling my gun out and going on alert, but I was too late. A huge eighteen-wheeler truck was already slamming into the side of the SUV. My head slammed into the window, and the world spun as we flipped multiple times. I threw my hands up to shield my face as glass shattered around me. My thoughts went to Samara and then my brother as pain radiated through my body. I attempted to move, but my legs were heavy.

“Fuck!” I groaned. The car stopped moving, and I attempted to search for my gun. I wasn’t sure what was happening, but I wanted to be prepared if this was an ambush.

“Fabian!” I called, trying to gather myself. My ears rang, and the pain in my head forced me to close my eyes.

“Fabian!” I called again, hoping for a response, but there was nothing. Only sirens and voices in the distance.

“Meechie!”