Page 22 of Bodyguard My Heart
“You have an open wound.”
“I’m good,” I repeated. “I ain’t trying to mask the pain. I need to feel it so that I learn from it and never end up in this situation again.”
She didn’t say anything after that and just merged into the exit lane as I pondered why Royale and Polo would have Samara taking me up the highway to Bristol City.
“Do you have my phone?” I needed to call those niggas and see what was going on.
“Yeah, it’s in your bag. I’ll give it to you when we stop.” Her voice did that high-pitch thing again. Samara was hiding something, but I wasn’t going to trip about it. The truth would reveal itself soon enough. Samara pulled up to the gas station and I surveyed my surroundings. I had always been vigilant, but after a nigga had gotten bold enough to try and kill me, I was a little paranoid. Groaning, I attempted to move across the back seat of the car and get out.
“What are you doing?” Samara questioned as she opened her car door.
“Getting out to pump the gas. You know I ain’t about to let you do that while I’m sitting right here.”
“Demetrius, you can barely stand up.”
“I ain’t dead, though.”
“I got it. I’m sure the pump police is not going to come get you for this one time.” She giggled. I adjusted myself on the back seat as she fondled around in the glove compartment.
“Here, just in case.” She tossed a gun on the back seat next to my broken leg. “I got mine.” She patted the small purse she carried.
“I thought you ain’t want to be gangster’s wife?”
“I said I didn't want to, not that I didn’t know how.” She exited the car with a smile.
A slight smirk swept over my face as I watched her walk away in the cute little pajama set she had on. Even injured my dick stood at attention for her. Samara’s little feisty ass was effortlessly gorgeous. My eyes stayed on her as she moved through the gas station. I was amazed at how, even after spending hours in the hospital at my bedside, she was still fine as fuck. That was my wife. The only woman I loved and the only woman that I wanted to throw off a cliff. I shook my head as the sound of the car phone blurred through the speakers. Leaning forward, I looked at the center console.
“Just the nigga I need to talk to.” I leaned forward, pushing my body up just enough to answer the call.
“Sup!”
“Meechie!” Royale’s voice filled up the car.
My eyebrows furrowed. “Who else would it be?”
“Where the fuck are you and Samara?” Royale wasn’t his usual calm self. He sounded frazzled.
“We just got to Georgia. We about three hours away from Bristol. Stopping to get gas, bruh, relax.”
“Bristol!” That was Polo’s voice. “What the hell y’all doing in Bristol City?”
“Going to the safe…” My words trailed off as I started putting shit together. Something was going on and Samara was the culprit behind it all.
“Samara lying to me, ain’t she?” I questioned.
“Samara checked you out of the hospital, stole Rebecca’s car, and took off. We didn’t know if y’all were okay or if this was part of the ambush,” Royale explained. I couldn’t believe my ears, but at the same time, I could. Samara had a habit of taking shit into her own hands. I stared at her as she walked out of the gas station. She had a lot of explaining to do.
“You got my sister out here sneaking around, lying, pulling shit like this.” Royale was pissed.
“Ro, you know damn well I ain’t making Samara do—”
“Save it. Talk to Polo.” He cut me off, and I could hear commotion on the other end before Polo’s voice filled the speakers. I couldn’t blame Royale for being mad. I’d done some foul shit marrying Samara behind his back. It was fucked up, and this surely wasn’t the way I wanted him to find out, but what was done was done.
“I was about to burn this whole motherfucking city down.” Polo snapped me from my thoughts just as Samara swung the car door open.
“Who are you talking to?” She hopped in quickly, attempting to hang up the phone.
“Don’t!” I spoke calmly, letting her know I meant business.