Chapter 6

6

D emetrius

“Fuck!” I groaned as my eyes shot open. The stabbing pain in my stomach had rocked me out of my sleep. Everything that happened last night and today flashed in my head in bits and pieces. I remembered being hit by a truck and arriving at the hospital, but after that everything was spotty. I’d had surgery, but I couldn’t recall the procedure. I knew Samara was there when I’d woke up and that she’d signed off on the procedure to save my life. It was exactly what I knew she would do if I ever needed her to, and that was why I’d put her on the paperwork years ago. I’d put Samara on all my paperwork. If I wouldn’t have made it, everything I owned would have gone to her.

The shooting pain in my stomach coursed through my body again. It must have been time for me to get more pain medication. Every part of my body felt like I had been hit by a fucking truck. I would have rather been shot. Leaning my head forward, I took in my surroundings. I was in the back seat of a car I didn’t recognize and a nigga head was spinning. I blinked in confusion, trying to make sense of where the fuck I was and why. When I spotted the back of Samara’s head, I was instantly relieved. Lifting my hand, I intertwined my fingers in her beautiful curls just as I did when I was giving her back shots.

“A nigga ain’t gon’ never get tired of this view,” I mumbled, giving her head a slight tug. The car swerved a little bit as she yelped.

“Oh my God, Demetrius, you scared the fuck out of me.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but a green sign passing by my window caught my attention.

“Welcome to Georgia,” I read underneath my breath as more confusion set in. Why the hell were we in Georgia?

“Aye, why we just pass a welcome to Georgia sign?” I questioned. “Where the fuck we going?” She didn’t say shit, but I could feel the car speed up.

“You don’t hear me talking to you?” I tugged on her hair with a little more aggression. I needed answers as to why we’d been on the road for more than six hours. My memory wasn’t the best right now, but I ain’t remember Georgia being a part the plan.

“We’re headed up to Contessa’s safe house. That’s where they want us to hide out.” Her voice was doing that high-pitch thing it did when she was lying. We’d been around each other all of our lives damn near. Samara knew I knew when her ass was lying. Removing my hand from her hair I snaked my hand around the headrest and took hold of her neck.

“Lie again.”

“Demetrius, stop playing, you’re going to make me have an accident,” she fussed, attempting to pull my hand away from her neck.

“Stop lying then.” I tightened my grip. If she thought because a nigga was hurt she was gon’ play with me, she thought wrong. “Why are we in Georgia, Samara?”

“I just told you.”

My grip tightened again. I applied just enough pressure to let her ass know I meant business. Her panties were probably becoming ruined by the second. Without warning, that throbbing pain returned to my stomach, making me drop the grip I had on her.

“Shit!” I winced in pain as I doubled over. The reality that someone had actually executed an attempt on my life and almost succeeded set in.

“Are you okay?” Samara questioned. I could hear the concern in her voice, but I was in too much pain to answer her. “It’s time for you to get your meds. I just need to find a decent place to stop.”

I lifted up my head trying to pinpoint where we were. I’d made this trip a thousand times back when my job was running coke from Miami to Atlanta.

“The next exit is good.” I pinpointed where we were. Just outside of Bristol City. “There’s a gas station and a little place to grab something to eat. A nigga hungry. I’m good on the meds though,” I informed her before leaning my head back on the window. As sore as I was, I knew better than to rely on the pain medication to fix it. I’d seen too many motherfuckers get strung out off that shit. It was why the cartel had such a huge stake invested in prescription drugs.

“You need your pain meds, Demetrius,” she replied.

“I’m good,” I responded.

“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.

“You ain’t seen me calling you for the last six hours, Samara!” Royale shouted from the background. The phone must have been on speaker. “We in the middle of a damn war and you pull this stunt. You don’t care about your damn life.”

Samara rolled her eyes and folded her arms as Royale scolded her like he was her damn daddy. I understood his anger. This wasn’t the time for no damn impromptu road trip.

“What were you thinking, Samara?” I questioned.

“Demetrius needs to heal not run our father’s stupid cartel. Y’all weren't listening.”

“That’s not yo’ decision to make, though,” I said.

“Last time I checked, I was your wife.”

“Oh, now you my wife? Last time I checked you didn’t want that title, Samara.”

She didn’t say anything else... Just sat there rolling her eyes. I wanted to chew her out, but I couldn’t bring myself to kick her while she was already down.

“Where was we going for real? Bristol City couldn’t have been your plan.”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged.

“How the hell you gon’ kidnap a nigga and not know where you taking me?”

“Fuck you!” She tossed up her middle finger.

“Nah, I’m good on that,” I teased her. I watched her roll her eyes from the rearview mirror as she exited the car to pump the gas. This damn girl was truly my heart and my fucking headache. I ain’t know what to do with her sometimes.

“We’re headed back now, Polo.” I turned my attention back to the conversation at hand. Samara’s little stunt had taken up enough valuable time. We needed to ship the women off to Mexico and get to work tracking down Grant.

“Hold that thought. Shit actually a little hectic here.”

“What you mean, nigga?

“We found Grant dead, and word on the street is it was us who sent the hit in retaliation for you. On top of that, our shipment was hit. Everybody at the containment facility is gone,” Polo explained. My head spun. What the fuck was happening right now? My head throbbed as I tried to piece it all together. I came up dry. None of these rival gangs had the manpower or the resources to pull off such a move. The containment unit that was hit was hidden. Only members of the cartel knew about it. It had me thinking that this was somebody on the inside.

“It was an inside job.”

“We already know, but we can’t pinpoint who,” Polo said. “Ro closing the clinic for three weeks or until we can get this shit figured out. Samara had the right idea.”

“’Cause I’m a genius. Where’s Aliza and Becca?” Samara climbed back into the car.

“We’re here!” they both called.

“Contessa too. We don’t want to risk it,” Polo confirmed.

“Aye, add Fabian to this call. We need to all be on the same page.”

The line grew silent, and Samara dropped her head. I could feel it before anything was even said.

“He gone, ain’t he?” I questioned.

“Yeah, there was too much bleeding on his brain, bruh. I’m sorry,” Polo informed me.

My chest felt like a thousand big booty bitches sat on it. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t process what he was saying.

“Why y’all ain’t tell me!” I slammed my hand against the car door. “Fuck! Why y’all ain’t tell me!”

“We wanted you to get out of the hospital first, bruh. I know this one is hard.” Polo tried to comfort me. He was right. This one was hard. I was the reason Fabian was over here. I’d convinced him to come to the States. I’d involved him in this fucked up ass cartel shit, and now he was gone. I didn’t cry often. I could count that shit on one hand, but this was heavy. I could feel the tears rolling down my face.

“The plan is to lay low until we find out who the fuck sent the hit. Leave the country if need be.” Polo’s voice echoed through the car. Business didn’t stop ’cause a nigga was mourning. This was how this cartel shit went.

“Let the streets think I’m dead.” I used my shirt to catch the tears that had fallen for Fabian.

“That’s smart. It’ll expose whoever the fuck thinks they got one up on us,” Royale stated.

“Exactly.”

“Where y’all gon’ go, nigga?” Polo questioned.

“I gotta do this shit right. I need to deliver the news about Fabian to Gran and Pop in person.”

“You going to Haiti? How you gon’ get there? You can’t use the private plane,” Polo questioned.

“We almost to Bristol City. You still talk to that girl who works for TSA?”

I referenced Polo’s on-again, off-again situationship. Tika was as ratchet as they came, and she wasn’t afraid to break the law. We’d used her before to make fake boarding passes for runners. If anyone could help us get to Haiti undetected, it was her.

“I haven’t, but I guess I have to. You know where to meet her?”

“Of course.” I nodded my head. We didn’t know who we could trust right now but going through Tika was worth the shot.

“We use nothing but burner phones from here on out. We don’t know if our shit is tapped. Hit us up on this number when y’all get to Haiti,” Polo stated.

“And take care of my sister, nigga!” Royal shouted in the background.

“It’s me, Ro. You already know I got her.” The call disconnected, and Samara pulled out of the gas station parking lot.

“Get back on the highway,” I directed Samara. “We need to leave the country ASAP.”

“Um… Okay, just tell me where to go.” I stared at her in the mirror. Our eyes locked briefly. I was expecting a rebuttal. Some smart mouth ass statement. I wasn’t expecting her to go along with it so easily.

“What?” she questioned, noticing how I was eyeing her.

“Nothing, how you feel about meeting the rest of my family?”