Page 9 of Bodyguard My Heart

“I know you can’t force them to do shit. Kicking down doors and shit may work on those simple-minded hos you used to. Naveah liked that toxic shit, but even she grew tired of it. Samara is complex. You gon’ have to come at her differently.”

I nodded as Fabian rattled off advice I didn’t ask for as usual, but I appreciated it. I was in uncharted territory with all this relationship shit. I was a hood nigga. I didn’t date females. My last relationship was seven years ago, and even then, I wasn’tfaithful. Hell, Naveah and I were young and on some high school puppy love type shit.

I thought she was going be my rider, but the moment she went off to college, she forgot about a nigga. She wanted a man with a future, and to her, I just looked like a going nowhere ass street nigga. After that, I entertained women for one purpose only: sex. I damn sure didn’t marry them. Hood as a nigga was, I wasn’t ashamed to say that I was down bad about Samara Marie London. She was the only peace a nigga had outside of Royale and Polo. It was crazy how things had progressed between us. One minute she was just Royale’s little sister, the next, she was my wife. And then, she was guzzling my dick down her throat.

I never wanted any of this shit to happen. All I wanted to do was help my best friend become a doctor and provide for my little brother, Polo. Our parents were both gone. My father was murdered in an ambush, and my mother struggled for years to cope with his passing until she just couldn’t anymore. I was all that Polo had here in the States. I had to provide a way for him. Agreeing to marry Samara had made all that possible. I underestimated how much alone time Samara and I would spend together. How we would bond through our secret and loyalty to Ro. I definitely underestimated how good her pussy would feel on my dick. The elevator doors opened, and I stepped off, taking slow strides toward the exit.

“It doesn’t matter anyway. She wants a divorce, and I’m going to grant it for her.” I clenched my fist. The thought of letting Samara go had me steaming, but at this point, there was nothing more for me to do. It had been a year since I’d made my intentions known, and nothing had changed. I was still chasing after her, and she was still dodging me.

“You know damn well Samara don’t want a divorce.” Fabian huffed. “Neither do you.”

He was spot on. I didn’t want a divorce. I wanted Samara to cut the bullshit and be my wife. The more I pushed, though, the more she pulled. I didn’t respond to Fabian as I approached the black car we’d ridden in. Fabian still followed behind me, talking shit. Loud tapping coming from the car’s trunk made me halt my steps.

“Are you done?” I turned to Fabian. “We have unfinished business.” I glanced around quickly, surveying my surroundings before popping the trunk open. Fabian approached, grabbing a zip tie from his pocket.

“Minding my business, boss man.”

“Good, tie this nigga back up.”

I stared down at Rah. He’d gotten out of his zip tie again. The task was supposed to be to keep him alive. My new sister-in-law, Monroe, thought he was her friend. She had no clue her former fiancé Kashus had been passing him for his cousin when they were secretly on some gay shit. I had no problem with gay people. It was disloyalty that pissed me off, and that was why I’d made the executive decision to deliver him to the Seven Mile Bridge. I knew Royale was keeping her too busy to even remember to check-in on this nigga.

“The sooner we drop this nigga in the Pacific Ocean, the better.” Fabian’s fist connected with Rah’s face, knocking him out cold before he zip-tied his hands together. I threw the trunk door back down and made my way to the passenger seat of the vehicle.

I texted Ro to let him know I was on my way. I welcomed the distraction of work. It would keep my mind off Samara. My eyes glared up at Samara’s window. If she weren’t Royale’s little sister, I would shoot her fucking windows out.

“She’s on the move.” Fabian pointed toward the door. My eyes followed, finding Samara exiting her apartment complex. I stared at her. She was the most beautiful woman in the worldto me. Her brown skin shimmered in the night sky, and her bob bounced in the wind as she made her way to the car. Our eyes locked for a second before I looked away.

Fabian pulled out of the parking space just in time because it was taking everything in me not to hop out, snatch her up, and wipe those tears falling from her eyes. I was in love with Samara. She was the only woman I’d ever feel this way about, but if she and I were ever going to work, she was going to have to come looking for my ass this time. I wasn’t forcing shit anymore.

3

Samara

Two months. That’s how long it had been since I last saw Demetrius. I mean, I had seen him, but it was always in passing, like him visiting Ro at work or us having to be at the same gatherings. His phone calls to me and his random pop-ups had stopped. He was finally giving me exactly what I’d been asking him for, and a bitch was sick. I was so sick that I’d called an emergency girls’ night. I used the excuse of bonding with my new sister-in-law, but really, I just needed to soak up some positive energy.

“Samara! Go open the door!” Rebecca called, interrupting my thoughts and bringing me back to reality. Standing, I strutted to the door in my silk-short pajama set. I didn't even check the peephole before opening the door.

“Samara!” my favorite cousin, Aliza, shouted. My eyes widened at the sight of her. It’d been nearly a month since I’d seen her last. She’d been in Cuba helping her mom, my aunt Vanesa, with her restaurant, and I had been too busy dealing with life.

“Aliza!” I returned the excitement. Grabbing her up into a hug, I pulled her inside my condo. “You look so good!”

I closed the door behind her before turning and admiring her tall, thin frame in the unicorn pajama onesie she wore. She gave me a twirl in dramatic Aliza fashion as we proceeded with our childhood secret handshake. Aliza and I were close, largely due to her mom raising me after mine had passed. The years we’d spent conjoined at the hip made most strangers confuse us for twins. I saw the resemblance, but Aliza had always been slightly shorter and thinner than me. Not to mention, she was light skinned, and I was slightly darker. I was of average height, and my weight fell between skinny and thick. I liked to say I was a midsized queen.

“Me! Girl, you! Who got your hips spreading out like this?” She moved her hands in an hourglass shape down my body. I dropped my head. I couldn’t do anything but giggle. I was becoming curvier, and it was probably due to the way Demetrius had been knocking the Mario coins out of my pussy the last couple of years.

“I am one honey bun away from thick as fuck, though, huh?” I joked. My hips swung from left to right.

“Um huh!” she replied. “Must be getting some good dick!”

I shook my head at her crazy ass. “I wish.”

“This was tucked in your door.”

Aliza handed me a plain white envelope with my name on it. I recognized the envelope and Demetrius’s handwriting as soon as she handed it to me. It was the same envelope I’d put in Demetrius’s door months ago. My heart dropped as I stared down at the envelope.

“You okay?

“Um… yeah!” I lied. “Everybody in the living room.” I waved my hand toward where Monroe, Contessa, and Rebecca camped. We were having a girls’ night in since everyone was finally in the same city at the same time. Plus, I’d only gotten to hang with Monroe twice since Royale had introduced her.

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