Another picture of me walking into the hotel hand in hand with Yaseer came through, and I groaned audibly. I should’ve known that Quinten had people watching me when I came to Miami.
“What’s wrong? Talk to me.”
I quickly locked my phone screen, hoping Yaseer didn’t see what was just on my screen. “Nothing. I’m just ready to get the fuck out of Miami.”
“That fuck nigga you married to took your car?”
“Yeah.”
“Fuck it, I’ll get you something better.”
“That won’t be necessary. I already have another car where I live. I barely come back to Miami, so it’s not a big deal. I’ll never step foot back down here again if I don’t have to.”
“Nah, don’t talk like that. My people live down here. We slide through often, and you are going to be included in the itinerary from now on,” he asserted, gripping my hand.
All of the tension left my body once he interlocked his fingers with mine. Wayne slid into the driver’s seat, and I leaned myhead on Yaseer’s shoulder as we pulled off. The ride was calm and silent, flashes of the freaky shit we did last night and this morning filled my mind until we were nearing NW 42nd Avenue. Just before Wayne could make the turn, four black Suburbans boxed us in. I sat up, rolling my eyes because I knew my day was about to go to hell.
“Ion know what’s going on but do you want me to try to outrun them or shoot at them? They forcing us down NW 38th Street and ain’t shit back there but cheap motels and abandoned lots.”
Wayne lifted a gun from the middle console, and Yaseer pulled one from his waist and another from the pocket of the passenger seat.
“You all calm and shit. This your husband ain’t it?” Yaseer looked over at me.
“Unfortunately.”
“Stop the truck,” Yaseer commanded.
Wayne shook his head, following the command. Yaseer’s window came down and he leaned over to plant a kiss on my lips. The passenger door of the truck that was on my side came open, and Quinten’s shiny bald head appeared like a nightmare that I couldn’t shake.
“Get the fuck out of the truck, Marissa,” he demanded, tapping his gun on my window.
I rolled the window down to argue, but couldn’t get a word out before Yaseer addressed him. “Aye, watch how the fuck you talk to her!” Yaseer barked.
“Watch how I talk to my wife?” Quinten exploded, slapping his chest with enough force that we all heard a loud thud.
“Calm down before you burst a blood vessel,” Yaseer laughed. “Marissa is your soon to be ex-wife. That title doesn’t mean shit to me. Like people love saying, that marriage licenseain’t shit but a piece of paper. She in my truck, right? Glowing and shit.”
“Period,” I chimed in with a smirk. “Quinten, I’m trying to make my flight back to my kids that you seemed to forget we have.”
“You been in Miami in different niggas faces. Don’t act like you mother of the fucking year around this bitch.”
“Alright, Ion wanna lay you down in front of her because at the end of the day, Quincy and Lil Q do need their father. But if you talk out the side of your neck to her again, I’ll make it happen,” Yaseer cut in.
“You had this nigga around my boys?” Quinten gritted, his eyes searing into me as if his lying ass had any room to question me.
“Oh my God,” I rolled my eyes. “Wayne, please drive. I can’t with this nigga for real.”
“If this truck moves an inch, I’ll spray this bitch myself.”
“You ain’t gone shoot shit with your wife in the truck,” Yaseer chuckled darkly.
“Test me,” Quinten challenged.
Before I could blink, Yaseer leaned out of the window, and all I could see were his legs and parts of his chest as he emptied both the clips; bullets went flying in all directions, sending Quinten’s men ducking for cover. Wayne peeled off, tires screeching against the pavement. I got nervous that Yaseer might fall out of the window, so I gripped his legs, anchoring him with both hands before yanking him back inside.
Wayne swerved hard to the right, and the momentum sent me right on top of Yaseer. His arms instinctively wrapped around me, the cold steel of the Glocks clutched in his hands brushed against my warm skin. I didn’t flinch though. Instead, I grabbed his handsome face and kissed him slow and hard, feeding the tension that simmered between us. When I finallypulled away, my tinted gloss stained his lips. I stared at him, attempting to control my uneven breaths while admitting to myself that Yaseer was every bit of the man he thought he was.
Pulling myself off Yaseer, I glanced out of the back window. We had a solid lead, since Quinten’s men were all out of their cars ducking for cover before they could pile into their trucks and chase after us. Just like Yaseer said, not a single bullet came flying our way.
