Noble ducked just in time, feeling bullets whizz past his ear. He crawled in front of his truck and grabbed his gun out his waistband. Peeking around the front bumper, Noble saw the skidding of the tires before he fired several shots at the back of the beat-up Ford Escort.
“Damn.” He pounded his fist against the ground before rising.
The door burst opened and Rio, Wilde, and Zayd ran over to him.
“What the fuck was that?” Wilde asked.
“Somebody tried to kill me.” He wiped the debris off his collar shirt and slacks.
“Did you see who it was?” Zayd questioned, looking around.
Noble shook his head as words escaped him. He was dazed at almost being a distant memory. He thought Tuck had gotten comfortable, pushing him to decide it was time to attack. He’d planned properly, learned all the players on the board, and stayed silent. Noble should've known this wouldn’t go smoothly. He and Tuck had come up together, and they knew how each other thought.
“Aye, Wilde, make that call. No more playing games. This shit gotta come to an end.”
“That’s what the fuck I’m talking about.” Wilde nodded. “I’m ready to get in the fucking game.”
Noble couldn’t believe what he’d just dodged but that had woken him up. He had to up the pace before Tuck actually eliminated him for good.
Twelve
Irish flexed her sweaty hands and exhaled a deep breath. Her stomach fluttered, making her gaze down and smile. The baby always seemed to know when she needed extra love. Stepping in the Stoplight Booth, she sat down, thinking about all that she needed to release. It had been on her mind to visit the booth ever since Jovanis’ murder but she had been too hurt to speak on it. Now that her life was in shambles, Irish needed some professional guidance on how to gain control of her life.
Picking up the receiver, she sighed and cleared her throat.
“Hello?”
A faint smile covered her lips. “Hi, Carrie. It’s me, Irish. You know the girl who was married but started an affair with my husband’s associate.”
“Ah, yes, I remember. Irish, how are you?”
“Well.” She cleared her throat. “I’m not good. I think I’m in the worst position of my life.”
“Oh, no. Tell me what’s going on.”
“My husband was murdered in front of me. I watched him take his last breath.”
A gasp made her pause.
“Oh, my God. Irish, I’m so sorry to hear that happened,” Carrie sympathized. “I can imagine life has been so difficult after experiencing that.”
“Yeah, I wake up still in disbelief that my best friend is gone.”
Each time she saw a semblance of hope, her heartache snatched it away. Irish couldn’t enjoy a piece of toast without feeling guilt. She had survived but somehow Jovanis didn’t. It had been an agonizing way to live.
“On top of my grief.” She licked her lips. “I suffered a break up with the guy I had been dealing with.”
“Did the breakup have anything to do with your husband’s murder?”
Irish gulped while tightening her grip on the phone. “Not quite. I found out he went to see his ex-girlfriend behind my back. He insisted that the visit was innocent. I guess she’s a therapist.” She shrugged. “He supposedly asked her how to help me through this mourning period but I don't know.”
“Has he been dishonest with you in the past?”
Irish mulled over her question for a moment. “Not that I can think of.”
“Then, why is it so hard for you to believe what he says is true?”
“I don't know… maybe because he hid it and something happened but I don't know what it was. In the text message I saw from the girl, she apologized for something. He claim he handled it but I don't know. I don't want no man who sneaks behind my back.”
