Bodyguard My Heart (The Bodyguard #2)

Chapter 2

2

D emetrius “Meechie” Augustine

“You want me to send someone to fix the door, Meechie?” my cousin Fabian questioned as soon as I entered the hallway. I glanced at the broken hinges, barely keeping the door upright, and shook my head.

“Nah, fuck that nigga and this door!” I secured my gun at my waist before taking off toward the elevator. As far as I was concerned, he should have chosen somebody else’s wife to play with.

“Ou fou, kouzin. You crazy.” Fabian joked in Haitian as he fell in step with me.

I stopped by Samara’s apartment complex because I didn’t feel right not seeing her on our anniversary. I wanted to give her some gifts and dig her guts out before meeting Royale to debrief him on the information I’d gathered on his new wife’s ex-fiancé. His ass had snatched up somebody’s girl. I didn’t agree with it at first because of who she was attached to, but Royale was my best friend. He was my brother. He’d had my back more times than I could count. It was because of him that I was even in this position. Not to mention the guilt I held for what Samara and I had done. I would always ride with him first and ask questions later. I owed him that.

Stopping by Samara’s was supposed to be a quick detour. I ain’t expect her ass to not be at home, especially when her location pinged from her apartment complex. One call to her security and I was informed she had been spending a lot of time in an apartment that wasn’t hers with a nigga that wasn’t me. That shit had my skin boiling. We weren’t in an official relationship, and our marriage was only an arrangement, but Samara knew she was mine. She knew I didn’t play that entertaining other niggas shit.

“Samara not joining us tonight?” Fabian questioned. His head glanced toward the door.

“Nope.”

“Should I make sure she gets home safe?”

“Yeah, she will probably go to Rebecca’s, though. Let me know when she’s made it.”

We stepped onto the elevator. If Samara was mad at me, she wouldn’t go straight home. She needed to go somewhere she could talk shit about me. Fabian got on his phone to coordinate with Samara’s security. He was my driver but doubled as head of security for the entire cartel. Besides Polo and Royale, he was the only nigga I trusted. His mom was my dad’s sister. After my pop was killed, I started reaching out to his Haitian family just to feel closer to him. Fabian was the first one to contact me back and we grew close from there. When I took over the cartel, I moved him here. He ain’t have shit going on back in Haiti, so I pulled him in and gave him a job. I had the means to help him, so I did. Fabian was smart and calculated as shit, plus he looked like a chauffeur and not a gang member. Incognito was the name of the game.

That was how I had things set up, so the people around me and I could stay hidden. Only the people who did business with me knew I was a caporegime of the London Cartel. Though there were whispers and speculation about me, most people thought I was just a wealthy business owner. Because of my size, strangers assumed I was a professional football player. The fewer people knew about me, the better.

Security is on it,” Fabian informed me.

“Good.”

He stepped onto the elevator, and the doors closed. No matter what was going on between Samara and me, I would always make sure she was safe and secure. She was not only my wife but also my best friend’s little sister. I owed her my loyalty, even if she acted like she ain’t want it.

“You want to talk about it?”

My eyes shot up to Fabian. He was the only person outside of Mr. London who knew about my arranged marriage with Samara. He was also the only person who knew we’d crossed the line of that arrangement.

“Nah.” I shook my head. There was nothing to discuss. Samara had me fucked up talking about she didn’t love a nigga. She did. She wasn’t ready to admit it yet, and that hurt. I got it. A lot came with loving a gangster nigga. When she looked at me, she saw her father and the lifestyle she’d spent her entire life trying to escape.

“I’m not the best when it comes to women.”

“You think?” I blurted. Fabian had four kids and three baby mamas. Waving me off, he continued.

“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’t faithful. 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 world to 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.