Page 93 of Forced Into Your Arms
“Nobody had to. You’ve been asking questions about his mama for weeks, disappearing for hours and acting like you ain’t doing shit.”
He looked away. “I’m close.”
“To what?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Then you ain’t close.”
He turned back toward me with irritation all over his face. “You don’t understand.”
“No, I don’t, because you won’t tell me shit.”
“I can’t tell Vice until I know everything.”
“I ain’t Vice.”
Sam’s expression shifted, but he still didn’t explain. “I’m trying to protect you.”
I laughed without humor. “From what?”
“From being involved.”
“I’m already involved. You my man, and you moving around acting like somebody on your ass.”
“Nobody’s on my ass.”
“You sure?” He didn’t answer fast enough. I stood from the couch, going straight into protector mode. “Who threatened you?”
“Nobody threatened me.”
“Sam.”
“I got a message. That’s it.”
“What message?”
“Somebody told me to leave it alone.”
“And your dumb ass kept going.”
His eyes narrowed. “Don’t call me dumb.”
“You acting dumb. You don’t know who sent it, what they capable of or how deep this shit goes, but you still walking around asking questions.”
“It’s about Vice...”
“I don’t give a fuck who it’s about if it gets you killed.”
The room got quiet.
Sam stared at me like I’d said too much, but fear of losing him had already taken over whatever patience I had left.
“Let Vice handle his own shit or tell me so I can handle it. That’s what I’m paid to do,” I told him. “Tell him what you know and let him decide what to do with it.”
“I don’t know enough yet.”
“You know enough to get threatened.”
