Page 43 of Kissed By the Trillest Thug 2

I sighed because I knew he wasn’t bluffing about trying. Ryan held my gaze. It’s like he was watching me go through the motions.

“I’m giving you an opportunity.”

“To snitch?” I quickly asked with offense laced in my tone.

The words came out sharper than I intended. Ryan shook his head.

“No. I’m giving you an opportunity to help yourself.”

“That’s the same thing, bucko,” I said with a laugh.

“No, Giovani,” his eyes locked onto mine, “the difference is one choice ends with you helping me. The other ends with you helping your defense attorney. This is a lot to take in, so I’ll give you some time.”

He patted my shoulder and then handed me one of his cards as he walked past. I turned around to watch him make his exit, and he never walked to a car. He walked down the block until I couldn’t see him anymore.

“Fuck!” I shouted in the empty park.

This shit was too much for my fucking plate. I rubbed my forehead before stuffing his card in the pocket of my jeans and then making my way toward my car so that I could take my ass back home.

Chapter 9

Trigga

Sleep came and went throughout the night. Every time I managed to drift off, I ended up right back in that auto shop. Standing in front of Mr. Browne. Watching him point that gun at me. I was replaying the shit even in my sleep. I heard the shot and felt the impact all over again. By the time morning rolled around, I had given up on trying to get any real rest. I was stretched out across my bed staring at the ceiling when my shoulder started throbbing again.

The pain wasn’t as bad as it had been yesterday, but it was still there. A constant reminder that I had somehow managed to get myself shot by my girlfriend’s father. This was definitely not one of my better life decisions. I let out a breath and rubbed my face with my good hand. My apartment was quiet. My thoughts immediately drifted back to Maliah, back to her standing in my kitchen. I couldn’t get the way she looked when she found out the truth out of my head. I held her while she was losing her shit, and then when we woke in the morning, she was rushing out of my door.

I knew she made it home because she texted me after she got there. But that didn’t stop me from wondering how things went after that. Knowing how pissed her dad was, they probablydidn’t go great. A light knock sounded against the front door. My brows pulled together. For a second I thought that I was tripping and that maybe my next-door neighbor was making noise, but then it came again. There were three soft knocks. Slowly, I pushed myself upright. The movement immediately pulled at my shoulder.

“Damn,” I muttered under my breath as I made my way through the apartment.

The second I opened the door, Maliah was standing there. A smile immediately tried to pull at my mouth. She had on a matching Lululemon workout set, her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and two grocery bags were hanging from one arm. She was standing in front of me like she had every right to be standing there. Like this was normal.

“Good morning,” she said in a chipper tone as she brushed past me before I could answer. I watched her disappear into the apartment, then I shook my head. I grunted as I closed the front door.

By the time I turned around, she was already slipping out of her Yeezy slides. She kicked off one and then the other. A second later, she was heading toward my kitchen carrying groceries like she paid rent there. I leaned against the wall watching her. The entire thing would’ve been funny if it wasn’t so ridiculous. The craziest part of it all was that I would take another bullet for her. I swear I would. I loved the fuck out of this girl.

“You better go before your damn father shoots me again.”

The words came out jokingly as I followed behind her toward the kitchen. Maliah didn’t even look up. I watched her pull things out of the grocery bags one by one. She had eggs, bacon, bread, fruit, and pancake batter. She sat some of the items on the counter, and then she was stuffing my refrigerator with enough food to last a week. My brows pulled together.

“What is all of this?”

The corners of her mouth turned upward as she continued unpacking everything.

“I figured we could start with breakfast.”

The answer caught me off guard. This gesture was very sweet, but maybe my baby went home and was knocked upside the head and forgotten that her father had shot me or that he said that I had better stay the fuck away from her.

She finally looked up at me then. And there was something different in her expression. It was like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Like she wasn’t carrying around the same fear she had when she left yesterday, and I noticed it immediately.

“Start with breakfast?”

Her smile widened slightly.

“I talked to my dad.”

And now we were getting somewhere. This was the thing she’d really come to tell me. Her coming over here early in the morning with grocery bags wasn’t just it. I needed to know what happened after she got home yesterday, and now was the time for that conversation. I leaned against the counter and folded my arms.