perfect distraction.
Rocko groaned behind him as he arose from his sleep. “You still up, bro?” he asked.
“Couldn’t sleep,” Po replied. “We can’t keep this shit here. It’s time to get busy, fam. I need you to find a place where we can set up shop out here. This is too much work to keep where I sleep. Store it somewhere safe. Somewhere low-key.”
Rocko nodded. He opened the closet and found a bellman’s cart inside. He began to load the duffel bags on top. Just before he exited the room, Po stopped him.
“Yo, Rocko,” he shouted.
Rocko paused midstep and turned to Po, looking him dead in the eyes.
“Spend that bread slow, fam. Don’t draw no unnecessary attention to yourself. If the nigga Samad is as large asI think he was, we might encounter some problems. That’s a murder that we don’t have to be tied to if we play it smart, understand?”
Rocko nodded in agreement. “I got you,” he said, before leaving the room.
Po turned toward the room where Liberty slept and went to her bedside, then he sat in the chair across the room and leaned forward, resting his elbows against his knees. Po didn’t know what to do with Liberty next. Yes, he had saved her, but he wasn’t trying to be her savior. He knew that it was time for them to part ways, and he hoped that the money he had set aside for her was severance enough. He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn’t notice Liberty wake up.
“How long have you been sitting there?” she asked as she sat up in the bed, resting her sore back against the headboard. She winced as she felt the effects of Samad’s vicious hand.
“Not long,” Po answered as he stood and walked over to her. He grabbed a pillow and put it behind her back, then he sat on the edge of the bed and looked at her. She was the definition of beauty, good by nature with a heart so pure that it had been abused many times. Po didn’t understand how someone could bring her harm. Being in her presence warmed his cold heart, and he could not fathom why. Po never changed up for anyone, but he felt differently toward Liberty. Being around her was like putting a Band-Aid over his wounded heart. She was healing to him, without even knowing it. But because his fiancée had just died, he feltdisloyal for finding relief in Liberty. He couldn’t explain his connection to her, but he would be lying to himself to say that one didn’t exist. If he felt nothing for her, he would have left her for dead. It wasn’t sexual or even a love thing. Her spirit was good . . . like Scarlett’s had been. She reminded him of what he had lost. If anything, he wanted friendship from her.
“How you feel?” Po asked.
“I hurt all over,” Liberty replied. “But it doesn’t matter now. He’s gone, and he can’t hurt me ever again. I don’t have to be afraid anymore, and I owe that to you.”
“I’m the reason why you’re lying here like this in the first place. I should have never taken you back there. I’m sorry, ma. You were just a face standing in the way of me and my paper, but once I got to know you, I couldn’t just leave you there. That shit ate at me,” Po replied. “I apologize to you, Liberty.”
Liberty didn’t reply. She didn’t know how to feel toward him. Her anger was so prevalent, but so was her gratitude. Not even A’shai had been successful when it came to killing Samad. Po had done that, and he had done so on her behalf. That had to count for something.
Po leaned over, noticing the still fresh scar that lay across her chest. He looked at her as he reached to touch it.
“Can I?” he asked.
Liberty looked down at her scar in confusion, then back up at Po. She unbuttoned her shirt some and lifted her neck to allow him access.
The warmth of his fingertips kissed her skin like raysfrom the sun as she closed her eyes and took a deep, timid breath. Po’s fingers trembled as he traced the slightly bubbled scar.
“I had a bad heart,” she explained. “I had a
Rocko groaned behind him as he arose from his sleep. “You still up, bro?” he asked.
“Couldn’t sleep,” Po replied. “We can’t keep this shit here. It’s time to get busy, fam. I need you to find a place where we can set up shop out here. This is too much work to keep where I sleep. Store it somewhere safe. Somewhere low-key.”
Rocko nodded. He opened the closet and found a bellman’s cart inside. He began to load the duffel bags on top. Just before he exited the room, Po stopped him.
“Yo, Rocko,” he shouted.
Rocko paused midstep and turned to Po, looking him dead in the eyes.
“Spend that bread slow, fam. Don’t draw no unnecessary attention to yourself. If the nigga Samad is as large asI think he was, we might encounter some problems. That’s a murder that we don’t have to be tied to if we play it smart, understand?”
Rocko nodded in agreement. “I got you,” he said, before leaving the room.
Po turned toward the room where Liberty slept and went to her bedside, then he sat in the chair across the room and leaned forward, resting his elbows against his knees. Po didn’t know what to do with Liberty next. Yes, he had saved her, but he wasn’t trying to be her savior. He knew that it was time for them to part ways, and he hoped that the money he had set aside for her was severance enough. He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn’t notice Liberty wake up.
“How long have you been sitting there?” she asked as she sat up in the bed, resting her sore back against the headboard. She winced as she felt the effects of Samad’s vicious hand.
“Not long,” Po answered as he stood and walked over to her. He grabbed a pillow and put it behind her back, then he sat on the edge of the bed and looked at her. She was the definition of beauty, good by nature with a heart so pure that it had been abused many times. Po didn’t understand how someone could bring her harm. Being in her presence warmed his cold heart, and he could not fathom why. Po never changed up for anyone, but he felt differently toward Liberty. Being around her was like putting a Band-Aid over his wounded heart. She was healing to him, without even knowing it. But because his fiancée had just died, he feltdisloyal for finding relief in Liberty. He couldn’t explain his connection to her, but he would be lying to himself to say that one didn’t exist. If he felt nothing for her, he would have left her for dead. It wasn’t sexual or even a love thing. Her spirit was good . . . like Scarlett’s had been. She reminded him of what he had lost. If anything, he wanted friendship from her.
“How you feel?” Po asked.
“I hurt all over,” Liberty replied. “But it doesn’t matter now. He’s gone, and he can’t hurt me ever again. I don’t have to be afraid anymore, and I owe that to you.”
“I’m the reason why you’re lying here like this in the first place. I should have never taken you back there. I’m sorry, ma. You were just a face standing in the way of me and my paper, but once I got to know you, I couldn’t just leave you there. That shit ate at me,” Po replied. “I apologize to you, Liberty.”
Liberty didn’t reply. She didn’t know how to feel toward him. Her anger was so prevalent, but so was her gratitude. Not even A’shai had been successful when it came to killing Samad. Po had done that, and he had done so on her behalf. That had to count for something.
Po leaned over, noticing the still fresh scar that lay across her chest. He looked at her as he reached to touch it.
“Can I?” he asked.
Liberty looked down at her scar in confusion, then back up at Po. She unbuttoned her shirt some and lifted her neck to allow him access.
The warmth of his fingertips kissed her skin like raysfrom the sun as she closed her eyes and took a deep, timid breath. Po’s fingers trembled as he traced the slightly bubbled scar.
“I had a bad heart,” she explained. “I had a
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