“Oh fuck, baby. Are you okay?” I shook my head, giving an honest answer because I was far from it.
Courtland hopped into protective mode, grabbing my hair as he rubbed my back.
“I’ma get you out of here, baby. Let me call for another car. Here, come sit right here for me while I make a call right quick.” While he multitasked, ushering me to the driver’s side, he started talking to someone. I didn’t hear another voice, so I assumed he was on the phone, as he leaned over me, producing a small bottle of water and a napkin.
Fuck, Johnni, you have to get that picture before you leave.
“Baby, we have to go back inside, but I need you to stay close to me. No matter what, don’t let go of my arm,” he said while he wiped my mouth with the napkin.
With us heading back inside, there was still hope that maybe Quincey could make it out to get it before anyone else could see the picture.
“Yes, Chief.” We made our way back inside, with Courtland dominating the space he created for us to make it to Quincey in no time. Of course, he was too deep in conversation to even pay attention to his surroundings.
He had become fully dependent on Judge and Jury to protect his every move. It was scary how fast the situation made him comfortable to move like he was untouchable.
Courtland waved Judge over.
“Yo, look, some shit just went down outside. I got the police on their way because I’m almost a hundred percent sure whoever compromised the truck is still here.”
The police!
Shit, Johnni you’re on a time clock.
If you just tell Courtland you need that picture, he’ll understand.
No the hell he won’t because you can’t explain it without it looking like you’re protecting Quincey.
Just tell him please.
I tugged on his arm, getting his attention while he talked to Judge.
“Baby, I need to get that picture please, before the police and media get here. Since I saw it first, and then you, he can—” I didn’t even have to finish the sentence before his stone expression found mine and nodded. I didn’t care that Judge heard me call him baby, exposing me and Courtland’s relationship status. At that moment, my mind was on protecting my secret more.
“I’ma handle this on the way out. Get that muthafucka out of here discreetly, use any excuse that you think will work. I’m sending Najee to come scoop y’all. Let me get the keys. Oh, and have Jury handle the truck outside. I’ma take Johnni with me now.” Judge quickly glanced at me. I wasn’t sure what my face said, but he delivered a somber expression as he nodded, tapping his earpiece and speaking lowly.
“C’mon, Lou, we got seconds,” Courtland said as he led me back to the truck. I went to get the picture when he wrapped his arms around my waist, preventing me from going back that way.
“Hell fucking no. I got it, you just get in this one now,” he said lowly in my ear as Jury hustled out behind us. Jury made her way to guard the truck. Once he had me tucked in the front seat, he made his way over to Jury, going into the back seat and getting the picture. He passed it to her and said something that had her nodding.
He headed back to the truck, getting in next to me, grabbing hand sanitizer, and using it.
“Thank you.”
I grabbed his hand, interlocking our fingers. Even with the deep scowl on his face, he looked over at me.
“Please don’t be mad. This wasn’t the exit we needed. This could’ve hurt me too.”
“I’m not mad, Lou, just frustrated. And I understand. Don’t worry, I got your exit plan in motion. Just be ready to toss your hair down when I tell you to.” That had me smiling as I picked up our hands, kissing the back of his.
“I just want a snack, a back rub, and for you to hold me until I fall asleep.” He remained silent as he drove away from the venue. I leaned over, planting kisses on his face until Courtland finally kissed me back.
“Anything for you, Queen Lou.” After one more peck to my lips, Courtland put his eyes back on the road, taking me to the one place I wanted to be right now, home with him.
I sent a text to Quincey.
Me: Getting a room. Don’t worry, I’m safe.
I knew he wouldn’t respond, so I turned my phone off.
