“How are you feeling?” Gannon asked her next.
“Gannon, why are you here?” She stopped, hand on her hip and looked him up and down.
“Damn, Minx… a nigga can’t show you some condolences?” Gannon grimaced.
“I didn’t ask for it. We are done. Keep your fucking kind gestures and leave me the fuck alone.” Minx faced him.
“I came here because I still give a fuck about you. You coming at me like I’m the one that did something. What you should be doing is checking that nigga Rose,” he pointed out.
“The fuck are you talking about?” Minx’s brows dipped above her angry, mesmerizing eyes.
“Ask yourself who would do something like this, Minx? Shit was all good around here before Rose turned up once again,” Gannon pointed out.
“Are you trying to tell me that Rose is the reason my father is dead?” she demanded, mouth twisted up.
“I got word that some Spanish mothafucka from a cartel was killed down in Miami right before Rose turned up here a few weeks ago. Now, all of a sudden, somebody bombs Max’s car? You think that shit ain’t connected?”
The wheels in Minx’s head spun. Nothing Gannon said made sense, but then it did. Suddenly, her stomach flipped and bubbled with thoughts of Rose possibly being the reason her father was dead. If that were true, she didn’t know if she could take it. How would she ever be able to look at him again knowing that?
“Get out of my room,” she said, gritting her teeth as her door swung open.
Rose paused, anger clouding his dark gaze. He took a couple of strides inside and was in Gannon’s face in no time.
“The fuck you doing here?” Rose asked.
“What you think? Checking on Minx. Can’t be too careful.” Gannon shrugged.
“She don’t need you for that,” Rose argued.
“I think she can tell me what she needs in her own time. Don’t you?” Gannon tipped his head, and Rose had every instinct to knock it off his shoulders. Fist balling on its own, his jaw locked so tight it ached.
“Gannon, leave,” Minx said from behind, sighing heavily.
“She’s already spoken,” Rose chimed in. “Now move.”
A slight smirk filled Gannon’s lips. Flicking the tip of his nose, he let go of a deep breath and walked around Rose to the door. Frustrated, Rose shook his head and let out a sigh. Minx could see that he was fired up because that vein in his temple pulsed right below his hairline.
“You ready?” he asked, reaching for the strap to her duffel bag.
“Rose, I need to ask you something, and I need you to keep it real with me,” Minx spoke up, giving him pause.
Given the seriousness behind her stare, he could tell he wasn’t going to like whatever she had to say. He put her bag on his shoulder.
“When have I not kept it real with you, Minx?” he shot back at her, giving her the side-eye.
“Did you have something to do with this?” she prodded, narrowing her eyes at him.
“You fucking serious?” Rose replied, stunned. “Is that what that mothafucka was in here trying to fill your head with?”
“You didn’t answer the question,” Minx pointed out.
“If you knew me, you wouldn’t even ask that shit,” Rose snarled.
The fact that she was questioning him on it left him feeling inadequate. Minx, of all people, knew him, yet she was taking the word of some fuck nigga first. The fact that she was actually buying into the shit was really what got under his skin.
“I’m asking because you just took off without a word. Then you pop up… no notice… like you were running from something,” she surmised.
“The only fucking thing I was running from was you and whatever the fuck this shit is between us. That’s why I left, and that’s why the fuck I came back!” Rose acknowledged.
