Page 36 of The One He Desires

“Open this mothafucking door, bitch. I told you not to play me.”

My eyes pinch, and a glare forms when I see some dude aggressively pounding on Journee’s door.

“I’m going back to jail,” Jamarion declares.

Seeing this man assault Journee’s door causes me to forget about my law degree or my usual attempt to keep Jamarion on the straight and narrow. The man’s next words cause my brain to short-circuit and my steps to quicken as I close the remaining distance.

“Journee! Journee! You got two seconds, or I’m kicking this door in.”

“Do it and wake up dead.” My tone brooks no argument as Jamarion and I reach whoever this is at my woman’s door.

My blood’s lava hot as I take in the guy once he turns to face Jamarion and me. The urge to pound his face as hard as he’s hit the barrier blocking him from Journee increases once our eyes connect. Jamarion speaks before I can question him or say anything.

“BN? You must have a death wish,” Jamarion barks.

BN? What is a BN, and how does Jamarion know him?

“This is my family, nigga. Fuck you think this is,” BN says.

The more I stare at this man, the more familiar he becomes as another image slams into my mind. Brian Noble. The man I saw in court a while ago was the one who told the judge he wanted to be better for his child.

“You’re the deadbeat,” I say, entering the conversation as everything comes together like a puzzle.

“You look familiar. Who the fuck are you, nigga?” Brian questions.

Before I can respond, my phone chimes with the jingle I assigned for Journee. I pull the device from my joggers’ pocket to see a new text.

My Journee:

Milan is here, and she’s scared.

Shit!

The knowledge of Sweet Face being inside fuels me even more as rage fills my extremities. It also forces me to slow my reaction so as not to add any additional stress to my Sweet Face. I show Jamarion my phone before I exit the thread, lock it, and slip it back into my pocket.

“Whatever your intentions were for coming here tonight don’t matter. You need to tuck your tail and be on your way because there’s no one on the other side of that door for you.” My voice is void of emotion as I assess the little boy in front of me.

A distinct click sounds, forcing me to look at Jamarion as he lifts a silver-plated gun toward Brian.

“The difference between my cousin and me is that words are often a waste of my precious time. He also has to worry about his law license while I don’t have shit to lose. Now, you can walk your bitch ass away from this door, or them folks got a body bag for you,” Jamarion says calmly.

“That’s why you look familiar. I almost hired you as my attorney,” Brian says.

“Not in any version of your lifetime,” I reply.

“Five,” Jamarion says coolly.

Brian’s eyes bounce from me to Jamarion for seconds, and a humorless chuckle falls from his mouth as he takes a step forward.

“This shit ain’t over. They will have to see me again.” Brian points behind him toward Journee’s door and then side steps Jamarion, and heads toward the elevator. “Oh yeah, I won’t forget this unfinished business, Jay.” Brian doesn’t turn to look in our direction as he speaks his parting words.

“Looking forward to it, bitch boy,” Jamarion grumbles to Brian’s retreating back.

My focus shifts to the two people on the other side of the door as I pull my phone out again and send a quick message.

Me:

It’s clear. Open the door.