Page 4 of Kobalt

“Yes, we’ve argued about it.”

“What did he just do then?”

“He was with another girl, Passion.”

“Ohh, baby. I’m sorry.”

I cried for a few more seconds before she said something that rocked my world.

“I know this is asking for a lot, but when you get here, I need you to go back home to him.”

“What?” I balked, causing the driver’s eyes to fly to mine once more.

“Not to Miami. We’re gonna need proof. You’ll have to go back home.”

Fear settled in the pit of my belly like a rock. How in the hell would I manage this without giving myself away?

1 ½ YEARS LATER (1ST WEEK OF SEPTEMBER)

“You’re so welcome. The vision turned out beautifully, Yashika.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you. You saw my vision, and girl, you took it to the next level. How can I show my appreciation?” she asked.

I laughed. “Girl, that nice coin and tip your honey dropped into my account was more than enough.”

“I just wanted you to know that we appreciated you doing this on such short notice. I’d wanted to hire you since he surprised me with my new house.”

“Well, it’s a beautiful one, and I hope the two of you enjoy it.”

“We will, girl.”

She hugged me, and I headed down the hydrangea-lined sidewalk to hop into my jade green luxury SUV. Her boyfriend was a dope dealer who was trying to go legit. I wished them the best, and I prayed they didn’t get their beautiful home taken in the process.

As I pulled out of her driveway, my thoughts turned to my own problems and lonely life. With one hand, I steered my vehicle, and with my other hand, I attempted to massage the knot of tension out of my left shoulder. I needed a massage, and if I didn’t do something about this knot soon, I would have a massive headache the size of Texas.

The last year and a half had been stressful. A month ago, I had just finished testifying in the trial against Kevin. It had taken a lot, but Passion convinced me to remain with him for another six months.

I took photos, recorded conversations, and gathered samples over a three-month period to gather enough evidence against him. Kevin had called me that morning, and I’d turned my phone off. I didn’t answer it until the next evening when I called to tell him that he was a cheating bastard. I repeated everything he said to that stripper just to prove I knew he’d been cheating.

Kevin immediately returned home like we knew he would. He begged my forgiveness, and he promised never to do it again. I played my part so well that my name should’ve been Erica Kane. I cried, called him out his name, smacked him a few times, and broke down crying again. He repeatedly told me he loved me, and in the end, I agreed to stay. There was only one problem: I refused to have sex with him. I told him that he was in the doghouse, but that started wearing thin after a while.

Since I refused to have sex with him, he continued cheating. I didn’t even care, because I was only with him for one reason. After Passion said that I had enough evidence, I broke up with him on allegations that he was still cheating. This time, I didn’t bother to stick around and try to prove it. I left a letter at the apartment we shared, and I moved out and returned to my townhome that I’d been leasing out.

Part of her request was that I also testify at the hearing for Reighvyn, Kobalt, and Jeremy. I didn’t have to testify for Holt, because he’d come forward and admitted his guilt in using PEDs and other drugs.

Thankfully, they didn’t ask me to testify against Norrell, because they had enough evidence to put him away on more serious charges than the ones he was facing with the MMA. That was a risk that I wouldn’t have taken even if asked. I didn’t care if I caught the man pouring the PEDs in their beverages and meals myself; that wasn’t a risk I wanted to take with my life. Norrell Kidd was a dangerous man. Despite knowing him for a while through Kevin and the two of them growing up together, I never wanted to be on his bad side—not with him knowing it anyway.

I stopped at Pepper & Spice, my favorite Thai cuisine spot, for dinner. All I wanted was to go home, shower, eat, and binge watch Love Island.

The neighborhood I lived in was relatively quiet. Our townhomes were full of young professionals and new families. I loved my three-bedroom, two-and-a-half-bath, three-level townhome. My master and en suite were on the top floor, the two guest bedrooms and one bath was on the second floor along with my spacious eat-in kitchen, and on the primary floor was my living room, office, theater room, and a half bath.

The townhome was a thirtieth birthday gift to myself, the year after I opened my interior design business. When I designed my home, I chose a color scheme of terracotta and brown sugar with accents in my favorite colors of deep plum and jade green.

As I pulled up to my driveway, I noticed a navy-blue Charger parked across the street from my house. The vehicle had been here a few times this week, but it was normally parked two houses down and across the street instead of directly across the street. I thought it was odd, but I shook it off as I pulled into my two-car garage. After I grabbed my food, bag, and phone, I walked out of the garage instead of through the connecting door that led into my kitchen. I needed to go back down my driveway and check the mail.

Something pulled my gaze away from my mail after I retrieved it from the box. I stared at the Charger again. The window of the Charger rolled down, and I could see the man’s eyes but not anything else. His hand stuck out of the window, and there was no mistaking the fact that he made a gun with his fingers and pulled the trigger.

My heart jackhammered in my chest, and I ran back into my garage and locked it. I had no idea who he was, and the thought that I had seen the car all week long made me wonder if he had been watching me. If that was the case, who was he, and who sent him?