Blac stuffed more of Theresa’s clothes into a large duffel bag that sat on her bedroom dresser.
When he had gotten her home from the hospital, he sat her down in the living room, stared at her bruised and bandaged face, and told her as much as he dared about why she had been beaten.
“Those were Cutty’s drugs I got caught with, and he wants the money back now. But don’t worry. I know someone who’s gonna give me what I owe, plus some more. Enough so we can leave, go somewhere better.”
“Leave?” Theresa said. “And go where? I can’t go anywhere. My job is—”
“Theresa,” Blac said, kneeling down in front of her. “I know I ain’t always been what I was supposed to be, and I know I ain’t always put you first like I should’ve. But I been through enough to tell you I’m done treatin’ you like that. I want a better life, and I want you to be part of it.” He took both her hands in his and said, “Come with me, trust me, and marry me, and I promise, everything gonna be just fine.”
It looked like it caused her some pain, but Theresa smiled as wide as she could, leaned forward, and snatched Blac into the tightest hug he had ever received from her.
* * *
Inside the bedroom, Blac finished packing the duffel and pulled the draw ties on it.
His deadline had been extended till tomorrow at 8:00 p.m., but Blac didn’t trust Cutty and his men, so he told Theresa it would be best if they stayed in a motel tonight.
He reached under the mattress and pulled out the gun he had taken off Steven Ballard. He ejected the magazine to see that it was still fully loaded. He raised the back of his T-shirt, slipped the weapon in the waist of his jeans while telling himself that one way or another, the senator was going to give him that money.