More Than He Can Handle by Cheris Hodges Page A

slimy bastard. You set me up. You haven’t been trying to help me find my father because you care about me!”
    Marcus snapped his cell phone shut. “It’s not what you think . . .”
    Freddie punched him in the face, causing blood to spurt from his nose. “Get the hell out of my house!”
    â€œLook,” he said, “we can split the million.”
    She swung at him again, but missed. “You’d better hope that my father doesn’t get caught because . . .”
    â€œHe’s a criminal. I don’t know why you want a relationship with him anyway. Everyone in New Orleans knows what he did and if you’d take your blinders off, you’d know that prison is where he belongs.”
    Once again, she swung at him and this time she connected with his eye. “Out!”
    Marcus stalked out of her house and out of her life.
    The next morning, Freddie didn’t have a chance to meet with her father. He called her with a warning.
    â€œChere, I don’t think this storm is one to play with. Get out of New Orleans,” he warned.
    â€œJacques, when am I going to see you so we can talk?”
    â€œAfter this water blows over, we’ll talk. What I have to say has to be face to face. It’s not going to be safe in New Orleans, so you get to high ground, okay?”
    Sighing, she told her father that she would leave. Hours later, she and Loraine were on their way to Atlanta.
    â€œFreddie!” Cleveland called out, breaking into her thoughts. “Watch that car.”
    She slammed the breaks as the car in front of her did the same. Swearing under her breath, she quickly changed lanes.
    â€œBit of road rage?” he asked with a tense laugh.
    â€œDon’t worry, I’m not going to kill you—today.”
    Cleveland sneered at her. “You’re so funny. Where did you go?”
    She ran her free hand over her ponytail. “I was listening to the radio.”
    â€œThe toothpaste commercial?”
    She sighed and stared straight ahead. “I’m focusing on the road, okay? Open the glove box, the directions to where we’re going are in there.”
    He opened the glove compartment and blanched when he picked up the map and saw the nine-millimeter handgun underneath it. “What in the hell have you gotten me into?” Cleveland demanded as he picked up the gun.
    â€œPut that down,” she said calmly.
    He lowered the gun. “Why do you feel the need to have this? Are you going to kill your father?”
    â€œNo! What kind of person do you think I am? That gun is for protection, there have been a lot of robberies in the area and . . . Why am I explaining this to you? You’re the one who said you wanted to help me. If you want to back out, then let me know now.”
    â€œThat’s what you want, isn’t it? You want me to leave you high and dry, don’t you, so that you can say, he’s just like the rest of them?” Cleveland asked.
    â€œDid I say that? Stop projecting your bullshit on me and trying to analyze me,” Freddie said. “Do you have a hero complex or something?”
    â€œSuperhero actually,” Cleveland said. “I save lives for a living.”
    Rolling her eyes, Freddie struggled not to smile. “You are a firefighter, I forgot. Still, I don’t know why you think you know so much about me.”
    â€œI know I don’t,” he said. “But I’m willing to learn.”
    â€œOpening up about this is hard for me,” she said. “So, can I trust you?”
    Freddie glanced at Cleveland, sizing him up. Was he more trustworthy than Marcus had been? The best thing about Cleveland was that he wasn’t from New Orleans and he didn’t know who Babineaux was, that meant he wasn’t after the money. But what was he going to do when he found out? A million dollars could change everything.
    â€œMy father is wanted by the FBI. I just want the truth, and