Love Redeemed, Book 4 (37 page)

I check Brett’s information against
Dawn’s via his assistant again, and then three times over for clarity. Nothing changes about the locations being two separate states.
This must be a mistake
. Then again, probably not. But I have to be sure.

I sen
d a text to Azmir:

You think you can arrange a tour of the White House while I’m out there this weekend? Don’t try to front and tell me you’re not cool with Barry.

He replies seconds later as ice cream and cake is delivered to our table.

I don’t want
your hospitality out here to be by your president. The only type you’ll receive is by your layman of a husband. I think you’ll enjoy mine better though.

T
hat does it! It seals the deal. It confirms Dawn has sent a fraudulent itinerary.

Throughout dessert and Barbie shopping
afterwards, with Erin, I brood over this sting of Dawn Taylor, trying not to tip off a shadowing John.
This security thing is for the birds!
This time, my first thought isn’t to go to Azmir. I have to handle this on my own, starting with finding a redeye out to D.C.—where my husband is. By the time I drop my princess off home, I have my flight booked for ten fifteen tonight. I also concoct a plan to ditch John for my early trip. He’ll think he’s seeing me home for the night, but I’ll slip into the car later and drive myself to the airport. He’s not contracted to travel with me to see Azmir anyway.

One my way to the marina, m
y phone rings and it’s April. Frustrated, I growl as I hit the screen to accept the call. I’m not in the mood to discuss why I didn’t invite someone to my
private
wedding. But it’s clear that April isn’t backing down.

“Hello,” I spe
ak, irritatingly into the blue tooth.

“Rayna! Oh my, g
od, you answered!” April sounds almost out of breath.

“What choice did I have?”

“Rayna,” she sighs. “I didn’t call to fight.”

“Well, I hope not considering I have a flight to catch in a few short hours
,”
I hope John didn’t hear that.

“I just…it’s just that,” she c
an’t catch her words. “Geeze, Rayna, I’ve changed! I don’t want to fight with you anymore—not that I ever wanted to, but you made it a sport almost right after meeting you.” My brows rise at that statement.
What’s she hitting at?
“You know, I never really got you. We never had real beef…a legitimate fight, but you never liked us…Britni and me. For some reason, all we were ever met with from you is the typical rolling of the eyes, mumbled sarcasm under your breath, and an overall cold regard. We’d never done anything to you! You know, I hate to say it, but you were that…stereotypical black woman that we eventually regarded
you
as. And that became easy, because at least it made some sense.”  

“Stereot
ypical black woman?” I bark, ready unleash the brewing anger onto her that I’m trying to reserve.

“Yes!” she exclaim
s. “It was immature, but that’s all we had to combat ourselves against you. You’ve always been so mean and angry towards us…for no reason! We never viewed you negatively. Heck, when others tried to paint you as an opportunist to Michelle, secretly Brit and I went to bat for you on several occasions. We never understood your bond, but what we could see was reciprocity. You adored her and…well, we couldn’t understand why you didn’t give us the same opportunity of friendship. So, yeah,” April’s voice turns definitive. “We teased you and got silly in your presence to have fun at your expense.”

My mouth prie
s open. Revelations begin hitting. Her accusations sound vaguely familiar of me, but spot on for…
Syn
? My head won’t slow its spin. These are thoughts I’ve had of how Syn regards me: angry to the degree of antagonism.

Oh, my god!

Suddenly, I underst
and that all of my flaws and self-discoveries aren’t limited to counseling sessions with Pastor Edmondson, or via fights with Azmir. This time they’re coming from a different source. However, I don’t understand the nature of her call, her insistence of getting in touch with me.

“Is this the
imperative conversation you said we needed to have, April?”

“Some of it, yeah! I didn’t want to dig right in like that, but you…” she sigh
s again. “Hear me out, Rayna. For crying out loud, we are sisters in Christ now, right? I mean, I’ve heard bits and pieces about the new Rayna through your pastor while with my in-laws. He and his wife adore you and that’s saying a lot.”

“Is it so hard to believe that good people like me?” my voice crack
s.

“No
! God, no, Rayna!” she assures. “It’s just that since Michelle died, you up and left contact with us. It’s just weird hearing about your life through an unlikely party,” she murmurs.

“Well, April, the last place I
expected to see you settle into is a pending first lady role, myself,” I softly challenge with humor.

“Shit—
I meant
—crap! Me, too! But people change. They see better and then sometimes want it for themselves. I’ve been lucky or should I say—”

“…blessed,” I insert, certainly understanding the sentiment.

“Well, I know you have to go, but I want to say a few things to you,” she inform
s.

“Finally, we’re getting to the point of the call,” I sputter on a giggle. April
joins me for probably our first shared laughter in all these years.

“Anyway, I heard about you and Erin. I’m very happy
about you reconnecting with her. Believe it or not, I fought for you to Amber. No one deserves to be in that little girl’s life like you, Rayna. I mean that,” she almost chokes out.

“Thanks, April. I appreciate that,” I breathe into the phone.
Instantly, her words mean a lot. “I just dropped her off before you called.”

“Awesome!” she cheer
s, and seemingly authentically before going silent on the line.

“April, you still there?”

“Yeah,” she nearly whispers.

“You alluded to
calling about several things,” I remind her as we turn onto my exit.

“Yeah, I know,” she confirm
s shakily. “There’s no easy way to get into this,” her voice grows with fortitude. “About that sex tape in The Bahamas…”

I c
an’t believe the latter part of the conversation…

Rayna

Drenched in anger. That’s how I feel. It’s as though my entire body has been subdued in an oily batch of fury. So much so, I don’t recall packing, neither much of my flight. I didn’t sleep, didn’t eat the entire four hours and forty-two minute trip. When the plane landed, I grabbed my
Pagase 45
and made a mad dash to a cab. Although I observed, unseeing, the city, I didn’t take in the beauty of it all. I didn’t even admire the epic Lincoln Memorial when the cab passed by it. All I can think of was what those bouncy curls will feel like, stretched and twisted against my fingers and bawled into my palms.

I reach the concierge at the
Mandarin Oriental
without batting an eye to the opulent reception area, vaguely appreciating plush décor from the carpets, to the walls, and up to the chandeliers. I’m looking for my destination.

“Good evening!” the
café au latte male with a shiny head greets. Even his ideal smile can’t warm my cool veneer. “Welcome to the
Mandarin
. How may I assist you this morning?”

His question mak
es me wonder about the hour. It’s after seven in the morning on the East Coast and I don’t even feel the lack of sleep.

“Checking in. My name is Rayna Jacobs. My husband is here: Azmir Jacobs,” I offer.

“Okay…”

That’s all I t
ake in from him until he instructs me to the fourth floor with a key. But the biggest phase of my plan hasn’t been determined. I don’t know how I’ll accost Dawn; I have no clue of her room. So, I back up, literally, in reverse to the desk.

“Yes, ma’am?” he ask
s.

“Before I settle in, I’d like to run a few things
past our staff. Could you please give me the room…or suite,” I include suite in case A.D. rolls that way with his contracted staff. That possibility is thought of begrudgingly. “…of Dawn Taylor or
Bacote & Taylor’s Planning and Public Relations Corp
?”

My mind
honestly goes blank, I only recollect several things after that. The next patch of consciousness I have is knocking at the door of a room. With my left hand, I hold onto my luggage handle, and with my right, I give unyielding, modest knocks.

I hear movement from beyond the
door, and my heart speeds up in beats. I even sense someone looking through the peephole seconds before opening the door.

Lord, forgive me for the next twenty minutes or so. Please!

“Mr. Jacobs, is that you?” I recognize as Dawn’s playful voice.
I’m not falling for that!

My body
goes cold. When the click of the knob sounds, I brace myself. And when the door swings open and I see dark brown, bouncy curls and long, coffee bean shaded legs that runs a mile long under a black lace slip that ends just below the pelvic line, and all of this is covered by a white, plush housecoat, my brain goes haywire. Dawn looks very sensual, holding a petite porcelain teacup to her face, barely hiding that crafty smile. I want to break it, so I do—the smile and the cup.

“Wrong Jacobs, bitch,” I calmly inform
, using the palm of my hand to smash the tea mug into her face.

I hear her shriek in pain, and g
et excited by the sound of alarm in her cry. Dawn stumbles backwards, away from the door and I move fluidly towards her after slamming it behind me.

“I tried to be so nice to you, Dawn. I tried with every inch of me, but you don’t know how to let me breath
e,” I barely register the sound and feel of porcelain breaking beneath the soles of my sneakers. “But I can show you better than I can tell you.”

Before she c
an process what’s about to go down, Dawn examines the blood from her fingers and wipes that from which is pooling into her mouth, down to her trembling chin. She looks at me in disbelief, and I nod my head before punching her square in the nose.

Dawn scream
s, “Uhh!” and I go in for another jab.

By this time
, she’s backed up on the bed and falls backwards onto it. And from there I go wrathful with punches in perfect sequences everywhere on her that I can land them. I hold her by the roots of her perfect bouncy curls and anchor her face for my pounding. And when I’m done with that, I pull her from the bed, unresponsive to her screams and the banging at the door—those are extraneous sounds behind my deafening rage.

Dawn begi
ns to fight back, flailing her arms in defense. She even lands a few slaps. I pull her from the bed and haul her to the foot of it where I have more space to stand her. When I land my first uppercut into her face as her upper torso is bowed before me, I fade to black. In other words, I beat the living hell out of Dawn Taylor with no consideration of consequence.

You
can take a girl out of the hood…

You can even let her marry a multi-millionaire, but…

~~~~~~~~~~

Azmir

“You good?” I ask. My tone is low, indistinct.

Rayna’s neck jerks up from the water. She’s slouched chin deep in the Jacuzzi
, soaking her muscles. She appears slightly alarmed, but quickly she composes herself, stubbornly submerging back in the water until only her head is out.

“
Perfect,” she replies after a few beats.

“
You must be ready to eat something.”

She shakes her head softly, still being ornery.

“No.”

I observe her for a few more moments before muttering,
“Come see me when you’re done.”

I then leave
the bathroom, deciding to give her more time. I have no choice; she’s been cleared medically by a physician—one I used to fuck no less, but someone competent and who could provide discretion—and is still a free woman considering her stupid actions.

She’
s fine, Divine,
I tell myself.

I’m still baffled
at how Rayna spazzed the way that she did. I’m just happy that I was there from the moment it popped off to offset any legal liability, or further physical harm. I was coming from running with Tyler, who’s traveling with me this leg of the
Mauve
promo, when we noticed her in the lobby. I split up with him to attempt a playful sneak attack on my wife who had arrived earlier than I was expecting her. I even thought it was cute that she’d gotten off on the wrong floor; I assumed she was that delusional from clearly having caught a red eye to surprise me.

I even let her knock on the wrong door, stood back
, and was prepared to laugh my ass off. It wasn’t until I heard my name from the other side of that door that I became concerned. And when I realized it was Dawn’s room, I knew shit was about to go down. She asked if it was me knocking at the door when I didn’t know where she was staying. However, when I sprinted to the door it had already shut.

I heard Dawn
’s scream and Rayna’s seething words, though not clearly. I knocked on the door, but they’d already been too engaged in ruckus to hear. I called out Rayna’s name frantically, but tried not to alert other hotel visitors with my alarm. I called Paul, my muscle, and asked him to discreetly find someone who could open the door without calling the cops.

It seemed like an eternity before the
y arrived, and by that time several hotel guests had opened up their doors for answers. I couldn’t worry about them; I had to make sure my wife was safe. When we entered the room, I saw Rayna, wearing Dawn’s ass out. At first, I felt relief knowing my wife wasn’t being victimized. Then, I saw the brutality of the situation.

Now,
I’m a married man and very aware of whose team I play for between the two women, but when I saw Dawn, helplessly hunched over, having recurring jabs thrown into her face and upper body, I felt a bit of sympathy.

I grab
bed Rayna, demanding no one to touch my wife but me. The hotel staff, Paul, and Tyler, who appeared out of nowhere, respected my wishes as we separated the femme warriors. After the screams, threats, and heaving for air by the two, I was able to get Tyler to take Dawn to seek medical attention. Paul stayed behind to play the role of the
Cleaner
. With him being former
One-Time
, he knows the language that will convey discretion of this matter.

I was able to extract Rayna from the scene and into my suite where she was seen medically and cleared to bathe.
At first, she appeared tired and…hard assed. She argued that I was overreacting, but I couldn’t give a fuck.
My wife just beat the shit out of my PR rep.

Sometime later, while
in the living room, going over blueprints for a new
Global Fusion
office building, I sense her presence. I glance up from the coffee table, and see her glaring at me tentatively. I know this mood she’s in. Over the past few months, Rayna has adopted this hard veneer that was dissimilar to the one she had when we met. This time, her attitude encompasses me and our relationship. She’s been more assertive in arguments concerning our
bubble
. I can see right through that layer of protectiveness, but totally respect her switch in gears. It’s all about her process of bettering herself.

“
Well...?” I ask while I observe her in a long taupe silk robe, inadvertently matching the motif of the suite.

“
Well, you said you wanted to see me.” The crisp in her tone can’t be missed. Her hood persona is still lingering. I have to take it up a notch to effectively handle her.

“
Okay. So can you now tell me what the fuck happened downstairs this morning?”

“
Are you going to listen to absorb or listen to develop your argument?” She folds her arms into her abdomen as her hip rests against the sofa, keeping her distance.

I straighten
in my chair, tossing my highlighter aside. “Let’s cut the bullshit already. I’ve given you time alone to get into a calmer state of mind. Damn, Rayna, a couple of hours ago she was a contracted employee. Now, she’s a
battered
,
former
, contracted employee that I have to negotiate out of pressing charges against my fucking wife. Give me something!”

“
Give you something? Are you ready? Because I have lots to give you on the woman who we know you have a checkered history with going beyond public relations—”

“
We’re beyond that, Rayna—”

“
Like hell we are! You should have never kept her on! Not only was she connected to you through business, but her access was too immediate. To you, that kiss was nothing more than a revelation of the flaws in our relationship, but to her it was only the beginning. And you, keeping her around—and so close, no less—fueled her obsession.” She advances toward the desk. “Dawn sent me a botched stylist for the
Mauve
event. I have pictures to prove the satire in that attempt. She dressed like
your
date for the event, in anticipation of me taking on said faux designer! She purposely put me on a wild goose chase that night so that she could be photo’d with you as a date. Dawn took and leaked those wedding day pictures to the media—”

“Oh, we’re on this shit again?”
I snort, interrupting her finger count. “I deal with facts, Rayna. We have no evidence of that.”

“
Oh, yeah?” she asks, now directly in my face. “I got a call from April last night. She tells me she spoke to Britni about that leaked tape, trying once again to get answers. Well, Britni tells her about an evening after a Trey Songz concert when she and Spin were approached by a woman who claimed to have had a beef with Azmir’s girlfriend. What a coincidence that so did Spin. The three of them got together and planned how to embarrass Rayna and humiliate Azmir at the same time. Of course, Britni didn’t describe this woman to April, but she did mention this woman said she worked with Azmir and had enough access to hurt him.”

There
’s complete silence for what seems like hours. I’m trying to process it all. I had no fucking clue of Dawn’s trickeries, but can’t deny her being capable of them. I’ve always known she’s a like a cat ready to pounce. However, I thought her ideal pouncing was a sexual relationship with me, and as long as I made sure there was no way that would happen we were fine. I see I’ve underestimated her. So many thoughts are running through my mind. I need to know how I’ll get my wife out of this situation unscathed. I also need to contact my attorneys and Shayna Bacote. I’m getting the fuck out of the contract. This requires no further consideration.

“Still don’t believe me? Fine!” Rayna’s yelling snap
s me out of my own head.

I d
on’t want to fight. She doesn’t need another punching bag. I have work to do before going to this event this evening. And my wife needs food and rest. If she doesn’t eat, she’s certainly going to rest. I stand from my seat and immediately tower her.

“No need to get tight. I never said I didn’t believe you.” I t
ake her at the small of her back and gently push her into the bedroom. “You said you’re not hungry, but you will sleep.”