Authors: Victor L. Martin
Nude Awakening II (26 page)
“. . . Hey, Smooch,” her voice broke.
He didn't move an inch. Kandi waited, her heart jumping. After what seemed like forever, he looked up at her. His face showed no emotion. Each time he blinked it sent a new line of tears down his face. Kandi shifted her eyes away, hoping he didn't hate her.
“What are you doing here?”
She fidgeted with the strap on the tote bag, unable to look him in the face. “I'm . . . here because of Jurnee,” she whispered.
“I guess your
man
put you on a private jet, huh?”
“I'm not with him anymore,” she replied quickly, and then added, “I been here in Florida since yesterday.”
His expression stayed the same.
Beefing with her now ain't the time nor place,
he reasoned.
“Do you know anything about Jurnee's condition?” he asked, sitting up in the chair.
“Not much. I just got here about ten minutes ago.”
He scratched his chin. “You can sit down if you wanna.”
Kandi had all types of feelings still locked inside her heart for Trevon. If she could, she wanted to just be in his strong arms again and just be. Just be one, together. As it stood, her life was turned upside down with the blood speeding to her head with a dizzying quickness.
Silence bounced between them for a moment as they sat inches apart. Out the corner of her eye she saw the pain in his slack posture. She couldn't stomach the act of adding more hurt in his life by telling him the truth about the baby. That's what she wanted to do. But in truth, going off her talk with Jurnee, she knew she
needed
to tell Trevon the truth. She had to do it, even if it ran the risk of Trevon hating her.
“Trevon, can I talk to you?” she asked nervously.
“You ain't gotta explain nothing to me.”
“Yes, I do,” she said. “Do you remember when I said you couldn't understand why Iâ”
“I remember everything you told me! I remember you said it's over, so why try toâ”
“Trevon, please!” She laid her hand on his knee. “Just listen to what I have to say, okay? I
never
âI swear I never meant to hurt you.”
“Well, you did. And like I said, it is what it is.”
“No, Trevon. It's not what you thinkâ”
“It never is!” He finally looked at her. “You wanna talk. G'head and tell me why I deserved this shit you put me through.
Make
me understand!”
She held her useless tears at bay. “Trevon, I didn't cheat on you, okay? I was already a month pregnant when we met, and I didn't know it.”
Trevon stared at her as her words sunk in. “So what you saying? The baby ain't mine!”
“I swear to God I didn't know I was pregnant when we met, Trevon.”
“This some bullshit,” he muttered. “How the fuckâyo, this shit here isâ”
Cutting him off, she told him everything. She left nothing out, speaking the truth, just as she did with Jurnee. He didn't know how to feel when she explained how she planned to have an abortion. “I was wrong, Trevon. I should've told you back in November after I learned I was fourteen weeks pregnant.” She wiped her eyes with her lips quivering.
Trevon had to face his reality. D-Hot was the father, not him. Did it hurt? Yes, a hole was widening in the center of his chest.
“Please don't hate me, Trevon.” She sobbed quietly.
Finding the right words to say eluded Trevon. He didn't hate her. He couldn't hate her. Staying silent would not solve any issue in this case.
“So, you thought I would . . . not love you anymore had you told me this last year?” he asked with no anger in his tone. If anything, he was loaded with misunderstanding her actions.
She nodded weakly.
He sighed, feeling pity for her. “Life ain't perfect, LaToria. If you had told me back then, yes I would've been crushed just like I am now. But it wouldn't have changed how I felt for you.”
She looked up. “I'm so sorry, Smooch. I just didn't knowâ”
“How's the baby?”
She blinked, and then glanced down at his hand on her belly. All she could do was cry. Trevon sided with staying calm. What would him going off in anger help? Nothing. What shook him were the memories of all the good times they shared. Their issue was defined easily. A mistake on LaToria's part that they would have to settle together. Trevon knew what would have happened had he known the truth last year. He would've stayed with her. He was in love with her for the present and the future. Her past didn't form who she was today. Trevon wouldn't judge her, not tonight, not tomorrow, never.
On the strength of keeping it real, he eased his arm around her shoulder. “Stop crying, okay? We gon' talk about this, but right now we gotta be strong for Jurnee.”
She nodded against his chest, thanking God that he didn't hate her.
CHAPTER
Thirty
Bustin' Shots
Back at the Mondrian hotel, Tahkiyah was doing her own research of LaToria's whereabouts. At the time noted on her laptop, 10:18 pm, she hit a patch of luck. By visiting the AEF webpage, she caught the news about the accident involving Jurnee. Tahkiyah, at first, didn't make the connection of Honey Drop being Jurnee until she came across her picture. On a hunch, she then logged on to Twitter and saw the last tweet posted by Kandi. She didn't waste any time getting dressed to make a ride to the hospital. On her way out the door, she turned back and added one certain item in her purse. Her mind was set, and there would be no other alternative, other than finding and facing LaToria. Once she was seated insider her BMW, she checked the 9-millimeter inside her purse to make sure it was loaded and ready.
***
Swagga killed the headlights after he found the closest parking spot to Kandi's black Escalade. From his position, he could see the front end of her SUV to his left. He had also found Trevon's XJL, but it was too close to the hospital entrance to do anything crazy. He would wait and form a plan now with the .22 placed on his lap. He sunk lower in the seat when a Metro Dade police van rode by.
A plan! I need a fuckin' plan! Ai'ight. Cappin' that bitch out here might get my ass life. Gotta snatch her ass up somehow.
He picked up the light .22 just as it dawned on him of his fuck up. “Damn!” he vexed through his teeth, popping the clip out. He only had six rounds left out of the ten he had loaded earlier with gloves on. In his rush to catch Trevon slipping, he had forgotten to reload the .22.
Shit! Three for Trevon and three for Kandi. Fuck it.
***
Kandi was back on Twitter making an update when a frugal dressed middle-aged dude shuffled into the waiting room. It was easily seen that he was homeless.
“'Scuse me,” he said with his hands in his pockets.
No one seemed to pay him any attention. The only reason Kandi looked up was because she could smell a funky odor coming off his body. She moved her purse under her seat with her foot, ignoring the white bum like everyone else. Kandi looked past him, hoping that Trevon would return with some good news about Jurnee's status.
“Um . . .” the bum continued. “Anybody in here drive an uh, black Escalade truck?” He pointed over his shoulders. “Been a little fender bender, and the otherâ”
“Sir,” Kandi said with hopes he wasn't talking about her SUV. “Did you say a black one?”
He nodded. “Yeah, an' it got dem big ole chrome rims. Real nice-looking too.”
Kandi muttered a curse under her breath and then got up to find out what was going on.
Damn! Of all nights, this is the last thing I need!
***
Back in Fort Lauderdale, Rick was shoved out of his sleep by Tweet. He sat up with his eyes heavy. “What's up?”
“Dawg, we got major problems!” Tweet exclaimed.
“Talk.” Rick shoved the covers off as Tweet looked over his shoulder back at the door.
“Feds at the front gate.”
“Feds!” Rick shot up and grabbed his six-shot Sig Sauer Sub-compact 9-millimeter.
“FBI, and they ain't playin'.”
Rick rubbed his face. “Fuck! All right. Where Swagga?”
“Uh, that's another problem. I checked all over the place, and he ain't here.”
“Fuck you mean he ain't here?” Rick shouted.
“Nigga bounced. That âho Nashlly gone too. I think Swagga took yo' Beemer âcause it's gone and so is Nashlly's whip.”
“Callâ”
“I already tried calling Swagga like . . . five times. He ain't picking up.”
“Yo, let the Feds in. . . . They might . . . shitâjust let 'em in. I'ma be down in a sec.”
By the time Rick reached the first floor, the Feds were stationed around the living room ten deep. A tall suited black agent looking like Cuba Gooding Jr. met Rick at the bottom of the stairs.
“Your name, sir?”
Rick looked at the three other bodyguards on duty with Tweet. All four were seated on the sofa with worried looks. “Uh, Rick.”
The FBI agent frowned. “Your government name.”
“Rickey Terrell.”
The agent glanced across the room at an agent standing by the lamp. They exchanged a quick nod that went unnoticed by Rick. “Ah, repeat that please.”
Rick sighed. “Rickey Terrell.”
“Mr. Terrell. I have a search warrant for this property.”
“Can I see it?”
Rick was shown a legalized federal search warrant that he couldn't dispute. The only thing that seemed odd was the fact that the warrant didn't list what the Feds were looking for. When Rick took it upon himself to ask, the agent said he would soon find out. Shit got weird when one of the agents pulled out a small handheld scanner. Once he turned it on, he waited a few seconds and then left the room.
“Mr. Terrell, can we step into the kitchen?” the suited agent asked Rick.
“What's this all about?”
“I'll explain in the kitchen.”
Rick knew he had no choice.
Fuck! I hope Swagga ain't leave no weed or nothing lying around.
Rick tried to play it cool with the agent following him to the kitchen. Once they were seated at the table, the agent introduced himself.
“My name is Lorenzo Thompson, and I'll get to the point, okay. I have a picture of a man I'd like to show you. Here's the first one.” Agent Thompson reached inside his jacket and removed two 4 x 6 glossy pictures.
Rick's stomach dropped to the floor when the agent slid a picture of Fritz across the table. It was clear the picture was taken without Fritz knowing it.
“His
real
name is Ronald Bleibtreu. Born in Germany and he has a
very
interesting military background, which I can't speak on. He's fluent in six different languages, and you might know him simply as . . . Fritz.”
“Never seen 'im before.” Rick slid the picture back.
“Are you positive, Mr. Terrell?”
Rick scratched his neck in a nervous fit. “Yeah, I 'on't know dude.”
Agent Thompson slid the second picture across the table. It was a close shot of Fritz lying face down on a table. “We found him at the Fontainebleau today. He was shot four times, close range with a twenty-two caliber.”
Rick stared at the picture.
Shit, I'm good! Ain't kill the nigga
. Rick started to relax a little. “I don't know âim.”
Agent Thompson adjusted his brown tie and then sat back crossing his arms. “The FBI has been aware of Ronald for quite a while . . . five years to be exact. He's an expert at taking care of things. Making people take permanent naps, if you know what I mean.”
“Nah, I don't.”
“Anyway, our agency got word that Ronald had created too many enemies abroad. We heard he was bringing his uhhh
talent
to the U.S. By then we had a nice thick intelligence file on Ronald, and with that, we came up with a plan.”
“Yo, why are you telling me all this? I don't know the dude.” Rick was getting irritated.
“I'm almost done. Well, one of our agents met Ronald in parts of Portugal and gave him a gift. A gift we
knew
he would keep. See, we could allow him to roam freely in the U.S. knowing what we knew about him. We allowed him to move as he pleased because we were
always
on him.”
Rick cleared his throat. “Yo, this is a waste of time becauseâ”
“Do you know the charge for conspiracy to commit murder, Mr. Terrell?”
Rick shifted his position in the chair. Shit wasn't looking too good for him. Things took a turn up shit's creek when the agent with the handheld device entered the kitchen with a bagged object. Agent Thompson stood as the second agent handed him the evidence bag.
“This look familiar to you?” Agent Thompson asked.
What the fuck! That's Fritz's black cigar box! How the fuck that shit get here?
“It was in the master bedroom,” the second agent told Thompson.
“Who sleeps in that room, Mr. Terrell? Care to tell me?” Agent Thompson pressed.
Rick stuck to being hood. “I don't know.” He shrugged with a straight face.
Agent Thompson was tired of the games. “Look, this cigar box is the gift we gave Ronald. It's a tracking device
and
a listening device, okay? Now, do I need to repeat word for word of you talking to Ronald about hiring him to kill David Reed aka D-Hot on the twenty-first of last month at the Fountainebleau?”
Rick knew the deal and how the Feds got down. “Ain't got shit else to say. I wanna call my lawyer.” Rick eased back from the table, gripping the Sig Sauer.
Agent Thompson nodded, giving the signal to arrest Rick, just a split second before Rick took matters into his own hands.
***
Trevon couldn't hide his letdown after his brief talk with one of the RNs. There was still no information being released about Jurnee's status. All that was being said is that her condition was critical. Rounding the corner to the waiting room, he saw a face that slowed his steps.
What the hell is she doing here? And where is LaToria?
He walked by a row of occupied chairs to where Tahkiyah stood by the water fountain.
“You following me?” he asked, touching Tahkiyah on her shoulder.
“Trevon!” she said when she turned. “I see we meet once again.” She forced a smile, her hazel eyes darting around the waiting room.
“You looking for somebody?” he asked.
Tahkiyah pushed her glasses up on her nose. She had to come clean and tell him what was really going on. “Indeed I am,” she told him. “I'm looking forâ”
Her words were halted when Trevon's iPhone started ringing.
“Uh, hold on for a sec. I gotta take this call.” He turned his shoulder to her and then answered LaToria's call. “Hey. Where are you and why did youâ”
“What up, playboy!”
Trevon took the phone from his ear to double check the caller ID and number. As clear as day, LaToria's name, number, and a small image of her face showed on the screen. He recognized the voice, and it turned his stomach inside out.
“Don't get all quiet on me, nigga!” Swagga jeered. “Shit gonna
almost
be like a déjà vu fo' yo' ass tonight! Only this time, ain't gon' be no tricks, feel me? Well, I don't know if you still care fo' this âho, Kandi or not. But yeah, I got âer and you know what I want!”
“What type of shit you on?” Trevon's temper came sudden like a lightning strike.
“I'ma be on this bitch's
ass
if you don't do what I fuckin' tell you! And trust me, dawg, I don't give a fuck âbout this bitch being pregnant!”
“Look, just tell me what you want. Ain't no need to do no silly shit.”
“Nigga, didn't I just say it's gonna be a déjà vu! I want them two videos you got since you an' yo' bitch played me the first time. Don't know how the fuck you got âer off the boat, but shit goin' my way tonight!”
“Swagga, I'll give you the shit, ai'ight? Just don't hurtâ”
“Listen up, nigga! You gon' see me tonight. See, I can play games too. I guess you think shit just gon' fly âbout you fuckin' Kendra and shit! Nah, muthafuckas takin' my kindness fo' a weakness ends tonight!”
Trevon wasn't in a position to beef with Swagga. “Yo, I hear ya'. Just tell me what to do.”
“Oh, so you do care. Even after this bitch been fuckin' around behind your back! You's a sucka fo' love ass nigga. Listen, and I won't say it twice. I want you to come alone to the same spot where this shit went down between us last year.”
“The warehouse?”
“Right. Come alone so we can talk. Settle this shit like men. Just you and me.”
“What time?”
“Midnight. That will gimme some time to have fun with this big booty âho I got wit' me. Shit, I know you don't mind me runnin' up in it. Not with how you fucked Kendra an' her fat ass friend.”
Trevon glanced at his watch. It was ten minutes to eleven. Every second LaToria was with Swagga would tear Trevon apart. He felt helpless, having no one to turn to. Calling the police would only make matters worse.
“Midnight, nigga!” Swagga said and then killed the connection.
“Trevon, what's going on?” Tahkiyah had stood near Trevon taking in the one-sided call. He ignored her as he rushed for the exit. She called after him once more to no avail. Sighing, she took an empty seat and prayed for a face to face meeting with LaToria. She had her own issues to deal with.
