Nude Awakening II (27 page)
Authors: Victor L. Martin
***
“Take
all
your clothes off and hurry the fuck up!” Swagga shoved Kandi on the small bed inside a cheap motel off of Biscayne Boulevard. He moved along the chipped green painted wall with the .22 aimed at Kandi. “And I mean er'thang. I'ma have me some fun, and bitch, you can bag them tears âcuz they don't move me.”
Kandi hated Swagga so much that she couldn't even look at him. She removed her shoes first and then reached behind her back to unzip the dress.
Swagga sat down on a dingy looking brown chair beside the night table. He watched her tugging the expensive dress down her super thick frame. Seeing the swelling of her belly had him boiling with envy.
How she gonna let a broke ass jailbird ass nigga bust raw over me?
His hating thoughts grew as she slowly took her bra off.
Damn, that bitch bad. Titties big as hell. Hmm, look at that cat!
His dick grew hard. “Turn around and take them drawers off. And do it slow. Show that phat ass!” he said, undoing his belt. He wanted her to feel like shit. When he had his dick out, he fumbled with his cell phone. “Act like your ass at the King of Diamonds, bitch.”
Kandi shook with pure humiliation as Lil' Wayne and Drake's “Maybe She Will” sounded from Swagga's phone.
“Dance, bitch! And keep that ass facing me. That's all I wanna see. Now, do what it do and bounce that ass.” He laid the .22 on the table and then enjoyed the show. All the love and lust he once had for Kandi was now hate.
Kandi kept her eyes shut, moving her wide hips off beat. She couldn't find a rhythm no matter how hard she tried.
“Now turn around,” he said, midway through the song. “And open yo' eyes! Look at my dick. Yeah, now rub your nipple and rub that pussy.” He stroked his dick at the sight before him. “Now, get down like a dogâ”
“Swagga, pleâ”
“Now, bitch!” he sneered, lifting the .22 up to her face.
Kandi held her hands out with tears streaking down her cheeks. Sobbing, she got down on her hands and knees.
“Now, crawl yo' ass over here and suck my dick. C'mon, bitch. Ain't got all fuckin' night!” He gestured with the gun. “You do it fo' a livin', but tonight it's fo' free.”
Fear of not seeing tomorrow gripped Kandi's soul. She was afraid of Swagga. She saw the hate etched across his face.
“Keep yo' hands on the floor!” He pressed the gun against her forehead and grabbed his shaft with his free hand, forcing his dick past her lips. “Work, bitch!” he moaned, fisting his hand into her voluminous hair. Without caring, he filled her mouth to the hilt, making her gag. Swagga kept the gun against her neck as her lips pulled up and down on his dick. “This all yo' ass is good fo'! Aaahhh yeeaa . . . fuck. Suck it, bitch! Suck it . . .” He settled back in the chair as her head bounced below his waist. He didn't want to cum in her mouth for a reason. He didn't want
any
DNA left on or in her since he was planning to body her ass tonight. For several minutes his dick tingled inside her wet mouth. He ignored her tears that flowed in heavy rivers down her face.
“Ai'ight . . . stop!” Swagga shoved her hard after she got off his dick. “Go in the bathroom and rinse yo' mouth out! An' do it good!”
It was a rough urge to turn down the act of fucking her big ass, but Swagga was able to hold back. “And leave the door open!” He got up to his feet, fixing his clothes.
I gotta dead this âho soon. Ain't no need to take any kind of chances tonight.
Swagga thumbed the safety
on
then
off
then back
on.
“Hurry up, âho! Put yo' shit back on. We âbout to take a ride.” Swagga slowly lifted the .22, aiming at the back of Kandi's head from across the room. Licking his dry lips, he clicked the safety
off.
***
At the same time, a manhunt was in its early stages for Rick. He had bodied the two Feds in the kitchen and then hauled ass out the back door. It was true of a person being able to hear bullets whizzing by. Rick could personally attest to it from the close rounds that nearly popped his top. The remaining Feds had opened up a barrage of lead on his black ass. A Florida Highway Patrol helicopter was the first to respond to the Feds frantic plea for assistance. Swagga's mansion resembled a police convention with local, state, and federal law authorities amassed on the property.
Rick had run north until he shook the Feds in the dense woods. He knew they wouldn't cease chasing, so he wouldn't cease running. As he sprinted across an open field, he tripped and stumbled in the dark. Rolling to his back, he struggled to catch a grip on his breath. The star-lit sky gave him no sense of peace. Pulling out his cell phone, he called Swagga.
Dis nigga better answer!
“Yo, whut up?”
“It's over, dawg,” Rick said, rolling to get up.
“Whut the hell youâ”
“Nigga, shut up and listen!” Rick took off at a jog as he gave Swagga the scoop. “We fucked up. Feds been listening since day one. And if you can't explain how you got Fritz's cigar box without poppin' him, it's over for you.” Rick sped up when he heard the dogs barking in the distance. “Swagga! I need your helpâ” Rick took his phone from his ear. “Bitch ass nigga!” he vexed at seeing how easy Swagga had turned his ass around for him to kiss. The line went dead, but Rick kept moving.
CHAPTER
Thirty-One
Feel My Pain
Kandi shook uncontrollably as Swagga shoved her back inside the trunk of the BMW 760Li. Her hands were tied behind her back, and her own panties were stuffed in her mouth. The ripped bed sheet Swagga tied around her face kept her quiet. A fear laced moan sounded as the trunk slammed over her. All she could think about was the baby and Trevon. She was afraid that both would suffer because of her. Thoughts troubled her mind, fearing that Trevon wouldn't be able to save her tonight. She was thrown against a hard object when the 760Li sped out of the motel parking lot. She cried hard, finding it easier to give up. Just as it seeped into her mind, she forced that thought out.
Minute after minute, mile after mile, her trip in the trunk grew. Something wasn't right. When she cleared her mind she realized the trip to the warehouse should have been short. Focusing on the sounds around her, she judged the BMW was speeding along a highway. The sedan had been rolling nonstop for at least ten minutes. Reality slapped her hard. She wasn't being taken to the warehouse.
***
Trevon didn't know what to do anymore. Showing no fear of Swagga, he had driven his XJL to warehouse 7210 at two minutes to midnight. His sedan sat with the engine running and the lights off. He waited, feeling it was pointless to pray since he was a sinner. When his watch showed twenty minutes past midnight, he stepped out of his car. He dialed LaToria's number. It wasn't answered, not even a voicemail. At the end of his rope, he looked up at the sky above. “Why gotdamnit!” he raged to the world. He tried her number again. Nothing. Sliding down to the ground, he leaned his head back against his car. He was defeated. If Swagga were to walk up and catch Trevon slipping, he wouldn't care. Jurnee crossed his mind. He couldn't do shit for her, and it pained him that it stood the same for LaToria. Just as his mind lost grip with reality, his iPhone rang.
***
Rick was winded, pausing for the eighth time to catch his breath. Leaning up against a thick tree, he wished he could redo his past. His life was fucked up over $20,000! “Fuck!” he muttered, kicking at the high weeds.
Suddenly he heard voices to his left. He ducked, moving around the tree with the baby 9-millimeter gripped tightly. With only four shots left, a shootout was being suicidal. He peered in the direction of the voices, hoping like hell they hadn't heard him. His heart thumped in his ears. He eased down to one knee, his finger on the trigger. The voices grew louder but dropped silent not a second later. Rick stayed motionless, only moving his eyes. Remaining in one spot was not aiding his escape. He
knew
someone was close, but he couldn't take the risk to give his position away.
“Rickey Terrell!” A loud voice came from his left followed by a bright spotlight. “This is Browardâ”
Rick let off two quick shots over his shoulder and took off running. He made a life altering choice by falling for Swagga's plot. He allowed Swagga's troubles to become his downfall. Running hard, he oddly stayed in the spotlight. This time he didn't hear any bullets whizzing by. He didn't hear the sporadic shots of gunfire behind him. Closing his eyes, he sensed the final period of his life. It came a split second later in the form of a 5.56 full metal jacket round that punched him an inch below the base of his skull.
***
The phone call Trevon had received led him to an abandoned trap house in Carol City. The caller was a dude's voice that was new to Trevon. He gave the address and then said four words that crushed Trevon.
“Come see the body.”
Trevon parked behind a white 760Li and a brown van. The trap house was unlit and sitting at a dead end street. He stepped over broken wine bottles and crushed beer cans. A pit formed in Trevon's heart when he neared the BMW. Under the faint cast of the moon, he saw streaks of blood on the trunk lid and bumper. There was no fear filling Trevon. He was too numb, yet he went on. Taking a step on the concrete and wooden porch, he prepared himself to face whatever awaited him. Pushing the creaky door open, he saw blood at the entrance. A light was on, a single lamp without a shade over it. Trevon stepped inside the odd smelling house. To his right sat a black couch with several tears in the seat cushions. All of the windows were covered with black thick curtains that reached the floor. Drug use was apparent by the broken needles and empty clear vials. The piss stained colored walls were bare, marred with ragged holes along sections of the baseboard. Trevon's attention fell to the stain of blood trailing from where he stood that marked a path down the dark hall.
“LaToria!” he called out. Dreading the silence, he took a deep breath and then moved along the line of blood. He wouldn't allow thoughts of LaToria being dead to enter his mind. He refused it. There were three doors along the narrow hall. Two were on the left and one on the right. The blood continued past the first door on the left only to turn and go into the second. A light was on. Trevon's steps came quicker. All he wanted was for LaToria to be safe. He was not a man of great need. He called her name again. No reply. Sliding a hand down his face, he opened the door. What he was met with sent him stumbling back against the wall. His eyes told the truth, but his mind was having trouble grasping the sight.
CHAPTER
Thirty-Two
Baptized in Eternal Fire
Who are you?” Nashlly asked Trevon with a chrome and black .380 at her side.
“Trevon,” he replied.
Nashlly stared at Trevon with a mean expression. “He good, Art. You can put it down.”
Art lowered the pistol grip Remington 12 gauge pump from Trevon's face. “Anybody else come wit' you?”
“Nah,” Trevon said, shaking his head. “You the one that called me?”
“Yup,” Art said with the pump pointed to the floor. “Yo.” He turned to Nashlly. “I'ma go outside and make sure we don't get no unexpected visitors.”
Nashlly nodded, her eyes never moving off of Trevon. “C'mon in.” She waved Trevon inside the small bedroom. “Watch out for that puddle of blood,” she said, wiping a sheen of sweat off her forehead.
Trevon looked at the bed and the dingy bloody mattress. “Where's LaToria?”
“In the bathroom. She's okay and lucky.”
“I want to see âer!”
Nashlly frowned. “Tonight ain't a good time to be lifting your voice at me. If it wasn't for me and my dude, your girl wouldaâ” Nashlly paused when the bathroom door to her right came open.
“LaToria!” Trevon rushed across the room, taking her in his arms.
Nashlly watched them, wishing she had a man that would love and care for her.
Nah, fuck that shit âcause niggas ain't shit!
she thought as Trevon continued embracing LaToria.
“What the fuck is going on?” Trevon asked with LaToria sobbing against his chest.
“We both got beef with Swagga,” Nashlly said. “I had a little issue wit' him today. Long story short, we followed him and just waited for a chance to kidnap his punk ass. We caught him slipping at a motel. He had your girl tied up in the trunk. After she told me what he had done, we called you here.”
“All this blood?” He looked at the floor.
“It's from Swagga,” Nashlly told him.
“Where is he?”
Her eyes looked across the room. “In the closet.”
When Trevon tried to release LaToria, she clung to him tighter. Nashlly brushed by them and then yanked the closet door open. Swagga was naked and tied with wide strips of duct tape on his mouth. His nose was bloody, and he had seeping gash along his hairline.
“I exist now, huh!” Nashlly kicked Swagga on his knee. She looked at Swagga with solid hate in her eyes. “Jamilah said she wished she could be here, but she'll settle for the loot when we body your ass!”
Swagga strained against the tape with fear in his eyes. When Trevon stepped up next to Nashlly, he stopped struggling. Swagga stared at Trevon, knowing the outcome wouldn't be in his favor. He recoiled back against the back of the closet when Trevon squatted near him. Trevon had no pity for Swagga. He slowly pulled the duct tape off his mouth. Swagga dropped his head on the dirty floor, breathing hard through his mouth.
“Why we have to go through this shit again?” Trevon wanted an explanation. “You risked all that you got . . . for what?”
Swagga ignored Trevon. If Rick had told him the truth about the Fritz issue, he knew a murder case was now over his head. So what, Frank Ocean came out of the closet. Swagga couldn't do it. He couldn't face the shame.
Trevon stood back up just as Art reentered the room with a red plastic gasoline jug.
“Nooo, nooo, nooo, please!” Swagga moaned. “Nashlly, baby, I'll make it upâ”
“Save it, nigga!” Nashlly shouted. “You're worth more dead to me!”
Trevon didn't feel right with what was about to go down. He tried to build off his dislike toward Swagga, but pity slowly began to set in. When LaToria squeezed his waist, it was then the vision of Swagga's burning yacht popped back in his head.
“You were right âbout this night being dÄjà vu,” Trevon said as Art opened the jug of gasoline. “Only this time it's your ass that's getting burned!”
Gasoline fumes filled the bedroom as Art began sloshing the gasoline around the room.
“FUCK YOU!” Swagga screamed. “Fuck all of y'all.”
Trevon turned with LaToria in his arms and left the room. Swagga's screams and loud cursing followed them down the hall.
Nashlly moved aside as Art poured the remaining gasoline on Swagga. His anger was now reduced to pleading tears and choking sobs. When Art pulled out a lighter he looked at Nashlly.
“G'head andâ”
“No.” She took the lighter from his hand. “I'll do it. Go ahead and get the van started.”
“You sure?”
She nodded. Once she was alone, she wiped a tear from her face.
“It ain't have to be like this, Swagga. I
tried
to save your ass from Jamilah, but you didn't want me, soâ”
“Please shoot me, Nashlly! Please, yo! Don't let me burn alive . . .” he cried, banging his head on the floor. “I'm begging . . . please don't make me suffer like this.”
***
Trevon was backing out the yard just as a single gunshot went off. Three seconds later, Nashlly ran out of the trap house as flames engulfed the bedroom. Trevon watched it burn for a few seconds before he left it all in the rearview mirror. He sped off in silence with LaToria curled up in the passenger seat. His night wasn't over, Jurnee. Was she dead or alive? He drove directly back to the hospital as his heart stirred for LaToria.
***
Tahkiyah was minutes from going to bed when her cell phone rang. She was intending to ignore it until she saw it was her private investigator calling.
“Hello,” she answered, rubbing some cocoa butter lotion on her breasts.
“Ah, I know it's late, but I don't think you'll mind this late call.”
“What do you have for me?”
“My guy in Atlanta that works at that credit card company. He just sent me an e-mail. LaToria's name popped up when she used her credit card. She's back in Miami.”
“I'm aware of that,” she said, rubbing the lotion into her nipple. “I just don't knowâ”
“She has a room at the Mondrian,” he told her. “She checked in on Thursday.”
Tahkiyah's hand fell from her breasts. “Are you sure!”
“Positive. I went ahead and called down there to see if she's still checked in and she is. She's in room 214.”
Tahkiyah got up off the bed and looked at the time. 1:38 am. She thanked the private investigator, and then sat back down to calm herself. Her mind was made up a few moments later when she rushed to get dressed. Again she left the room with the 9-millimeter concealed in her purse.
***
LaToria was numb as she rode the elevator up to her floor at the Mondrian. She had convinced Trevon that she was okay. She left him at the hospital with a promise to return after she showered and got her mind right. As for the bullshit Swagga had forced her to do, she kept it from Trevon. Her feelings of Swagga's murder was blank. She was neither happy nor sad. Stepping off the elevator with her head down, she wondered if Trevon would give her a second chance. Would he accept her child? All she wanted in life was to be happy.
“Excuse me.”
LaToria lifted her head and saw a beautiful woman standing across the hall. What struck LaToria as odd were the tears welling in the woman's eyes behind her glasses.
“Are you LaToria Nicole Frost?” Tahkiyah dropped her hand inside her purse.
LaToria had been through too much shit tonight to be scared anymore.
“Yeah. And who are you?”
Tahkiyah closed her eyes.
I have to do it! I have to do it!
she chanted in her head. Opening her eyes, she took the first step in reaching peace and that sentiment of closure that left her heart torn. “LaToria,” she said. “I'm . . . Tahkiyah Bradford. I'm your mother.”
