Love Redeemed, Book 4 (11 page)

The meeting was intense and draining. I knew Kid was nervous out his ass, but forged ahead.
We concluded on a handshake and agreed to never keep in touch. Ever. They can’t risk me flipping. Paulito specifically said he wouldn’t tolerate indecisiveness. That’s fine with me. It’s taken me years to withdraw from this business. I’m sure I won’t regret it tomorrow, the next day, or the next year.

After that meeting, Kid and I met up with Petey and Wop to finalize our plan regarding D-Struct. It
’s been confirmed that he spearheaded the arson of my property in Pasadena. It’s also been established that Big D gave him the instruction to do so. My plans for Big D are awry because of his arrest, but D-Struct has to be handled. Once that meeting had been concluded I met up with Rayna.

Rayna and I finish
ed her counseling session. It’s more or less turned into our sessions. That wasn’t my original plan, but it’s somehow evolved to such. Initially, I just wanted to be a part of something that causes Rayna to open up. Something she’s been so committed to. And obviously because it gives greater insight to the enigma of this embattled woman. My embattled woman. But before I knew it, Pastor Edmondson began asking me questions, ushering me into their conversations. Then his wife began attending some of the sessions and I noticed those were more marital themed. There were lots of biblical references, something that I went from reluctant to, to indifferent, to curious about.

Pastor Edmondson and I even had lunch together last week to discuss philosophy, something that fascinate
s me. We debate, but his aura always remains calm and inviting. He isn’t at all judgmental and doesn’t push me on my opposing views. Of course, Rayna doesn’t know this. We agreed to keep it between the two of us until we establish an official relationship, if that were to happen at all.

There a
re questions and revelations derived from our conversations that I haven’t resolved internally, so I don’t want to share my meeting him with Rayna. I don’t want to confuse her if suddenly I come to no longer wanting to have these conversations with her pastor or attend her sessions.

~~~~~~~~~~

While we’
re at
Hakassan
in Beverly Hills having dinner, I prepare myself to break some news to Rayna. Information that’s sensitive and just as convoluted.

“How’s the duck
?” I ask.

Just before taking in another mouthful,
and with a placid expression, she quickly returns, “It doesn’t beat the hazelnut-crusted one in sun-dried cherry sauce in Phoenix, but it’ll do.” She then she supplies a charming wink and a sexy soft smirk while chewing her food.

She often references Phoenix with an affinity, making it clear that particular time together holds significance to her.
I share the sentiment.

“The food
’s great…like always with you,” Rayna murmurs after swallowing the contents of her mouth and going for her glass of wine.

I kn
ow she’s enjoying it. The food here is superb. I’ve been several times. It’s one of Tara’s favorite restaurants. She loves the Beverly Hills stature and the possibility of running into celebrities here. And that’s the sheer difference between the two women. Rayna couldn’t care less about the ambiance or location. She’d been just as content eating in at the marina.

This place
is out of the way of the church and marina, but I had my assistant make a reservation when I’d gotten a call from a boutique here in Beverly Hills that my order is available. I insisted on picking it up instead of them shipping it. 

“I’m glad you like it,” I say. “Listen, Bri
mm.” I watch as she takes another sip of her wine and reclines in her seat, opening herself up for conversation. I requested a private table because of the nature of this dinner. “I want to share some recent events that may or may not concern you.”

She slowly swallow
s her pinot noir and nods.

“Samantha
will be moving in with Yazmine.”

“What?” Through my peripheral, I can see Rayna’s mouth hanging. “Really? When and how were you able to pull that off?” fumbles from her mouth.

I shrug. “I told you they’ve both expressed loneliness. I’ve gotten them together for lunch and they’ve been out without me.” I hear Rayna gasp. “They get along. I don’t see either of them finding it difficult to cohabitate with someone. My mother’s has had cellmates to acclimate to. And Samantha has had similar conditions with her rehab stays. It should work.”

Rayna nods tentatively. I know Samantha is still a weak spot for her. She’s not yet embrace
d her being back in her life. I quickly decide to move on to more pressing news that I must share with my lady. I don’t want to further delay this information. I take a swig of my brandy. 

“It’s
recently come to my attention that Daryl Harrison, Tara’s father, has been arrested for murder. I believe you should know this for several reasons—”

“Oh, my god. Azmir, are you okay? I know he’s no longer in your life, but
he used to be your mentor. I don’t know why you two ended your relationship, but this has to be killing you inside.” Rayna speaks low, and with wide eyes filled with great concerned.

If only she knew how arrogant his ass was when he’d met with Yazmine for the first time after her
release from prison. She said pompousness dripped from him as he all but told her that my father was a distant memory and the details of his death were no more important than his 1986 income tax filings. Yazmine was really shaken up about that. I’d never asked her about her agreement with the FBI because I wanted no parts of them. So, Big D’s arrest came at a surprise to me. I’d had another way of dealing with him about his order to burn my place in Pasadena, but the FEDs had caught up to him before I’d been able to confront him.

“I’m fine with it
.” I give an expectant pause to prepare myself for the next detail I need to share with her. “I’m fine with it because it’s my father that he’s been accused of murdering,” Her beautiful lips parts. “He arranged to have him murdered.”

Rayna
then cups her mouth. She looks as though she’s sick. After a moment, she whispers, “This is crazy! Azmir, I’m so sorry.” She then takes one hand and goes for mine.

“It was a
shocking discovery, but after some time…I’m dealing with it.” Morally, that’s the best answer I can give. I observe her eyebrows narrowing under the dim lights of the room. “Before you ask, I first heard about the alleged murder a few months back, just after my birthday. I didn’t want to believe it at first—shit, I didn’t believe it at first.” I swallow back the memory of the sensation I felt when I learned of it. “But since then the evidence has mounted.”

Rayna gasp
s, “Azmir!” she whispers. “What does Yazmine have to say about all of this? I’m sure she’s sick all over again from losing her husband.”

“She knows. Her early release from prison was contingent on helping with his arrest
, though I’m not sure how much she has. She’s how I found out.” Rayna’s eyes grow bigger. “Listen, baby, I really hate hitting you with this shit. And in all honesty, I’ve waited to tell you, not wanting to worry you. But I had to make you aware because of the level of complexity of my relationship with Daryl.”

“What does that mean?” she ask
s, aghast.

“It means that although he
committed the most reprehensible offense against me, there is still this debris of obligation I have to him.”

“And what is that?”

“His estate,” is the easiest way I can term this. “There is money left aside, privately for his…family in the event of an untimely death or, in this case, an emergency. This is something he’s shared with only me or I’d fucking walk away without giving two shits about anything concerning him.”

I fucking hate having to explain this shit to my lady on behalf of D’s
fucked up ass, but there’s a degree of loyalty I have to keep with. Something that will be the last act of devotion I’ll give to this depraved fucker. Something I know will not sit well with Rayna, which is why I’ve been mindful of what I share with her.

Rayna’s eyelashes flutter. I c
an tell she’s uncomfortable, anticipating what’s coming next. “What do you have to do?” She clears her throat nervously. “What’s your obligation to him…to them?”

“It’s just instructions and distribution, something I’ve been dragging my feet on and will continue to do until—”

“Until?” she asks anxiously. I know this pushes her to the edge. But she’s asked that I not keep things from her, especially regarding Tara.

“Until his family makes it clear that the money is needed. At that time I will instruct
, distribute, and say goodbye…forever.” I watch raptly as Rayna processes my words. She understands this ultimately means Tara.

Her eyelids that are clad in gold and bronze eye shadow slowly close and her luscious nude lips collapse. I grow gravely concerned. Rayna, historically, hasn’t done very well with adversity in our relationship—or outsiders to our bubble, as she’s termed it. I want to know what she’s thinking. I wish I had a mole inside that incommunicado mind of hers that’s constantly overworked where I’m concerned. She’s always doubted me. Questioned my devotion to her. Challenged my exclusive commitment to her. I don’t want another flight attempt. I need her flexibility on this. Her lips make infinitesimal movements as if she’s already firing off her opposition of what I’m presenting.

My anxiety begi
ns to skyrocket. I have to say something; I need to intercept her dissension. To offset her rebellion. I know it’s coming, I just hope I can effectively block it.
Shit! This is going to be a long night.
A cold and lonely night for me. My mouth opens to speak, only I have no fucking clue what I’m going to say.

But before I c
an align my brain with my voice, she blurts, “Okay.”

“Okay?” I breathe
out, asking in disbelief.

With her eyes trained to the table, still fluttering, she eventually
moves them to meet mine and murmurs, “No more running. No more
operation shutdown in self-protection
mode to protect something you already have.” I look at her, not exactly following. “You have my heart, Azmir. I didn’t give it voluntarily. I even hated you at times for conquering it, but I no longer have it to protect. It’s yours.”

Baby…

I can’t speak to affirm. I’m in total shock.

She whisper
s with determined eyes, “I told you, Azmir, no more running. I may have been knocked clearly off kilter by your…forceful…all-consuming presence in my life, but I’m no weakling. I’m yours. To love, honor, respect, and protect, but not to coddle.” Her resolute eyes dance in mine. She wants me to understand her message. “I’m here for you. We’ll get through this.”

There
’s a long pause between our words. A cloud-exchange taking place over our table. She has just pledge her devotion, denouncing ever doubting me again. Now it’s my turn to take her at word. She said
we’d
get through this.

“Azmir, baby, say something,” she whispers on an insecure cry. I know she needs my assurance. She’s just taken a huge leap of faith, something that typically terrifies her. I try to fight my incredulous state.

“I wanna fuck
you so bad right now,” I murmur, not entirely in jest. I also want to scoop her into my arms and shower with her with declarations of eternal love and protection.

Rayna’s
eyes illustrate the speed of her mind, processing my words. Her head falls back as a shriek of laughter erupts from her belly. She laughs so hard and long, tears pours from her eyes. I let go of a chuckle myself, at her hearty merriment. I don’t know how to express how much I love this moment between us. It’s pivotal and delights me.

After finishing dessert, we ma
ke our way to the art boutique, where we pick up a
Francesco Basso
painting, capturing Rayna at her last showcase that I missed. I’d scored expensive ass Franco Basso to seize an image of her in action so that Rayna can see the fire in her eyes when she dances. She maintains that she only does it for recreation, but the emotion she puts forth while dancing is something I’ve longed for since I saw her dance at my birthday party. Because I’d taken so long to be intimate with Rayna, I grew attached to her and wanted that same passion applied towards me. As much as it makes me sound like a little bitch, it’s the truth and took some time for me to cop to.

We
’re standing in the middle of a private showing room in the back of the popular boutique. Rayna’s mouth is cupped by her shaking hands and her breathing is erratic.

“Oh, my god, Azmir!” I hear mumbled beneath her hands.

Franco is standing next to the easel that boasts the painting, wearing a measured smile.
Smug ass.
When I came to him with the idea, he tossed his fucking nose in the air, saying he’d had a waitlist for some king in a third world country as if I gave a fuck. I’d been one of the few who helped his soft ass out of a financial bind a few years back. And while he’s paid me back, he wouldn’t come off his $6,000 price tag…that needed to be paid in advance.
Goddamn prick!