Love Redeemed, Book 4 (46 page)

Oh, no
! My husband’s deprived. He could only behave this way because he’s in despairing need of me. Of us. 

He feels so good penetrating me.
His thrusts are so resolute, withdrawals are regretful. I’m caught up almost instantaneously. My body goes weak. There’s that delicious stirring in my belly. This phenomenon is so familiar and can only mean one thing.

“
Do you feel it?” Azmir cries out in my ear over the explosive sounds of blood rushing through my head.

With my mouth
agape and eyes blinking, trying to hold back my tears of pleasure, I have the most quiet and emotional orgasm to date. The only two events this could compare to this, is the very first orgasm he bestowed our first time together, and that of our first as man and wife. In my euphoria, I’m reminded not just of the magic we make together, but of our undeniable and magnetic draw to each other. The beautiful harmony we create together. The overwhelming love this man expresses to me and I hold for him in my heart. There is no other being that I connect to the way that I do with this man. There is no other charge that is greater than what propels me to him. Here is where I thrive; with him is where I belong. This space that we create together with our bodies, hearts, and spirits is in a realm created just for me…and Azmir. It is our home.

Our bubble.

“Don’t hold back,” Azmir belts as an orgasm falls upon him as well. “Damn...I’m...with you!”

He powerfully thrust
s twice more before his entire frame judders on top of me, with quiet vibrations, pulsating inside of me. We lay on this petite air mattress, whimpering together, suspended together in orbit before coming down from our coitus ascensions. 

For a
while, we just lay, Azmir’s imposing weight not factoring in at all. The only thing that registers to me is his soothing heart rate that races to the staccato of an animated drum. I’m quickly lost in his all-consuming presence. Delightfully engrossed by his outpouring of passion and plea for me to accept it all. It’s frightening and comforting all at once. His warm body blankets me from the coldness of our circumstances. Our pain.

“How are we going to get out of here?” his baritone jolt
s me.

I didn’t realize I’
ve dozed off.

“We?”

“Yes. You’re coming home. You’ve stayed your welcome,” he murmurs while peppering small, chaste kisses from my dampened forehead, to the side of my face, and down my misted neck. I’m melting again. 

I pluck an eyebrow, “In my own house?”

“My house,” he corrects. “You handed over the deed, little girl.”

“I haven’t signed anything making it legal
.”

Both Azmir’s brows jump.
“You also opted out of a pre-nup, so I can always get it in the end. Trust me, I have the resources.”

Although I know he’s keeping with the cadence of my humor, I’ve no doubt that Azmir could finagle me out of my home, using his monster legal team. He starts nibbling on my ear
, setting my nerve endings aflutter. But abruptly I’m reminded of his persistence in the first place. 

“But—”

Azmir’s head shoots up to meet my hesitant gaze. Behind the smoldering in his eyes, I see determination. I’ve seen this mien before. He won’t be reckoned with.   

“No, Mrs. Jacobs. You’re coming home where you belong
,” Then he slowly strokes his still erect penis inside me, beckoning a moan from the back of my throat. “I can’t promise that I won’t fuck you into insanity, but I will agreeable to a sit down where I’ll answer all of your questions regarding my past.”

“In which order?” I muse.

“I can’t predict that. I can’t guarantee that there won’t be some fucking before and after said conversation either. It’s been a while…too long.” I hear the longing in his voice that can’t be confused with humor.

I nod slowly, as my eyes are
held by his. I don’t think I have much choice in the matter. Azmir is giving his dominant CEO demeanor. And in all honesty, I miss this man like crazy. After having been so close to him, having inhaled him, made frantic love to him, I am in no way prepared to separate from him. I’m fully aware that I’m in bad shape now. My resistance has waned. I’m leaving here, tonight, with my husband.

Azmir
rears to pull out of me. My body jerks in his withdrawal. He then shifts to leave the mattress.

“Wait!” I jump to turn off the light.

“Why? How am I supposed to see to put my clothes on?”

“I…”
Quick, Rayna!
“I don’t want you to see the mess made by mother nature over there. Let me sort that out before I turn the light back on for you to get dressed,” I whisper.

He doesn’t answer, and I take that as an agreement. I shuffle towards the corner where my underwear and tampon landed earlier and on the way, stub my toe on my purse. I cry out in pain, but never halt my stride.

“You okay?” I can hear Azmir make his way behind me towards the lamp.

“I’m fine!” I shout. “Don’t turn the light on!”

“Okay,” he shoots back. “Take it easy.”

Once I’ve put on my slip and gather the tampon that I wrap in my undies, I make my way to the door and crack it open, allowing the light from the hall to illuminate a path into the room.

“Okay,” I murmur. “You can turn it on now.”

And once it’s on
, I take off for the bathroom.

Rayna

When I step onto the balcony, right off the great room, Azmir senses my presence and his head shoots up.

He slowly observes my Japanese wrap; I’m sure feasting on fond memories of me in this. I left my other housecoat in Redondo Beach, not having a moment to properly pack.
Azna is squirming in my arms. I let him down and he takes off back into the house. He’s been at my heel since my return, but I guess the elevation in open air is too much for him.

“You’re not...clogged, are you?” The child-
like nescience in Azmir’s eyes melts my heart and terrifies me all at once.

An unrelenting need to smile tugs at my lips, “No, I’m...well padded, though.”

We’ve made love again since arriving at the marina. It was most amazing, and I had to remove Azmir’s paws from hips before he took me again. He’s been insatiable and under different circumstances, I would be indifferent. We need to take things one day at a time from here on out. So much has come into play.

I move to the bamboo seat across from him and tuck my bare feet underneath me. On the center table be
tween us, I see a glass of wine next to one of amber juice.

“I took the liberty,” he gesture
s nervously toward the table. “I went with Noir, but if you prefer Riesling, I’ll go grab you a glass.”

I c
an tell he’s struggling for that placid composure he typically exudes. For some reason, it doesn’t seem as easily applied tonight. So much has happened.

We are here to talk. It was
verbally agreed that we’d consummate properly, needing to feel that connection, and we did. However, what can’t be ignored is the conversation of this man’s identities. I need to have knowledge of all of them to decide which if any I’ll acquaint myself with.

Azmir clasps his hands togeth
er, creating the smacking sound. My eyes jump, giving him my attention. His brows pucker.
There is the impassive CEO
. And suddenly I don’t care who I converse with, so long as I get the answers I need.

“Are you currently involved in...” my words fail me. I can’t believe the ones I’
ll have to use to question
my
husband
.

“...in drug trade? No.” Azmir’
s shoulders are poised and his big hands are folded in between his wide spread thighs.
Oh, he’s ready
.

And so am I.

“Since when?”

“Since the end of last year. I’ve
completely resigned and have not been involved with any transactions or meetings, neither have I received any monies from that trade since.”

“How long were you involved?”

“That’s not an easy answer. I’ve been making money in multiple streams since high school,” he answers.

“You then went to Stanford,” I mutter much to myself. Then
, immediately, I’m struck with a thought. I continue, “Is that how you hooked up with Mark and Eric?” My lips puff on a breath at the scandal of it.

Calmly
, he chuckles before answering, “No. I met Mark and Eric purely in academic pursuit. They know nothing of that facet of my life.”

“And Kid…Petey…Wop?”

“What about them, specifically?”

“How do they tie into your…other—”
 

“Former,” he corrects.

“…former life? How were they able to afford those insanely expensive gifts at Kid’s event in Vegas?”

Azmir
rolls his neck, cocks his head to the side, and pushes his tongue into his molars, signaling discomfort.

“I’m not at liberty to speak about Petey, Kid, or Wop’s income
.” He gives me a messaging gaze, and right there I get my answer.

“So,
The Clan
is a drug organization,” I whisper on an exhale, my eyes divert into the distance.

“In part.
The Clan
is an organization that does tremendous charity work in various communities,” he offers, sounding more PR’ish than anything else.

“Walks like a duck, talks like a duck, Azmir,” I hiss.
“You put money and resources back into the same communities you destroy.” We are not about to morph this discovery session into an opportunity for him to justify what he is and what he’s done. Azmir doesn’t argue and wisely. Nonetheless, I am not prepared to crucify him. “And you spearheaded all of that?”

He gives a slow nod. Things go silent as I think. I was
n’t exactly prepared for this line of questioning. Ever.

“Who are you in the music industry? Why are you so well-regarded by celebrities and people in that
business?” And before I can finish with the question, I’m hit with another revelation. “Were you a supplier to the industry?”

Azmir’s tongue trace
s his top lip. He regards me closely before answering, “Initially and unofficially, yes. Like I told you when Jackson and Lenny were here, when I came to L.A. right after high school, I’d already known many artists and producers from Brooklyn and Chicago. I linked up with them and met their people…even met some on my own. I got to know everyone I could. At first, I would get them whatever recreation they needed. Very few asked questions and I never answered to who was the source.”

“So, those rappers and athletes…political figures,” I start thinking of the household names he’s affiliated with since I’ve met him. “All those people are in
with this
other
lifestyle?” I ask incredulously. I feel my eyes popping out of my head.

“First off, you’re using present tenses. I don’t know how many ways I can say that I
am no longer involved in that world anymore,” he grates, losing patience. And so am I;
I want answers!
“None of the well-known people I’ve exposed you to had
anything
to do with that world. In fact, they likely know nothing of it, which is the only reason I’ve had you around them. The ones that do, I keep at a distance.”

That’s good to know
.

“
My name got around and referrals increased. I created an image of broker for clients, not a direct supplier. Then, because I knew so many people and had this…swag that transcended one particular region, I would be asked to A&R. Eventually, I started doing that…legally,” he states emphatically. “I wore these hats for a number of years, but not really feeling fulfilled or like in the industry was where I belonged—”

“But you were also upstarting businesses; beauty salons, bodegas…your club in Compton,” I interrupt, suddenly decid
ing to use my delayed reasoning skills. I can’t believe I didn’t piece so many things together—
like when I was on a plane, headed to Mexico on a business trip with a CEO and his thug subordinates!

Azmir nod
s, tentatively. “Yes, I did. And all those ventures were of my hustler’s mentality. I was hungry. I’d always known I would cultivate a conglomerate, but I eventually desired it on a corporate level. Many of those celebrities you’re alluding to have no clue about my grassroots efforts. They only, at the time, knew my eagerness and aptitude to grow and learn. For years, I’d tag along with those rappers I came up with and rubbed elbows with their CEO friends, their president buddies…rich ass Jewish venture capitalists. I made friends and deals. I met people and made shit happen.”

Azmir shrugs and sits back. “I did well in real estate before the market crashed…got bored with that, but liked the flipping concept and thought to transpose it to businesses. I looked into a well-versed partner, hooked him
, and the rest is history.”

He pauses but for a brief moment before he brings his elbows to his thighs. “Rayna, I worked hard for every penny I
’ve earned. I didn’t sleep; I ate each meal on the run. I strategized for days, weeks, sometimes months on my next move. At night when everyone else slept, I orchestrated the streets. During the day when my goon contemporaries slept, I legitimized my reputation by rubbing elbows with corporate America. I’m not your run-of-the-mill block hugger. I’ve always had an end game. And separating me from the rest of those cats is that I pursued my plan and succeeded. I fooled the best of them being two different men; orchestrating two different careers—”   

“Oh, my god…you
are
Keyser Söze!” I cup my mouth on a slap.

“Pardon me?” Azmir plucks his brow.
I didn’t mean to let that slip.

“Nothing,” I quickly retract. Right now is not the ideal time to open the Thompson can of worms
...
Then on second thought
…now that all of our cards are up, why not? “I ran into Thompson a few weeks ago. He…” I find myself chewing on my bottom lip.

“He what?” Azmir grates impatiently.

“He warned me about you…made it seem like you were this menacing mastermind.” As crazy as it sounds, I’m spooked right now.

Abruptly, Azmir stands and walks
inside of the great room. I don’t see him much beyond the sliding doors. It’s not his style to walk away from a conversation; I coined that behavior entirely. I wait perhaps a minute or two before I see him make his way back on the patio with a folder. My stomach toils. The last time he presented me with one of these it was laden with the bones that make up the skeleton of my past.

I open it with shaky hands as Azmir takes to his seat, grabbing his tumbler on the way. The first recognizable name I see on a legal document is Brian Thompson. The packet is filled with legal verbiage, much of which I can’t decipher, but I struggle through it.

And that’s when I identify the words
plaintiff
and
defendant
.

~~~~~~~~~~

Azmir

Rayna’s mouth hangs agape, then she brings her left hand to cup her face. I’ve held on to this news because I didn’t want to concern her with it. I told her to stay away from him and per John’s reports, she had…well, for the most part. He did relay to me her running into him in some bodega in South L.A., but I decided to not to confront her about it. She was safe from that son of a bitch and that’s all that mattered. However, now that she brings it up, in the spirit of sharing, I fully disclose what I know.

After confronting him in
Wino’s
back in San Diego, I had him looked into. It was for purely jealous reasons; I’m man enough to admit Rayna brings out the bitch in me. And going to the extent of having him checked out was worth being a jealous and perhaps insecure lover. Washington uncovered Thompson’s penchant for drugging unsuspecting women and raping them. His track record was to have a few drinks with them, get them alone, slip them something that would knock them out for hours and have his way them. There were charges filed against him in at least two states, but his legal savvy has been enough to keep them tied up in processing.

When John reported Rayna’s run in with Thompson, instead of getting upset, I thought it was good for her to see him with a woman who was under the influence so
, in the event I’d have to confront her with this news, she’d see the seriousness of my call to stay the hell away from him. It’s seems to be playing out in my favor.

After studying the document for some time, Rayna mutters, “I-I need to
lie down. I’m sleepy.”

She places the file on the table and saunters into the apartment without another word. This time her silence doesn’t trouble or send me into
a self-doubting fit. I know what she just learned is weighing heavily on her mind.

I clean up
our glasses—Rayna’s oddly still being full—and go inside myself. After my shower, I crawl into bed, pulling a sleeping Rayna into me without disturbing Azna.

My chest feels light and all seems to be well with the wor
ld, in spite of the other stressors I face,
like D-Struct still being on the loose
. Rayna
was
the biggest of them all. Her being back in our home, in our bed, and in my arms ebbs the mental tension weighing me down. As I breathe into her hair, my lungs loosen, my heart flares, and my mind is able to rest for the first time in eleven days.

Over the next
few weeks, our regime returns. My contentment is being restored. We spend time with Erin who has a penchant for boats. Rayna has dinner waiting when I get in and sometimes we leave together in the mornings. I get busy with work, per usual, and this includes ripping into to Kid’s ass about locating D-Struct. I’m baffled by the hold up and don’t waste an opportunity letting Kid know.

The IRS probe subsides as my team and I provide what the government asks for and then some. Chesney’s inclination to outwit them also keeps my head above water. The attack will take months to victor, but the turbulence
recedes in almost no time. That fucking Lombardi set off alarms that I insulated myself from over a decade ago when I mapped out my plan of one day getting the fuck out of the game. He may have rattled my boat with informing Rayna of my former life, but she stuck it to his ass when she decided to stay with me. I plan to finish his ass with a multimillion dollar lawsuit for fucking harassment as soon as I’m cleared with this IRS bullshit.