Nude Awakening (27 page)
FORTY-TWO
Out on the Atlantic, Lieutenant Martin stood observing the U.S. Marshals’ helicopter landing perfectly on the stern of her vessel. She instructed the CPO to escort the visitor to her office.
Seven minutes later, there was a knock on her steel door.
“It’s open.”
Her CPO, Richard Wensell escorted Robinson inside and made the introductions. When Wensell started to leave he was told to stay.
“Yes ma’am,” Wensell said and sat down in a chair beside Robinson.
Silence. The three exchanged eye contact without words.
“Um, how soon will we reach port?” Robinson asked Lieutenant Martin.
“Eight or ten minutes,” she replied.
Robinson looked at the pictures and awards that belonged to Lieutenant Martin. He was surprised the ship was being run by a Black female. He loosened his tie.
“Excuse my manners, Mr. Robinson,” Martin said. “But would you like a cup of coffee?”
“No ma’am. Thanks all the same.”
She nodded.
“So, some night, huh?” Robinson began. “How are those two you pulled out of the water?”
“They’re fine. Just a little shocked. The ocean was cold and neither of them could swim. My two rescue swimmers jumped off this vessel as soon as those two jumped off the yacht.”
“I saw that,” Robinson said. “Pretty amazing, those two swimmers.”
“Thank you for keeping that spotlight on them until we were able to turn around,” Lieutenant Martin added.
Robinson shrugged. “I couldn’t sit back and do nothing.”
“Well, this will be the high of my career as well as the end.” Martin’s tone was sullen.
“End?” Robinson said. “What you did . . . running with your light off. If you hadn’t followed that yacht those two would have drowned. Even if they could swim, it was what? Twenty-five miles from the Cuban shore.”
“I violated another country’s water, Mr. Robinson,” she reminded him.
“Tough shit! I violated their airspace and I don’t regret it. You—you did your job like you were trained to do. To save lives. The rules can come second.”
“That may be true, Mr. Robinson, but I have to face reality. There will be an outcry from Cuba as we know it. And the game will go like this: I will take the scapegoat title and just do what I can to spare my crew. I’ll take what’s coming to me.”
Robinson looked at Wensell.
“Uh, excuse me, Lieutenant.” Wensell cleared his throat.
“What is it, Chief Petty Officer?”
“That sheet on your desk. That’s not a standard resignation form, is it?”
Lieutenant Martin frowned, easing a folder over the form. “That is personal, Chief Petty Officer!”
Wensell blew off her rebuke. “Ma’am, that would seem odd being that our vessel um . . . had some electrical problems.”
“What electrical problems?” She frowned. “I heard of no such thing.”
“The kind that caused our navigaton and GPS system to malfunction. This is why we entered Cuban waters by mistake because we were unaware of the vessel’s true position.”
Martin crossed her arms. “Need I remind you that another Coast Guard vessel was out on this operation, Mr. Wensell? One that I’m sure had a working GPS unit. Now tell me how I can explain why I didn’t heed to the call from the—”
Robinson cleared his voice. “If I may?”
“No, Mr. Robinson.” Martin stood. “I’m going to ask you to step out of my office for a moment because—”
“Lieutenant! Please!” Wensell stood and placed his hands on Martin’s desk. “Just listen to us, okay! If you don’t like it, hell I’ll turn in my resignation papers, too.” Martin remained on her feet.
“You may speak, Mr. Robinson,” she said, glaring at Wensell.
“Ma’am, the other ship couldn’t call you because while . . . um . . . my pilot—he flew too low on a turn and clipped the um . . .” Robinson glanced at Wensell for help.
“Their landing skids clipped the main communications antenna on Captain Alterman’s vessel,” Wensell explained. “It was really dark and . . .”
“Shit happens.” Robinson shrugged.
Wensell slid the folder off the resignation form and looked up into Martin’s eyes. “We look out for our own, Lieutenant. What you did tonight took a helluva lot of balls and I’m proud to serve under you, ma’am.” Wensell snapped a quick salute while balling up the resignation form in his left hand.
Trevon sat next to LaToria with his arm around her waist. She was still shivering. “You wanna lay down?” he asked.
She quickly shook her head no, pressing her body closer to his as they sat on the small bunk. Both had been seen and treated in the sick bay and given a U.S.C.G. jumpsuit to wear.
“Why didn’t you tell me your ass couldn’t swim?” she said into his chest.
Trevon shrugged. “I thought I could learn. We sure as hell couldn’t stay on that damn boat.”
LaToria sat up. “You came for me.”
“Damn right I did!” He tilted the brim of the Coast Guard cap up so he could see her eyes. “Think I wasn’t?”
“You said something to me before we jumped.”
“What? Don’t let my hand go? Something you did before we even hit the damn water. And when I did reach you I was kicked in the face.” Trevon was glad to be able to smile at what happened.
“Smooch, I was so scared! When that Coast Guard dude grabbed me from behind—”
“Your crazy ass started yelling about a damn shark. I’m sitting there drowning and like . . . sharks ain’t orange. Yo, it was—”
“You said you loved me, Trevon.” LaToria looked into his eyes.
“Yeah, I did, huh?”
“So you wanna—”
They both looked toward the door when a knock sounded.
“Come in.” Trevon stood.
Lieutenant Martin stepped inside followed by Lieutenant Colonel Robinson. Martin informed LaToria and Trevon who Robinson was, then asked if they were open to talking with him.
“Yeah, we’ll talk.” Trevon sat down as Lieutenant Martin sat down on another bunk beside Robinson.
“Are you two okay?” Robinson began. He wanted to come off as a friend and not an asshole. Trevon stated that they were fine, just tired.
“Ms. . . . LaToria Frost?” Robinson nodded.
“Yes.”
“Ma’am, was Swagga alive when—”
“I was locked in that room, okay? I don’t know—”
“Tell me what happened when he stopped the boat.”
“I heard a funny humming noise. He was moving around a lot, but he never came down to the room.”
“A humming? Was it another boat?”
“No.”
“How long did the sound last?”
“It . . . Shit! I know what it was! It was that crane thing!”
“A davit,” Martin explained. “It’s a small hydraulic winch used to lift small tenders or personal water crafts onto the yacht or down to the water.”
“So if it was used that means Swagga got off,” Robinson guessed.
“And setting his yacht on fire was the perfect diversion.” Martin stood up. “I doubt he’s still out there, but I need to start a search for him.”
Silence loomed for a few seconds when Lieutenant Martin left the small room. Robinson leaned back rubbing his neck. “I’m trying to piece this all together. I’ll start with the two bodies in Coral Gables. Do either of you two know about that?”
Trevon knew to keep his mouth closed. LaToria followed Trevon’s actions.
“Okay.” Robinson nodded. “I do know that your car was shot up, Mr. Harrison. And I assume you took that dead security guard’s gun and motorcycle. We found it near the warehouse. It’s being checked for your fingerprints. We also found the guard’s gun, and that too is being fingerprinted. And this brings me to the body. Shotgun wound to the chest. Odd that we also found a casing from a .380, but where is it?” Robinson clasped his hands together resting his elbows on his knees. “What you did tonight, Mr. Harrison, I’m still replaying it all in my mind. Through a pair of binoculars I watched you jump off a speedboat onto the back of a burning yacht in Cuban waters I might add.”
“We were in Cuba?” LaToria asked in disbelief.
“We all were.” Robinson sat back up. “Like I was saying, Mr. Harrison, your actions were commendable. Had you been some part of the military, you would have been given a medal. Tell me. You jumped on the yacht without knowing if Ms. Frost was alive or not? And I’m sure you realized that the only way off was to jump. And son, you can’t even swim.” Robinson held his hand out. “I’d like to shake your hand, Mr. Harrison.”
The two men shook hands.
“Reality, which sucks at times,” Robinson said, shrugging. “You have a record, Mr. Harrison, and I know about what sent you to prison. Again, you took the law into your own hands and that brings me back to the body at the warehouse. Now, would you like to tell me what happened? Yaffa looked pretty roughed up, and I see you have a bit of swelling around your left eye. Wanna talk about it? And yes, we got the shotgun. I forgot to mention . . . and it too is being fingerprinted.”
Tevon felt trapped. He remained silent.
Robinson smiled. “I was hoping for that reaction, Mr. Harrison. Now, let me tell you why. See, in my report, due to the close proximity of the blast, my report is that Yaffa suffered his um—last moments on earth from a self-inflicted wound.”
“What about Swagga?” LaToria asked.
Robinson pulled out his cell phone. “As soon as I get a signal, I’ll continue to hunt him down.”
FORTY-THREE
Friday 4:20 a.m. - Miami, Florida
Trevon and LaToria were moved directly from the Coast Guard vessel and driven to the U.S. Marshals office. The trip was made in the back of a black tinted supercharged 2011 Dodge Durango. Escorting the Durango were two similar painted Ford Taurus sedans. The three vehicles sped through the lit streets of Miami. Trevon suddenly sat up from the second row seat he shared with LaToria.
“Hey! What happened to the guy with the speedboat? I forgot his name!”
Robinson shook his head. “The Coast Guard said they received a distress signal from him. Said his boat was taking on water. The other Coast Guard ship took a risk and headed to his last location. They found him on a life raft. He’s okay.”
“Yes!” Trevon sat back, sliding a hand down his face.
Reaching the U.S Marshals building, Trevon was surprised to see a familiar sports utility vehicle in the underground parking lot. The instant they exited the Durango, Janelle appeared near the elevator.
The two women hugged each other once they were inside the building. Trevon joined them as Janelle began asking them what was going on.Trevon saw Robinson standing off in the corner with his back toward him talking on his cell phone. He headed over. He wanted to make sure the Coast Guard had done everything possible to find the guy with the speedboat. As he neared Robinson, he slowed to a stop due to parts of the conversation he was hearing.
“Okay, you know where I can find Swagga? And I assume you’ll want some amount of a reward. Yes, I do understand and I’m pleased that you called. . . . Yes, Ms. Frost is alive and well. . . . I’m sorry, but I can’t give out that information. . . . Yes, I’ll see that it’s done. . . . Okay. Now, the whereabouts of Swagga. Sir, we will try to apprehend him alive, but since he’s armed I can’t promise you anything. . . . I do understand. . . . Yes. Yes. Okay. You said it’s a silver Aston Martin Virage. And he’s at the Miami International Airport. . . . Say it again. . . . Okay, you said it’s a private section near the west end of the runway? Yes. Sir, if he’s there we’ll find him. . . . Yes, I heard you. His jet will pull off in twenty minutes. Thank you, sir. Goodbye.”
Robinson ended the call then turned around. Walking toward LaToria and Janelle, he motioned his tactical officer to follow him. “We just got a tip,” Robinson whispered to the tactical officer. “Get the team ready to move in ten minutes or less.”
The tactical officer nodded, then ran off to get the Fugitive Task Force Unit suited back up.
“Ladies,” Robinson said, standing in front of LaToria and Janelle. “We just received an anonymous tip on Swagga’s whereabouts.”
“Where is he?” LaToria jumped up. “I wanna be there when y’all arrest his dumb ass!”
Janelle touched LaToria’s arm. “Calm down.”
“He’s trying to catch a private jet at the airport. He won’t make it,” Robinson assured them. “As for you being there.” He shook his head. “Not gonna happen. I need you and Mr.—” Robinson looked around the small room. “Where is Mr. Harrison?”
“He was standing over there behind you,” LaToria said and looked at Janelle.
Janelle shrugged. “I guess he went to use the bathroom or something. I’m sure this building has cameras.”
Robinson again scanned the room. It was hard to overlook Janelle’s stunning beauty. Robinson had checked her out. Amazed how she was so flawlessly dressed at four in the morning. He had noticed everything. Taking a step closer, he looked down at the seats.
“What’s wrong?” LaToria asked.
“Ms. Babin, can you tell me why your purse is on the floor?”
Janelle gasped. “I had it sitting right next to me while I was talking to Kandi.”
Robinson squatted and picked up the purse. “Ma’am. Please see if anything is missing.”
“Why would anything be—”
“Please, Ms. Babin.” Robinson handed Janelle the purse. “It would greatly satisfy me if you would check to see it anything is missing.”
“Fine!” Janelle searched inside the purse. This man is tripping! Why would Trevon want to take something out of my purse? This is so stupid. Ain’t nothing in here but my phone and credit cards and it’s all here. Oh and my—wait! Where are my . . . Janelle looked up with a lost look on her face.
“My—my car keys are missing.”
Robinson cursed, and then ran down the hall yelling at another Marshal to initiate a Code Red lock down on the building. No one was allowed to enter nor exit the building until the Code was clear.
“Ohhh Trevon.” LaToria sat down and buried her face into her hands. She hoped he was not missing to repeat what had cost him fifteen years in prison.
December 25, 2011
Sunday 8:35 a.m. - Selma, North Carolina
Three-inches of snow covered the grounds outside and it still fell lightly as LaToria stood looking out the window. A cap of snow sat on the hood and roof of her Escalade. She felt alone without Trevon.
Behind her sat Trevon’s family at the kitchen table along with Jurnee, Janelle and her newly wed husband, Victor. Angie was telling stories about Trevon’s childhood days. Laughter flowed endlessly from the kitchen, but LaToria had other things on her mind. Life was on her mind. The journey with Trevon had changed her inside. After reaching an agreement with Janelle, LaToria would film her last three porn films next year and call it quits.
Her relationship with Jurnee was still strong, but now it was based solely on friendship and not sex. Keeping her life private, LaToria was one of the few that knew of Jurnee’s new boyfriend, Michael. Like Victor, he too was an author. Reaching up to rub the tears from her wet eyes she thought of Swagga.
Swagga had gotten his money back from D-Hot. The two were the farthest from being friends. D-Hot returned the money willingly, so as to keep his snitching ways from being uncovered. Swagga and his high-powered legal team were able to brush aside the attempted murder charge. Cuba would not release the burnt wreckage of the yacht. No one could prove how the yacht was set on fire, thus clearing Swagga from facing a trial in court. The case was still pending and was set to be thrown out at the next hearing in a few weeks. Swagga was surprisingly keeping a low profile spending time with Kendra and his firstborn.
“LaToria,” Angie called from the table. “It’s time to eat, girl. Your seat is ready.”
LaToria wiped her eyes again. “I’m coming.”
Rex barked and trotted up to the door. When LaToria did not open it, he moved around her and placed his paws up on the window sill. He barked again.
The roads were too slick to drive, so Trevon had to walk to the store. He was okay with it because he was free! Trevon had wised up. He never left the underground parking lot, and instead pushed his anger aside and thought about what he stood to lose. LaToria, Angie, and his mom. Swagga was not worth the effort. Two Marshals had found him leaning against Janelle’s Aventador with his head toward the ground. Robinson had kept his word and kept Trevon free of any criminal charges.
Kendra had spoken to Trevon in private and told him it was best to end their affair. Trevon agreed fully. He was still on parole and just hoped that no bullshit would stir up from Kendra’s renewed bond with Swagga. A smile spread on his face when he saw Rex loping toward him in the snow. LaToria stood in the doorway waiting for him.
“You still crying from them onions, baby?” Trevon asked when he stepped inside.
“Yeah, and I hope you got my crunchy peanut butter.” LaToria took the plastic bag from him, anxious to feed her odd craving.
“How you feel?” he asked, taking his coat off.
“Pregnant.”
“Mm hmm.” Trevon squeezed her ass. “And it’s getting bigger.”
“Stop, Smooch!” She giggled. “Your mom is in the kitchen.”
Trevon smiled as he sat down at the table with his loved ones and friends. He was thankful for so much when his mom began to pray. He even had a best man lined up for his wedding to LaToria next July, Menage Unique Legend. Yeah, life was all good for Trevon even through all the drama he had to endure to reach it. No Justice. Nah, he had peace. Peace of mind and a grasp on that element titled love.
At the same time across the country in Auburn, Washington was Stan. He had moved back home, leaving the hurt and loss of Cindy behind. In his hand, he watched the clip of Swagga having sex with Chyna. This was the one key item he had not told the police. With his mind made up, he typed a quick text message.
Trevon,
Merry X-mas. I hope all is well.
FYI, Chyna did not xxx U. It was Cindy.
Here is the root of your troubles with Swagga. I’m moving on. Here are two video clips that people have died for. Maybe U will know what to do with them.
A friend of Cindy R.I.P.
Stan dialed in Trevon’s cell number then pressed the SEND button.
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