Love UnExpected (Love's Improbable Possibility)

by Love Belvin

  Love UnExpected

  of the

  Love’s Improbable Possibility Series

  by Love Belvin

  Published by MKT Publishing

  Copyright © 2013 by Love Belvin

  All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without written permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidences are fictitious and the product of the author’s imagination.

  Cover design by Marcus Broom of DPI Design

  Love Acknowledges:

  Love’s Betas: My first official audience. Thank you! And to Kelly, Tondi, Karmen (L.I.P.’s Marketing VP – 300…400 Like marks), Patrice, Angela (book club junkie) and Yorubia, thank you for your assistance in promoting the L.I.P. series. You ladies rock!

  Tina Baker: You may not consider it much, but I appreciate the time you took, on several occasions, to offer resources and advice. It is my prayer that one day I can return the favor in any form presented. God bless you!

  Marcus Broom of DPI Designs: Thanks for your talented artistry.

  Brandy of Momma’s Books: I have no words! When you come across absolute strangers in your pursuit of success and they enthusiastically take you to the next level, giving your career a boost, you must know that it’s God-orchestrated. It’s His favor. Thank you soooooooooooo much!

  Tanya Keetch - The Word Maid: Thanks for your editing services as well as linking me into your circle. You have the warmest energy. Thanks for everything!

  In-house editor - Zakiya Walden of I’ve Got Something to Say Incorporated: Your tireless dedication to our team has been nothing short of rare blessing. Thank you from the bottom of my heart, boss (insider)!

  Juaquanna Gaines-Sams: You have been more than a friend – try a manager, a designer, an editor and my first L.I.P. fan! I’m just glad you haven’t cut your fangs into anyone yet. LOL!!

  MDT: The depth of our partnership is so precious…when people see me shine they are experiencing the inner glow that you ignite with your unwavering dedication. #TeamMKT

  To my Master, my Jireh, my Rohi, 2 Corinthians 9:10-15. Your praise shall forever be in my mouth.

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  Chapter 1

  James Lombardi

  I was in my cubicle when Munick came over and banged on the cube wall requesting an update on the Harrison case.

  “So, you want a search warrant to look at Harrison’s phone records?” Captain Munick murmured tentatively.

  “Yes, I can take it to Judge Warren before he leaves for vacation today if you can sign off right away,” I answered, masking my exasperation.

  “Is it imperative that you look at those? Don’t you have a CI or something you can work with?”

  I knew Munick had still been reluctant to investigate his buddy but he had to look past that and do his job. Darryl Harrison was a corrupt motherfucker who needed to be put behind bars with the rest of his hoodlum associates! Munick would just have to suck it up.

  “The CIs I have cannot connect Harrison to Jacobs. They can only tell me about Jacobs’ associates. I need more access to get the evidence.” I omitted the truth, which was I hadn’t been able to get anything on Jacobs either. I’d only had a statement from an incarcerated underling that Jacobs ran the operation and was partners with Harrison.

  “Well damn it, Lombardi!” Munick screamed until he realized the level of sensitivity that had to be used with this case and lowered his voice. “…what evidence do you have to get the fucking warrant from the judge?” he continued, getting in my face. It was obviously forgotten that I am a competent and decorated detective. Though I may have been getting off to a slow start, with persistence, dots would start connecting in this case.

  “I have an informant in custody ready to talk now. It’s just a matter of using whatever intel he gives and adding it to what we find on the wire. You know how this game is played, Captain. Sometimes we have to pull the strings together in order for the shit to stick,” I tried pleading with him. I really want this case bad. Harrison needed to be brought down.

  Munick glanced down at his watch and then over to me with an angry scowl. “You have twenty-six more days on the clock. Not a damn piece of paper will get my John Hancock until you have something substantial. You can ruin your career by trying to make things stick but I won’t be going down with you!” Munick stormed off kicking up dust along the way.

  Mother fuck me! This shit is going to be harder than I thought. Back to the phone I went, having other sources to tap out before calling it quits. Daryl Harrison was going down and if this Azmir Jacobs was his pawn, he’d have to pay the piper, too.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Rayna

  I flew to visit my brother, Keeme in prison. Per usual, Michelle gave me a lift to the airport. As she hugged me goodbye she asked, “Are you sure you don’t want to get a room and stay just one night? Would you consider staying with your family? You could do both, you know? ” Michelle pleaded with me with her warm hazel eyes. “It pricks me that you take these quick turnaround flights when you visit Akeem. Then, you’re crazy enough to try and return right to work!”

  I rolled my eyes and gave her a parting embrace. “Shelly, I’ll be fine. I’ll text you when I land.”

  We went through the same ritual of questions every time she dropped me to the airport. And my answers never varied. She knew I only had one goal on my mission, which was to visit Akeem and resume my normal life.

  Aside from that, I was holding a secret from her and it was eating me alive. This wasn’t the type of information I liked keeping from her. But my thoughts were that I’d bide my time and hold off on telling Michelle about my blow up with Azmir until I wrapped my mind around it myself. After all, I had to get through my visit with Akeem and didn’t need a double dose of guilt on my shoulders when visiting him. I’d tell Michelle when I was ready.

  I caught the first flight out that morning and five and a half hours later I was arriving at Newark International Airport. I rented a car, stopped to get a bite and headed straight to Caldwell State Prison. I hated visiting my brother behind bars. The corrections officers were so rude, treating even visitors as criminals. As we entered a corridor leading to the visitation room they’d slam a cell behind us reminding me of where I was. This time I jumped and turned toward the cell door. The guard laughed, bringing unwanted attention to me. I reserved my feelings for my brother’s sake. I always felt that it was my fault he was in there. Had I not been involved with that damn O he’d have no reason to defend J-Boog that night because there wouldn’t have been a confrontation.

  Akeem’s appearance had changed. He was thicker and had more hair on his almond shaded face. He had grown into a man. He resembled our father so much it scared me, the similitude was hauntingly uncanny. My mouth dried as though I’d swallowed a handful of cotton balls. I must have worn my feelings on my face because as he sat down he smiled in a blushing manner.

  He picked up the phone, “What, woman?”

  “Keeme, man, you look just like Eric!” I cried with widened eyes.

  “Oh, yeah? It’s funny because I said the same shit to myself the other day. It’s crazy, right? What’s going on with you, little mama?”

  “Oh, noth
ing.” I sighed, still reeling from his aging features.

  “You know you got people asking about you and shit?”

  “Who?” I hissed, trying to mask my paranoia. I’ve told him a hundred times to keep my affairs confidential.

  “Moms, Pops, Grams, Nikki, Theresa…everybody.”

  “And what the hell do you tell them?” I quizzed.

  “Ain’t shit I can tell them. Shit! You don’t tell me a goddamn thang! Na-Na, you don’t even want me to know where you rest your head! That’s fucked up!” His protest was obviously loud because the room seemed to have gotten quiet and the guy next to him lowered his phone and looked Akeem’s way.

  “We’re not going through this again, Keeme. The last time I came we argued about this until it was time for me to leave. We’re not going through this shit again! You don’t need to know where I live until you get out.”

  “What if something—” he attempted, but I interrupted him knowing where he would go with that same sad song.

  “What if something happens to me? Is that what you were going to ask, Keeme? What the hell could you do from here? Huhn? What? You can’t do a damn thing. Like I told you before, if something were to happen to me you’d be notified and compensated.”

  “Compensated? See, what does that shit mean?” His voice was so deep that I had to remember my brother was a man now, not the young adolescent I used to argue with about stealing my food from the refrigerator.

  “If the time comes you’ll know. If it doesn’t then you won’t need to, right?” I gave him an intense gaze. I didn’t want to fight, I wanted to reconnect with him. “Keeme, what else is going on? I’ve missed you. I couldn’t wait to come to see you.” I tried to fight back the tears.

  “Shit! Yo’ ass should be missing me! I ain’t see you in a minute. What the fuck took you so long? I thought something happened to yo’ ass! Now you talking all this crazy shit about compensating and shit! Did you finish school?” he pried.

  “Yes, Keeme. I told you when I was here last year during my spring break that I was graduating in May. I’m even done with grad school now. I’ve already started work in my field.”

  “Damn, girl! You really doin’ ya thing. I’m proud of you. So what you get your degree in? Getting ghost?” he asked being facetious.

  “I got my Master’s in… You swear not to tell anybody, Keeme?” I asked with cautious eyes.

  “Here we go with this secretive bullshit again. You better hurry up girl, we ain’t got all day!”

  I snapped my neck at him expressing my seriousness and forcing him to agree.

  “Okay, girl!”

  “I am a Physical Therapist. I’m even running a practice.”

  “Damn! That’s whassup! You’re finally done with school?”

  “Yes, Keeme. What girls do you have coming to see you in here? Who visits you?” I asked out of curiosity and to change the subject. The guilt that I felt from being responsible for my brother never being able to dream outside these prison walls was unbearable.

  “Ain’t no bitches coming to see me that you know of. I meet broads through my boys in here. But you know how it is, out of sight out of mind,” he spoke somberly. My heart twisted in my chest. “J-Boog sister Renee was coming to see me for a minute then stopped. They don’t even send cards like they used to when I first came up in this bitch.” Akeem snorted. That must be tough to chew on. “Grams brought Pops to see me for the last time last Christmas. That was funny as hell. That nigga didn’t even know what to say. I was looking at him like Yeah, nigga. I’m flesh of your flesh and blood of your goddamn blood. It’s yo’ muthafuckin’ fault that I’m in this bitch. He’s a straight bitch, Na-Na. A straight bitch! I hate that muthafucka.” I silently choked on my tears. I understood the sentiment.

  “I wrote Grams and told her not to bring his gay ass up here no more. I ain’t no damn freak show!” Akeem’s features wrinkled, I could tell he was struggling with his next thought. “But he didn’t look good. Grams said that nigga sick. I said good for his ass. Fuck’em!” Akeem seethed. I hated seeing him out of sorts but discussing our father would do that to the both of us.

  “What about our mother, Samantha? She been here?” I didn’t know if I really wanted the answer to that question. I’d quickly figured out in my teen years that our parents weren’t the most supportive, and during the times they were needed the most they likely wouldn’t come through.

  “Yeah. Matter of fact, she was here like two months ago. She got Aunt Claire to bring her. All she did was cry. That was like her third time coming to see me and I been in this bitch—what…like seven years? Yeah, seven years, not including my time in the county waiting out my trial. You da only one who visit me like that. That’s why I was like worried when I ain’t see you in a while. You usually come around every holiday.” Akeem was somewhat right. I would visit twice a semester and on breaks, which was primarily around the holidays.

  “Yeah. Well, I’m here now. I don’t let your commissary go empty, do I?” I teased.

  “Nah!” he said with a bashful smirk.

  “I know I don’t. As a matter of fact, I’m gonna max your account today before I leave because I’ll be short on funds until the end of the summer,” I explained. The truth of the matter was that I knew that I had to focus on furnishing my house as soon as I hit the Pacific soil and that alone would wipe me out for a while. But no matter what, I always took care of my brother—even if it was with my last.

  What he didn’t say was he knew I was alive because his commissary stayed with a balance and I wrote him often. The dummy never looked at the postmark on the envelop to figure out where I was. It was an endearing form of ignorance.

  “How much longer do you have in here? I’d like to hug you soon!” I joked.

  “On the up an up, I got like seven more years but my lawyer is tryna’ get that bitch reduced since I ain’t been getting into no trouble or nothing. Oh, and thanks for keeping him on your payroll, Na-Na. I appreciate dat shit like a muthafucka. Every time I hear from him I think about you ‘cuz I know if it wasn’t for you throwing a few dollars his way I wouldn’t even hear from that nigga.”

  “No problem. Keep me posted. I’m surprised he hasn’t yelled it’s time to go yet,” I said referring to the guard. My time there had always seemed so short. I turned to see the guards still surveying the room. When I turned my attention back to Akeem I smiled, still admiring his features and being overtaken by the only warm memory of my childhood. My brother. We were damn near twins and had been through so much together.

  “So Rayna, where you going once you leave here? Akeem asked like a child not wanting to separate from its mother.

  “To put some money in your account, fool,” I quipped in an attempt to lighten the moment.

  “No. For real, man!” he pleaded. I saw the desperation in his eyes, so I got serious.

  “You know I’m getting on a plane, Keeme.” I sighed not wanting to make my life sound so grand when he’d be left in a tiny cell to live vicariously through me. It didn’t seem fair.

  “Where, girl?” he demanded causing me to relent.

  “Let’s see.” I pondered my answer aloud. “Just know I’m going somewhere sunny where the wind blows easily. I’m okay, Keeme! For real. Don’t worry. You got a birthday coming up in a couple of months. I’ll be back to visit for your birthday and I plan to give you something really nice.” I tried ending the conversation peacefully and with a twinge of hope. I tried to make him smile.

  I knew that it bothered him that I didn’t discuss my whereabouts with him but I didn’t trust that he’d keep it a secret. The last time I told him specifically where I was at school in North Carolina I started getting phone calls and mail from people that I didn’t want to correspond with, namely LaTavia. She sent me pictures of her baby who looked just like O. What shocked the hell out of me was that it included a letter from O. He must have written it from prison and asked her to send it to me. He hinted over at the money in the account,
but indirectly. If LaTavia got wind of that he’d never hear the end of it. I ignored it.

  Then my grandmother called with my mother on a three way asking for money and apologizing for her indiscretions as a parent all in the same breath. Needless to explain why, I changed dormitories on campus, privatizing my address and telephone number. I knew they wouldn’t visit. People in the hood never go anywhere. Since then I’ve minimized the information I gave my brother. He didn’t mean for any of them to reach me and was even willing to have his peoples who were in the same prison as O “handle” (his word) him but I begged him to drop it. I explained that responding to it would confirm where I was and I didn’t want that at all.

  I chatted a little bit more with my Akeem and left. It’s always hard leaving him. He, along with Chyna, were the only positive references of home I cherished. Everything else was gloomy. I hated the thought of Jersey. I stopped at a nearby outlet to do a little shopping to kill time. After an hour or so I headed to the airport. Now that I’d seen my brother, I couldn’t be happier to leave.

  On the plane ride home I got comfortable in my seat and immediately tried to relax. My mind wrestled with so much. I had so much to deal with, specifically a line item labeled A.D. Jacobs.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Panting. Sweating. The cogs of my mind racing. I’d just awakened from another nightmare consisting of home—J-Boog, bullets, and my punctured heart. I hated them. Despised their haunting nature. I thought I’d escaped them each time I went long periods without them. But when they came, I was reminded that no matter how far from home I’ve physically traveled, I was still a slave to those deadly circumstances. To my fate. No matter how often I tried, it was clear that I was meant to be alone. Exiled to a fucked up land called loneliness, solitude.

  It was Sunday morning, five days after my blow up with Azmir. Often on Sunday mornings, in lieu of attending church like I did as a kid, I would reflect on my life—the good and bad. One thing that I no longer had to worry about on my “bad list” was how I was going to have to repay Sebastian. That problem had weighed on me for a long time. Having it off my shoulders was certainly a huge respite.