Hard Betrayal: Action Adventure Pulp Thriller Book #2 (Michelle Angelique Avenging Angel Series)

by Jason Stanley

  Turning back to Trevon, Plainclothes said, “You’re next. What’s your name?”

  “Trevon.” He nodded over to Gus being loaded into an ambulance. “And he’s Gus. Who’re you?”

  “I’m asking the questions, not you,” Plainclothes said. “First, I need to make sure you’re not armed. Stand up.”

  Trevon locked eyes with the loud, uniformed officer who still aimed his gun at him. “Before I move,” he said to Plainclothes, “put a leash on Gerry, the clown-boy. I don’t want to get shot by some hyped-up fool so excited by his excuse to point a loaded gun he’s about to come in his pants.”

  “Fuck you, asshole, and stand up like the lieutenant told you to,” Gerry said.

  “Is that how you talk to your boy toys down at the Roughrider Club? I bet they love that you’re a real cop with your own genuine police handcuffs.” Hands on his head, Trevon awkwardly climbed up onto his knees, then stood. He winked at Gerry and blew him a kiss. “Play nice, lover boy.”

  “You know the drill,” Plainclothes said. “Turn around, hands on the tree, spread your feet.”

  Leaning against the tree, Trevon heard the clatter of the pile of guns being removed while someone kicked his left foot to widen his stance. Trevon expected the move, and let the kick push his foot too far, and take his balance. He stumbled, falling into the tree. Reflexively he pushed off the tree to regain his footing when a fist slammed into his right kidney. He sagged to his knees.

  “Another move, asshole, and you’re fucking dead! You hear me!” Gerry shouted.

  Trevon hid his smile and nodded. He remained on one knee and, arms spread wide, hugged the tree.

  “Stand him up,” Gerry commanded.

  Two sets of hands grabbed Trevon, yanked him to his feet.

  “Assume the position!” Gerry yelled.

  “I got this,” the lieutenant said.

  “It’s okay, Lou, I got it.”

  “No. You don’t. I’ll take it from here.” The lieutenant stepped in and frisked Trevon, pulling his wallet out of his pocket. “You can put your hands down and turn around.”

  Turning to his left, Trevon noted Miss Betty standing in her doorway, holding up her phone. He was sure she videoed the whole thing. He touched his cheek, then looked at his fingers. Blood. The rough tree bark had cut his face when he fell into it.

  “Well, now what, Lieutenant?”

  “We’ll start with who you are, and what you’re doing here with a pile of guns at your feet and a bunch of dead men in the street.”

  “No, Lieutenant, we’ll start with you opening my wallet and taking out my card.”

  Gerry made a move to step in closer but the lieutenant laid a restraining hand on his arm, “Hang on,” while the lieutenant checked Trevon’s wallet. “Counselor at Law? You’re an attorney?”

  “I am. And this mess, along with the well-documented police brutality by Officer Gerry, will be handled by my attorney. Now, I’m bleeding and I need medical attention. I suggest you deal with that as your top priority.”

  “It’s a fucking scratch; you’ll live,” Gerry said.

  “No, it’s a visible medical condition,” Trevon said. “Which, as a Black man, you know can cause keloids. That means you have special knowledge and are denying me appropriate medical attention.”

  “Gerry, go send the EMT over,” the lieutenant said. “Then help Sergeant Vasquez with logging the scene.” The remaining uniformed officer moved in and cuffed Trevon.

  Trevon looked at Miss Betty, who was still videoing. “Dollars to doughnuts, she got that little action with Officer Gerry. What do you think that’s worth? A million? Too bad he’s not White. Throw in the race card and it’d be an extra half-million, easy.”

  “What’s your angle, Counselor? If you think that stunt you pulled will get you off on any murder charges, it’s not gonna happen.”

  “All of this” —Trevon looked around the street— “will eventually come out as a case of mistaken identification. I’m an out-of-town attorney visiting an old family friend. As far as I know, I’m not involved with these people. We acted in self-defense and almost lost our lives. Then, I was brutally attacked by an armed police officer after I made it abundantly clear that I was unarmed and posed absolutely zero threat.”

  “That don’t tell me shit. What’s your angle? You pushed him into that shit on purpose. Now you got it on video. Why?”

  “Further, even after I did not respond to your officer’s brutality, proving I am not a threat, you had the remaining officer place me in cuffs. You have no sensible reason to cuff me, that is, unless you’re arresting me. Are you arresting me?” Trevon asked.

  “Not yet.”

  Trevon cocked his head. “I’m not too sure what to do about this. It could be something: it could be nothing. I’ll need to think about it long and hard. Before I say more, let this man look at my face, then we can continue this little discussion.”

  The EMT had arrived while they were talking.

  The lieutenant stepped back and nodded to him. The EMT broke out some gauze pads.

  “Do you know anything about keloids?” Trevon asked the EMT.

  “I know what they are.”

  “Do you know how to treat for them?”

  “No. Not specifically,” the EMT admitted.

  “Not a problem. Do what you normally do, but I’ll want all of the materials you use and the bottles you take any medicines or supplies out of.” While he talked, Trevon kept an eye on Miss Betty’s door. She and a woman Trevon didn’t recognize continued videoing everything.

  “Really? You want the bottles, too?”

  “All of it. Put it everything in a bag.”

  “Should I do it?” the EMT asked the lieutenant.

  “Do as the good counselor asks,” the lieutenant said, “but keep a record of everything you use, and charge him.”

  “Okay, I’ll go get a bag.”

  “I’ll wait.” Trevon glanced at Miss Betty, who inconspicuously held up two fingers: two minutes.

  “You don’t sound like you’re from around here, Lieutenant,” he said.

  “Jersey. I was a cop there for a long time. Now I’m a cop here. And I want to know what you’re stalling for.”

  “I’m using the time to think about how to deal with this problem. I’m innocent of any wrongdoing, so any legal or criminal issues don’t worry me. It will be, as they say in the business, an inconvenience. But that’s all it’ll be. The danger’s over; somehow we lived through this insanity. But then there’s our friend, Gerry, to decide about.”

  “Well, Counselor, you can think about it all you want, but until I’m clear on what happened here, you and your friend are spending some time with me back at the department.”

  While the lieutenant talked, Michelle stepped out onto the porch and stood next to Miss Betty, hair glistening with water droplets and she wore clothes that neither fit nor would ever be found in her wardrobe. Trevon nodded, and she ducked back inside.

  Good, their done.

  The EMT returned, took care of Trevon’s face, and when he finished, he set the bag of used supplies and an invoice on the ground by Trevon’s feet.

  “Well, Lieutenant,” said Trevon. “I’m ready to go downtown whenever you are. Since that’s my Lexus over there, I’m afraid I’ll need a lift. Now, this place is crawling with reporters, and my friend over there, and at least a half-dozen others, have videoed all of this. So how about we try a different tack. So far, I’ve been brutalized but, in good faith, have gone along with your program. So, now we understand each other. If you aren’t going to arrest me, here and now, you need to remove the cuffs.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “You and I both know, if I want to push this thing, I’ll create a nice, messy lawsuit the city can ill afford. The department will suffer and I’ll get a little fame that, frankly, I don’t really need. I’m thinking about moving up this way, and I’d rather work with the police than against them. Perhaps you and I c
an find some better footing and work toward a mutually beneficial future.”

  “Turn around,” the lieutenant said.

  Trevon did, and the lieutenant removed the cuffs. “They were just a temporary precaution until the scene was secured.”

  “Of course, they were.” Trevon smiled. “I’m glad you chose to consider my offer.”

  “I didn’t hear an offer.”

  “The option of considering a working relationship rather than locking into an adversarial position.”

  “Whatever. I took the cuffs off. Don’t read too much into it. Now, it’s time to go downtown.”

  “I’m more than happy to go, but I won’t be answering your questions without my attorney. And since it looks like we’re going to see more of each other, what’s your name?”

  “Hursh. Lieutenant Hursh. And don’t think knowing my name makes you my friend. As far as I’m concerned, you’re a suspect in a multiple homicide.”

  .

  Twenty-Seven: You?

  A WEEK AFTER the street war, Michelle and Trevon settled into Miss Betty’s large, overstuffed chairs in her living room. The cool air-conditioning conquered the outside heat, while bright afternoon sunlight spilled through the vertical blinds, casting shadow stripes on the table and the floor in the open dining area.

  “I can’t believe I didn’t see that shit coming,” Michelle said.

  “You can’t believe it!” Trevon leaned forward. “No shit, woman! I couldn’t believe what I saw with my own eyes — still can’t. You, up on that balcony, taking out those guys; it didn’t make sense.”

  “You saw that?”

  “At first I didn’t know you were up there. But then the sound of your shots gave you away. But I could barely see the bottom of the balcony so I didn’t know if you were shooting at us or them. Hell, I almost took a shot at you. I only saw you hit the guy on the grass, who, by the way, was a fast-moving target. I couldn’t see where the shots that got D’andre came from, but I didn’t need to. I knew Gus was empty, and I saw you come out.”

  “Then you didn’t see me miss the other guy who got away?” she asked.

  “No, just him jumping around and running up the street.”

  “He was fast!”

  “You didn’t take a second shot at him. Why?”

  “No danger. Then or now. What’s he gonna do? Go to the police and tell them we killed his friends while he tried to kill us?”

  “I’ll have to watch for him later. He might come back at us.”

  “Time will tell.”

  “So, tell me, where the hell did all of that Tomb Raider stuff come from?” Trevon made a finger gun with one hand and, cradling it in his other, shot while panning across the room. “Miss Betty told me a woman in her Pussy Squad seemed like she could take care of business. But damn, girl, I didn’t have a clue you were the one.”

  “Well, I’m the one,” she confessed.

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  “That was a real question,” he said. “You being Laura Croft? Where did all of that come from? Who shoots like a pro, and with the cops on the way, has the presence of mind to take off her shirt to pick up casings without leaving prints? Which, by the way, was quite impressive. You sure didn’t learn that stuff in Miss Betty’s church.”

  “It’s a long story,” Michelle said. “Before I get into it, what about you? You didn’t see this coming? Well, neither did I. You’re a fucking drug man. Christ Almighty! Drugs! How in the world are drugs involved? Are you a drug man or a lawyer first? Jesus, next, you’ll be a politician. You’re not running for governor, are you?”

  “Drugs are my business, but I’d never stoop so low as to become a politician.” Trevon smiled, sipped his tea. “My story isn’t so long. Grew up poor, wanted more, and made it happen. I started on the corners as a kid; law school came later.”

  “So now what? Are you moving up here and taking over the drug business in the hood?”

  “It’s a hands-on kind of thing. D’andre and his crew being out of the way is an important start, though it doesn’t mean much by itself. I still need to show every wannabe I’ll shoot his shit off if he comes sniffing around. Hell, if he even thinks of doing some shit, he’ll be put down. So yeah, I’ll be bringing a crew with me.”

  “So, you’re the man in Long Beach, right?” she asked.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Why come up here when you’re already top dog in your hood?”

  “I run the streets, not the top organization,” Trevon said. “I’m loyal to the men I came up with. They’ve always done right by me, and I’m good with that.”

  “Bullshit,” Michelle said. “Nobody’s loyal in the drug business. Someone finds a weakness, they move in. You just don’t see any weaknesses, is all.”

  “You’re right. These days most people are like that, but not everybody. You can think what you want, because it doesn’t matter what you think. I’m firm in my loyalty. When I see a weakness with my people, I help to make it right. Nothing else. That’s the way it is. I worked that way back in the day with Betty’s husband, Big John. This business here, this is payback to the assholes who helped to put him in his grave.”

  “Hold on! What are you saying about Miss Betty’s husband, Big John, and payback?”

  “You didn’t know Big John was Miss Betty’s husband?”

  “Of course, I knew. I told you I grew up around the corner, remember? And I’ve known Miss Betty since I was a little girl. So sure, I knew Big John. But I was only a sophomore in high school when my folks died in a car wreck, and I didn’t see much of Miss Betty or Big John after the funeral.”

  “You’re telling me you didn’t know Big John ran the corners here?” Trevon asked.

  “No. My brother kept me out of the mix, wanted me to go away to college and get out of the hood. He made sure I wasn’t anywhere close to the life.”

  “Where’s your brother now?”

  “Dead. Killed a few years back.”

  “Slow down,” Trevon said. “Michael, that smart guy who was moving up in Big John’s organization? He was your brother? Weren’t he and his cousin killed at the same time Big John was killed?”

  “I didn’t hear when Big John was killed. I wasn’t around to get much news back then. But, yeah, from what I’ve put together, it all happened about the same time.

  Trevon sat, quietly listening.

  “Michael never hid his business from me,” Michelle went on. “I knew it involved drugs, but not who he worked for. He always said he’d kick my ass to keep me out of the life. No problem, because I didn’t want any part of it, so I never asked any questions.”

  “Sounds like he was a good brother,” Trevon said.

  “The best,” she agreed, wiping at her eyes.

  “Here we are, you two.” Miss Betty brought in a tray with iced tea and glasses. She placed the drinks on the coffee table and sat in her upholstered platform rocker. After pouring herself some tea, she said, “Help yourself. I did my part making it. You two can pour your own.” She leaned back, smiling.

  “Miss Betty, is that right? Michael worked for Big John?” Michelle asked.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And all those years, you and Big John were in the life, but my momma didn’t know?”

  “Yes and no. Big John ran the streets, all right. No doubt about it. Your momma and them all knew exactly what he did. But before you ask — no, Michael didn’t work for Big John back then. Gabe Jr. did, but not Michael. He came to Big John when you lost your folks in that accident, and Big John gave him a job. Turned out he had a good sense of how to make things happen.”

  “What about you?” Michelle asked. “Where do things stand with you now?”

  “As you now know, Trevon’s more than just a pretty-boy lawyer from Long Beach. He worked for Big John for a long time, and in many ways, he’s family to me. His business is up here now, so that means he’s up here. I’m not interested in being a part of his business; I’m jus
t a busybody old woman who knows people in the hood.”

  “Okay, so that’s it?”

  “Mostly.” Miss Betty looked at Michelle with misty eyes. “As best as I can tell, the same people who were responsible for Michael and Gabe Jr.’s deaths were also behind Big John’s. It seems that score has been settled. Whoever did those things, settled that score, has my support for the rest of my life. I’ll make sure she’s always taken care of.”

  Trevon looked between the two women. “We’re not talking about what happened outside last week are we?”

  “It’s connected, but no,” Michelle answered.

  “More tea?” Miss Betty interrupted. Enough had been said.

  * * *

  Glistening in sweat, Michelle looked over at Trevon lounging on his satin sheets. She relaxed into a whole-body tingle.

  “Goddamn you, Trevon. You’re nothing but a big bunch of problems.”

  With mock-innocence plastered on his face, he asked, “Please, do tell.”

  “I’m serious, goddammit.”

  “All right, I’m listening,” he said.

  “You know what I am and why I can’t be with no citizen, so Mr. Lawyer Man doesn’t cut it. I like him more than I should, so I’ve been guarding my emotions. You know, not letting him in too much, then —bam!—out of nowhere, Mr. Thug, Big-Man-On-Campus shows up.”

  “I never said I was BMOC.”

  “You’re BMOC and more. Drugs? Goddamn. Drugs are what dragged me into this whole miserable situation to begin with. How in the hell am I supposed to make that shit work? I can’t be with no drug man. Christ, you even took over the show of the men who killed my brother.”

  “And I sincerely appreciate you removing that bit of detritus.”

  “See, right there, that’s what I’m talking about. You’re smart and funny and a fucking drug man.” She punched him in the side. “Who talks like that? What is ‘detritus,’ Mr. Lawyer Man?”

  “Trash, something like a piece of shit, to be disposed of.”

  “Why didn’t you say that? Just say they were all pieces of shit.”

  “I did,” he said.

  “Fuck you.”