
Book One

A Makaveli's Prince Novel

Sam Hunter
Book One

Sam Hunter

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

Book One is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is purely coincidental.

Copyright © 2012 by Sam Hunter

www.samhunter.org

@_SamHunter

www.facebook.com/WriterSamHunter

Smashwords Edition, 2012

Limited portions of lyrics appear under fair use with thanks to Amaru Entertainment.

www.tasf.org

www.2pac.com

'My only fear of death is coming back reincarnated' Tupac Shakur (1971-1996)

# ONE

Justine closed the heavy door to the dilapidated project apartment and headed towards the stairwell.  The fluorescent light flickered above her as she descended the steps, her left hand intermittently grasping at the handrail.  The sight of flaking paint on the walls, which in places had been covered with graffiti, made her reluctant to hold on for long.  She stepped carefully as she went but not for fear of falling, rather that she hated the feel of cockroaches crunching underneath her feet.

Justine reached the ground floor and exited via the front entrance.  She looked back at the project apartment for a brief moment.  The sun was just breaking the California skyline and darkness was in retreat.  The windows of the small apartment were almost lost in the crowd of others crammed into such a small space and were all in the same state of disrepair.  There was no light coming from the windows and so she was sure the man she'd just left was still fast asleep.  She turned and began to walk.

Her body felt fresh from the hot shower she'd just had but the unplanned stop over meant she was dressed in clothes from the night before - jeans and a green long sleeved thin polyester shirt.  The night before the shirt had been tied up just under her chest exposing her midriff.  Today it hung down crinkled.  The faint lingering smell of the club mixed with a little weed and tobacco smoke would normally have bothered her but she had more serious problems on her mind.

She'd broken the rules.

Justine had fallen in love with this man and was pregnant with his child.  She wasn't supposed to be pregnant.  They hadn't paid her for that.  But she knew what they were like and what they'd do if they found out.  The game was getting dangerous.

Justine had to get out to save herself and her child.

# TWO

The small room was barely lit and Nia Rodriguez felt trapped.  She felt disorientated and wrapped in a sense of dread.  Her mouth was dry and she couldn't remember how she'd got there.  Nia felt a sense of familiarity that she couldn't grasp.  There was a large window in front of her, and through the glass she could only just make out shapes in the shadows.  During several sudden flashes of light she saw what looked like the outline of a man.

A door opened to her right.  A shaft of light sliced into the darkness.  The shadows behind the glass moved rapidly.  A wave of fear gripped Nia as she saw the deep black silhouette of a handgun appear in the doorway.  Time stood still for Nia as she realized the aim of the handgun had fixed itself firmly on her.

"Are you afraid to die?  Or do you wanna live forever?"

The deep guttural voice filled the room briefly and then faded into nothingness as if the walls of the room had completely absorbed it.

Her heart was beating so hard it was the only other sound she could hear in the room.  She felt it beating so fast her chest could barely contain it and she couldn't swallow.  Before she had time to react she saw the white hot muzzle flash and retort of the weapon as it fired.

Was this it? Nia thought in a blind panic.

It wasn't the life she'd had that flashed before her eyes, but instead she saw all the things she hadn't done.  She'd not yet committed to a serious relationship, married, settled down or become a mother.  It was all things that she desperately wanted to do and do right one day.  But was it too late now?  There were other things, too.  There had always been other things.  She'd missed out on so much for so long that it just felt natural.  But lately she'd had to give up her chance at a normal life because too much rested on her setting the record straight.

It had finally caught up with her and the end had come so quick.  Nia knew she wasn't ready.  How was this fair?  She wished she had an unquestioning faith in the existence of God and an afterlife.  But she'd seen so much that made her question her Roman Catholic upbringing.  Nia remembered her first communion well but it hadn't been long before she'd found herself on a very different path.

Rational thought gripped her, telling her that her life was over and this was the end but another part of her screamed in a desperate prayer to God.  She struggled to see what was next as the enveloping blackness suffocated her in every possible way.  The only thing she was now aware of was the same deep and familiar voice.

"Tell me, what's wrong nigga?"

Nia woke up with a pain so sharp in her ribs that she felt her right side, searching for a trace of blood.  She looked at her hand.  There was nothing there.  Short of breath and soaked in sweat Nia threw off the sheets and swung her bare legs out of bed.  She recoiled as she saw she was not alone.  Still panicked from the nightmare, she didn't recognize who it was.  The figure was athletically built, the sleeves of his t-shirt tight around his bulging biceps.  White and in his late thirties, he had a cold stare.  It lingered, like his frequent use of 'sir' and 'ma'am', picked up in service as a Sergeant in the US Marine Corp's élite Force Reconnaissance Company.

"It's only me ma'am," her bodyguard said as he stood.

"Shit Marcus," Nia said, touching her hand to her chest, "for a second I..," Nia paused.

"I was about to wake you.  Same nightmare again?"

"Yeah, same one."  Nia's voice trembled, carrying a thin trace of a Cuban accent.  She sat for a moment on the edge of the bed gathering her thoughts.  "I'm gonna hit the shower."

Nia was aware of his watchful eyes on her as she crossed the cheap motel room.  They were somewhere between Fort Lauderdale and Miami.  She was too tired to remember exactly where.  She just knew they'd stopped to rest because the next leg of the journey was unlikely to give them the opportunity to sleep any time soon.

She began to casually strip off her clothes before she reached the shower.  They'd known each other since she'd been in her teens and Marcus had been working as her close protection detail for almost half that time.  It was long enough that she wasn't shy around him anymore.  After all, he went almost everywhere she did.  Nia considered him one of only a few close friends.  Around him she always felt safe.

Nia knew what he was probably thinking.  He'd complimented her before on her looks, saying that her skin had a silky chocolate tone.  Other men had described her as chocolate, as so many white men did to black girls, but Marcus' compliment had carried a warm sincerity.  They were close.  Their bond of friendship extended past their professional relationship and somehow they'd avoided getting involved with each other.  It had almost happened once, a few years before, at the time when he'd paid her that compliment but when he'd asked about the tiny scar on her jaw line it had brought back painful memories for Nia.  People never normally noticed it but he had.

As painful as the memories were it always made her feel safe knowing he was the sort of man who spotted the smallest details.  There was some comfort in having such a man as a bodyguard when there were so few people in her life she could trust.  She could count more than several occasions when he'd saved her life, each one increasingly more recent and serious.

She stepped into the shower and let the water run its course all over her body.  She found the water running down her back particularly soothing as she leant forward against the tiled wall and hung her head under the water.  Her back was the canvas for a beautiful tattoo of a rose that reached all the way up from the small of her back to the nape of her neck.  She imagined the water running down her back and breathing life into it.

The sensation of the water helped to shake the lingering nightmare from her mind but didn't rid her of it entirely.  It always haunted her.  She'd flirted with death plenty of times before and, at times, hadn't even cared whether she lived or died but right now she clung to life like never before.  Lately she'd felt death was close and it loomed with a certainty that she'd never before experienced.  She wasn't ready to die.  Pushing the thoughts to the back of her mind, Nia told herself she only felt this way because of the secrets she carried.  They were secrets to do with so much more than just her life but Nia knew everything rested on her to ensure their survival.

"Ma'am," Marcus called, "there are reports on the radio that there are warrants out for your arrest, drug trafficking charges.  It's going to complicate things if we wait around.  The clerk may recognize you.  We should make a move."

"I hear you," Nia called from the bathroom.

The rushing sound of water from the shower ceased and seconds later Nia emerged.  Marcus looked up from the chair in the corner of the room.  She'd dressed and was wearing boots, black combat trousers and over the top of her dark grey t-shirt she wore a black bullet proof vest.  In a thigh holster Nia carried a Swiss SIG-Sauer P228 9mm pistol, a weapon Marcus had selected for her.  It was favored by the FBI and US Secret Service due to its compactness and ultra-reliability.  Marcus carried the same but his was on his right thigh.  Nia was left handed and had never learnt to shoot with her right like most people.

The stone grey metallic Hummer H2 SUT with cloned plates parked outside was Nia's and Marcus slung their gear in the back.  Nia tossed him the keys.  "You drive."

The sun sat low in the evening sky as they pulled out of the dusty parking lot onto the street.  Nia felt the air-conditioning kick in and the cool air wash over her skin.  She tried to relax as much as she could and attempted to push her nightmare to the back of her mind.  She leant back in the plush tan leather seat and put her sunglasses on over her hazel brown eyes.

John Richard Lloyd sat on the terrace savoring the woody aroma of his vintage Hennessy Paradis Cognac.  He hadn't always been a drinker but as it slipped down his throat it helped remind him of better times.  He felt the early evening breeze on his unshaven face and took in the supreme elegance of the claret sunset reflecting off his infinity pool, the edge of the water appearing to run seamlessly into the warm Miami waters.  Birds flocked gracefully across the sky, silhouetting themselves against the sunset.  It was this magnificent view which had sold him the house in Indian Creek Village, a small community on an island just north of Miami Beach.

He'd bought the multi-million dollar house shortly after making an award winning documentary and now had neighbors like Sheikh Mohammed al-Fassi, Julio and Enrique Iglesias, all of whom he'd yet to meet.  Indian Creek was notable for its privacy and people liked to keep to themselves.  That probably explained why the island had its own police force with a people to police ratio of two to one, the highest in the US and a far cry from neighborhoods only a few miles away.

After the documentary Lloyd had been quickly scooped up by the networks, landing a position as host of his own self-titled talk show and was now making more money than he sensibly knew what to do with.  Investing in this house had been a smart move despite the economic slump.  Luxury properties there had fared well.  He spent the rest on frivolities such as on membership of the Indian Creek Country Club.  The houses on the island occupied the outer edge with each one having a garden that backed onto its own mooring.  He'd yet to splash out on anything to occupy his but he'd been giving it increasing thought lately after seeing his neighbor's new yacht.  The center of the island was dedicated entirely to what was arguably greater Miami's finest golf course.  But the sand traps and waterfront holes were places Lloyd rarely found himself.  He just couldn't see the point in the game.  He preferred to do laps in the pool or tackle a steep incline on the treadmill at the gym.

Giving the cognac glass a swirl, he drank it dry.  He got up and headed inside and over to his ebony Makassar sidebar to pour another.

Lloyd was in his early thirties.  He was a handsome white man whose looks charmed and captivated at the same time, attributes that had won him plenty of female fans.  He had short scruffy looking brown hair.  Not because he didn't take care of himself, he did, he just styled it that way.  It was what was in right now, a network image consultant had told him.  His rough cut jeans and white linen shirt completed his casual image.

Before he reached the sidebar the phone rang.  He picked up the cordless phone and answered.  His sister Mary greeted him.  "I called earlier but you didn't pick up," Mary said, sounding a little annoyed.

"I've been out on the terrace."

"I called your cell earlier today, too.  It's almost impossible to get hold of you these days."  Mary was younger than her brother, in her twenties, but was constantly trying to act like his big sister.

"You know I work a lot and can't always answer," Lloyd replied, cradling the phone to his ear with his shoulder as he poured his next glass of cognac.

"You could've called me back.  Ever since you finished that documentary you've been unhappy and reclusive.  So don't give me any more bullshit about your work John.  I'm worried about you."  The words struck a chord with him.  "You have to let me take you out to lunch some time.  You can meet some of my friends and maybe, well you know."

"Sure, sounds great.  I'll check my diary," Lloyd lied.

"You've seen the news today?"

"I've not had the chance," Lloyd said, searching for the remote.

"Looks like the economy might finally be picking up."

Flicking on the television, he kept the sound on mute.  Lloyd let his sister ramble on.  She was bad at small talk and he didn't really care about the market.  He might have if he'd not been disinherited by his banker father for going to study film at university rather than becoming a doctor, lawyer or banker.  It had been the final straw for his father.  They'd grown further and further apart ever since his father had objected to his interest in what he disdainfully called nigger noise.

Lloyd found CNN and to his surprise saw another story that caught his attention.  "Can I call you back?" Lloyd asked.

"Sure but think about what I said," Mary said as her brother hung up the phone and turned up the sound.

"...according to official sources federal authorities are seeking the arrest of Nia Rodriguez on a number of warrants, one of which is for drug trafficking.  Sources are telling us that the trafficking took place between Cuba and the US," said the middle-aged female news reader.

Lloyd watched for a while as some short video clips were played and then, as the news moved on to another topic, he picked up the phone again and quickly dialed a number from memory he hadn't dialed for some time.  He listened to an automated message stating the number was no longer in use.  He hung up the phone and flicked to another news channel to try and catch the whole story on Nia Rodriguez, the primary source for his documentary.

The Hummer pulled to a stop at a red light and sat patiently.  Nia pulled down the mirror on the passenger side visor and began to tie back her wavy black hair.  Nia was a fit and well-toned woman thanks to regular workouts but she retained a seductively curvaceous figure.  Currently, she looked distinctly different from her normal appearance, which often had her wearing something a lot more flattering than a bulletproof vest.

The lights turned green and the vehicle pulled off smoothly to the low purr of the large engine.  The streets of Miami were heaving with early evening traffic and Nia felt a lot safer cocooned in the Hummer.  The vehicle had been custom built with armor plating and ballistic strength windows.  The additions weren't noticeable and it had cost her a small fortune but recent events in her life demanded such precautions.  Marcus had insisted on nothing less.

Turning around slightly in the passenger seat she reached into the rear footwell and felt for the M4 Carbine assault rifles behind the driver's seat.  They were still there, stashed under a jacket and offered her some assurance.  The M4 was an updated, shorter and more agile version of the classic M16.  It had less stopping power up close than the higher caliber P228s but Nia knew they might need something with a little more range.

Marcus was the first to spot the car following them.  "Ma'am I think we've picked up a tail."  He looked in his rear-view mirror again.  "Black Lexus, two cars back.  It's been following us for a couple of turns now.  I doubt its cops, could be Feds though."

"Take a turn down a side street and double back.  We'll see if they follow us," Nia said.  Marcus took the next opportunity to make a left and turned into a long narrow alleyway.  The surface was uneven and cluttered with trash along the edges.  Looking behind them Nia saw the Lexus drive by.

Suddenly, Marcus slammed on the breaks and Nia jolted uncomfortably forward in her safety belt.  A white delivery truck had reversed out into the alleyway in front of them.  There was no room for the wide Hummer to pass it.  Marcus honked the horn wildly, recalling vivid memories of roadside insurgent ambushes in Afghanistan.  He looked around quickly, assessing the situation.  He began to check his rear-view mirror and slip the vehicle into reverse but then the driver of the truck pulled back into the delivery bay.  Quickly putting the Hummer back into drive he passed before the truck reversed out again.

A few seconds later Nia noticed a car pull across the end of the alleyway blocking their path.  "Is that the same Lexus?" Nia asked.

"Yes ma'am and we won't be safe for much longer if that's what I think it is."

The man driving the Lexus had stepped out of the vehicle and was standing behind it, his weapon rested across the roof to assist his aim.

"Take him out!" Marcus yelled.  "That's an anti-tank missile!"  The urgency in his voice was clear.  Their armor plating would not stand up to a direct hit like that.  Nia reached rapidly for the M4.

The Hummer was approaching fast and the man lined up his weapon's sights.  He didn't have time to see Nia leaning out the passenger side window.

Nia only had time for a snap shot but it was enough as she fired off a three round burst.  One shot hit its mark, striking the man's left shoulder at the same moment he fired the launcher.  It was enough to pull his aim wildly to the left.  The rocket left the launcher with an incredible whoosh and the man stumbled off balance thanks to the simultaneous shot to his shoulder and the kickback from the launcher.

Marcus gunned the engine of the Hummer and it roared ferociously like an attacking panther.  He swerved as much as was possible and the rocket narrowly missed.  It struck the wall of a building behind them, exploding with a shock-wave that was intensified by the narrow confines of the alleyway.  Nia felt the intense heat pour through her open window.

The wall crumbled, bricks blasted in all directions and dust bellowed out behind them.  The Hummer shook in the blast and surged forward.

It struck the Lexus almost head on with such force it slid easily out of the way.  Nia tried to see what had become of their attacker but the car blocked her view.  She wondered if he had been killed or simply knocked to the ground.  Nia didn't care either way, so long as he was no longer following them.  "Fuck that was close!" Nia cried out in relief.

John Lloyd was still channel hopping when several news stations began reporting the breaking news.  An explosion had ripped through a building in the North Miami Beach area.  A delivery truck driver who had witnessed it described hearing a loud hiss followed by an earth shaking explosion.  Lloyd flicked from one news station to another but he could get nothing more on Nia Rodriguez as the explosion became the dominant news story.  There were already questions being asked as to whether this explosion had anything to do with the recent terrorist attack on the Miami Marathon.

Clyde Roberts had narrowly avoided death when the bullet hit him in his left shoulder.  When the Hummer struck his Lexus he was thrown clear and his head impacted the road surface, knocking him unconscious.  He'd regained consciousness quickly, only to find he was bleeding from his shoulder and that he had a blinding headache.  Feeling the side of his head he knew he'd probably need stitches but he could handle that.  His hair was matted with clotting blood from his scalp, a part of the body that, even with a moderate wound, bleeds excessively.  His main concern was his shoulder.  The round had gone clean through the deltoid muscle of his left shoulder without striking bone or causing any arterial bleeding.  He was extremely lucky and he knew it.  It wasn't his first gunshot wound.  As soon as he could find somewhere quiet he could treat it.  Despite that it hurt like hell as he tried to raise his left arm.  At least the pain told him he was alive, he thought before cursing himself for allowing this to go on for so long.

He pulled himself together and saw that the Lexus was a total wreck.  He took a shoulder bag from the back seat and then popped the trunk.  He took out a gas can and poured the contents over the interior of the Lexus.  He tossed in a match and walked away as fast as he could, hoping no one had seen him or would remember his face.

As he slipped into the back of a cab his cell phone rang.  The display told him the call was coming in on a secure channel.  He answered and listened to the well-spoken male voice on the other end as the cab driver pulled away.

"What is your report Roberts?"

"Operation MP is currently incomplete but, sir, I'm very close to a conclusion."

"Give me a time frame."

"Impossible to be precise but soon."

"Give me something God damn it!"

"I estimate within the next twelve to twenty-four hours."

"You have had long enough.  Finish it.  I want that black bitch dead!  You understand?"

Before Roberts could reply the line went dead.  He clipped the cell phone back onto his belt and started to plan his next move.

Darkness had fallen by the time the Hummer finally drew close to its destination.  Marcus had utilized his counter-surveillance training, doubling back several times until he was positive that they'd not been followed.  Out of sight, they'd quickly switched their plates as a precaution before carrying on to their destination.  Changing plates was the first step in beating a police BOLO.  They didn't have time to find another vehicle.

Slowing right down, Marcus pulled the Hummer up to the security gate.  It was a number of things that got them past the police officer on the gate.  The vehicle looked like it belonged to any one of the private residences beyond the gate and when Marcus swiped an electronic security card the gates opened.  The officer barely gave them a cursory glance from his seat in the gate house.  He assumed from the vehicle, Marcus' demeanor and the access granted by the card that they belonged on the inside of his security perimeter.

Once through the gates the situation was much more within their control.  The random chance that the officer could have stopped them or recognized Nia had been a huge risk and had anything gone wrong they would have had a whole force bearing down on them.  The Hummer began the slow clockwise journey on the single road that ran around the island.  Only seconds passed before they were at their destination.

Seeing the blinds were drawn and that they wouldn't be spotted from inside, Marcus activated the property's electronic gate with the touch of a button.  He cut the Hummer's lights and engine, silently coasting into the driveway.  He pulled the vehicle to a halt once it was tucked neatly inside the open fronted parking port.  There was already an Audi parked in one of the spaces but Marcus had just enough room to squeeze the large Hummer in alongside it.  He would have preferred to reverse park it, a standard military drill for rapid escape but that would have meant more noise.  He'd turn it around later at the first opportunity.

They slipped out of the Hummer with minimal noise.  From this point on they both knew silence was crucial as they depended upon the element of surprise to control the unfolding situation.  Any number of things could go wrong and the risks were too great.  Nia's face was all over the news and she was risking jail or worse, death, but the secrets she held had to be exposed.

The property's grounds were average in comparison to the others on the island but it was bigger than any place Marcus had ever owned.  They had originally planned to enter and then lay in wait for their target but a few lights were on.  Nia had run though this scenario with Marcus several times on the way over and this was how it had to go down.  They would expect the worst going in.  Realistically they couldn't afford to play it any other way.  What they were doing was already risky enough.

Both dressed in their tactical gear, Nia and Marcus blended into the semi darkness.  There was little risk that they would be spotted.  Every movement was expertly executed, the full weight of Marcus' experience and Nia's training showing.  They shouldered their M4s and the only sound was the near silent patter of their boots on the driveway.  Marcus carried additional equipment in a tactical vest that was integrated with his Kevlar body armor.  His experience had taught him to be well equipped.

The villa was built on three levels.  The ground floor was made up of the large double parking port at the front and a utility room to the rear.  To the left of the driveway was a stone stairway leading up to the front door on the first floor.  There was a cast-iron gate to the rear of the parking port which led through to the rear of the property and access to the rear ground floor entrance.

The gate was locked and required a five digit PIN to be entered on an electronic keypad mounted on the wall.  Nia held the up the small device that had opened the driveway gate and again it defeated the electronic security.  From his time as a Marine Marcus still had contacts that helped him get almost anything security related.

Nia opened the gate carefully, lifting it slightly to take the pressure off the hinges and avoid any squeaking.  Marcus made his way through and paused as Nia closed the gate behind them.  They remained crouched for a moment, taking in the environment and making sure they hadn't alerted anyone to their presence by opening the gate.

Squatted just inside, Nia tapped Marcus softly on the shoulder.  This was the all clear sign.  Silently they began to move again.  They moved in the shadows against the wall where they couldn't be seen and stopped at the door.  Marcus paused and softly tried the handle.  It was locked.  Behind him Nia listened and watched in the darkness, covering their position with her assault rifle.

Marcus slung his weapon, letting it hang across his back so that he could get his lock picking kit from his chest pocket.  He worked quickly and there was a noticeable click as the last tumbler fell into place, allowing the lock to turn.  The door opened inwards and Marcus drew his P228 as he stepped inside.  He didn't switch on the lights because his eyes were well adjusted to the darkness and that was to his advantage.  Nia followed closely behind, also slinging her weapon and drawing her handgun.  She closed the door behind her, locking it in the process.

Inside was a corridor running left to right connected to a room on the right hand side.  Marcus stepped inside and found it empty apart from a washer, dryer and a pile of laundry.  They moved down the corridor to the left and at the far end there was a set of stairs leading up to the main part of the house.

Lloyd had seen enough news for the day.  He switched it off and put on a Nina Simone CD. He wanted to clear his thoughts and the music helped him do that.  So did fresh air, so he stepped outside to the pool and let the music drift out with him.

Nina Simone took him back in time further than he could remember and he found it relaxing.  He had been born much too late to remember her at the peak of her success.  The black housekeeper who had substituted for his parents during his privileged white childhood had introduced him to most of the great African-American artists whose music he now enjoyed.

He imagined how he would have been more at home during the fifties and sixties in a Harlem Jazz club or marching alongside Martin Luther King Jr than he was in this social networking internet age.  Back then the news cycle didn't run twenty-four-seven, flitting from one topic to another.  People had views, deep principled ones that were worth believing in.

The interior walls of his home reflected his romanticism of the civil rights struggle with portraits of Martin Luther King, Huey P Newton, and Malcolm X.  To him they were all icons of an age where issues were more defined, in contrast to the present where he felt almost anyone could be bought for a price.

He'd learnt this lesson first hand while making his documentary.  He couldn't help feeling regret at his own betrayal of his cultural investigation into rap music.  All the awards he'd won did nothing but compound his feelings of guilt for the bias he'd shown.  It had been hard to get a break and when his limited funds ran dry he didn't want to question where the money started coming from and admit to himself what he was doing to get it.  He took it and funded his documentary, sensitive to his patron's requests for a specific edit.  Lloyd had convinced himself that all he needed was one film to get him a break and then he'd have better executive control over his future productions.  But in fact all he'd succeeded in doing was pandering to certain prejudices and betraying all that he loved and believed in.

He knew he hadn't done the right thing and had hoped it was his opportunity for a second chance when he was offered his own talk show.  But a few months passed by and the reality of the television media agenda caught up with him.  He'd been pigeonholed by the stance he'd taken in his documentary.  He tried to make a difference to some people but began to feel he'd never have the second chance he really craved, one that would undo the damage he'd done.

Nia signaled to Marcus and he inserted a device into the electrical socket at the bottom of the stairs.  They climbed the staircase slowly, following it as it turned ninety degrees to the right approximately two thirds of the way up.  Marcus signaled a pause, crouching as he looked around the kitchen.  Still several steps from the top, his eyes were level with the Rosa Aurora marble floor and no one was to be seen.  He signaled to Nia that the kitchen was clear.  She acknowledged and pointed her fingers to the left indicating for him to move.

The ground floor was an open plan design, high ceilinged and the lounge ran straight off the kitchen.  Marcus checked the lounge was clear, noticing the expensive furniture.  He stopped on the far side of the kitchen with his back to the wall.  On his immediate right was a set of open doors leading outside.  He saw the target, holstered his P228 and nodded to Nia.  She saw his signal and pressed a button on the remote control for the device Marcus had plugged into the wall socket.  Instantly the house fell into complete darkness.

The nervous tension building inside Nia was now at its peak as she contemplated the imminent confrontation.  It was long overdue and she'd spent too much energy avoiding it.  The darkness was enveloping her again and her mind flashed for a split second back to the nightmare.  Death felt tangibly close but she prayed this move would be the first step to lead her away from that nightmare.

Lloyd fumbled his way a little in the dark.  It had been a few years since his last power cut and he'd never had one in this house.  It was probably the circuit breaker, he thought.  He found his way to the door using the weak light from his cell phone.  It helped him find a clear path a few feet in front of him and stopped him falling into the pool but had the effect of making everywhere beyond that appear much darker.

For a second at the doorway he thought he heard a sound that was out of place but dismissed it as nothing without thinking, worrying more about the circuit breaker.  He crossed the threshold into the lounge and before he could react he felt an arm around his neck, so tight he couldn't make a sound.  His larynx was being crushed by an inhuman force.  Lloyd struggled with his attacker but lost his footing as he was pulled sideways.  This caused the vice like-grip around his neck to tighten as it took his full weight.  His feet scrabbled at the floor to try and regain his footing.  He could barely breathe and any fight in him quickly faded.  Scared, he realized he had no chance of escape and his life was in the hands of his attacker.  He hoped this was just a robbery.  His fear intensified as his mind ran through all the possibilities.

Nia pressed the button again and power was restored throughout the house.  The lights came on immediately.  The sound system came to life taking a few seconds to spin up the CD before music once again filled the house.

Nia's ear was caught by the music that started to play.  She wasn't a fan of Nina Simone but reflected upon the lyrics of the song that had begun playing.

"Don't you know that no one alive can always be an angel?

When everything goes wrong you see some bad.

But I'm just a soul whose intentions are good,

Oh Lord please don't let me be misunderstood."

Nia knew what that felt like and wondered if Lloyd would understand her actions given the troubled history they shared.  She walked around the lounge double checking all the blinds were closed.  She didn't want anyone to see what was going on inside.

Part of her half expected some young groupie of Lloyd's to appear from upstairs at any moment.  Nia knew how charming he could be.  Standing in front of Lloyd Nia extended her arm gripping her P228 and pointed it at his face, which had begun to turn a light shade of purple.  His eyes locked with hers and Nia could see the fear in them.  She raised her index finger to her lips signaling silence and looked at Lloyd questioningly to check he understood.  He nodded, encouraged by both the pistol aimed at his head and the fact that he wanted to be able to breathe again.  Marcus let go, setting him down on the diesel brown leather sofa and took up a position behind him.  He drew his handgun, aiming it at Lloyd while his eyes watched the entire room.

Lloyd was beyond confusion.  He could barely believe he had only moments before seen the news that Nia Rodriguez was wanted for drug trafficking and now here she was standing in his lounge dressed like a member of SWAT.  He opened his mouth to speak and Nia assertively motioned for him to stay silent.

With the music still playing she holstered her handgun and leant in close to Lloyd.  Her lips came so close to his ear that, in any other circumstance, it might have been seductive.  "Nod or shake your head.  Is there anyone else here with you?" Nia said.  Feeling her soft breath on his ear he shook his head quickly.  Nia walked to the other side of the room, turned the music off and then waived Marcus to go check the upstairs.  Nia turned back to Lloyd whose eyes were open wide questioning the situation.  "You've seen the news?"  Nia paused, Lloyd's face was now pale but it registered with him.  "You're gonna help me."

"You just stuck a gun in my face and now you want my help?"

"Careful, I came here because you owe me."

"What makes you think..."

"You used me John!  And all the people I introduced you to.  You misrepresented us all with that so called documentary," Nia said fiercely.  Her anger was a sure sign elements of the betrayal were still fresh and she tried to calm herself.

Lloyd almost launched into a speech to defend his documentary as he had done so many times before but instead stayed silent.  Nia knew very well what he had allowed his documentary to become but Lloyd felt too ashamed to tell her the truth why.  "I thought I was making a difference but I made a mistake."

"So you admit it?  The award winning John Richard Lloyd documentary did nothing but stir up old arguments about violent lyrics causing all this violence on the streets?  You know damn well I ain't responsible for all the violence, rap ain't responsible.  Rap's a reaction to the street, a report of what I know life to be."  Nia paused, trying again to calm herself.  "You fucked off a lot of people in hip-hop.  No surprise I've not spoken to you since.  You shot yourself in the foot though.  Your documentary boosted my sales and the sales of all the artists you attacked despite what you said!  You know that right?"  Nia laughed.

"I never wanted to hurt you.  But now you're here to what?  Settle the score, defend your reputation before you go down?"

"No," Nia laughed.  "I ain't here for you.  I'm pissed at you, sure, but like I said you're gonna help me because you owe me.  I'm gonna tell you things that will forever discredit your documentary and re-write history as you know it."

"So this is about proving your innocence?" Lloyd asked.

"I'm innocent of the charges they've put on me but that ain't half the story.  People are tryin' to kill me.  Less than an hour ago some guy blew the shit out of a building when he missed the Hummer.  And you saw what went down at the marathon?"

Lloyd knew what he'd seen on the news but looked at Marcus who had returned from upstairs and was crossing the lounge.  Marcus nodded, verifying what Nia had said.  "Were you followed?" Lloyd asked Marcus, immediately concerned.

"We're sure we lost our tail and thanks to your documentary this isn't somewhere people would come looking for Nia.  We should be safe here for now."

"What is it?  A drug thing?"  Lloyd's hostility flared up again.  "Do you have drug people after you?  Oh God Nia."

"We'll get to that.  I want you to interview me, tonight, and let me tell my whole story from start to finish.  I wanna tell it in my own words so people can know what I know."

Lloyd thought about what had happened to their friendship.  No, it had been more than a friendship he admitted to himself.  They'd been much closer than that and he'd once felt something special for Nia but the documentary had caused this terrible rift between them.  It was understandable why and his sister Mary had been right.  He hadn't been the same since.

Nia breathed deeply and drew her P228, casually using it to motion Lloyd up off the sofa and towards the study.  Marcus began to follow them but Nia waived him off.  "Hold tight.  I just wanna conversate alone for a few."  Marcus gave her a concerned look.  "I'm good, I can handle mine," Nia replied with confidence.

Lloyd entered his study and Nia pulled out the high back executive chair from in front of the desk.  "Take a seat," Nia said pushing the door closed.  Nia hoped that alone she'd be more able to convince him to help her.  She looked at him and let the silence hang.

"I'm trying to understand here Nia but I haven't got much to work with.  I saw your face on the news and I was worried.  I called you straight away and your number was disconnected.  Now you're here, storming into my place."

"I'm not safe right now.  I had to know this place was safe."  Nia's words overflowed with uneasiness.

"You've got Marcus, you've always had him to keep you safe."

"He might not be enough.  I don't know if we can stop these people.  Right now all I can hope for is to tell my story soon enough to expose who's behind this."  Lloyd noticed the desperation in her voice.  The gun wasn't for him.  Despite the swaggering confidence Nia was scared half to death.

 "It sounds worrying, what am I getting into?"

"I'm giving you the chance to get an exclusive that exposes secrets a lot of big ass people want to stay buried.  This is bigger than any story you've had before and possibly the biggest story in the history of our country.  They're willing to kill me for what I know, countless people have been murdered already.  The only way out for both of us is to expose it all."

"For both of us?" Lloyd asked.

"Whether you like it or not you're already involved and, trust me, when these secrets are exposed you'll want to be on the right side.  I'm not saying it won't be dangerous, the last few days I've drawn a lot of heat.  But in time people will put two and two together about our past and unless you've put it right they'll have you in their sights."

"I thought no one knew about us and if they do then why does it matter if it's in the past?" Lloyd asked.

"You've got the chance to do the right thing and put this right and you'll be safer once it's done."

Nia perched herself on the edge of the oak desk and put the P228 back in its holster.  She knew Lloyd was not a physical threat to her but Nia was right to have been cautious that someone had got to him first.  As she fastened the clip on the holster she smiled in an attempt to ease the tension.

"John I'm so sorry to have involved you in all this.  I tried to tell you back in the day what you were letting yourself in for."  Nia thought about how quickly and how far apart they'd grown since the days when they'd been intimate.  She guessed he still cared.  "Things are just so fucked up and these secrets have to come out before it's too late John.  For me and for everyone else."

Lloyd looked at Nia and smiled.  "Enough of the John crap and I might come around.  You never used to call me John.  How about a coffee and you tell me exactly what I can do for you?"

"Thanks JR," Nia said with genuine gratitude, using the pet name she'd used so frequently in the past.  She left the study and Lloyd lingered for a moment, thinking of their past, of their late evening walks, hand-in-hand on the beach.  He still remembered the scent of her French Vanilla perfume.  Lloyd had never known another woman to smell so exotic with such a simple perfume and he realized how much he missed being with her.

Marcus passed Nia halfway to the kitchen as she headed to put the coffee on.  He saw the oak door to the study was open a couple of inches and moved closer until he could see Lloyd, still inside and on the phone.  Surprised at this he made his way quickly into the study.  At the same time Lloyd hung up the phone.  Marcus grabbed him by the neck and shoved him into the bookcase.  Pressing his full weight down on Lloyd he shouted "Who were you calling?"  Marcus raised his right arm, drawing it back to throw a punch.  As his arm shot forward Nia appeared just in time to link her arm with his in the opposite direction and stop the punch from connecting.

"What the hell are you doing Marcus?  Let him go!"

"I saw him making a call and he won't tell me who he was calling."

"That's because you were choking me.  I was calling my sister Mary to tell her I'm going to be busy," Lloyd answered, gasping at the same time, his voice sounding raspy as he spoke.  "That's the second time tonight I've been choked by him Nia.  If we're going to work together then we've got to start trusting each other."

"Just being cautious ma'am," Marcus said to Nia.

"I trust him so let it go," Nia said, as she stepped out of the study patting Marcus on the shoulder as she went.  Lloyd followed.  "JR, you're gonna have to show me how to work that coffee machine of yours."

Despite what she'd said the words 'trust nobody' echoed in Nia's mind and she hoped she was making the right decision.

Marcus remained in the study.  He picked up the phone and pressed the redial button.  He waited a few seconds for it to connect.  "Hi you've reached Mary's phone.  Sorry I'm not available right now but please leave a message."  He hung up before the beep.  It was confirmation that the last number dialed was Lloyd's sister but Marcus knew it didn't necessarily mean it was the only number he'd dialed.  He looked around the study, not sure what he was looking for.  After all, he was an ex-marine not a cop.  But everything he'd been through in the past few days just screamed at him that no one could be trusted.  He also found it hard to trust Lloyd after how he'd treated Nia in the past.  His job was to protect her and that meant he had to question even the people Nia wanted to trust.

It was rare for the men around the conference table to hold a meeting but recent events had forced them to.  The room wasn't dark enough to hide their faces but enough that most sat in the shadows.  They were all powerful and very rich men.  All were Americans, some business men, religious leaders, politicians and a former President.  The air was thick with tobacco smoke and the tension of heavily vested interests.

"And so gentlemen, I can assure you that the security issue is in hand.  We have measures in place should a breach occur.  Black President or not you know we have people in the right places to handle this as it has been handled before.  May I remind you of COINTELPRO?"  The question was rhetorical.  "That said, I have given instructions to suspend operations that are at risk of exposure and we will recommence them at a later date when all is resolved."

The man at the head of the table was past retirement age, as were most around the table, but his demeanor clearly showed him to be the one in charge.  He wore circular wire-frame glasses that accentuated his beady eyes.  His hair was styled short and conservative like his politics, it flickered from grey to silver in the shadows.

"When will the business in Miami be concluded?" said a coarse southern voice on the left-hand side of the table, cigar smoke rolling off his lips.

"Yes, the publicity concerns me," said another.  "The matter must be concluded not just to avoid a security breach but for the very reason we exist.  Need I remind anyone of why the MP contingency exists?"

"Gentlemen please, I received word from my associate only moments before this meeting.  He is a man of the highest caliber and not a stranger to our operations.  He assured me that the matter will be in hand within twenty-four hours.  I am well aware this has been our biggest threat since the mid-nineties and so I will provide you all with further updates as they happen."

It hadn't taken Lloyd long to get out his compact Sony HD camcorder and a tripod.  Working as a talk show host had left him used to having all this done for him and having assistants on hand for just about everything but it didn't take him long to fall back into his old role as a lone film maker.  He was also now used to better lighting but this would have to do.  It may even add atmosphere to this completely unprepared and improvised piece of film making, he thought.  He only hoped Nia knew where she was taking this.

Nia handed him some brief notes on the direction for the beginning of interview.  It wasn't much but in conjunction with his experience it was a good start.  He looked up into the camera, his face relaxing into his professional mode.

"I'm John Richard Lloyd and I'm joined here tonight by rap artist Nia Rodriguez with an exclusive story.  Earlier tonight I saw the news that she was wanted by the authorities.  Unexpectedly, Nia came to me and has told me that she fears for her life.  She claims to have already faced several assassination attempts, one as recent as only moments ago.  She is here with me now to tell her story and has promised to speak frankly about what has caused her to be in this position."

Lloyd turned slightly and looked at Nia.  "Earlier this year you broke out onto the hip-hop scene with a well-received debut album that drew on the flavor of hip-hop from a generation ago in its G-Funk and Gangster Rap days.  You've received heavy praise for its appeal to both black and Hispanic fans.  That's made you very successful.  You've been compared to female rap artists like Lisa 'Left Eye' Lopes because of your tough attitude and raw rap style.  You're reported to be already planning the release of a second album, which is speculated to bring another raw account of Miami street life.  This has led to some people branding you a thug and a criminal, and your music as a worthless addition to the torrent of albums from Gangsta Rap artists like Ice Cube, Snoop Dogg, Tupac Shakur and 50 Cent.  What do you think will be the reaction of your fans when they see the news tonight?"

"It ain't a worthless addition because people want to hear what I have to say.  You mentioned the wide appeal it's had, well I've worked hard to bring together the black and Latino communities because that's where I'm from.  People have got to recognize we can only achieve more by working together.  For far too long this has been a white man's world.  I speak the truth in my lyrics and people want to hear that so they buy my records.  I guess some of them will be surprised about this warrant for my arrest but most won't be.  I mean, rap has an image associated with criminal activity.  What you have to realize is all of us artists draw on our experience of life as we know it.  Rap is the mirror we hold up to the world.  My fans know that I'm from the street so people know I've been around the drug game.  In the ghetto there are few who can claim they haven't.  But the idea that hip-hop is spreading the culture of drugs and violence is unfair and one perpetuated by the media, who are too often puppets distracting us from the true enemies of society."

"Nia, can you tell me what you want to achieve in the eyes of your fans with this interview?"

"I want them to know the truth.  I want people to know who I really am, where I came from and how I've ended up where I am now.  I want people to know I'm not a product of rap.  I'm a product of the forces that have suppressed generations of black people.  I'm trying to tell the story of how we've been treated like second class citizens in this 'United' States of America for far too long.  My rap is a product of that and I'm here to tell that story tonight!"

"For those people who don't know you Nia, let's set the scene a little.  Before your debut album you were quite successfully involved with the promotion of other hip-hop artists, some of whom featured you on one or two of their tracks."

"Sure, and a big shout out to them for keeping it real.  But you know what?  A time came during all that when I realized this was what I was supposed to be doing.  Something inside me said pick it up and so I got in the game myself."

Lloyd drank the last of his coffee and set the mug back down.  "I know you grew up in Miami but I note that you have a hint of a Cuban accent."  He questioned her as if he'd never laid in bed with her until the early hours of the morning talking about Cuba.

"My mother married a Cuban, Hugo Rodriguez, after she moved there.  I was born in Cuba and spent a good portion of my early childhood growing up there before we settled back here in Miami.  Cuba's a passionate place and the island vibe continues to influence me."

"In what way?"

"Passion mostly.  I inject it into my music and when it gets a hold of me you might get some lyrics in Spanish.  You can also hear the Cuban rhythm in some of my tracks.  The blend of Cuban passion and American hip-hop was something I picked up when I was over there," Nia said, relaxing into the interview.  "My early memories of Cuba are of Hugo playing Afro-Cuban Salsa and Jazz tunes all the time.  I guess that just stuck with me deep inside even after moving here to the US."

 "Tell me more about why you're here tonight?" Lloyd asked, not only for the sake of the interview but also out of his own increasing curiosity.

"Last couple of months it's been tough for me.  Since dropping the first album I've become involved in shit that runs deeper than anything I ever could've imagined.  It's like I started out on one course and all my life I've been pulled in another direction like I was supposed to be somebody else.  I thought lately I'd started to get things straight and I knew where my life was finally going but then, just when I least expected it, I was knocked sideways again.  Things just spiraled out of control.  Before I knew it people were trying to kill me and this ain't no drug war or rap beef like the media is going to try and make you believe.  If I'm killed it wasn't because of anything like that.  I'm wanted by the Feds for shit that really has nothing to do with me so you know whoever is doing this has the reach to pull strings like that.  I'm a powder keg for them right now and they are trying to get a handle on me.  I'm a threat to them because of what I know.  I thought about trying to lay low or hiring a bunch of lawyers but I just don't think I'll live that long.  Others haven't.  Mother fuckers is straight out trying to kill me, so my hope is in what people say about the truth setting you free."

Lloyd glanced down at the notes Nia had given him.  Written at the top of the list was 'Childhood, the beginning'.  He looked back at Nia as he constructed the question in his mind.  "All of this has a beginning so think back to your childhood.  What can you tell me about that?"

# THREE

The end of school bell rang at Miami Carol City Senior High and the ninth graders around Nia Rodriguez headed straight for the door before the class tutor had finished writing the assignment up on the board.  Nia waited patiently and copied it down.  The school year had barely begun but Nia was determined to do her best even though she knew the school wasn't known for producing academic success.  The school was established in 1963 and over the years had deteriorated to the point it was now labeled a dropout factory, regularly graded F in the Florida Department of Education School Accountability Reports.

Nia eagerly rushed down the corridor, as she did every Friday after school, to the poetry club run voluntarily by Father Luke Moseley from the nearby St. Monica Catholic Church.  Each class lasted an hour and this week they were looking at a selection of poems by Maya Angelou.  There were six other students in the club, all older than Nia.  She still looked young enough to be thirteen despite her recent fourteenth birthday.  She was bright enough to have skipped ahead at school and due to that had left behind the few friends she had.  She'd not yet made any new ones and kept mostly quiet, letting the others discuss while she listened intently to the varying views on the different poems.

At the end of the club meeting, as the other students were leaving, Father Luke called Nia over.  "You were even quieter than normal today Nia."

"I was just thinking about the poems," Nia said.

"You like Maya Angelou?"

"More than the other poets we've read.  I like... felt more connected to her I guess."

"Well here, take this," he said, handing her And Still I Rise, the book from which he'd been reading to them.  "You can give it back to me next week."

"Thanks Father," Nia said, smiling and taking the book.  Nia cherished any book she could get her hands on.

As Nia stepped out of school and into the bright afternoon sun she squinted.  Sunglasses were prohibited, as were hats, cell phones, any electronic devices and a list of numerous other things.  All in an attempt to reduce the level of antisocial behavior and violence at school.  It wasn't working.

Nia waited for her father, Hugo, outside the school on NW 187th Street.  The school's street address shared its number with the street slang for murder, which was unfortunate but not an infrequent occurrence in the local neighborhood.  Father Luke passed Nia on his way out.  "You need a lift Nia?"

"Thanks Father but my Papi is coming," she replied.

"Okay, see you next week."  Father Luke waved goodbye to her as he walked on down the street.

Nia waited in the shade under the trees out front of the school.  It was a warm September day like any other, with no breeze to cool her.  She longed to get home and change out of her school uniform which included a garish orange polo shirt.  Orange was one of the school's colors and reminded Nia of the football team, the Chiefs.  She'd never taken an interest in them or watched them play but for a lot of pupils it was the only thing they talked about.  Nia had once watched the girls' basketball team play but now spent most of her time on her studies, either in the library or at home.

Half an hour had passed when Nia checked her cheap Casio watch.  The face was scratched, a hand-me-down from her mother.  She resented the fact that Hugo was so often late.  She continued to wait, begrudging every minute and opened the book Father Luke had given her.  After another twenty minutes she knew Hugo had forgotten about her.  It wasn't the first time.  Nia's head dropped and she pretended to still be reading.  How could he forget her?  How little did he care?  There had also been other things that made her feel less of a daughter to him but she shut them out.

The school busses were all long gone.  Nia considered catching the public bus but knew she had no money for it.  It wasn't safe for a young girl in Miami to carry cash around, or anything else valuable for that matter but that didn't change the fact that her family was flat broke.  Those who did have money and dared to carry it were smart enough to keep it in a sock or another hiding place where it was unlikely to be found in the course of a casual robbery.  This lesson was most commonly learnt the hard way by tourists who loved to keep everything in their back pockets or so conveniently in pouches around their waists.  Of course it didn't help that they were usually a sunburnt shade of red and stuck out like sore thumbs when they strayed out of the main tourist areas of Miami.

Locally the reality was that if you were white you stuck out among a population that was seventy percent black and twenty-nine percent Latino.  Nia was black with a Cuban background.  When her family had moved to Miami she'd quickly discovered that the divisions and allegiances of race and culture could be even more pronounced than in Cuba.  Nia did her best to fit in but her mixed background often brought her rejection by both groups so she kept to herself a lot and studied.

Ten minutes later and engrossed in the book she decided to walk home.  It was against her mother's orders but she knew Hugo wouldn't come to get her even if she called.  At five he started work at Havana, his nightclub downtown, and her mother's waitressing shift ran until seven.  If she called her mother Nia knew it would mean losing money and they just couldn't afford that.

Nia went east on 187th Street and then south on 32nd, beginning the longest part of the walk, a two mile stretch of 32nd Street.  The walk home to Caliph Street in Opa-locka was three miles and usually took around an hour but Nia knew today it would take longer because she was reading while she walked.  The extra time didn't bother her.

Opa-locka and in particular the area called the triangle was considered to be the most dangerous part of Miami.  The FBI listed it as having the highest rate of violent crime in the US, with over seven times the national average level of homicide.  Nia hadn't read these facts anywhere but knew what they looked like on the street.  She didn't think about it much because she'd spent most of her life growing up in the ghetto and was used to it.  Before that it had been Cuba.  She remembered little of back then but knew the prevailing feeling among Cubans in Miami was that life had been harder in Cuba, at least under Castro.

Before she knew it Nia had covered half of the two mile stretch along 32nd Street and reached the intersection of 32nd and 167th.  She looked up briefly from her book to check for traffic as she crossed and continued on under the Palmetto Expressway.  The shadow of the six lane expressway was cooling and vehicles thundered overhead.

Two Latino teenagers aged sixteen and seventeen stood under the expressway talking.  Nia noticed them when she smelt the pungent aroma of marijuana.  They were both unnaturally skinny, which she noticed particularly in one who didn't have a shirt on.  As she passed he grabbed her arm at the elbow, knocking her bag off her shoulder and her book fell to the ground.

"Where you going so fast my little ebony queen?" the shirtless one asked in Spanish, his voice almost a snarl as he eyed her up and down.  "She must be like thirteen, eh homes?"  The other one nodded in agreement.

"Please," Nia replied in Spanish, as he continued to grip her arm, "you're hurting me."  She understood Spanish perfectly, like many people in Miami.  In fact, in Miami, English was a second language.

Nia tried to break free but her other arm was seized at the wrist.  She was spun around so her back was to her attacker.  She struggled but was vastly overpowered as he pulled her close to his body.  Nia was close enough to smell not just the marijuana but also the odor of stale alcohol on him.  It was a smell she was familiar with and it frightened her because she knew what it could mean.  She looked around as best she could to see if she could call out to anyone for help.  There was nobody.  Out of the corner of her eye she saw a blade appear.

"You scream and I'll cut that picture perfect face.  Understand?"

"Yes," Nia whispered, her body shuddering in fear.  She was terrified anything louder would provoke him to harm her further.

He dragged Nia a little until she began to walk.  The flick knife remained in his hand as threatening as ever.  "Bring that stuff."  He directed his accomplice to pick up the book and bag.

Nia resisted as best she could but he led her across 167th Street to the corner of St. Thomas University's campus.  She wanted to run but his hand still gripped her wrist tightly.  She wasn't able to stop him when he dragged her through a hole in the university campus perimeter fence, the broken fence links scratching at her arms.  Once through she saw there was a grassed area with a moderate amount of trees fifty meters in and realized it was enough to hide from view whatever they intended to do to her.  Nia walked in silence and with every step hated Hugo for not picking her up.  This was his fault.  No matter how hard she tried to bury all the emotions she was feeling she couldn't help the single tear that ran down her cheek.  She felt completely alone and helpless.

The shirtless thug pushed Nia face down into the ground at the base of one of the trees.  She tried to break her fall with her hands and grazed them on the dry earth around the trunk.  Rolling over onto her back she began to sit up.  "Lay the fuck down puta!  You want some of this shit?" he asked, waving the knife back and forth.  Nia lay trembling, her black curls sweeping the dirt as she shook her head.

 "What do we have here?" he said as he looked at the title of her book.  He flicked open the book and when he saw it was poetry he threw it to one side.  He crouched over Nia and rested the knife on her cheek.  It pressed against her skin enough that she felt pain but not hard enough to cut her skin.  "I can be real poetic when I wanna be."  His hand ran up the inside of her leg.  Nia felt helpless and even though she forced herself not to think about what was going to happen next, she knew it well enough.

Stories of gang crimes were constant talk at school and many jumped in with a gang at an early age.  After that it didn't take long before they dropped out or got sent to juvenile detention.  The school's student retention rate was only fifty-three percent.

Nia looked at his arm and saw she was right.  It was covered with the tattoos of a gang member and on his face he had teardrop tattoos.  Many gang members adorned their cheeks with teardrop tattoos, one for each person they'd killed.

Even under the shade of the tree it was hot and Nia tried to turn away as sweat began to drip from the end of his nose onto her face.  Nia felt sick at having this man's bodily fluid all over her.  The knife twisted as her head turned side to side and she felt its force bear down on her cheek close to her jaw line.  She almost cried out with pain as it broke the surface of her skin.

Nia could see the other one enjoyed watching but he was also trying to keep lookout in the direction from which they had come.  Her attacker's hand continued moving higher and pressed between her upper thighs under her skirt.  Nia could feel his repulsive touch and with nothing more than the thin material of her panties to separate her from him she prayed to God in desperation.

Further south on the campus Leon Brown waited as two male students jogged along a path towards him.  Where their path joined another, several meters away from the tree Leon was standing behind, they both stopped and bent to retie their right shoelace.  Leon saw the sign and casually walked towards them.

The exchange was subtle and to the uninitiated eye nothing more than a meeting of friends.  A more careful examination would have noted the transfer in the handshake and seen that Leon didn't quite fit the student profile.  He wore his baggy shorts low on his hips and had a thuggish gait.  He had a moustache and a small patch of facial hair on the very tip of his chin.  He wore his hair in rebellious dreadlocks.  His shoulders were broad for his age and around his neck sat a thick platinum chain, matching the one hanging from his wrist.  The jewelry was more than any student could afford.  The red t-shirt was forbidden on campus due to the association of red and blue with the gangs.  He was young enough to be a student himself but a US Army Ranger tattoo indicated his schooling had been elsewhere.  It was a legacy of a brief experience he'd eventually given up when family problems called him home.  It wasn't long after that when he got into the street game, exchanging his precious dog tags and the Ranger Creed for platinum and the street code.

This type of exchange was a regular occurrence for Leon.  At St. Thomas University he had found growing interest from certain students who wanted a reliable local supply of drugs.  Students had been dismissed after run-ins with the law when they had bought from street dealers.  Leon offered an alternative.  On campus it was safer for both him and the students, despite what many thought, having to only worry about the sporadic campus security patrols.  Leon was proud he had gained a reputation among his customers that he could come and go without leaving a trace.

He watched them jog on, his last customers for now but he'd be back again later for another appointment.

Leon Brown was a dealer of the highest caliber.  He wasn't in it for quick money or access to the product for his own use.  He was an up and coming player.  Street dealing had just been his way of getting his foot in the door and he was working every angle he could to move up in the world.  He was hungry with ambition but cautious, too.  His Ranger training had taught him more that could be applied to the street than he'd ever realized.

He turned and began to make his way back to the hole in the fence where he had entered.  As he neared the outer edge of the campus he heard a noise and ducked down fearing he'd run into the security patrol.  He waited and noticed the sound was stationary.  It was coming from the direction in which he was going.  As the seconds passed he became sure it wasn't security because they rarely stopped, wanting to make their rounds quickly to get back to their air conditioned office, coffee and doughnuts.  Even so Leon didn't want to take the chance.

He quickly moved west and then north to make his way around them.  From a distance of about thirty meters he saw what was happening.  It wasn't security, or even some students but two Latino thugs.  One was clearly on lookout and his view of the other, who was kneeling, was particularly obscured by the undergrowth.  Immediately he was angry because this was his turf and he couldn't let this slide.  He couldn't be seen as weak or he was as good as dead.  He thought they were probably making a drop for one of the students and Leon knew he'd have to teach these two a lesson.

He approached from behind the lookout.  Clearly they were amateurs, he thought, only keeping watch towards the road.  As he neared he began to hear a voice.

"I know you like it."

The lookout's lips remained still and so Leon knew it must have come from the one knelt down.  But what was he talking about?  And then, moving closer, he saw her.  A young black girl no more than fourteen was pinned to the ground and a knife pressed up against her face.  He saw the attacker had his hand up her skirt and he knew this wasn't a drug drop.

Leon looked closer to see if he recognized the two Latinos.  He didn't and also saw they weren't strapped.  Definitely amateurs, he thought.  He felt for his piece tucked in the waistband of his shorts and gripped it.  He moved into plain view and the two Latinos looked at him, startled and surprised by his sudden appearance so close.  Leon stood about twelve feet away and it was close enough for them to see him flaunt the Glock as he lifted his t-shirt.

Leon moved slowly around to position himself better and saw the frightened look on the young girl's face.  She surely thought he was just another thug.  "You wanna back the fuck up," Leon said firmly, flicking his eyes quickly down to his waistband.  "I own this place and don't nobody come up in here unless I say so."

The one with the knife stared back at him.  "You'd better leave or I'll cut the bitch," he threatened, moving his free had to grip the girl's neck.

"Looks like you already gone done that," Leon said, looking down at the bloody tip of the knife pressed in the girl's face.

"I'll slit her throat!" he assured Leon.

"Esé, do I look like I care?  Go ahead, cut her throat," Leon said coldly, seeing the girl's eyes widen at the thought of having her throat cut.  His face remained unchanged like stone.  "I just want you to understand that this right here," Leon said, looking round at the Campus, drawing his weapon and beginning to wave it, "this is me.  And right now you and your friend are not welcome."

He saw the Latino's mind working and it didn't take long before his decision was made.  He withdrew the knife, flicking his wrist as he did so, making a moderately deep inch long cut along the jaw line of the girl where he'd been pressing the knife.  She winced with the pain and immediately felt her face with her fingers.

Leon watched as they ran toward the north-east corner of the campus.  Satisfied they were gone he turned back to the girl and tucked the Glock back in his shorts.  She lay there still trembling with fear, clutching at her face.  He knelt down beside her, looking at the cut now starting to drip with blood and reached out to her.  She reacted instinctively, sitting up and beginning to fight him off.  Her arms thrashed at him, her mind now no longer thinking of the weapon he was carrying.  Her body had finally found the will and the courage to fight back.

She hit him in the face but the blows were only glancing.  Leon had experienced much worse.  He pulled her towards him so that she couldn't swing.  He folded his arms around her into a hug and told her "You're safe now.  I won't hurt you."  She beat her fists on his back until her strength left her arms.  As it did her emotions took over and she broke into muffled sobs wrapping her arms around him.

"Baby don't cry," Leon said trying to assuage her distress.

Hugo Rodriguez finished up the paperwork on his desk, consisting of delivery invoices and bills.  Havana played light Latin music during the day, serving cocktails and food, providing a place for people to escape the heat and relax.  At night things livened up a little.  The club played a mixture of recorded and live music defined mostly by Hugo's Afro-Cuban heritage, with a focus on Salsa, Latin jazz and occasionally some Tango.  Hugo had established Havana more than a decade before and it had been hugely popular.  His inability to keep up with progressive music tastes had seen customer numbers dwindle.  He no longer had a queue outside the door and Hugo noticed he wasn't attracting the most profitable age group anymore, the young, who spent plenty of their money on drink.

Friday night was always the big one as people had either finished work or tourists were wanting one more good night before their flight home to Chicago, London or wherever they had come from.  Tonight he had a live band playing and he had spent the week promoting them.  He'd had posters put up and flyers handed out on the beach.  The tourists made up a significant proportion of his customers because they liked to drink and spend money.  Locals weren't the same.  Downtown Miami and Miami Beach were dominated by tourists but the city as a whole had one of the lowest incomes per person of the major US cities.  That coupled with the fact that tourists inflated the cost of living in Miami meant locals didn't have much in the way of disposable income.  Hugo had once been picky about who he let in when there had been queues outside the door, but now he welcomed anyone willing to spend their money.  Tonight was no different and he hoped for a busy evening.

Nia sat withdrawn in the vintage 1979 Chevrolet Monte Carlo as Leon searched under the driver's seat.  He found the First Aid kit that he'd once had the forethought to stash there in case of emergencies.  He knew a good bandage on a gunshot wound could mean the difference between life and death in the minutes it took to get to hospital.  The thick scar on his thigh was testament to him learning that the hard way.  He'd almost died and had vowed never to repeat the same mistake again.

He put the Glock in the glove box and opened the First Aid kit.  Inside he found an antiseptic wipe and a sterile dressing.  "Wipe it with that and then put pressure on it with that to stop the bleeding," Leon said, tossing Nia the items.  He turned the key in the ignition and the engine rumbled to life.

Leon drove away not wanting to remain near to the campus.  He'd won this battle for now but wouldn't have been surprised if the two young thugs returned with friends later, strapped and not so friendly.  Such was the nature of the turf warfare gang members fought.  Leon was smart though and did everything he could to stay above the senseless violence.  That was what had ripped his family apart.

Leon looked across at Nia and saw blood had run down onto her top.  He knew that was the least of her worries.  Leon didn't know whether it was her appearance or what had just happened that reminded him so much of his sister.  Knowing what had happened to his sister had compelled him to help.  She'd not been so lucky and after they'd finished raping her they threw her unconscious body into one of Miami's many canals.  Police had recovered it two weeks later.  There wasn't much left to recognize her by except her skipping rope they'd used to tie her up.

He shook the thoughts from his mind.  "Name's Leon.  What's yours lil' woman?" he asked softly.

"Nia," she replied.

"Where d'you go to school?"

"Carol City Senior High."

He wasn't sure what else to say.  He pulled the car over into a side street a safe distance from where he'd found her.  "Turn around and let me take a look at that cut."  She turned her head to look over her left shoulder so the cut on her right cheek was visible to Leon.  He saw the bleeding had mostly stopped and pulled several steri strips from the First Aid kit.  Fixing them in place he closed the cut and then taped a small dressing on top to absorb any blood before it finally clotted.  "I've seen worse," Leon assured her.  "You not hurt anywhere else?  I mean..."  Leon's words trailed off as Nia shook her head without saying a thing.  She knew what he meant.  He didn't know what he'd have done if she'd said yes but he'd felt he had to ask.

Leon opened a small compartment between the two seats and pulled out a joint.  He lit it and sucked down its smoke, inhaling a chest full.  Nia watched as he held it in for a few seconds and then let the smoke out, filling the inside of the car.  The strong smell brought back fleeting thoughts of her attackers and she gazed into space.  Leon held out the joint to her.  "Puff on this.  It ain't too strong and will calm your nerves."  Nia looked at him, seeing on the surface how different they were.  He was strong and handsome although rough around the edges.  He had dreadlocks and had smelt faintly of drugs before he'd even lit the joint.

In contrast, Nia was a good student, hadn't tried drugs or even smoked a cigarette before and had a well-kept appearance.  Then, to her surprise, she found herself taking the joint and putting it to her lips.  She drew down deeply on it and felt her lungs fill with its intoxicating breath.  She choked a little as she exhaled but slowly began to feel its effects, relaxing her mind and body ever so slightly.

From the same compartment as the joint had come, Leon pulled a thick bundle of hundred dollar bills.  He took one from the clip and handed it to Nia, putting back the rest.  He pulled some quarters from his pocket and gave her them too.  "There's a call box just back there.  You can call a cab and that c-note is more than enough to take you wherever you wanna go."  He waited for her to step out of the car but she just sat there with the money crumpled in the palm of her hand.  "Go on now lil' woman.  Ain't nuthin' gonna happen to you, just get on home.  You safe now," Leon said, not sure of the truth of his statement.

"Take me," Nia replied.  He looked at her innocent eyes and didn't know how to resist.

"Where you live at?" Leon asked, wondering whether he was going to regret helping her.

"Caliph Street," Nia answered as he started the car.

It wasn't long before they were going south on Unity Boulevard and not much longer before they were approaching Caliph Street on the opposite side of Sharazad Boulevard.  Leon turned the car in a wide arc across the gap in the central reservation and pulled the car to a stop at the corner of Caliph and Sharazad.  Nia got out of the car, closing the door behind her.  She leant back through the window and held her hand out to Leon with the hundred dollar bill.  "Keep it," he said.

Jay Rodriguez was a light skinned black woman.  She was just beginning to show subtle signs that she was reaching her forties.  Jay looked good for it and still had to put up with customers eyeing her figure on a daily basis and some even made advances.  The fitted uniform she wore to waitress in didn't help lessen the impact she had on most men.  She rebuffed them of course, often showing her wedding ring.  It was a symbol of the vows she strongly believed in even if she felt as if the love had gone out of her marriage a long time ago.

Jay had been watching the clock for some time and was now glad to see that her shift had ended.  She was a hard working woman, pulling twelve hour shifts most days of the week and working anything she could get on Saturdays.  Nothing was more important to her than supporting her family.

No more than thirty minutes later Jay was home.  She closed and locked the door, dumping her keys back in her handbag which she then left on the kitchen table.  She knew her husband was at work but still thought the house was a little quiet and so she wandered down the hall to her daughter's bedroom.  The house was small, only two bedrooms on a ground floor layout.  It was quite standard for the area but stood out because of the completely untended garden at the front.  Jay wished she had time and the freedom to keep it looking nice but she had neither.

Jay cracked the door a little and saw Nia's light was off.  She quietly entered, seeing her daughter asleep in her bed looking as peaceful as could be.  She must have had a tiring day, Jay thought.  Normally she'd find her daughter reading until late at night.  Maybe the late nights of studying had finally caught up with her.  The evening was still humid but beginning to cool and there was the feeling of rain in the air.  Jay pulled the sheet up over her daughter's shoulders and returned to the kitchen.

She noticed the light on the washer was blinking and so she began to empty the load.  She saw it was a load Nia had put on as she spotted Nia's school uniform.  It wasn't unusual for Nia to do chores around the house and in fact, Jay thought, Nia was a wonderful daughter in that and so many other ways.  She was happy Nia acted so grown up around the house, was even performing well in what wasn't a good school and, so far as she knew, hadn't yet developed an interest in boys.  In fact Jay knew Nia didn't have many friends at all but couldn't help thinking it was a blessing in this neighborhood.  She'd long wanted to move but they'd had to re-mortgage the house to support the club and there wasn't enough income from that or her shifts to allow them to move any time soon.

As Jay hung the clothes out to dry she didn't notice anything peculiar about Nia's polo shirt.  The blood stain was almost gone and anything left was faded to the same orange as the shirt.  Jay headed for the shower and then bed.

Nia was pretending to be asleep, lying on her right side facing the wall so her mother couldn't see what had happened to her face.  When her mother left the room Nia lay wide awake staring into the darkness of her room.  The mellowing effect of the weed hadn't fully worn off, leaving her slightly more relaxed than she should have been after what she had been through.

Nia thought about Leon and what he'd done for her.  His dreadlocked appearance was as different as you could get from the police officer she'd prayed to God for but it didn't matter now.

Laying there Nia could almost feel the weight of her attacker on her.  The attack replayed over and over in her head.  Her heart raced and she felt dirty.  Earlier, when she'd returned home, she'd spent close to an hour showering herself and trying to wash off the feeling of disgust, scrubbing her body until her skin was red raw.

Her thoughts turned again to Leon and she shuddered to think how much worse the attack could have been had he not appeared right when she'd needed him most.  She found thinking of him, and his strong muscular frame, comforted her and repelled the nightmare of what had happened.  He had protected her like no other man ever had.

Finally, her body couldn't go on any longer and she drifted off to sleep.  She twisted and turned for several hours in a restless sleep, her dreams infected with memory fragments of what had happened.

In the early hours of the morning Nia woke from a nightmare.  Its frightening details quickly dissolved away as her mind started to concentrate on what she could hear in the house.  Her parents were arguing.  Unable to hear what was being said from her bed she went and sat by her closed bedroom door to listen.  She didn't dare venture any further.

It hadn't always been like this but Nia struggled to recall the times when her parents hadn't argued.  It was most nights now and she thought about how it had become worse lately with his temper raging as it had never done before at the slightest thing.  His incessant drinking only made it worse.  He'd always drunk a little, he worked in a club, but since Havana had been struggling he'd turned to it more and more.  Nia thought about the frequent run-ins she had with him in the mornings when he was hungover.  She couldn't understand why people drank alcohol.

Nia was supposed to feel lucky to have both her parents raising her.  So many of the other kids she knew at school were raised by single mothers.  This didn't feel lucky.  Maybe she'd be better off without him, she thought, feeling only the slightest tinge of guilt.  Her mind went back and forth on the issue, thinking about how single mothers didn't have husbands who argued with them like this.  Then Nia realized they probably had boyfriends who could be as bad.  Nia wondered if all men were like that.  She slumped against the door depressed by the thought of it all and pressed her ear to the crack.

"I'm busy Jay and she's grown!" Hugo shouted.

"She's fourteen Hugo.  A child.  You can't just abandon her like that.  I ask you once to pick her up and you just leave her."

Nia assumed that he'd admitted to her mother he'd forgotten to pick her up, presumably because her mother had commented on her having been in bed so early.  As much as Nia begrudged Hugo's neglect of her, she'd never have told her mother because she'd do anything to avoid them fighting like this.

"We've put the last of our money into Havana and I can't be wasting my time running her all over."

"You've sunk more than the last of our money into that club," Jay replied sharply.

"Don't you speak to me like that woman!"  Nia heard a slap and knew what had happened.  She was sure her mother was clutching her face and deciding whether to risk arguing the point.

"You're her father Hugo, don't be like this," Jay pleaded.

"Shut your mouth woman!"  He slapped her again, harder this time.

Nia heard heavy footsteps leaving the lounge and coming towards her door.  She flinched away from the door fearing he was going to enter.  He was rarely violent towards her, the odd slap now and again, but Nia wasn't sure it would stay that way.  Most of the time he just made her feel worthless with the way her looked at her, like he didn't care for her and being her father meant nothing to him.  He told her as much when he got drunk and would shout abuse at her.  She remembered the time when he'd hurt her most, the words still fresh in her mind.

"You're nothing to me and never will be."

Hugo didn't enter her room and Nia collapsed into a ball on the uncomforting floor.  Once again she'd been the cause her parents fighting.  Her mother was hurt and it was her fault.

Nia didn't know that her feelings were mistaken, as a child's often are, but the guilt still enveloped her and alone in her room she quietly wept.  Nia wished she was invisible and for a brief moment it was more than that, she wished she didn't exist at all.  She'd have given anything to just fade into nothingness.  Would her parents stop fighting if she wasn't such a burden?  As she wept she felt twinges of pain in her cheek.  The cut had begun to heal and her face felt tight as her jaw moved with each sob.  Nia lay there listening to the beating of the raindrops as they fell outside.  There was some comfort in their relentless rhythm.  Usually she dreamt about being one of the people she read about in her books, important, famous maybe but most of all she dreamt of being happy.  Sometimes the books took her to another place where there was no fighting and if anything bad ever happened it wasn't her fault.  But tonight she just wished the rain would wash her away.

Leon Brown was nocturnal because of his work and before the sun had risen he would normally have been making his way home with bundles of cash and his supply of drugs gone.  This Saturday morning was different and as the events of the previous evening played over in his mind he thought about the girl.  She was different.  How or why he didn't know, he was just drawn to her.  He tried telling himself it was just because he missed his sister that he was thinking that way.  It had been hard to get over what had happened to her and he felt responsible in a way.  As her big brother he wished he'd been there for her instead of in the shit hole called Iraq.  He'd watched his friends die in a roadside ambush and straight after had found out his sister had been raped and murdered.  Leon had been unable to stop either from happening.  He felt like he should have at least been there for his sister but he wasn't.  But he had been there for this girl, Nia, and had rescued her from a terrible situation.  So why did he feel bothered by it all, he thought.  There was something he just couldn't place.

The wipers on the Monte Carlo had a mesmerizing effect as he drove in the empty streets and soon Leon realized he was driving along Sharazad Boulevard where he had dropped Nia.  He pulled into Caliph Street, slowing the car to a crawl.  The street wasn't long and had no more than about six or seven houses on either side.  Each had a front yard sectioned off with metal fencing and none were particularly well kept.  One or two had cars parked neatly in the driveway but most vehicles on the street were parked casually on the worn grass verge.  Reaching the end of the street Leon spun the wheel and turned the car around.  He pulled to a stop at the side of the street, parking like the others and able to see all the houses along the length of the street.

He cut the engine but left the sound system bumping hip-hop in the background.  The subs in the back rumbled out the bass line.  His system held thousands of MP3 tracks and was set to random play.  It was churning out Brisco, one of Opa-Locka's own with a track by the same name.  Leon bumped his head a little to the track and rapped out the lyrics.

"This is my city, in my city you gotta tote fire.  Opa-Locka revolve around the big fo' five."

The rain finally stopped and so he cracked the window a little.  Leon turned down the music at the same time.  Pulling out a cigar and some ground dry bud Leon started to make a blunt.  His fingers worked quickly and without thought as they replicated a task done many times before.  Almost done he ran his lighter up and down the length of the blunt to firm it, turning it as he did so.  It grew slightly darker in color and he was careful not to burn it.  He slouched back in the seat and lit up, drawing down deeply, letting the smoke linger in his lungs.  It was the medicine he needed.

His mind slowly began to clear as he got close to finishing the blunt and a new track with an R&B flavor began to play.  He listened to the sweet voice of a woman singing the chorus lyrics.

"The angels cried for you when you fell that day

How can I replace all the joy you gave?

Memories of us will never fade away

The angels cried for you when you fell that day"

Still thinking of his sister and not quite sure what he was doing there, Leon pulled his hood over his head and closed his eyes.

Nia had cried herself to sleep on the floor.  She woke to the uncomfortable sensation of her face resting on the worn carpet.  Lifting her aching head slowly she felt the tape from the dressing pull.  Part of it had become stuck on the carpet and she eased it off.  Her face had a speckled imprint on it from the carpet and her head throbbed from dehydration.  Part of her now regretted the tears she had shed, knowing that they had made no difference to her reality other than reddening her eyes.  She removed the dressing and inspected her face.  She replaced it with a fresh Band-Aid.

Within a few minutes she had washed and dressed herself, pulling on a pair of jeans and an old t-shirt.  Nia picked up the hundred dollar bill and slipped it in her shoe.  It was the weekend and her mother probably didn't have a shift first thing, which meant only one thing in a few hours, more arguing.

As she walked down the hall towards the lounge she could hear her mother's favorite artist playing softly.  Nia paused in the lounge doorway and listened to the familiar sound of Tupac Shakur.

"Now the picture's getting clearer all he does is hit you hard

I tell you to leave him and you tell me keep my faith in God...

My only wish is that you change your mind and he get shook

Wanna take you there but you scared to follow, come see tomorrow

Hoping I can take you through the pain and sorrow

Let you know I care, that someone's there for your struggle

Depend on me, when you have needs or there's trouble

I wanna give you happiness and maybe even more"

Nia could see her mother was emotionally connected to the words as tears ran down her cheeks.  She wondered how long she had been sitting there.  Nia returned to her room, leaving the house via her window with one purpose, to avoid being the cause of any more fighting.

Nia walked west on Caliph Street and just after Bahman Avenue she saw a familiar car.  She noticed it because she knew most of the cars that belonged on her block and this wasn't one of them.  It was familiar to her but she didn't understand what it was doing here.  She approached slowly along the sidewalk, seeing a hooded figure behind the wheel.

There was enough morning light that she could see from a few meters away that it was Leon.  Nia rapped on the passenger side window.  She saw him wake with a start, looking around as if he was unsure of where he was.

"Don't tell me you been here all night!" she exclaimed.  "What are you doing?"

He leant over, unlocking the door and pulling the release.  Nia opened the door and got inside.  Despite their earlier encounter only being brief they both felt an immediate ease between them.  They had shared an experience which had instigated a level of intimacy few other people achieved in a first meeting.

"Jus' chillin'.  Been here like five minutes.  Where you going?" Leon asked.  Nia could tell from the sleepy look on his face that he'd been there longer than five minutes.

"Anywhere," Nia replied.  "I just wanna get away."

"Away?  What d'you mean?"

"I mean some place quiet and away from home."  Nia answered with enough emotion in her voice that she was sure Leon would understand what she meant, or at least know not to ask any more about it.

"I'm 'bout to go back to my crib and crash.  Come with me if you want," Leon offered.  Nia turned to Leon and for a second there was a flicker of happiness in her eyes.

"I wanna thank you for what you did for me."

"Think nothing of it lil' woman," Leon replied, holding out a closed fist to her in friendship.  She didn't bump fists with him and instead leant over and gave him a full hug.  Nia could tell he felt awkward about it as she held him so close but the moment was one of genuine thanks and emotion.  The engine roared to life as Leon turned the key and they drove off, the wheels splashing through puddles on the uneven road surface.

# FOUR

Lloyd was motionless, hanging on every word Nia was saying.  He'd never thought this was what she was going to tell him.  He'd thought he knew her, but this was more intimate than anything she'd ever told him before.  He'd known she'd had a tough childhood and in his mind he realized he'd not seen past the bad childhood stereotype he'd labeled her with.  She'd just given him the raw details and now it was so clear in his mind.  He couldn't ignore it or shrug it off like he had done so many times before with so many other people he'd interviewed.  He could barely maintain the mindset of interviewer as he thought about what a horrible ordeal she had been through.

"Wow, I er...  You've never spoken so openly about this before.  Thank you for having the courage to share that with us," Lloyd said, his words sounding wooden.  He meant it genuinely but the story had caught him out of step.  He looked into Nia's eyes and saw that no matter how long ago it may have been parts of it were still fresh to her.  "So how did things proceed from there?" Lloyd asked.

"Deterioration.  My parents fought more and I took to hanging out with Leon whenever he wasn't busy.  In the beginning he picked me up from school and dropped me home, sometimes took me out to eat.  Then I started skipping days at school here and there.  Leon wasn't keen on me doing that but I'd tell my mother I was studying at the library, a friend's house or wherever.  I used to hide the truancy letters from school and she didn't keep track of me much so long as she thought I was safe.  To be honest, I think she had worse things on her mind like avoiding abuse from Hugo.  He didn't care at all so long as I wasn't bothering him.  He was too busy working and fighting with my mother to have any time to care about me.  I guess it was hard for them both because we were flat broke.  He didn't want to sell the club because it was the family's only asset and all he knew.  I can't see him ever having got a job working for someone else.  He was too wrapped up in the club and too used to being his own boss."

"So at what point did you become a gang member?" Lloyd asked, taking the chance to change the subject a little.

"It's not like one day I filled out an application to join or was officially jumped in.  I hung around with Leon.  He was real protective, told me to stay in school and do my studies.  Slowly, I started to pick stuff up.  At first he didn't want to tell me nothing about him or what he did.  I had an idea of course.  I'd seen his gun and his fancy ride and he always had plenty of money.  He'd talk to me and he was interested in me, what I did, what I liked and stuff.  For a while he was like a brother, maybe even a father you know?  He took good care of me.  He was real street smart and knew I wasn't.  Had I been I think I'd never have met him.  I mean if I had been I'd have taken care of myself that day and he'd never have even seen me.  When he saw I wasn't going anywhere he started to teach me stuff about real life and not just what you learn from school books.  He knew I needed to up my street IQ.

"For a while he never took me with him when he was working.  I was quite introverted as a young kid and at that point in my life I was still very much in that mode.  Mostly I stayed at his place while he went out.  I read a lot but not so much of the stuff I was reading in school.  Leon had shelves of books I'd never heard of and I was fascinated.  It was then that I first read Malcolm X's autobiography and I'll never forget how it opened up my mind.

"I'd see the people who hung with Leon because they'd come to his place and be making plans, discussing stuff.  I just sat there and soaked it all up.  It was like that for a while and then I turned sixteen.  I remember that because it was then he said I started to ask a whole lot more questions.  You know, about how he dealt with things on the street.  I was desperate to get out there with him.  He'd try to tell me what he could but I started to see it was getting harder for him to answer.  He'd tell me "Planning stuff is great but sometimes you just don't know 'til it goes down."  Eventually I felt like he'd taught me enough and I had to pay him back the debt I owed."

Nia paused for quite some time and Lloyd looked down at his notes for more direction.  It read – Hugo.

"Tell me about how this friendship with Leon developed further.  And Hugo, you touch briefly on his death in your album but can you tell me a little more about that?" Lloyd asked.

# FIVE

Two shots rang out and the loud percussive sound deafened Nia for a moment, leaving a ringing in her ears.  Glancing in the direction of the sound, Nia could see she and Leon weren't the only ones who liked to train late at night on the shooting range.  She put her ear protectors on and slid another clip into the Glock.

The range was indoors with only a few skylights which provided no light at this time in the evening.  The fluorescent lights glared with an almost inaudible buzz.  The unnatural light had a way of producing a surreal feeling and wearing ear protectors gave Nia a strong sense of isolation.  Every sound was far away, muffled or indistinguishable.  She was in her own world.  It was just her, the Glock and the target.

 Leon was standing in the lane next to her as they both fired off rounds into figure shaped targets fifteen meters away.  Nia practiced a left-handed Weaver stance.  The first time Leon had taken her to the range she'd been clumsy with the weapon.  She'd not known how to hold it or line up each shot.  It had been frightening for her at first but as Nia learnt to shoot skillfully she felt empowered by it.  There was something elusively seductive about firearms, this one in particular she had a history with, and once she got over her initial worries she fully embraced it.  Nia was more than capable of handling the weapon now that she'd matured into a young woman and her almost adult size made controlling the recoil easier than the first few months.  The fact that she'd practiced plenty didn't hurt either.  It felt good to line up the sights and squeeze off the shots.  Nia's rounds hit the target with a tight grouping in the ten ring and she pressed the button to recall the target on its electric runner.

"Damn girl!  Not bad at all," Leon said, inspecting the target.  Practice at the range had become a regular thing as he sought to teach her the vital tools of street survival.

After clearing the firing point they moved to the heavy wooden table in the prep room to clean their weapons.  The table top was battered and scarred from contact with the metal of so many weapons.  Nia's Glock was no exception as she took it apart deftly the way she had been taught.  Since the day she had first seen this particular Glock Leon had shown her how to handle it and she was a quick study.  Minutes later she had it cleaned, lightly oiled and reassembled.

"Done," Nia said, resting the Glock down on the table.

"Maybe you should start using that blindfold again.  It might slow you down some," Leon joked.  He'd once taught her to strip the weapon while blindfolded.  It had been an exercise in confidence more than anything else.  The skill had ended her fear and she'd come to respect firearms.  They could be deadly but it was the hands they were in she now feared.  She could adequately handle most handguns used on the street and was a better shot than average.  Nia knew her developing skills were pleasing Leon.  He was in many ways a role model for her, his strengths matching her weaknesses.  She'd studied hard to please him.  Leon insisted on how important it was to be able to do more than just flash a piece like so many thugs did on the street and who probably couldn't hit the side of a SWAT van at point blank range.  Even petty criminals now carried because guns had become as common and as easy to get your hands on as knives.

"Remind me why we do this," Leon said, his tone echoing his old drill sergeant.

"Knowing how to use a weapon is the first step to gaining the skills to defend ourselves from one."  It was a simple principle of most martial arts and one just as applicable to fire arms.  A true master learnt the use of weapons so that they could develop skills and strategies to defend against them.  It was the old axiom of studying your enemy.  Nia recalled Leon's lesson on the importance of retaining distance from the target.  Without distance she'd learnt how easy it was to defend against an attacker with a firearm.  It was much easier than dealing with someone with a knife.  Nia had learnt the danger of knives first-hand and had vowed never to be a victim again.

Leon opened an ammunition box on the table and, using bandanas to handle the rounds to avoid fingerprints, they both began to reload their empty magazines.  This ensured that if it ever came to firing their weapons on the street and they weren't able to retrieve the spent cases they couldn't be traced back to them via fingerprints.

So far as Nia knew her prints weren't on file but you couldn't be too careful.  Likewise, if Nia did use her Glock on the street she'd be careful to take a metal file to the inside of the barrel before tossing it so a ballistics test couldn't match it to any bullets recovered.  These were the tricks of the trade Leon had taught her.  Nia had not always fully realized the implications of such things, as she'd never had reason to put them into practice, but over time she'd learnt the lessons well.

"I owe you so much," Nia said.

"Ah come on lil' woman."

"It's been two years since," Nia paused, "and you've done so much for me.  I'm not the shy little girl I used to be, I actually feel," she paused again, "confident."

Leon looked at her.  She knew he saw it.  She was older now.  Physically she'd grown almost as tall as she would, a feminine five six, and wasn't as skinny as she used to be.  She'd developed enough of the curves of a young woman to draw the attention of most young men.

Despite her attractive feminine figure she wasn't overly girly with her clothes and she barely wore makeup.  She kept her hair only mildly relaxed and when she had her hair down the curls suited her well.  That day on the range Nia had her long black hair in a plait hanging down her back.  It was practical, just like the Glock she used.  Tonight it was hidden under a yellow t-shirt and tucked into the top of a pair of faded jeans that flattered her figure.

Physical maturity was the most obvious change in Nia over the last two years.  But in actual fact, Nia had changed most in ways that weren't visible.  There wasn't much more Leon could teach her.  The remainder she needed to learn on the street.

"You stopped those punks that day and probably even saved my life.  Only God knows what they would have done with me if you'd not been there."  Nia unconsciously touched the scar on her jaw line.  It was almost gone, only a thin whisper of a mark, but still a reminder of how they'd met.  She reached across the table and took Leon's hand.  It was rough to the touch and manly.  "You've been like a father to me.  At least more of one than I've ever known."

She thought about Hugo and then quickly pushed the thoughts from her mind.  She tried to focus on the confidence transferred to her from Leon's touch.  It wasn't pleasant thinking about the man who was single handedly destroying her mother.  It made her so angry to think that his blood ran in her veins.  Nia wondered if that meant she was bound to a similar fate of anger and conflict.  In the past two years things had become worse.  Jay had aged rapidly and was barely more than a shadow of her former self.  At times she even looked ill, her features a little drawn and more pronounced.  But Jay soldiered on, always doing the best for her family but only barely staying above water.

Nia desperately wanted to start earning money to relieve the pressure on her mother.  For a while now she'd been looking for the right opportunity to ask Leon for a role in his business.  It wasn't easy.  For some time she'd been thinking on how working with Leon would change the dynamic of their relationship.  She couldn't deny anymore, at least not to herself, that she had feelings for him.  Asking him for a job could threaten any chance she had with him.  The problem had bugged her for at least a month.

Nia had thought about a regular job but with unemployment rife and jobs paying a pittance the options weren't immediately attractive.  She had too much respect to simply ask Leon for money, although she knew he'd give it to her.  Nia also knew she was just like her mother, probably too proud to take it even if he offered.  There was one thing Nia knew for sure, that she was proud of the traits she got from her mother, with one exception.  Nia vowed to never let a man walk all over her.  She wanted a man like Leon who would treat her right and respect her.  She looked him over.  He was wearing a red t-shirt, grey jeans and had a matching denim jacket which he'd laid down on the end of the table.  His platinum chain glinted under the overhead lights and his muscular physique filled his shirt.  Not only did he respect her but he looked good.  Yes, she wanted a man like Leon.

Nia finally made her decision.  There'd always be ways to make money.  That was one thing she'd learnt in the last two years.  So she decided to test the waters with Leon and find out how he felt about her.  If there was something between them she couldn't sacrifice it for a job.  She'd find another way and do whatever it took to help her mother.

Still holding Leon's hand she looked softly into his eyes, fully aware of how close they'd grown since they first met.  "I've seen the pictures of Camille and know I must have reminded you of her when we first met."  She'd finally said what had been unspoken between them for so long.  For a second Nia worried she'd gone a step too far but Leon's face remained unchanged.  His grip on her hand remained constant.  He'd told her one night what had happened to Camille and she was surprised at how long he'd kept it bottled it up after they'd already shared so much.

"I see how you look at me and I wanna be so much more than a comforting reminder of your sister."  At that his eyes flickered and he interrupted her.

"You're beautiful Nia and you're right, you did remind me of my sister when we first met but now you're your own woman.  I look at you and see a strong woman who's all grown up from that lil' girl who always had her head in a book."

"But what about us?" Nia said, gently caressing his hand.

"There can't be more between us.  I love you and wish it could be different but you're too young."  His words were bitter sweet to her.  A confession of love laced with restraint because of her age.

Nia couldn't help but suddenly feel inadequate.  She desperately wanted to cover her embarrassment.  She let go of his hand and sat up straight.  Now was as good a time as any to ask, she decided.  "I love you too."  The words of affection somehow brushed off Leon's rejection and it was clear that Nia wasn't going to revisit the point.  "I meant I wanna stop costing you money and start earning you some.  I want in, all the way."  Nia could see thoughts turning over in Leon's mind

"You gotta know one thing Nia.  I've taught you as much as I've protected you from.  Out on these streets it's rough and dirty.  You make a wrong move or trust the wrong person you gonna end up dead.  You remember Chris and Hakim?"

"Sure."

"I didn't send them to work for my homie in Atlanta.  Police found Hakim dead, shot in the back of the neck.  The police report said nothing about money.  Naturally I'd figure the cops took it but Chris was missing.  Then my homie in Atlanta calls, talking 'bout this nigga called Chris flaunting money and acting like he wanna make something of himself.  With my money?  Not for long.  But it ain't just these suckers betraying you that you got to watch out for, there's the law and I don't mean just don't get caught breaking it.  The police are corrupt mother fuckers.  They'll do anything when they have you in a corner.  You understand?"

"Uh huh," Nia replied nodding her head.

"If you wanna roll with me I'm gonna think on it first," Leon replied.

Havana was in the midst of another quiet Thursday night despite the various promotions Hugo had run using money from a recent investment.  Could he call it that?  That's how they'd described it to him, an investment.  What a mistake he'd made, he admitted to himself for once.  It was just before midnight and Hugo stood sweating by the bar.  His light blue shirt had dark moist patches under the arms, down his back and around his expanding gut.  He was a barrel of a man, having gained weight almost in proportion to the losses of the club.

The air-conditioning had been working intermittently the last few weeks and had finally given up this morning.  Hugo was sure the heat was turning patrons away.  He knew people liked to be able to drink and dance in pleasantly cool air, not this humid and constricting atmosphere.  He was sure it was worse than the hot but still lively Cuban clubs he remembered from his youth.  He'd spent an hour tinkering with the air-conditioning units but with no success.  He cursed himself for not having them properly serviced a few weeks back but there hadn't been the money for it anyhow.  He'd taken the gamble, hoping they'd hold out, and now he was paying the cost.

Havana was empty enough for Hugo to notice at a distance the two men walking toward him.  It was only twenty-four hours since he'd last had to deal with them and he didn't very much like it.  It seemed to Hugo that he spent more time dealing with them than they left him free to try to get a return on their investment.

One was the muscle, well-built and over six feet tall.  The other wasn't as big but took the speaking role.  Both of them dressed in smart dark suits.  They weren't the expensive kind but nice enough so they could pretend to themselves that they were carrying out respectable business.

"Alphonso sends his greetings Hugo, and has asked me to enquire about his investment," said the smaller one as he approached the bar.

"Business has improved," Hugo lied, "but I've had problems with the air-con tonight and am waiting to get it fixed."  Another lie.  Hugo didn't know what else to say as the larger one lay his hand firmly on his shoulder.

"You're overdue Hugo.  He's giving you two days to make payment plus the return agreed.  Be warned Hugo, if you don't pay up we'll extract what you owe via whatever means we see fit.  Understand?"

"Uh huh"

"You're a family man right?"

"Sure, but this is not a problem.  Two days and I'll have the money."

Hugo regretted now more than ever his decision to borrow so much money from a shark.  He'd used it to pay for a couple of good bands in a last ditch attempt to save the flagging club.  For a while it had almost seemed to work but was only putting off the inevitable.  Without substantial further investment Havana was teetering on the brink of going under.

Polite as they may have been, Hugo knew it only served as a façade to hide their true menace.  He watched as they turned and left, frantically wondering what he was going to do.  He'd not yet told his wife and the only thing he could do to make the payment would be to sell the house or the club.  Even then, he wondered, would it be enough to pay off all his creditors?  With the state Havana was in and the way the books looked lately, he knew few people would be interested in buying.  Short of finding a major buyer who wanted to gut the place and start over he knew Havana had an uncertain future.

He reached for a bottle of rum from behind the bar and poured what he liked to think was only a double.  All this wasn't why he'd first hit the bottle but he didn't think about that as he necked the drink.  All he knew was it distanced him from the grim realization that everything in his life was falling apart.

Hugo felt a sudden tightness in his chest.  He'd never had a panic attack before but he was sure that's what this was as it worsened.  He didn't like to admit it to himself but the last few years had gone from bad to worse and he just couldn't handle it.  He didn't trust his wife anymore and their marriage had begun to fall apart.  He felt as if he didn't know his daughter and now this, his club, was in the toilet.  And, he was facing undesirable consequences from Alphonso if he didn't pay back the money he owed.

It was overwhelming.  He wanted to escape.

He tried to catch his breath but the tightness turned into a pain that spread through his neck and left shoulder.  He stumbled his way to the office still holding the rum bottle and collapsed on the small sofa that was against the far wall.  Hugo told himself to calm down and forced himself to relax.  He had become particularly good at denying things and lying to himself.  He told himself he'd find a way out again and that he just needed more time.  If he only stopped worrying it would all come together, he thought.  There was always a way out.

The pain slowly subsided and he felt he could breathe normally again.  The relief restored a false sense of self-confidence and he reached for the bottle on his desk to pour himself another.

Nia rested her head against the window of the Monte Carlo as they drove through the empty streets.  It was a dark night with few stars and the gentle purr of the engine had drawn her into deep thought.  The vintage Monte Carlo remained a comfortable constant amongst all that had changed since she'd first met Leon.  He loved the vehicle and vowed to never sell it.  She'd seen Leon rise from selling on the street corner to supplying dealers across Miami.  Nia knew he had an eye for the long-term.  He had told her so many times about being careful, balancing risks and not being greedy.  Being successful in his business meant staying out of trouble, keeping a low profile and staying off the police radar.

Leon lit up, puffed several times and held the joint out to Nia, bringing her thoughts quickly to the present.  "Here lil' woman."  There was no longer anything awkward in the way she smoked.  She took it casually and gently put it to her lips.  The familiar taste was sweet and the smell of weed filled the vehicle.

Leon reached for the volume control as the music track changed.  "Damn, this is the bomb track!" Leon said as he turned it up louder.  The subwoofers in the back kicked in and the mellow bass pumped out a funk that got Leon nodding his head.  It was an old track that Nia recognized and she also began feel the baseline.  There was something seductive about cruising and pumping out a good beat.

"You know this one?" Leon asked.

"I've heard it."

"You just gotta dig this track," Leon said.  "When Pac raps, he may as well be talking about my life.  Listen to these lyrics."

The intro played out and the rap started.  Leon rapped along trying to draw Nia's interest.

"I'm up before the sunrise, first to hit the block

Little bad motherfucker with a pocket full of rocks

Learned to throw them thangs, get my skinny little ass kicked

And niggas laugh, 'til the first motherfucker got blasted

I put the nigga in his casket

Now they coverin' the bastard in plastic

I smoke blunts on the regular, fuck when it counts

I'm tryin' to make a million dollars outta quarter ounce

And getting' lost on the five-o, fuck them hos

Got a 45 screamin' out survival

Hey nigga can I lay low?  Cook some yay-yo

Holla 'one-time' when I say so

Don't want to go to the pen, I'm hittin' fences

Narcs on a nigga back, missin' me by inches

And they say how do you survive weighin' 165

In a city where the skinny niggas die?

Tell Mama don't cry

Even when they kill me

They can never take the game from a young G

I'm st8 ballin'!"

Leon concentrated less on driving as he rapped out the chorus and the car drifted left and right in the lane.  He nudged Nia a little and she smiled with pleasure at his enjoyment of the music.  He held the joint between his lips, had one hand on the wheel and caught her attention with the other, signaling her to join in.  It was contagious.  Nia followed all the words in her mind, her body feeling the rhythm and she rapped out odd lines in unison with him here and there.

"Rather die makin' money than live poor and legal

As I slang another ounce, I wish it was a kilo...

I ain't goin' out, I'd rather blast back

I'm on the corner with my niggas watchin' cash stack...

How could you blame me?  If they sweat me I'm gonna open fire

What could I do?  Pull my trigger or watch my nigga die?

I'm representin' to the fullest givin' devil slugs

I'm on the block slangin' drugs with the young thugs..."

The track ended and Leon turned the volume back down a little.  "See what I mean.  Got me feeling like this nigga telling my story," Leon said, beating his chest several times with a closed fist.  "But it ain't just my story.  It's the story of the ghetto.  You hear?"

"I guess he just tells it how it is."

"You right 'bout that, if you black and from the ghetto, you got to respect him for that 'cause we know we don't have the same as what these rich white kids got.  Just look at our history and you know we far from equal since the very beginning.  That's what he says."  Leon rapped it out.

"As real as it seems the American Dream

Ain't nothing but another calculated scheme

To get us locked up, shot up and back in chains

To deny us the future and rob our names

Kept my history a mystery but now I see

The American Dream wasn't meant for me."

"The 'American Dream' ain't nothing but propaganda that keeps the hard working poor people poor while the rich get richer.  Well I ain't about to fall for that.  It's why I left the military.  Learnt what I needed to know to survive and I was out.  No more of that business where poor black people get sent to another country to kill more poor people for the white man's black gold.  That's why now I'm out here on the streets making money on my own terms."

They drove for a while and neither of them said a thing.  The conversation had unexpectedly turned quite political.  Nia thought about what Leon had said and thought of her parents.  Were they living the American Dream?  She didn't think so.

"Some people think he's still alive!" Leon said, interrupting her thoughts.  He laughed.  "Can you believe that?  What's it been?  More than ten years now huh!  The man was such a legend I almost couldn't believe it when he died.  It's the way he reaches out to you that makes you wanna refuse to accept he's dead.  You hope he's alive 'cause it would mean there is hope for us.  When you admit to yourself he was shot to death at twenty-five, it makes you wonder what chance do we have in this life and how long do we got?  Will we make it past twenty-five?  If we do then you gotta think you livin' on borrowed time.  Best get our ends before it's game over.  Let it be a lesson to you lil' woman, if you black you better watch your back."

Nia smiled.  She loved to listen to Leon talk.  His enthusiasm for things rubbed off on her.

"He was a poet for sure," Leon continued, "but people say he was a prophet, too, because he predicted so much.  Not just his own death but all sorts of other stuff, that even happened after he died, like the death of Biggie."

"I remember my Mom telling me about how they'd once been best friends and then turned against each other," Nia said.

"It was bitter.  Both had dis' records cussing each other out big time.  In the end it turned into a big East Coast – West Coast rivalry.  That's when a lot of people say hip-hop started to lose its way."

At that Leon gripped the wheel tight and he took the next corner hard.  The tires squealed as they struggled to grip the street and the back end of the car slid out.  He flicked what was left of the joint out his window.  All the talk had him a little pumped up.  "Fuck it.  You right, you grown now.  You can ride with me tonight," Leon answered her request from earlier in the evening.  For a second, Nia wasn't sure if she'd heard right.

"Fo' real?"

"I got some business to handle.  Think you can back me up?" Leon asked.  Nia nodded her head.  In the background another Tupac track began to play.  As they drove on towards whatever business Leon had to handle, Nia registered certain lyrics that made her think of her own situation.

"...at sixteen on the scene watchin' fiends buggin'

Kickin' up dust with the older G's

Soakin' up the game that was told to me...

...Elementary wasn't meant for me, can't regret it

I'm headed for the penitentiary, I'm cuttin' class..."

Maybe Leon was right, maybe Tupac did have a gift to speak to people like her.  Nia knew, despite his death more than a decade ago, black people across America, and even the world, had bestowed on him a legendary status much like many white people did to Elvis.  The rumors that he was alive were as common almost as the ones saying he was in hiding, planning to return to run for president.  But still, Nia wondered if his words might somehow be speaking directly to her.  They made her really consider what had happened the last few years.  But she didn't know what to make of the next lines she heard.

"A fugitive, my occupation is under question

Wanted for investigation, and even though

I'm marked for death, I'ma spark 'til I lose my breath...

...when a nigga's gettin' richer

They come to get ya, it's like a mother fuckin' trap

And they wonder why it's hard being black..."

For a second Nia felt the words grip her consciousness.  What did they mean?  She couldn't ignore them.  She thought back to what Leon had said about Tupac being hailed by some as a prophet.  Even if he had been, it was silly to think that these words held anything more than a coincidental significance to her life.  She laughed at herself and decided she'd just been caught up in Leon's infectious enthusiasm for Tupac.  Surely it meant nothing.

A few minutes later the Monte Carlo slowed and pulled alongside the side walk.  Nia got out with Leon and he locked the doors.  In 'The Triangle' the locks didn't add much security but thankfully Leon's reputation was enough to keep his car safe in an area best known for poverty and crime.

A neon sign above the door to the building showed an animated pool player and read 'Tony's'.  Two scantily dressed women barely in their twenties walked by.  A man leaning against the wall wearing a baseball cap and smoking a cigarette eyed them eagerly.  "What's happening?" he asked as he began to follow them.  One of the women turned and spoke to him but by that time they were too far away for Nia to hear what they were saying.

Leon walked into the pool bar and Nia was close behind.  He turned his head to her as they approached the bar.  "Just be cool, watch my back and this'll take thirty minutes max."  He turned back to the bar.  "Hey Dan, wasup brother!" Leon said as he reached across the bar to shake hands with the scrawny looking bartender.

"All good, can't complain," replied the bartender.  "You?"

"Good.  How's that woman of yours?  What's her name, Michelle?"

"Michelle's good.  Just had our third baby.  Finally have the son I wanted.  For a while there I thought she was holding out on me but now I might even make her my wife."  They both laughed.  The bartender was a notorious womanizer and Leon was sure the day he asked his woman to marry him would be the same day she had finally worked up the courage to say she was leaving him.

"Can I get you a drink?"

"Courvoisier," Leon replied.

"And for your lady friend?"

"Cousin," Leon corrected, despite the bartender knowing well enough she wasn't. But that didn't matter. In Opa-locka people defined their own families. If someone claimed blood ties then you'd better believe it or at least treat them with the same respect that it entailed.

Leon glanced across at Nia, she looked older for her age but not yet twenty-one. Leon knew the bartender wouldn't say anything about it, not to him anyway.  "Make it two." The bartender turned away for a second to pour the drinks. He turned back, holding the drinks, and set them on the bar. Leon reached in his pocket and pulled out a handful of folded hundreds.

"It's on the house," the bartender said.

"For the kids," Leon said as he placed a hundred dollar bill on the bar. "Get them something nice.

He took one glass and slid it over to Nia. She looked at him with a blank face.  She'd never drunk cognac before. "Go on, get it up in you," Leon said. He turned back to the bartender and continued small talk. As he did, Nia noticed he was also looking around at the people in the bar, sizing them up and looking for anything out of place. It was amazing how obvious undercover cops could be. Agents of the Drug Enforcement Agency were more subtle but even they found it hard to shake that distinctive aura that cops had about them.

Nia held the XO cognac and studied the shape of the cognac glass.  It wasn't like a regular glass. It had a large bottom, tapering off to a narrow top. It seemed a little awkward to drink from but she raised it up to her lips all the same and tipped it back until half of the drink had poured from the glass into her mouth. The smell was over powering to her nose, which had to be inside the glass for her to be able to drink from it. It was like a thick fog filling her head and the liquid tasted spicy on her tongue. She swallowed and felt it burn hot in her throat as it went down. It wasn't pleasant and she suddenly felt the urge to be sick. It eased and became more of a cough as she felt the heat bury itself into her stomach

Nia wondered what her father saw in alcohol or maybe it was just her who was strange for not liking it, she thought.  The force of the cough grew inside her and she forced it back, not wanting to make Leon look stupid.

As she placed the half drained glass back on the bar Leon looked over. "Just sip it slowly," Leon said casually. The barman smiled at her and the whole experience made her realize that Leon had probably been right. There was still a lot for her to learn. With that in mind she started to really open her eyes and soak up everything she could. The more she could learn the better. She hoped soon she'd be trusted enough to run errands and make the money her mother so desperately needed.

Nia looked around briefly and then back at Leon. He'd cupped the glass casually in one hand, his fingers either side of the stem, but he hadn't drunk from it yet. Ten minutes must have passed from the time it was poured before he raised it slowly to just below his nose to smell it. Then he did put it to his lips but barely took enough to do more than wet them. Nia could see now why she'd nearly choked.  This wasn't like the beer she was used to drinking at Leon's place and realized you couldn't just knock it back.

Raising her own glass she took a small sip and let the Courvoisier wash gently over her tongue. This time it didn't over power her senses and there was barely enough to swallow. Now she could actually taste the flavor of the cognac. It still had a heat to it but it was more of a soothing warmth than the burning fire of before. It tasted okay.

With Leon still talking she turned and leant back on the bar. Nia took a good look around.  So this was one of the places Leon did business, she thought. There were four pool tables and half a dozen people playing. Some stood holding their cues and others sat. One was rubbing the end of his cue with a block of blue chalk, which had colored his fingers. Smokers and drinkers were dotted around, talking and watching the other games. There was another man stood at the bar with her and Leon. He looked like a heavy drinker like her father, Nia thought, aged by excess. Was he going to go home and fight with his wife, if he had one, she thought. For all she knew, he may have long since beaten her to death. He looked old enough for it to be true.

"Tony in?" Leon asked, turning the conversation to business.

"Yeah, go on up and I'll let him know you coming."  The barman turned to the phone on the wall and dialed an extension.  Nia watched as Leon sipped down the last of his drink and left the glass on the bar.  Nia had finished hers too and she could already begin to feel the effect of the alcohol reaching through her body.  She followed Leon through the group of pool players to the back of the room.  A heavy set man dressed in security guard black opened a door and ushered them through.  On the other side was a worn wooden staircase that led them up to a first floor landing.  There was very little illumination from the single dim light bulb.  Nia wasn't sure what the musty smell was.  The floor wasn't carpeted and the dusty boards creaked under her feet.  There was a small window on the landing that was painted shut and it looked out onto the ally out back.  It was dark and through the window Nia could only make out the shape of a dumpster.

"Come on," Leon called.  He was ahead of her and part way down the narrow corridor leading off the landing.  As Nia walked down the corridor she noticed there were a lot of closed doors and it wasn't long before her question about what was happening behind each one was answered.  A door opened on her right and an overweight white man in a dirty white vest stepped out.  He had his shirt in his hand and beads of sweat were running down his forehead.  Nia turned sideways to pass him in the narrow corridor, trying to avoid brushing against him.  He smiled at Nia in a self-satisfied way that repulsed her.  Before he could close the door she caught a glimpse inside.

The room was almost completely bare apart from the bed in the center.  On the bed lay a terribly skinny and half naked black woman.  She had a handful of money and was counting it out.  The door swung shut and Nia continued following Leon.

At the end of the corridor they turned left and came face to face with another heavy set guard, virtually a replica of the one downstairs.  He held up his hand to Leon as a signal to stop.  Leon held up his arms and waited to be patted down.  The guard searched him, his oversized sausage-like fingers checking for concealed weapons.  Reaching around the back of Leon's waistline the guard located his handgun and set it to one side on a small table beside the door.  As he completed the search the door opened.

"Leon.  How you doing?" asked the figure emerging from the doorway.  He picked up the handgun and the guard stepped aside.  He held out the gun to Leon, grip first.  Leon took it and slid it back into his waistline.

"I'm good thanks Tony," Leon replied.  They stepped into the office and Nia followed.  The guard closed the door behind them.  "I see you still surrounding yourself with those two meatheads," Leon said.

"They're good for business.  Makes the girls feel safe and stops the customers getting too many ideas."

"So long as you're looking after the girls that's good but remember to be careful who you trust."

Leon waived his hand at Nia to go take a seat on the sofa against the wall.  In comparison to the rest of the building the office was well decorated.  There wasn't any carpet but the wooden floor looked expensive, professionally laid and polished.  Leon pulled up a chair at Tony's desk and straightened his jacket, which had been crumpled by the clumsy hands of the guard.  Mounted on the wall opposite the sofa was a flat screen TV.  The sound was off but Nia could see it was set to MTV base.  Scantily clad girls danced, shaking themselves in front of expensive cars, rappers and even all over each other.

Tony was a light skinned black man, about the same age as Leon but particularly unattractive.  His face was rather goofy and covered with marks from what had probably been a bad case of teenage acne.  Nia guessed that struggling with women because of that was how he found his way into pimping them out.  He was wearing a loose fitting tracksuit and too much cheap gold.  He sat down behind his desk to face Leon.

"Be careful who I trust?  But here you are with this youngster.  How'd you know she's not gonna stab you in the back?" Tony asked.  His resentment at Nia being taken under Leon's wing while he rose quickly to the top was clear.  At that the look in Leon's eyes turned more serious.  Nia sensed that the comment had not caught him off guard but rather that Leon had intended the conversation to move in this very direction.  He'd set the trap and was now ready to pounce on his prey.

"I know because she's nothing like you Tony.  Did you think I wouldn't find out?"  A startled look of shock flashed across Tony's face despite his best attempts to conceal it.  "Chris spilled his guts, so don't lie to me," Leon said.

"I'm sorry Leon," Tony pleaded.  Leon then raised his voice.

"Don't tell me you're sorry.  Sorry is a sign of weakness.  Are you weak Tony?"  Leon stood.  His chair slid backward effortlessly on the polished floor.  "Of course you are," Leon said, walking around to stand behind Tony.  Leon put his hands on Tony's shoulders.  Leon had turned the tables and Tony had lost all home court advantage.  The home team was running scared.  "Tell me, what are we gonna do with you?" Leon asked.

"I can get you the money right now."  Tony's voice quivered with fear.  His eyes were locked on Nia and she could see just how afraid he was.  "James!" Tony called out.

Nia felt as if she was watching events unfold from a distance.  The alcohol had slowed everything down just a little and the details of the situation rushed through her mind.  Leon was a professional.  Of course he was.  So was she now, she reminded herself.

The door opened.  Nia reached for the Glock tucked in her jeans.  She gripped it tight but didn't draw it.  All of a sudden she was living in the moment, ready for whatever was about to go down.  What was that line?

"I'd rather die making money than live poor and legal."

The fat head of the guard leaned in. "Get me the money," Tony ordered.

"Boss?"

"All the money.  And tell the girls I want whatever they have or they are out on the street.  Now!"  At that the fat head retreated and Nia could hear heavy steps down the corridor.  Her grip loosened on the Glock.

"Repaying what you owe is nice Tony but I'm not sure it really covers this mistake.  Do you want a second chance or should I put you out on the street and let Nia run your crew?  God knows she'd do a better job than you.  Maybe I sho..."

"No no, I mean I want a second chance.  I'll get you the payment for next month's shipment in advance.  Give me a few days.  I promise."

Hearing that, Nia knew Leon's business with Tony was about more than skimming the profits from the bar and whatever money Tony made pimping.  It seemed natural that was the case.  Leon's business was drugs.  If pimping was involved it didn't bother her because Nia knew if it wasn't him then it would be someone else, who undoubtedly wouldn't be as fair as Leon was.  Some of the stories she'd heard about pimping were tragic.

Sausage fingers knocked and entered the room clutching a wad of crumpled bills with his sweaty hands.  He stood in front of the desk and placed the money down on top of it.  He then pulled a neat stack from his pocket and tossed it on top of the crumpled bills.  He looked at Leon and then at Tony like a frightened dog standing guard over his wounded master.  Tony flicked his head in the direction of the door and sausage fingers retreated, closing the door behind him.

Tony counted out the money.  With what was also in a small lock box in his desk drawer it was more than enough to pay Leon.  He handed over what he owed.  Leon took it and passed it from one hand to the other, then held out his hand again.  "Give me the rest," Leon demanded.  Tony reluctantly gave it to him.  "I don't want an early payment but it is time I updated the price.  I've been soft on you for far too long."

"How much?" Tony asked.

"I want to be fair Tony so I'll take what you've got now and I'll let you think about your future payments for a few days.  Then you can tell me what you can afford.  If it's enough then I'll have no reason to retire you.  If it's not then Nia will be making herself more familiar with your operation.  I'm sure she'll be able to give me what this place is worth."

At that Leon made straight for the door.  Nia got up and followed him, staring down Tony as she crossed the office.  As Leon opened the door he began to speak without looking back.  "Don't forget to call me and don't leave it too long.  I might get the wrong idea."

"I won't," Tony hastily replied.

They moved swiftly down the corridor and a couple of doors opened just a crack.  They reached the bottom of the stairs and crossed the bar.  The barman raised his hand in a wave but Leon didn't acknowledge him, instead reaching for the door and pulling it open.

The warm and moist night air greeted them.  The Monte Carlo was as they'd left it and Leon unlocked the doors.  Sitting inside, Leon counted out a few hundred dollars from the bundle of bills in his hand.  He gave it to Nia.  "You did a good job lil' woman."

"Thanks," Nia said, taking the money.  It was mostly small bills, crumpled and dirty, street money.  Leon started the engine and pulled off.

As they drove away Nia realized that she'd seen a different side to Leon.  The power he had over others and the fear he inspired was quite potent up close.  She'd always known it was there but until now it hadn't been so tangible to her.  Now Nia was certain that she wanted in, wanted to be fully in his world.  She needed the money to help her mother and she knew that would never change, it was what drove her forward.  Nia had fantasized she'd have enough money and the strength to one day help her mother escape her father.  They would escape to some place where they could both be happy together.  Nia recalled the happy times in Cuba.  It frustrated her that the burden of forging their escape fell to her.  To Nia it was incomprehensible why her mother wouldn't leave her father.  But then the one thing she had learnt was that life, and love come to think of it, didn't always make sense.

Leon was smiling as he lit up a joint and held it out to Nia.  "Don't look so serious baby."

"I'm straight," Nia said, refusing the joint.  "I jus' got things on my mind."

"Speak on it," Leon urged her.

 "Jus' my family and if I'm high when my father gets home I'm gonna do something I'ma regret fo' sure."

"I feel you."

"It's like he resents me and the way he treats my mother is getting worse.  I wish she'd leave him.  Every night's the same and I'm tired man.  What did I do to have all this put on me?"  Nia glanced up as if talking to God.  Emotion welled up inside her and as she fought back tears she turned her head away from Leon.

"It ain't you and I've told you that before.  Some men jus' low down dogs and don't know how to treat a real woman.  If you want me to..."  Leon's words trailed off and he laid a firm hand on her shoulder.  "Come on, I'll take you home."

Leon pulled up outside Nia's house at just after half past three.  It was still dark but the sky held a hint of the impending dawn.  As Nia approached the front porch she listened to the roar of the Monte Carlo fade behind her.  The street then fell relatively silent.  In the distance somewhere she could hear a police siren and, as that also faded, she could hear a neighbor's television blaring late night re-runs.

Pulling the door key from her pocket and sliding it into the lock Nia hoped to make it all the way to her room without causing an incident with her father.  As the door opened she saw no lights on and that was a good sign.  She closed it as quietly as possible behind her, locking it and putting on the chain.  Even as she turned in the dark and made her way to the kitchen, Nia had a subtle feeling that something was wrong but she could not place it.  She pushed it to the back of her mind, putting it down to alcohol and the night's tense events.

Before Nia went to bed she needed to quench her thirst.  She had her mind set on a glass of Coolade and she hoped that her mother had made some up and put it in the refrigerator.  In the darkness she silently found a clean glass and placed it on the counter next to the refrigerator.  She opened the refrigerator and her eyes stared into more darkness.  As if not understanding at first she closed the door and opened it back up again.  The light still didn't come on.  Reaching for the main light switch in the kitchen Nia prayed the electricity wasn't out.  She flipped the switch back and forth several times but nothing happened.

It didn't surprise Nia that the electricity was out but it did frustrate her.  Standing in the silence holding the handle of the refrigerator she thought about the money in her pocket.  She knew from experience that this wasn't an electrical fault and only money could fix this.  What she had probably wasn't enough to cover the entire outstanding bill but it might be enough to get the power switched back on.

It was then that she heard a noise from the lounge.  It was a low murmur, almost a whimper and, as she entered the lounge, Nia recognized it to be the sound of her mother quietly crying.  Nia found her lying on the sofa and knelt down beside her.  "Mama, what's wrong?" Nia asked.

"It's nothing sweetie," Jay replied.

Nia leant close to her mother and they hugged tightly.  An abundance of emotion was shared in a moments embrace.  Nia felt her mother's trembling breathing steady.  As their cheeks touched Nia felt her mother's warm tears run onto her face.  She didn't need to ask again what was wrong.  For her mother to say that it was nothing meant only one thing to Nia and the tears running down her cheeks may as well have been her own.  "I'm sorry Mama," Nia said, "I'm sorry I don't make you and Papi happy."

"It's not your fault, it's not about you and don't you ever think that it is," Jay said, attempting to add a motherly firmness to her voice.  "You're a wonderful daughter.  As for your father, he doesn't know you like I know you.  One day you'll understand what I mean.  I carried you inside me for nine months and that means we have a bond like no other.  You make me so happy, you're more special than you can possibly know."

The embrace ended and Nia pulled a pack of matches out of a drawer in small side table next to the sofa.  She struck a match and it flared, the smell briefly filled the room.  Nia put the flame to the wick of several candles on top of the side table.  Once they were lit she shook the match to kill the flame.  The light from the candles danced around the room.  It wasn't much but it was enough to last until the dawn light arrived.

Nia looked at her mother in the dim light and was shocked at the sight of her.  Her lower lip was cut and around her right eye there was a lot of swelling.  The area was bruised a deep purple color with red blotches.  For a moment Nia couldn't speak and rage flooded her body and mind like a red mist.  This was the worst beating she'd ever seen her mother get and it was still fresh.  Her mother turned away, almost embarrassed at her daughter seeing her like this.

"I'm not a child anymore Mama and I won't stand by while he beats on you."  Tears ran from Nia's eyes as she stood.  She was beyond furious, sick at the inhumanity of her father.  How could he treat her mother this way?  How could he beat the woman who had carried his child and who had worked her fingers to the bone to keep the family fed?  How could he carry on like this?  How could they?

Years of unhappiness swelled together inside Nia like the rising wave of a tsunami and the answer came surging forward.  He could not carry on like this; she would not let him carry on like this.

"He's got to go," Nia said, walking down the hallway and pulling the Glock from under her t-shirt, out of sight of her mother.

"He's already gone," Jay called out.  "He said he was going back to the club."

Knowing her father wasn't in the house caused Nia's anger to temporarily subside as her thoughts turned back to her mother.  She took some ice from the freezer and helped her mother apply it to the bruises in a fruitless endeavor to reduce the swelling.  She couldn't believe how puffy her mother's right eye was.  It pained her to look at it.

Jay eventually fell asleep and Nia stayed a while, watching over her and wishing she felt as peaceful on the inside as her mother looked sleeping there on the couch.  She blew out the candles and drew the drapes to block the advancing dawn.  She knew her mother needed to sleep.  Nia also needed to sleep but too much was racing through her mind.

She closed the door to her room and collapsed on her bed.  Nia wasn't sure how many minutes went by but she eventually got bored of staring at the ceiling in the dark and not finding the answers she was looking for.

Nia reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone.  The display glowed and she was pleased to see that she had plenty of charge left because there was no way she was going to be able to charge it tonight.  She pressed one of the speed dial keys and listened to it connect at the other end to Leon's phone.  It rang several times and then he answered.

"Uh hello," Leon said, sounding halfway between being asleep and awake.

"It's me," Nia replied.

"What's up?  You alright baby?"

"It's my mother, he beat her up bad this time."  Nia said 'he' rather than refer to her father by his name or any term of affection.  It was a coldness so extreme she'd never felt towards him before.  What else would she call him?  He was not Papi to her anymore, not after this.  No, she could never call him Papi to his face again.  How could she ever think of him as her father, she wondered?  Was his character, his nature, that of a real father?  No, it wasn't.

"I was so angry when I saw what he'd done.  I pulled my gun..."

"Tell me you didn't do it lil' woman," Leon interrupted.

"He wasn't there, but I could've killed that nigga."  Nia pounded her fist on the mattress as the venomous words flowed from her lips.  "I'm so angry I probably still could.  I hate him.  We'd be better off without him, no doubt."

"You want me to come by, pick you up?"

"Ain't no point.  Like I said, he's gone.  You sleep and I'll try to as well.  I just needed to talk to you to get this anger off my chest, you know?"

"Sure."

"Later."

Leon hung up.

Nia would have hit the shower and let the soothing water relax her mind, but she found herself just stripping off to her underwear and climbing into bed.  She'd been awake for too many hours now and despite her anger, her desire for sleep was suddenly overpowering.

Hugo slammed the door to his office.  His temper was still running red hot and he punched the wall.  The soft drywall crumbled under the impact and he threw another punch.  This time, as he withdrew his fist, he saw a line of crimson red streaked through the dust on his fist.  Hugo couldn't feel the pain, the adrenaline rushing through his body was holding it back.  He slumped into his chair and opened a bottle of rum still sitting on his desk.  There was just under a quarter of the bottle left.  He held his hand above the trash and poured a little of the rum over it.  Despite the adrenaline it stung like hell.  He winced and put the bottle back down.

The wound was between the second and third knuckle of his left hand.  As he flexed his hand, Hugo could see that there was something still in the wound.  His fingers felt their way around the bloody mess of a fist and finally found purchase on something.  The pain was excruciating as he pulled at it.  Hugo threw the inch long wooden splinter into the pool of blood and rum at the bottom of the trash can.  He flexed his fist again and, so far as he could tell, it didn't feel as if there was anything else still stuck in the wound.  Another dose of rum washed it clean and he wrapped a handkerchief around it.  There was a first aid kit around somewhere, a legal requirement of running a business, but he couldn't be bothered to find it amongst the mess in his office.

From the top drawer of his desk he pulled a tumbler and poured himself the last of the rum.  It was less than he'd poured on his hand but he hoped it would be enough to get him off to sleep.  Hugo moved himself to the small sofa.  It wasn't going to be comfortable sleeping here, but a damn sight more than falling asleep at his desk, which he'd done before, and a lot less stressful that remaining at home.

Home.

As much as he'd tried over the years he couldn't call it that.  Home was Havana, back in Cuba, and nothing America had offered could change that, he realized.  How mistaken he'd been believing so much in the American Dream back when the country of his birth seemed to be doing nothing but holding him back.  To have fallen in love with an American woman had been unexpected but had only confirmed to him, at the time, his destiny lay in the land of the free.  But where was his American Dream now?  His business had failed, his relationship with his wife was ruined and his daughter – well, so far as he was concerned he didn't have one.  She was nothing but a reminder of the failed promise of America.  To him this was now an American nightmare and his dream was anything that would take him away from it.  The reality of Cuba didn't enter Hugo's mind as he romanticized over his time there.  He closed his eyes and thought of Havana nights and Cuban women.

"Wake up honey," Jay said, sitting on the edge of her daughter's bed.  "Your father called and he wants us to meet him at the club."

Nia turned her head to look at the clock on the wall but her eyes were too sleepy to focus.  The morning was in full flow and the room was bright.  A few seconds and several blinks later she could see but the first thing she saw was not the clock on the wall but her mother's face.  "Mama!" Nia said with shock.  Her mother's face was badly bruised, so much more than before.  The bruises had matured and acquired their full depth and color.  Her lip was also fatter than it had been and was now showing the full extent of the split.  In this light Nia could see it would need stitches or risk a terrible scar.

Nia sat up in bed and put her arms around her mother.  The embrace was returned.  "Mama, we don't need him.  He does nothing but make you unhappy.  I'ma tell him to leave.  With your job, and the money I could make, we can meet the payments on the house.  I'm sure of it.  I'll do anything to make sure he doesn't do this again.  I promise."

"I know you would," Jay replied, admitting to herself for the first time how much her daughter had changed from the shy introvert that she used to be.

Held in the embrace, those four words from her mother were enough to tell Nia that her mother wouldn't leave her husband and that in some strange way she was too strong or too proud to contemplate, what in the end would be, divorce.  Nia's mother's behavior was alien to Nia as her idea of for better or for worse didn't include getting beat down by the man who was supposed to love and protect you.

"I'm scared of what he'll do if we don't go," Jay said.

"Then we'll go see what he has to say but I'm tellin' you Mama, I'm not scared of him no more.  I'm grown and I ain't gonna stand by no more."

It was almost midday when Nia and Jay arrived at Havana.  Jay used her key to let them in the back way and before they entered the office she turned to her daughter.  "Let me handle this."  That was something Nia was determined to avoid.  They needed to get rid of her father and the sooner that happened the better.  Nia couldn't count how many times he'd begged for forgiveness the day after and said he'd change, that things would get better.  Nia thought back to the first time she could remember her parents fighting.  It had only been a verbal slanging match but whatever they'd been arguing about had been lost the moment her father had called her mother a bitch.  It was one of the last times she could remember her mother really standing up to her father.  To her mother the word bitch was unacceptable.  Nia recalled that neither had spoken for days until her father had begged her mother's forgiveness, promising to never call her bitch again.  It had been such a shallow promise, and here they were again.

Jay slowly pushed the office door open and they stepped inside.  Hugo was sat at his desk wearing only a vest and his underwear.  He looked a wreak, more rough than usual.  The office was a disaster and how Hugo worked in this place Nia didn't know.  The stale smell of alcohol was almost enough to make her retch.

Hugo cast his gaze over his wife's face but no emotion registered on his.  For all Nia knew, his heart could have been made of stone.

"Please, sit down," Hugo said.  Jay found a clear spot on the sofa but Nia decided against trying to move any of the clutter and sat herself on the sofa arm.  Hugo got up from behind his desk and perched himself casually on its front.  Nia watched his body language and anticipated his apologetic begging to start any second.

It didn't.

Hugo appeared almost defiant as he spoke.  "I have made my decision and I am going home to Cuba, alone."

The words hung in the air and Nia didn't know how to react.  It was possibly the one thing she hadn't expected.  A pathetic apology would have made sense, even another attack wouldn't have surprised Nia.  But this, a cowardly withdrawal, was the last thing she'd anticipated.

"Bastard!" Nia's mother screamed.  In a flash she'd taken hold of the closest thing and threw it in Hugo's direction.  The heavy glass ashtray flew past his head and shattered as it hit the floor.  She didn't stop there.  Jay seized other objects and hurled them, too.  Most missed but only just.  A photo frame clipped Hugo in the temple.  Nia grasped at her mother.  It wasn't to stop the long overdue attack on her father but because she was afraid Jay would hurt herself.

"Puta Maria!" Jay shouted, her use of Spanish only adding venom to the words

"Who's Maria?" Nia asked, trying to catch up.

"Your father's girlfriend whore," Jay replied, spitting in Hugo's direction.

"Girlfriend?" Nia questioned, shooting a killer glance at her father.

"From Cuba," Jay confirmed.

Hugo felt a small bump growing on his temple but smiled all the same.  He was pleased that after everything he could still make his wife jealous.  "Maria has nothing to do with this.  I'm leaving because I'm tired of all this."  Hugo gestured around with his hands and Jay couldn't help but notice that one of his hands was cast directly at her and Nia.

"You lying son of a bitch.  You promised you'd never go back to her."  Jay lunged at Hugo.  It happened too quickly for Nia to react.  All she could do was watch as Hugo knocked her back with a hard right-hand slap to her face.

Nia resisted the urge to pull her Glock and let rip on the trigger.  Leon had taught her better than that.  Still, she couldn't understand her father's decision, even if he did have another woman in Cuba.  Nia had enjoyed Cuba but that had only been because she was a child then.  Now she was grown up she understood that life over there was even harder.  Could that really lure her father away?  She'd love to send him packing but instinct told her it was some kind of a trick.  If he had another woman then why didn't he bring her here?  He was an American citizen now and after divorcing her mother it wouldn't take long to legally move her to the US.  If he couldn't wait there were other ways that took less time.  Nia knew as many people who had arrived illegally as she did genuine citizens.  After all, people still washed up every night on the Florida shores in overcrowded boats.

"If you not running to Cuba for a woman then what are you really running away from?  And don't give me no bullshit about 'all of this' 'cause it's been like this for a long time.  Tell me, what's changed?" Nia said.  Hugo was visibly surprised at her tone.  He was almost impressed that she showed more spine than he thought her mother did on an average day.  He wondered where she had got that from.

Nia moved into the center of the room.  As she did she pulled her Glock from the back of her jeans.  A round was already in the chamber so all she had to do was cock it and flip off the safety.  She watched Hugo's eyes widen as he looked down the barrel.  He'd never seen her carrying before and certainly hadn't contemplated her reaction to his news.

"What are you doing?" Jay asked with some detachment.  She didn't look as if she'd recovered from the slap yet.  She sat perfectly still on the sofa and gazed into space.  Nia desperately hoped the slap hadn't broken her mother's spirit.  The last thing she wanted was her mother to forgive him now.

"Mama, he's lied to us for too long, beat you, and forced me to this point."  Nia waved the gun in her father's face.  "I want the whole truth or the only way you'll be going back to Cuba is in a box."

Hugo's chest had tightened at the sight of the gun as its aim rested firmly on him.  His breath rapidly became short and he noticed he was feeling clammy all over.  There was something about the gaping hole in the end of the barrel that terrified him.  Its dark black void was like a mirror Nia was holding up to his life.  She was smarter than he'd given her credit for.  He knew she was right.  He wasn't running back to Cuba because of a woman or anything particular.  He needed refuge from his disaster of an American Dream and refuge from Alphonso and his thugs.  There was no way he could pay them back and the thought of what would happen to him if he didn't was too terrifying to imagine.  They had threatened his family but as soon as they realized he didn't care he knew they'd come for him.

Hugo looked at Nia but struggled to see past her gun.  He no longer recognized her as his daughter and hadn't for a long time.  She wanted an answer but he didn't have one that would satisfy her.

"Tell me!" Nia urged him again.

Hugo tried to focus but his chest got tighter and, as the seconds passed, it developed into a severe pain as if he was being crushed.  He slid sideways on the desk a little.  He'd never had a panic attack this bad before.  He turned, looking for the rum and reached for the bottle.  His hand failed to grasp it and he fumbled the empty bottle.  It smashed on the floor and Nia stepped back to avoid the shattering glass.  She kept the Glock aimed at him but began to realize that something was wrong as he started to cough hard.

Hugo tried to stand up again.  He needed something to drink, anything, even water.  He couldn't stop coughing and with every second that passed it became harder to breathe.  His vision became blurred and an uncompromising dizziness came over him.  Stumbling at first, he crashed down on the glass coffee table that was just below knee height.  His heavy bulk shattered it without impediment and he lay on his back on top of the broken glass.

As he'd fallen Nia had rushed forward, tossing her Glock onto the sofa next to her mother, who just sat there frozen to the spot.  Kneeling at her father's side she tried to shake him from his unconscious state.  His coughing had stopped and Nia wasn't even sure he was still breathing.  His chest wasn't visibly rising but then he was so overweight she wasn't sure if she'd be able to tell anyway.  Nia turned her head to the side and put her ear close to his face.  There was nothing, not a single breath.

"He's not breathing Mama," Nia called out.  Jay didn't move.  Her eyes were still fixed in the distance.  Her mother was in some sort of shock, Nia thought.  She pushed her fingers into her father's fat neck, desperately feeling for a pulse.  She knew nothing about first aid but deep down she knew she had to try.  She couldn't feel anything.

The 911 call only took seconds but it seemed to last forever.  Nia was so angry as she knelt back down beside her father and tried to shake him conscious again.

"Papi!" Nia called to him with panic in her voice as she beat her fist on his chest.  She'd sworn to herself she'd never call him Papi again after everything he'd done but for a moment Nia was five years old again and needed her Papi.  How could he leave them now and like this?  It wasn't fair.  Where was the ambulance?  Why were they taking so long?

Nia had seen CPR enough times on TV to give it a go herself.  She blew air into his lungs as hard as she could and then pressed down hard on his chest over and over.  She tried hard to remember how it was done.  What was it twelve times?  Better to try, and get it wrong, she thought.

The door opened and the paramedics came rushing in.  One of them moved Nia aside and she fell back onto the sofa.  Feeling the Glock underneath her thigh, Nia shifted position and stuffed it down the back of the sofa.  She watched as the paramedics worked frantically without result.  Several long minutes passed before one of them finally turned to her and her mother and said there was nothing more they could do.

In that moment Nia realized her life would never be the same again.  Hugo hadn't been a good father in the ways he should have been but whether Nia liked him or not her father was dead.  Now Hugo would never be able to play the role of the father she so desperately craved.

# SIX

The weather reflected Nia Rodriguez's feelings.  The day had started off overcast in the morning and the wind had picked up as the rain set in.  Rumbles of thunder started and the few people that were attending the funeral didn't want to stand around much longer.  There hadn't been any lightning yet but in the wide open cemetery umbrellas made the possibility frightening.

Nia picked up a handful of soil and tossed it on top of the casket.  She'd not wanted to come to the funeral but Leon had talked her into it for her mother's sake.  Over the last few days Leon had shouldered much of the burden for her and her mother.  The doctors had diagnosed Jay with a type of post-traumatic stress disorder brought on by Hugo's sudden death after years of abuse.  Jay didn't have the coping mechanisms anymore and the doctors said it had been enough to cause a temporary mental breakdown.

They didn't know about Nia's role in the lead up to Hugo's death.  They didn't have to and Leon had made sure of it.

Nia hadn't had to worry about the funeral arrangements because Leon had taken care of it.  He'd insisted on paying for all of it.  Nia felt so much better having Leon lookout for her and her mother.  He'd not only been there for her the last few days, he'd been there for Nia the last two years and he'd listened to all of the details of her nightmares.  Nia knew Leon understood her more than anyone.  He knew how she longed for a happy home but never had one.  Nia knew Leon had wanted desperately to intervene every time she recounted the arguments with her father and paying to have Hugo put in the ground gave him the final satisfaction he was looking for.  Nia insisted she would pay him back as soon as she could.

Nia stepped back under the umbrella Leon was holding.  The moist soil had dirtied her hand so she held it out in the rain.  Nia thought about how her father had died and worried she was to blame.  Wiping the last traces of dirt from her hand and shaking off the rain, Nia came to the conclusion she probably was to blame and it wasn't going to be something she would easily forget.  But however she felt, Nia knew it was incomparable to what her mother had been through.

Even now, Jay was still wearing a large pair of dark sunglasses to hide the final reminder of her husband's tenderness.  There wasn't much she could do to hide her split lip but the doctor had done a good job stitching it up.  For some reason it wasn't healing as fast as it should have so it was going to leave a nasty scar.  But the bruises and the split lip seemed the least of Jay's problems.

The priest started speaking and Nia listened to his voice only for a moment before her mind wandered off to thoughts of Father Luke Moseley.  He'd taught her about poetry what seemed like a lifetime ago.  Nia thought about how innocent she'd been back then.  She didn't think she'd been innocent, she'd just been naïve, she corrected herself. Innocence was something she'd lost long before, maybe as far back as Cuba.  Back in Father Moseley's class Nia had clung to the words of poets like Maya Angelou thinking that they could deliver her to some reality other than the one she was in.  Nia felt totally different now.  The contrast couldn't be starker.  Nia knew now that she had to be the one to make her own destiny.  But what the hell was she supposed to do now, Nia wondered?  For so long all she had wanted was to save her mother from her father.  It was more than that, at the worst of times she'd even wished her father dead.  There, she'd finally admitted it to herself.

Nia had let Leon toughen her up so that she could stand up for her mother. But then it had happened.  Hugo was dead and it was probably her fault. It was all such a mess in her mind.  If only he'd faced up to his responsibilities and been a good father and husband it wouldn't have ended like this.  Nia wondered if her mother blamed her.  She watched as the casket was finally lowered slowly into the grave.

Leon Brown pretended to listen to the priest but he'd never taken any interest in religion.  He'd thought about it while he was serving in Iraq but those were hellish times.  No, he'd never taken a real interest and all the ceremonial stuff put him to sleep.  But here, outdoors in the fresh air he was alert.  In fact, he loved the way the air smelt when it rained and today would have been no different had he not been at a funeral.

There were only a few people who'd wanted to attend as Hugo Rodriguez hadn't turned out to be a very popular guy all round.  It didn't surprise Leon and there hadn't been any relatives in Cuba that he could find to notify.  That was probably why he noticed the two men standing off in the distance by a black Lincoln.  His ability to judge people told him that they didn't belong here and yet here they were, waiting in the rain for something.  Leon didn't like the look of them.

"I'll just be a minute," Leon whispered in Nia's ear before slipping quietly away from the group of mourners.  He crossed the cemetery to the central access road and the rain started to soak his Armani suit.  Leon saw that the two men had registered his approach.  They were both bigger than him and Leon was sure they were also strapped.  It didn't worry him as he knew they'd have to be fools to start anything here.

"Can I help you?" Leon asked.

"We're here on business with Mrs. Rodriguez.  We'll speak with her when she's done," said the smaller one.

"You can go ahead and consider me a representative for Mrs. Rodriguez."

"Well in that case you owe a debt to Alphonso."

 "How much and for what?" Leon replied.

"All in, twelve g's.  It was an investment in Havana.  Don't ask me what he did with it, that place is still a shit hole."

"Alright, I'll get back to you on it," Leon said.

"Debt's already due but given the circumstances Alphonso is giving you until the end of the week."

"Tell him you've spoken with Leon Brown," Leon said confidently.  He planned to see Alphonso that night to settle the debt face to face.  But the two men didn't know of his relationship with Alphonso.  They smiled politely before getting into their car and driving away.

Leon returned to Nia's side and he slipped his arm around her waist.  Minutes later things were over and everyone was returning to their cars.  Leon, Nia and her mother, Jay, all got in the stretched Limo.  As the Limo pulled off Nia turned to Leon.  "Who were they?" Nia asked, referring to the two men.  Leon looked across at Jay.  She was still silent and in her own world.  It seemed his answer would only make a bad situation worse, so he lied.

"It's just business baby," Leon said.  Pretending he'd been conducting his own business at the funeral was bad but much better than telling them the truth.

The short journey seemed to last forever.  For any normal family there would have been small talk about trivial things or about how it had been a nice ceremony and how the funeral had done the deceased justice and so on.  But in the back of the Limo it was silent.  Each of the passengers was dealing with their own issues.

Jay Rodriguez looked across at her daughter and wondered how she'd ever let her down so bad.  She'd sworn to herself when she first knew she was pregnant that she was going to make sure her baby was raised right.  She'd tried so hard to find the right place to raise her but here she was sixteen years later, a battered widow, her husband having died of a heart attack brought on by years of alcoholism.  The once bright hopes of a better life she'd had for her daughter were almost completely faded.

Jay barely knew Leon and from behind her dark glasses she studied him as he held her daughter's hand.  She wondered what type of a role model he was for her.  She had to admit that in the fog of what had been the last few days he seemed to have been the perfect gentleman and had even offered to take care of all the funeral expenses.  Jay wasn't proud that she'd had to accept.  What else could she have done?  Hugo had left her with nothing and she didn't dare contemplate what state the club was in.  That was where they'd been hemorrhaging money all along.

Hugo's death had been a complete shock to Jay.  She was like a prisoner who'd been locked up so long that she feared freedom.  Jay was now starting to remember what it was like to not have a controlling husband telling her what to do at every turn.  It felt right but she was having to learn to love it rather than be scared by it.  Jay was determined to get the family back on track and rediscover the independent woman she'd once been.

The Limo pulled up outside Jay's house on Caliph Street and everyone got out.  There was some food laid on for the few guests who had joined them.  Jay was actually glad that there weren't that many as her house wasn't big enough to cope with it.

The rain had subsided but it would be a few hours before the sun broke back through the clouds again.  Leon sat out the back on a pair of old rusty deck chairs with Nia, both of them drinking beer.  Nia was sure that on such a day her mother wouldn't object.  If she could have gotten away with it she'd have lit up a joint and got high just to help her forget.

"I've got business to take care of tonight," Leon said.

"You need me?" Nia asked, hoping to get away.

"Nah, it ain't much but I gotta do it tonight.  You should stay here and take care of your mom," Leon replied.

Nia was frustrated but could understand.  She'd monopolized Leon's time for the last week.  He probably had business to take care of but even if he didn't Nia understood he might just want some time away from it all, the same way she did.

Later that evening, Leon was sitting at a table in one of Miami's members only strip clubs.  He wasn't there for the women but as he watched them dancing he knew he wasn't going to rush about his business.  He was there to talk to the man sitting next to him and rushing things could make this man nervous.  His name was Alphonso and in Leon's line of work he was the closest thing there was to an employer.

Alphonso offered Leon a cigar.  Leon took the Cuban and lit it.  The organized crime structure in Miami was loose but racial lines were drawn on the street and this translated in to different areas of control.  Alphonso commanded the respect of black gangs and corresponding areas like Little Haiti.

Leon conducted business with Alphonso's backing and in turn kicked up some of the profits to Alphonso.  But the backing of Alphonso gave him access to territory, product and assistance in resolving disputes with other rival gangs.  Leon had himself stepped up from the streets and people worked for him, too.  He was Alphonso's rising star.

"I'm here about the twelve g's that you're owed by Hugo Rodriguez," Leon said, leaning towards Alphonso.  He had to speak a little louder than normal to be heard over the music but was sure no one else at the table could hear him.  It wasn't particularly private in the visual sense but the loud music made it private enough for their conversation and almost impossible for anyone conducting surveillance.  It was probably why Alphonso held meetings here, Leon thought.  It was also good for Leon because he didn't want people to know he was in the habit of paying off other people's debts.

"That fat fuck Hugo is dead," Alphonso said plainly.  "His wife is the one who will have to cover the debt."

"That's why I'm here.  She can't pay."  Alphonso's eyes stared deep into Leon's as if Leon was about to cross a line.  "I'm covering the debt."

"Why you?" Alphonso asked relaxing a little.

"I have a personal arrangement with her daughter and that makes me a friend of the family."  With that said, Leon passed two thick bundles of hundreds under the table to Alphonso.  "It's all there, twelve g's."

Leon lifted his glass and took a sip of the Cristal champagne that had been served.  He wasn't keen on it but it was iconic of a high end club.  The girls loved it and encouraged the men to buy the ridiculously expensive bottles wrapped in their distinctive yellow plastic which protects them from UV light.

Upon Alphonso's signal, one of these girls sat down next to Leon.  She was light skinned, slim but with an artificially large chest and was wearing barely more than a bikini.  She slipped herself under Leon's arm with a skillfulness that left Leon wondering how she did it without him having to move an inch.  Leon could smell her perfume as she nestled in closer.  She crossed her legs towards him and reaching over, pressing her breasts against him, she ran her hand over his chest.  Leon couldn't help but look down at her chest and the way she moved in a deliberate and seductive way.  He watched her hand move down casually to where he'd not been touched by a woman in a long time.  Anyone who cared to notice knew what she was doing but no one did care.

"Would you like a private dance baby?"

"I'm cool baby," Leon replied, rejecting the offer whispered in his ear.

He didn't know why he turned her down.  It wasn't going to cost him anything.  She was a thank you from Alphonso for covering what would have truthfully been an irrecoverable debt.  It wasn't that Leon didn't want to get laid either.  And that's exactly what he knew a private dance would have been.  Leon tried to remember the last time he'd got laid.  He'd slept with several women just after he'd come back from Iraq, whose names he'd never asked.  He'd hit the weed pretty hard back then and wouldn't have remembered the names even if he had asked.  There just hadn't been anyone serious and he guessed that was because of Iraq, it had a funny way of making you shut down certain emotions, and to have come out of that and then faced the facts of the gruesome rape and murder of his little sister certainly hadn't helped.

Thank God for Nia, he thought.  She had restored some balance to his life.  He still had an intense focus on his work but it had been so nice to have someone he could care for again.  He also had to admit he found it comforting that she cared in return.

Leon thanked Alphonso once again and excused himself.  He got up from the table and left the club.  His Monte Carlo was right where he'd left it and as he relaxed in the driver's seat he felt good about taking care of the debt.  It was satisfying to finally protect Nia from one of her father's mistakes.

Everybody had cleared out a couple of hours before and left both Nia and her mother some time and space to themselves.  Like following most wakes there was a heap of food left over and it would probably feed them for a week.  Nia had packed up as much as she could fit in the refrigerator and the rest would just have to be thrown away.  It wouldn't keep in the hot humid climate.

Jay had gone to her room to sleep off the strong drinks she'd been putting away ever since they'd got back to the house.  Nia prayed that today was just an exception and that her mother wouldn't start drinking like her father.

Nia was in the lounge, sprawled out on the floor in front the sound system and trawling through her mother's old CDs.  Several of Hugo's lay in the trash.  They weren't keeping reminders they didn't need.  Nia played some of her mother's CDs and looked for tracks she recognized, especially those that brought back memories of happier times.  There weren't that many happy times or songs to remember them by.  What Nia did find that raised her interest though was one of her mother's old Tupac Shakur CDs.  The album cover read '2Pac Greatest Hits'.  It was a double album but inside there was only the second disc.  The first disc was probably misplaced in one of the other cases she'd yet to go through.

Nia ejected the CD currently playing and slipped in disc two.  Ambling through the tracks she recognized the melodies from 'I Ain't Mad at Cha', 'Changes' and 'California Love'.  Nia noticed the line in 'Changes' about America not being ready for a black president and thought how nice it was that the country had changed.  However, it wasn't until 'Dear Mama' that the lyrics really jumped out at her.

"Now ain't nobody tell us it was fair

No love for my daddy 'cause the coward wasn't there

He passed away and I didn't cry

Cos my anger wouldn't let me feel for a stranger

They say I'm wrong and I'm heartless

But all along I was looking for a father, he was gone

I hung around with the thugs

And even though they sold drugs they showed a young brother love..."

In those few lines Tupac had captured exactly how Nia was feeling at that particular moment.  She recalled what Leon had said about Tupac being the voice of the ghetto.  She started to feel a growing affinity with his lyrics the more she listened.  Nia thought about her father not picking her up that day after school and how she'd nearly been raped because of it.  She'd been looking for a real father figure ever since but knew that wasn't the first day he'd abandoned her.  That had happened the first time he'd beat her mother.  As Nia listened to the rest of the track she felt touched by the tribute.

Several months had passed since her husband had died but Jay Rodriguez was struggling to pull herself together.  Her boss didn't appreciate that though and took her into his office for a discussion.

"Simply put Jay, you've used up all your leave and I can't give you any more time off.

"I don't need any more time off Mr. Simmons," Jay responded.

"You're coming to work looking a wreck and the customers have noticed."

"I'm sorry.  I'll make more of an effort I swear," Jay said, suddenly conscious of her creased uniform.  She pulled at it, trying to straighten herself up.  Ironing hadn't been a priority lately.

"What I'm trying to say is I've hired someone to replace you.  She starts tomorrow.  If you go with no fuss I'll pay you the whole week."

As unfair as Jay knew it to be, she also knew when to cut her losses and take a deal.  Arguing would just leave her out on her ass with no pay.  She left his office, picked up her things and walked to the bus stop.

The late afternoon sun shone through Nia's window and slowly woke her.  Working late nights with Leon had her sleeping most of the day.  She slept at home, telling herself that in some way she was being there for her mother despite them barely seeing each other.  Jay was working days as a waitress and spent her evenings at Havana.

Nia threw back the bed sheet and sluggishly found her way to the shower.  If she'd looked in the mirror she'd have seen the empty bloodshot eyes staring back at her.  But she didn't look because she wasn't sure anymore that she would like what she saw.  Nia soaped her body with labored movements and the water did nothing to clear her mind.  The same feeling had occupied her mind for months now.  She'd lost her center.  The only thing that had kept her moving forward with any purpose was running the streets with Leon.  The intensity she'd brought lately was pushing dangerous limits.  Leon warned her that people with the same reckless do or die attitude got killed in the streets.  On one level she didn't care.  On another Nia was glad of his guiding hand that shaping her attitude so that she'd be an asset to him rather than a liability.  It wasn't all work though and Leon had even started teaching her to drive.

Back in her room, wrapped loosely in a towel, Nia threw a CD in her hi-fi, which started pumping out rap.  Her room was a mess.  Her clothes were all over the floor, some dirty, some clean.  She picked through them trying to find something to wear.  She pulled on an orange Karl Kani top, loose jeans and a pair of Timberland boots.  She'd not entirely lost it but right now her femininity was buried under a thuggish persona.

Nia opened the bedside table drawer and took out papers, tobacco and some weed.  Lines of rap lyrics rolled off her lips naturally and in sync with the track playing.

"Here's a story 'bout my lil' homie, straight thuggin'...

You catch him in his G ride, touchin' his Glock..."

Nia mixed some weed and tobacco, sprinkling it onto the paper she had pulled from its packet.  Using both hands, she rolled it between her fingers and thumbs.

"Educated on these cold streets

Gettin' money makin' dummies out the police, ain't no peace..."

Running her tongue along the edge of the paper, she sealed the joint, lit it and drew down deep, inhaling the intoxicating breath.

"Bud smokin' twenty-four seven, everyday drinker

Got my diploma but I never learned shit in school..."

The smoke was her first of the day and that was always a mixed experience.  The initial rush and the lingering high set her right for the day but that first one always provoked a cough or two.  Nia didn't smoke cigarettes but lately she had begun to rely heavily on weed and cognac, which she had come to like, to quell the anger churning inside her.  A cheap bottle of cognac sat half empty on the end of her bookshelf.  She visited the bottle more now than any of the books she'd once read over and over.  But as much as it seemed to help, nothing was better than listening to the lyrics that let her know, despite how hopeless she felt, she wasn't alone in what she was going through.  It wasn't just the lyrics though, somehow Tupac's voice soothed her in a familiar way.

"I remember... when you was just a lil' G

Flirting with death, playin' Russian Roulette, screamin' KILL ME!

Hey there young nigga, what you smokin' on?

Mad at the world cause you came from a broken home..."

With the joint hanging from her lips she pulled her hair back into a ponytail.  It hadn't been brushed lately and was tangled throughout.  Nia didn't care and pulled on a baseball cap, tucking her hair through the back.  She was thinking about all the money she'd been making working for Leon and how much more she needed.  Nia didn't think about what she'd done to get it.  She owed a debt to Leon for all he had done for her and then there was the money her mother needed.

Leon had been utilizing Nia around the clock and very soon she was in deep, almost knowing the full extent of his operation.  Part of her was consumed with all the drugs and violence but she didn't care, at least not right now.  It helped her suppress what she wanted to forget.  Dealing with her feelings would have to come later, she was sure of that.

Working for Leon paid well and the money was starting to help her mother get things together.  Would it ever be enough though?  Hugo had left them a screwed up situation.  Nia hated that through death he'd escaped responsibility for it but at the same time she was glad he was gone.  After all, he'd been the one who had failed to pick her up from school that day, she reminded herself again.  Her fingers traced the line of the scar on her jaw as she applied some makeup, foundation and a liberal amount of black eyeliner to suit her mood.  Hugo was the one who had destroyed their family and as much as anyone could criticize Leon for his lifestyle he was the only one who had really been there for her, through all of this.

"Tell me, young nigga if ya die let me know

Would your heart feel pain, watchin' as your mother cries?"

Although she heard the words in the rap lyric the message was lost this time on Nia as her mind switched focus, registering the front door closing.  There was only one other person with a key, her mother, and yet she wasn't due back from work for another few hours.  Nia quickly smoked the last of the joint, stubbed it out on the window ledge and tossed the butt out of the open window.  She filled her mouth with the mouthwash that she kept in her room for this precise reason.  While swilling it around her mouth she picked up a can of body spray and covered herself in it.  The mouthwash went the same way out the window the butt had gone.

In the kitchen, Nia found her mother looking over some papers.

"What you doing home early Mama?" Nia asked.

"I got fired this morning," Jay replied with a defiant tone and body language.  "But you don't have to worry, we'll be fine.  I'm selling the house at auction next week and I'll be managing the club full time."

"Where we gonna live?" Nia asked.

"I'm going to turn the office at the back of the club into a room for us.  It's big enough and that's only short term until the club is making enough money to rent us a place.  I've got a guarantee here of the minimum we'll get from selling the house.  It's more than I thought."

Nia was worried and a little shocked but it had been a long time since she'd seen her mother so positive and determined.  If Jay thought this was a good thing then Nia was going to let her run with it.  It certainly beat eviction.  Nia had seen that happen many times around the neighborhood and was happy to bypass the indignity she had thought inevitable.  Nia decided she wouldn't sleep at the club.  Leon had a spare room at his place and she'd ask him if she could have it.

Several weeks after the house had been auctioned Jay had planned a re-launch of Havana.  Nia had told Leon about her mother's plans and once again he had been more than helpful.  The club had been refurnished and Jay had only had to pay for half the cost of the labor.  Everything else, Leon had insisted, was free as a couple of people owed him favors.  He'd also advised Jay to ensure the club had a musical update.  He recommended some excellent current Latin DJs who Jay wisely took on.  In addition, Jay had been able to find a much cheaper drinks supplier.  This had been without the help of Leon and was as much to do with her own savvy as her dead husband's ineptitude.  He'd failed to shop around for a long time.  Of course there was a huge debt to pay off with the old suppliers and back payment on the club's mortgage but Jay was confident that she would eventually put Havana back in the black.

As Nia and Leon walked towards the entrance of the club on opening night Nia wondered how long it had been since there had been a queue to get in that stretched around the block.  They didn't queue but were instead ushered through the entrance by a smart and sturdy looking white man.  He was the head of a four strong security team hired for the opening.  Jay planned to keep a couple of them on permanently.

One of the biggest changes to the inside of the club was the creation of a VIP lounge.  Nia and Leon headed straight for it.  There, they didn't have to queue for drinks as they received service at their table and the atmosphere was more comfortable.  It wasn't crowded and they could talk without being drowned out by the music.  Leon could see himself there a lot.

The heart of the club was still the large dance floor which was packed with people enjoying the new flavor of music.  The club was at capacity and Nia knew all the effort had been worth it.  She was proud of her mother.

"Why'd you help with all this?" Nia asked Leon.  It was one thing she couldn't figure out.  Was it for her, for her mother or just some random gesture of kindness?

"You want the truth?" Leon asked.  Nia looked at him.

"Yeah."

"I'm happy to help out you and your mother.  The way I feel about you, you both might as well be family.  Nothing's more important than that.  But you know I've had more and more business here downtown.  It's nice to have a place I can go where I know I'm always welcome."  Nia felt an awkward tug of loyalty between Leon and her mother.

"Don't get Mama into trouble with your business.  Fixing up this place has really pulled her through."

"Ah come on now baby," Leon said, patting her thigh, "you know I'm discrete with my business and you know I'd never cause your mother drama."  His word was good enough for Nia.

Jay sat on the sofa in the office.  It was a new pull-out sofa-bed which she converted each night into her bed after closing.  The evening was going well and she really should have been out there enjoying it with everyone else but she'd taken the opportunity to catch up on some paperwork that she'd let slip in the last two days of mad preparations.  Amongst the paperwork she found a letter addressed to her.  It was from the clinic which had treated her during her breakdown.

As she read the letter she didn't want to believe what it said.  She couldn't believe that they would write to her about this.  Weren't they supposed to tell you this sort of stuff in person?  And besides, they'd said the tests were just routine.  She'd told them she'd felt tired lately but her husband had died, she worked hard and she wasn't so young anymore.  That didn't have to mean this, did it?  And look at the cost, she thought.  It was ridiculous.  She folded the letter up and put it in the safe with a couple of other things she didn't want to tell anyone about just yet.

# SEVEN

Nia sat back in her chair as she finished speaking.  John Lloyd waited, wondering if she was going to continue.  They'd been talking now for the best part of two hours and he was amazed at the level of detail Nia was going into.  He knew some of it, of course, and had heard some through her lyrics but this was a degree of intimacy he'd not expected.  Some of it must have been conjecture of some sort as Nia couldn't possibly have known all the details, at least not at the time.

Either way, Lloyd could see now why Nia wanted to tell her story.  If she really was fleeing assassination or facing the wrath of law enforcement then it made sense for her to try one last time to explain everything and why the world was against her.

"Shall we take a break for a few minutes?" Lloyd asked.  He knew he could definitely do with a break just to digest all she'd told him.  He'd even wondered at one point if all of this was just an elaborate hoax, some sort of payback.  Maybe?  But the details and events flowed so fluently, even standing up to his occasional questioning.  The details about how Nia became involved with Leon Brown's business, the death of her father and her mother's transformation of the club were extraordinary but at the same time so real.  What's more, she couldn't have faked the news reports.

"Sure JR." Nia replied, interrupting Lloyd's thoughts which had immediately begun to wander.  They walked across the lounge and into the kitchen to fix some coffee.  It was late now and both of them needed more caffeine.

Lloyd stood in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and looked at Nia.  She was so beautiful and so confident.  Could she really have ever been such a young, scared and lost little girl?  What must it have been like for her to have nearly been raped, feel responsible for her father's death and to have had a gangster as a role model trying to fill the spot that her own father had failed to fill?  As the percolator worked its magic with the coffee Lloyd's eyes traced Nia's figure and he was reminded why he found her so attractive.  She was probably the most beautiful woman he had ever been with, he thought.  Lloyd was struggling to fit those memories in context with all the new details he was learning about Nia.

Lloyd thought about how Nia had described her anger at herself and the world, how she'd got heavily into weed at such a young age and her flirtation with danger.  It was the only thing which had kept her knowing she existed.  All that was so different to the woman he had previously come to know.  Of course Nia had always been raw and rough around the edges.  Who in hip-hop wasn't?  But compared to the way she'd described herself at sixteen, she was positively ladylike.  Even tonight, as she'd initially held him hostage, there had been a degree of elegance to her actions.  Lloyd guessed that although she'd been through these experiences they'd not stuck with her enough to be the only things that defined her.  They were her growing experiences.  Since then Nia had matured and maybe now she'd found that center she spoke about losing.  Maybe all that she'd been through had been what had given her the strong character Lloyd knew.

Lloyd looked deep into Nia's eyes and thought the innocence of that young girl who liked to read poetry must still be there.  He thought back to how their relationship had begun and he knew it was her playful innocence, which surfaced at times, he'd fallen for.

It made Lloyd nervous but their eyes met and he took Nia's hand in his.

From a distance Marcus Campbell watched Nia take Lloyd's hand.  He wondered whether she remembered vividly enough Lloyd's past betrayal.  Nia was not one to forget lightly but at the same time Marcus had always thought she could be too forgiving of people and led by her emotions.  After everything Nia had been through the last thing she needed was Lloyd messing with her feelings.

Marcus didn't notice the awkwardness in the handholding.  Both were hesitant of what it meant.  They turned and busied themselves with the coffee.

For a brief moment Marcus thought about how he'd almost taken his relationship with Nia further.  Having listened to her story he now understood why she'd rejected him.  He held no resentment or jealousy towards Lloyd, he just genuinely cared and worried for Nia.  Marcus hadn't known much of Nia's story before they had met.  After all, he had started as the head of the security detail that had worked the re-launch of Havana.  From then on events were clearer in his mind.  Marcus had been there when things had ended with Lloyd and he couldn't deny how protective towards Nia he felt right now, as always.

Nia appeared with a mug of hot coffee.  "Black, no sugar right?" Nia asked.

"Yes ma'am," Marcus replied.  He sipped the coffee and watched as Lloyd and Nia prepared to restart the interview.  He looked at his watch.  It was time for a security tour of windows and doors.

Nia found it strange the way Lloyd could be.  One minute he was a serious and professional interviewer and the next relaxed and holding her hand.  She knew it was his job and that the ability to switch between the two roles, work and personal, was what had probably made him so good at what he did.  He didn't need much preparation or cue, he just became the person he needed to be in that particular moment.

Until tonight she hadn't realized just how much detail about her past was still there locked away in her mind.  Without hesitation Lloyd asked just the right questions that made her totally spill the details of her story.  It was the way he seemed so interested in her that had made him so attractive to her in the beginning.  He'd ask about her rather than going on about himself like so many guys did.  He was also so driven and she liked that.  His disarming personality had a way of catching her off guard.

Nia was sure she didn't have lingering feelings for him but the reasons why she'd left him weren't simple.  He'd used the people she'd introduced him to and then sold her and them out with his documentary.  Nia knew some of the blame lay with her own naivety and she hoped she wasn't being naive all over again.  She thought back to him taking her hand in the kitchen.  Had she given him the wrong signals?  Nia didn't think so.  That was clear in her mind.  Maybe it was just part of his charm to get the story?  After all, she'd come to him with it and had been cagy so far about the full picture.  He wanted that and was trying to tease it out of her.

Nia knew she had to focus on telling her story, presenting the truth in a way that would ensure people listened.  That meant her way and her pace.  People had to see her for who she was and not a stereotyped caricature of a gangsta rap artist.  It was real to her but would they see it the same, she wondered.  If she didn't live to see the sun rise her story had to go on to expose what she knew.

Nia watched Marcus return from his security check and switch on the television for a look at the latest headlines.  The sight of President Obama addressing the nation at an earlier press conference only reminded Nia of how deep the secrets went.  She still had so much to explain to Lloyd.  Nia's greatest fear was that death was just around the corner and would find her before she could expose what she knew.

Nia had experienced less fear looking down the sights of her rifle into the eyes of her would be assassin than during the nightmares she'd been having recently.  A finger on the trigger gave Nia the feeling of some control over her destiny but the terror of each nightmare was escalating.  The first few had been confusing to her, a constricting feeling of an enveloping darkness in which Nia couldn't breathe.  Each one left her waking up with a start, heart beating fast and her body covered in sweat.  The nightmare had developed to the point where Nia had some sense of her surroundings but exactly where that was Nia wasn't sure.  She would hear the deep questioning voice that asked her if she was afraid to die and then finally a gun would fire at her.

"Nia," Lloyd said for the second time, startling Nia and plucking her away from her thoughts.

"Yeah let's do this."

"It seems that despite the tough times you've described so far the balance was tipping in your favor.  You'd secured yourself a position working for Leon Brown and your mother had taken control of what could possibly be a successful business.  The death of your father must have been tough, especially because you blamed yourself.  You've come a long way since then.  Did it get any easier?"

"Kinda, it was different without Hugo and selling the house was a tough move.  I saw less of my mother, although I did go to the club occasionally.  Back then the place still reminded me too much of my father and I just wasn't comfortable with it.  Front of house was fine because it looked so different you wouldn't have known it was the same place.  But the back office, where I watched him breathe his last breath, it was still the same.  The memory stuck in my mind about that for so long."

"When you didn't sleep at the club you stayed with Leon?" Lloyd asked.

"Sure.  He took me in and really looked after me you know."

"You were getting older and had feelings for him.  What happened between you?"  Lloyd felt for a moment like he was prying but then reminded himself that Nia had asked him to do a job and he had to do it right, which meant asking some questions that might otherwise have seemed strange given their past relationship.

"It wasn't that I'd lost interest in Leon but that first time I'd told him how I felt he'd really shut me down.  I kind of told myself I'd have to just wait until I was older and think about it then.  I hoped that when I was older the age thing wouldn't matter to him anymore.  It didn't help that back then I was all over the place emotionally after everything that had happened.  I knew deep down that to stand a chance I'd have to get it together.  Finally, I dropped out of school.  Not that I'd really been going much but this was it, no turning back.  At the time it was like what they taught me in school had nothing to do with the world I was living in.  I had no qualifications, no legal work experience and the only prospects for me were working at the club for my mother or continuing to work for Leon.  I chose to stay with Leon.  It wasn't just because it paid more.  I had real anger issues back then and working for him was a good outlet for my temper."

"How so?" Lloyd asked.

"There were always risks which made it exciting and then when it all went well there was a natural high.  It would have been more scary than exciting but with Leon's meticulous planning we rarely came across problems we couldn't handle.  Of course I got deep into the weed to kill my anger.  Looking back I can see the more I smoked the less Leon did.  I think he was trying to look out for me and knew he couldn't do that if he was high.  That much weed also started having an effect on me."

"What was that?"

"Although it killed a lot of my anger I was still emotional and became a little paranoid.  I didn't know who to trust at times and that made me unpredictable."  Nia adjusted her position in her chair and took a sip of her coffee.

"As you got more involved what work were you doing?" Lloyd asked, also taking a sip at his coffee.

"As I said, Leon was in the drugs business but we didn't shy away from whatever might run us a profit.  Leon had some experience with supply but primarily handled distribution to midlevel dealers.  We had responsibility for a certain territory, a group of neighborhoods.  That area changed a little from time to time according to what Leon was told from above and the territory he gained from others.  We also had oversight of other activities within our territory," Nia said.

"How were you specifically involved?  I know you probably don't want to incriminate yourself but give me an example of how you got down to business," Lloyd asked.

"Sure.  I'm not gonna pretend that I'm totally innocent.  Like any kid growing up in the hood I did my share of bad things.  I helped Leon manage his business, ran errands, backed him up and helped him take care of things.  Remember I told you about the pool joint that pimp Tony had as a front for his real business."

"Yeah, go on."

"Things worked out well after the first visit I told you about.  Leon got an increased payment and there were no more problems for a while.  We went back six months to a year later to make sure Tony still knew who was boss.  Don't forget this guy had already betrayed Leon once before and was wearing thin his second chance.

"By now Leon was running a slick operation and it was rare we got our hands dirty.  In Leon's position he couldn't afford to be associated with the product or the money, it was just too dangerous.

"So we'd just gone back there to talk things over but I saw something I really wasn't happy with.  Walking down the same corridor that had first opened my eyes to what men will pay for, I spotted one of the girls again.  I knew most of them were skinny because of drug habits Tony had pushed on them.  I could barely tolerate that he did this to make them more compliant and dependent on him so when I saw one of them had bruises on her body I'd had enough.  I recognized immediately what I'd seen with my mother so many times before and I had to act.  I spoke to the girl, she was barely older than me, and she told me that Tony had been beating on her.  Men had also paid to have rough sex with her.

"When you're exposed to the street life day in and day out you expect some injustice but this brutality was too much for me because it was too close to home."

"What did you do?"

"I asked Leon "What the fuck is going on?" and we went to work on that nigga Tony.  First we gave him a little interrogation so we knew everything he was doing to the girls.  I showed him Sandy, I think her name was, and I counted the bruises in front of him.  There were seven.  Leon saw my anger and was quickly just as angry as I was because this guy was just a low down dirty mother fucker.  When we found out just how bad he'd been treating the girls Leon offered him the chance to leave Miami more than once.  I think Leon said he had to get the hell out of Florida in fact, but Tony kept on about how Leon needed him.  We'd probably been too easy with him in the past.  That was the thing about how Leon managed his people, he was very fair and everyone liked him for that.  It bred a lot of loyalty but the stupid ones tried to take advantage of him, forgetting that they should have respected him and feared him too.  Leon could handle that though.  He had stacks of people lined up for this guy's job and most of them were probably gonna do it ten times better than him.  There was no way Tony was keeping it and he would have been wise to have taken his route out the first time Leon offered it to him.

"Leon had him tied to his chair and held his hands down, fingers splayed out on the desk.  Leon threatened to break them one by one until he agreed to disappear from Florida forever.  Leon was quite serious about what would happen to him if he was ever seen again.  Tony kept on arguing that we couldn't afford to get rid of him.  Leon told me to convince him and urged me to break one of his fingers while he held him down.

"I stood there, frozen.  It must have only been seconds but it seemed like longer as I struggled with the thought of breaking this guy's fingers.  Leon saw me freeze and raised his voice, shouting at me to do it.  That was then when Tony started laughing at me.  I remember he said "You weak bitch, I should've had you up in here!  I could've got some good money for your young pussy.  People would pay double to tap that tight ass too."  He turned to Leon.  "Your bitch ever give it up?  If she did she ain't got your back now like you thought she would huh?"

"A pimp laughing at me tipped me over the edge and I pulled my Glock out.  I held it by the barrel and smashed the pistol grip down as hard as I could like a hammer on one of his fingers.  I heard it crack.  Tony spat in my face, winced a little and struggled to free his hands without success.  I brought down the pistol grip six more times before he agreed to disappear.  Each time it smashed down I saw Hugo's face and thought of how he beat my mother.  After Tony conceded I wiped his spit and my sweat off my face.  I'd broken one finger for each of Sandy's bruises.

"At the time it was a tough thing for me to do and I never wanted to be violent like that again.  What I learnt though was when you're down at the street level, which is as dirty as the gutter, things are rough.  You can't survive in that kinda environment without being prepared to bend some of the rules.  Sure, I broke his fingers but I kept those girls from being beaten to death.  With enough time Tony would have gone that far."

"Don't you ever think about how wrong it was to be part of the drug and sex trade?  After all you're a strong independent woman and I'd have thought you'd be against all that."  Lloyd's question was a loaded one but Nia had been expecting it for a while.

"At the time it was the world as I knew it.  I was taught at school life was one way and then my experience proved very different.  I accept that I didn't always make the right choices but only hindsight lets me see that.  At the time it all looks very different and what you think is the smart choice then isn't always the right one later.  The life I led was tough, raw and greyer than the black and white they teach you in a classroom.  There was no way I could stop all that bad happening that I was involved in.  What I did was rationalize it all, telling myself that by being involved I could help to ensure some things weren't as bad as they might be.  Even if that just meant being able to look out for myself.  It might have been selfish but who else was there looking out for me apart from Leon?

"Leon was decent to me and although what we were doing wasn't right it was a whole lot better than what was going on in parts of Miami that we weren't running.  In fact Leon had such a good rep' for running a tight operation he was asked to take care of areas that had surfaced on the police radar.  Of course, the more removed I am from that environment now the easier it is to be critical of the choices I made.  My reasons at the time were enough though to keep me in the game.  I was lucky because some people don't ever find a route out."

"Are you out?" Lloyd asked, recalling the headlines that said the authorities were calling for Nia's arrest on drug trafficking charges.  Despite her earlier assurance that she was innocent of the charges, Lloyd had yet to hear anything that demonstrated that.  On the flip side, he'd so far only heard the tale of a young girl who'd faced life in the ghetto and done the best with what she had.  Maybe she'd got mixed up with the wrong people but where were the right people to protect her from everything after all she'd been through?  Lloyd hoped that the young girl in Nia's story had found a route out and the grown woman sitting in front of him had an explanation to diffuse whatever mix-up had occurred with the authorities.  Even more than that, he hoped the explanation would tell him that the feelings he still had for her weren't going to be prematurely snuffed out.

# EIGHT

Nia stepped out of the seven-eleven store holding a brown paper bag.  Wrapped in it was a bottle of Hennessey.  Although she wasn't twenty-one the store owners knew who she was and didn't refuse her service.  In fact, her eighteenth birthday was only weeks away.  What little difference that made, Nia thought.  It would afford her little that she didn't already have.  Nia didn't care about politics and voting.  Even with a black man in the White House she hadn't seen any changes that made things better for her.  Nia also wasn't the least bit interested that turning eighteen would mean she could legally have sex with whoever she wanted.  Having sex for the first time was the sort of thing that might have excited other girls but Nia told herself she was too busy working for Leon to think about it.  When the time came, all Nia cared about was that it was with the right man.

Standing in the shade of the store front Nia looked up and down the street before twisting the cap off the bottle and taking a small sip.  She was trying to cut back.  She'd been up since the morning, it was mid-afternoon, and she'd not had a drop until now.  The cognac hit the spot, giving her that familiar warm feeling as it went down.

Cutting back on alcohol wasn't the only improvement Nia was trying to make.  The last few years she'd still had demons but mostly she didn't think about them as she'd worked hard to lock them away.  As a result Nia was a much more collected and assertive young woman.  Gone were the baggy outfits that hid her feminine figure and she revealed her confident and striking figure.  Nia had always been too busy with weed and alcohol to have gained much weight and she knew as she cut back she'd have to watch what she ate.  She liked that guys were now checking her out daily and her good looks were an asset she didn't want to be without.

Nia tightened the bottle cap and began to walk up the street.  Further up on the other side was a group of young men, none more than about nineteen years old.  They were crouched down in the corner of a parking lot next to the sidewalk playing craps.  As one of them threw the dice and crapped out the sight of Nia on the other side of the street caught his eye.  Looking to redeem himself in front of his peers he stood and shouted across the street.  "You got some milk to go with that shake?"

Nia turned her head in the direction of the voice.  She saw a young brother looking directly at her.  She knew his comment had been directed at her and she stopped walking.  She was used to the odd wolf whistle or car honk now and then but this guy had some balls.  Nia knew he was trying to look good in front of his homies and she just couldn't resist the opportunity to mess with him so she turned to cross the street.

"Oh shit CJ.  Do you know who that is?" one of them asked as Nia crossed the street.  "Chris, I seen her and this other nigga giving some shit to my nigga Andre a few months back.  Looked like they meant business."

Crumpled singles were hastily retrieved from the ground and they all stood up.  As Nia approached Chris the others stepped back a little, leaving no doubt that he was the one she should talk to.  Chris sat back casually on the hood of a black BMW and smiled.

Nia waved her hand at where they'd been playing.  "I'm sorry, the noise of your homies taking all your money was so loud I could barely hear what you said.  Wanna speak a little louder?"  Nia looked at him expectantly and there was collective recognition from the group that Chris had just been playfully disrespected.  Whoever she may have been, he needed to respond or risk irreparably losing face in front of the others.

"Fuck it," Chris muttered to begin with but then raised his voice to a more forceful level.  "You heard me.  I saw your shake from three blocks away and watching it made me thirsty.  You got any milk to go with it?"  The group laughed and Nia hid the smile his cocky response had provoked.  He wasn't giving up and she liked it.

"Milk?" Nia asked, raising her eyebrows and drawing attention to her cleavage.  "What's the problem lil' man, your mama tryin'a cut you off?"  There was a roar of laughter and a couple of the others gave Chris a few playful shoves.  He realized he had a challenge on his hands and decided to step it up a little.

"Kick it man," Chris said to Jamal, the most overweight member of his crew.  Immediately Jamal started beat boxing, imitating the rhythmic drum beats of a hip-hop tune and as he did Chris began to lay down a rap.

"Here we go man check it, check it...

Okay I'ma be real wit' you

I'm ready to hit that ass so bad my balls're turning blue

But fo' real you look like you ain't never had it before

Girl I'll teach you on the kitchen, bathroom and hallway floor

I know you can't say no

So you'd better say yes

'cos otherwise you'd be settling for less."

The beat boxer, Jamal, was still pumping out a beat and the rest of the crew were looking at Nia expectantly.  She liked to occasionally talk shit with people, especially those who arrogantly called out to her across the street.  Her street IQ and confidence was at a peak but she hadn't been drawn into a rap battle before.  Nia had seen plenty of them and even liked to think she could rhyme a little herself but she'd never actually battled before.  For a moment she felt a rising panic as she realized she wasn't prepared for this.

Chris' rap had been average, the sort of thing you'd expect from most young guys on the street.  To have respect on the street a young black man had to be able to lay down a rhyme or two.  However, he had a great big smile on his face and as the seconds ticked by he began to anticipate that Nia was going to concede defeat.  His anticipation was wrong though, because despite her inexperience and the fear it generated in her, mainly a fear of embarrassment, Nia knew that the embarrassment of not trying at all would be worse.  Such was the do or die ethos of the street and right now she had to do or she'd suffer a death of sorts.  This was how a street reputation was built or destroyed in seconds.

The ability to freestyle rap was intricately more difficult than rapping along to a well-known track or even writing a rap when you had all the time in the world to think of what you had to say and the best rhymes to make it sound good.  Free-styling was like driving at high speed in heavy traffic on an unknown route.  Split second decisions had to be made that would either deliver you to your destination safely or you would quickly end up wiping out.  Experience builds a repertoire, a vocabulary that enables a safe journey but all the best freestylers have a natural talent that allows them to innately exceed what is safe and, in doing so, leave the competition behind.  Nia didn't know if she had either but still she let loose.

"I'm walking down the street just mindin' my own business

Then some nigga starts hollerin' and I'm thinkin' who the fuck is this?

I cross the street and he expects me to fall to his feet

But shouldn't he be vexed his mama dressed him so cheap?

Poor, like the mac he laid down

Sure, I ain't never heard such a pathetic type o' sound

And who is this nigga who ain't even cute

Thinks he can get his hands on my precious loot!"

Nia's words hung in the air and in a moment of inexperience she wasn't sure if she'd won.  The beat boxing stopped and Chris' homies faded into the background of the parking lot amidst a good round of laughter and backslapping.

"I'm Chris, my friends call me CJ."  Chris held out his hand out.  "Looks like you got my number good.  What's your name?"  Nia took his hand in friendly shake.  Despite what she'd said he was a little cute and she wasn't going to squash the chance to get to know him a little.

"Nia Rodriguez."

"Not Nia Rodriguez from Miami Carol?" Chris said, looking her up and down again.  Nia stepped back a little.

"Yeah why?  You think know me?"  She took a defensive tack.

"Sure, I'm Chris Johnson.  Used to sit two desks behind you in class."

"Sorry man, I don't really remember much of them days," Nia said, wondering what sort of impression he had of her from back then.  They spoke superficially for a few minutes about their school days and what they'd been doing since.  Nia really didn't go into much detail but it was enough for her to be able to see Chris wanted to know more.

In the corner of Nia's vision she noticed the familiar shape of the black Monte Carlo as it pulled alongside the curb.  The passenger side window came down and she heard Leon's voice.

"Ready to go?"

"Two minutes," Nia replied.

"Let me get your number," Chris asked.

"Give me yours," Nia answered.  He quickly scribbled it down on a dollar bill and handed it to her.  She smiled, turned and got in the car.

Leon pulled away and merged with the heavy traffic.

"You get your passport yet?" Leon asked.

"Got the new one yesterday.  You gonna tell me what I'm gonna need it for yet?"

"Birthday surprise," Leon replied.

Jay Rodriguez clutched the edge of the toilet bowl to steady herself.  She was kneeling but as she threw up it was hard to keep her balance.  She'd thrown up all there was in her stomach but still she wretched.  Jay tucked her hair behind her ears for a third time.  She wished she had a hair tie to hand.  The urge to be sick had come on too quickly for her to grab one and Jay thought she should know by now to keep one handy.

As Jay reached for some toilet paper to blow the vomit out of her nose she heard the door to the office outside open.

"Mama?" Jay heard Nia casually call.

"In here, baby," Jay called to her daughter, her voice distressed.

"What's wrong Mama?" Nia asked, shocked to see her mother on the floor in front of the toilet.

"Nothing."

"You look pale Mama."

"I think I ate something bad that's all.  Here, give me a hand up."  Jay threw the toilet paper in the bowl and flushed.  Nia held her mother's arm to steady her as she stood and noticed how thin she had become.  The stress of working so hard was taking its toll, Nia thought.  Walking back into the office Nia listened to the sound of the running water as Jay washed her face in the sink.

Nia looked around at the office her mother had converted into what could only be described as a working bedroom and she felt a little ashamed of the way her mother was living.  Nia was sure that business had been going well enough for her mother to afford a small place to rent.  With the money Nia had also been giving her, she felt frustrated that her mother was still living like this.  Nia was ready for her own place and had been saving hard.  She knew she couldn't stay with Leon forever but as long as her mother was still sleeping at the club her guilt wouldn't let her get her own place.

"Mama, when you gonna move out of this place?  You work too hard and need some chill time of your own."

"Soon, there is still so much to do here.  You're gonna be eighteen soon, a full grown woman, and I'm not getting younger.  One day this place will be yours and I don't wanna be leaving you so many problems."

"Ah come on now, it's only my eighteenth birthday and you gonna be here to see your grandbabies grow up fo' sure," Nia said, smiling at the thought of how happy that would make her mother.

"Are you..."

"Pregnant?  Nah, no way Mama and I ain't planning on having no babies any time soon.  So stick around."  Nia stepped close to her mother and they hugged tightly.  "You done good since..."  Nia's words trailed off for a moment.  "I'm proud Mama.  Things finally turned out good for you huh?  I'm gonna make you proud, too.  I promise."  Nia thought about all the money she was saving up for that nice place where one day she and her mother could live and know it was theirs completely.

"You my daughter and I'll always be proud of you," Jay responded, breaking the hug but only to look her daughter in the eyes.  "You are so special and you must always remember that.  Inside you is the potential to do anything despite what we've been through.  You mustn't let it hold you back.  Break through it and blossom like the rose that you are."

Nia smiled and sat on the sofa.  She turned sideways and lay across the length of it, exhaling in relaxation.  Her mother sat at the desk and started working through some paperwork.  The smile remained on Nia's face but changed delightfully from one of warmth owed to their mother-daughter love to one of excitement and anticipation.

"So, are you going to tell me what you're smiling about?" Jay asked her daughter.

"Leon," Nia replied.  "He's taking me on vacation for two weeks for my birthday.  He told me a couple of weeks back to renew my passport but today he told me why.  He tried to keep it a secret where we're going but it wasn't long before I got him to tell me."  Nia laughed.  "I'm going to Cuba Mama."

"Cuba?"

"I'd thought about it a while back and mentioned it to him.  He thought that it would help me deal with some of my feelings."

"And what do you think?" Jay asked.

"I don't know but it'd sure be nice to get away from Miami for a while."  Nia stopped.  She didn't want to rub it in that she was going away when she knew her mother wouldn't be coming.  She could offer to pay the ticket for her but she knew her mother wouldn't leave the club.  Nia also knew her mother wouldn't want to accept more money from her.  It had been hard enough getting her mother to accept a regular monthly payment from her teenage daughter.

"I'm sure you'll have a great time but make sure you let me know where you staying at before you go.  I can let you know where's great to go and where you wanna avoid."

"A lot's changed since back then Mama and besides, Leon will be with me and he's as street wise as it gets."

# NINE

Nia watched from her first class window seat as the runway blacktop rumbled underneath quickly.  She'd not been on an airplane for a long time.  The last time had been in the opposite direction.  The wings gathered lift, she felt her stomach sink a little as the ground dropped away and the rumble of the undercarriage ceased.  The airplane tilted up into its climb and the only sound was the whine of the jet engines.

The climb was quick and Nia held Leon's hand throughout.  It wasn't that she was afraid of flying but there was a scary thrill to it.  It wasn't long before the plane had leveled at cruising altitude.  Flight restrictions due to the embargo had forced them to fly via Cancun which was disappearing far below.

Nia looked at Leon and he smiled.  He seemed almost as happy about taking her on a vacation as she was to be taken.  The seatbelt sign was disengaged and they both removed their belts.  Leon was wearing a stylish white linen shirt and matching pants.  Nia had bought them for him to say thanks for taking her on the trip and she was pleased with her choice.  They looked good on him.  Off the street and especially here, in the first class cabin, Leon looked very respectable.  For the first time in the longest time Nia could remember she was without a gun, wasn't looking over her shoulder and it felt good.

Nia took Leon's hand again.  This time she took it slowly and with careful examination.  He definitely had the hands of a gangster, a street soldier, but could they ever be the hands of a lover or a husband, she thought.  As Nia contemplated the answer she found herself softly caressing his skin.  She cared for him immensely, their shared history demanded that.  Nia was sure only her mother held a deeper place in her heart but that was different.  Nia thought about the possibility of a relationship and a life with Leon.  He'd always been there for her and although he'd filled the gap her father had left more than she realized, there were times when she felt she was looking for even more from him.

Nia worried she didn't know what a good father figure was.  She wished she had one because then it might have made it easier to know when the right man for her came along.  Nia wanted happiness and security like anyone else.  Life with Leon was crazy and dangerous at times but he'd given her more of everything she needed than her father ever had.

Nia felt Leon gently caress her hand in return.  Their friendship had always involved small intimacies that most friends wouldn't share but the chemistry between them had just gone beyond that.  It hadn't been the gentle caresses he'd given her which had signaled it but rather the way he'd locked eyes with her as he touched her.  His eyes told her that it hadn't been an unconscious gesture of their caring friendship but a reciprocation of what she had once tried to tell him she felt for him.  Before Nia could think on it any further the flight attendant appeared and offered them drinks.  Leon asked for a glass of champagne each.

"To forgetting Miami for a while and to a memorable trip to Cuba," Leon said, holding up his glass.

"To Cuba," Nia responded, clinking her glass with his.  The champagne was chilled perfectly and wasn't cheap.

Nia talked about her faded memories of Cuba which were mostly good.  They laughed at the stories of her early childhood and drank another two glasses of champagne each.

Leon had said the trip would be a good idea, that Nia would have the chance to get past the issues and pain surrounding her father.  Nia knew he was right.

Nia sensed Leon was telling her this from his own experience of Iraq or what had happened to his sister.  It was probably both but he rarely spoke of it.  Nia couldn't imagine what demons he must have had after coming home from a place like Iraq only to find out his sister had been raped and murdered.  Maybe, Nia thought, she'd be able to ease his pain one day as he was hers.

Nia turned her mind to other things.  The champagne had reduced her edge but for once she could totally relax about it because she was safe so far away from the street.  She had a man at her side and she was staring at the troubles of Miami through her rear view mirror.

Nia turned to look at Leon again but this time they both leaned closer until their lips were almost touching.  She'd never felt like this before.  Nia had never been interested in any other man, not even those who had showed so much interest in her.  Nia could finally allow herself to hope Leon wouldn't reject her.  Nia leaned in and kissed him.

Their lips touched slowly and the kiss was soft at first.  Nia's passion stirred deep down when she felt Leon kissing her back without hesitation.  She had nothing to compare it against but the kiss felt good.  As they continued to kiss Nia couldn't believe how worried she'd been in the past that Leon wouldn't reciprocate.

It wasn't long before she felt his hand on her thigh.  It was a firm and sensual touch as it continued to move higher and towards the inside of her thigh.  Brief visions of what had happened to her the first day they'd met flashed through her mind.  Thoughts of the thug's hands creeping up under her skirt disturbed her but the champagne's intoxicating effect quickly suppressing her anxiety.  However, Nia was conscious of how public their embrace was.  She drew back a little and looked around with her eyes, worried that people might be staring at them.  It was enough to indicate to Leon that she felt uncomfortable in the situation.

"Come with me," Leon said as he got up from his seat, taking her by the hand before she could object.  Nia followed quickly behind him as he entered the airplane toilet.  She'd seen this happen in movies and had heard about the 'mile high club' but had never once thought this was how it would happen her first time.

Leon locked the door behind them.  There wasn't much space and there was a slight chemical smell.  It wasn't the romantic setting she'd hoped for but as Leon kissed her again it didn't matter.  Nia rested her hands on the back of his neck and fell into the moment completely.  Leon's hands explored her body and she began to feel sensations she'd never felt before.  It had been a long time coming for Nia and the moment was overwhelming.

"I love you," Nia said, meaning every word more than she ever remembered meaning anything before.  "I love you," Nia said again as if she'd dreamt saying it the first time.

"I love you too, lil' woman," Leon replied as he pressed her up against one of the walls.  Nia's hands slid down over his thick shoulders and as she felt his biceps under his shirt she realized she was trembling from excitement and anticipation of what was about to happen.

Leon began to kiss her neck and Nia raised her chin, tilting her head back as far as she could before it touched the mirror.  His hand slipped under her top and found its way slowly up the curve of her back.  When Leon's hand reached Nia's bra strap Leon moved his hand round to cradle one of her breasts as he kissed her again.  Ignoring the announcement to return to seats for landing, Leon pressed himself against Nia and she could feel he was aroused.  She was too and she craved to feel him inside her.

Nia's fingers found the front of his pants and she began to unbutton them.  She had barely finished when there was a short rap on the door and a polite voice.  "We are about to begin our decent.  Please take your seats."

"Oh God, she knows there's two of us in here," Nia said, looking at Leon with worry on her face.

"Nah she doesn't, chill baby," Leon replied.

"She said 'seats' not 'seat'".

"Well, jus' smile and relax, we're flying first class and they don't care."

As they retook their seats Nia noticed the flight attendant staring at her and was sure she must have known what they'd been up to.  Nia started to think maybe it was a good thing they'd been interrupted so that her first time could be more romantic.

Customs and immigration was a nightmare for Nia.  As soon as they spotted her passport noted her place of birth as Havana she was whisked into an interview room and questioned repeatedly about why she had left Cuba and why she was coming back.  Nia wasn't sure if it was because they were genuinely worried about Cubans returning and causing trouble or they just wanted to tax her.  Nia had to go to lengths to show that she had official accommodation booked, where that was and that she had a return flight.  Nia had read travel advice before she left and knew to stay calm, be submissive and speak Spanish.  Eventually, it seemed they tired of exercising their power and control which meant she was able to get away with a one hundred dollar tax and a delay of an hour and a half.

The taxi ride to their hotel was less than thirty minutes and Nia was glad when they finally checked into their penthouse suite.  The journey had been the longest she'd been on in a long time.

The suite was the most luxurious thing she'd ever seen.  It didn't fit her idea of a hotel at all.  It was more like a giant apartment.  It was bigger than anywhere she'd ever lived and even bigger than Leon's place in Miami.

It was dark by the time they'd both unpacked.  Nia took advantage of her en suite bathroom and enjoyed the time washing her hair, drying it and making her curls look fantastic.  When she really took care of her hair it was beautiful, especially worn down and showing off the curls.

When Nia emerged from the bathroom she found that Leon had popped out to one of the boutiques located near the hotel lobby because there were two expensive looking boxes neatly stacked on top of the dresser in her room.  They were of different sizes, the smaller box on top.  Nia opened the shoe box sized one and to her delight found a pair of Prada sandals inside.  She took them out of the box and wasn't surprised to see that Leon had selected her size perfectly without asking.  As she tried them on she knew they weren't her usual style and realized she'd look a little silly because she had nothing fancy enough to wear them with.  Nia sat back down on the chair in front of the dresser to take them off and remembered the second box.  Inside she found a stylish dress.  It was also not something she'd naturally wear but it looked perfect with the Prada sandals.

"You look wonderful," Leon remarked as he walked with Nia to the elevator.

"I didn't know you knew how to pick out clothes," Nia said.  She'd already thanked him a few moments before with a kiss.

"Don't worry, I know my limits," Leon said, "I asked the assistant to pick something out after I told her your sizes."

The elevator arrived promptly and they rode it down to the lobby where Leon led her to the main restaurant.  He'd reserved a table and they were seated without a wait.  Nia saw that their table was a good one, in a private position, raised slightly and with a great view of the house band who were playing soft jazz in the background.  Looking around Nia could see that Leon was going all out, nothing but the best for her in the run up to her eighteenth birthday.  It was less than a week away and she was excited by it all.

It was almost hard for Nia to believe that this was Cuba.  The Cuba she'd known as a young child had been vastly different but then she'd never seen the life of the wealthy tourists.  This was the life that Hugo had seen and had hoped he'd find when they'd moved to America.  Her mother had tried to tell him that not all Americans lived this life but he didn't listen.

Nia noticed that Leon seemed relaxed and comfortable in this environment.  She realized that she didn't know if he'd been to Cuba before but she didn't ask.  She had asked if he wanted her to order as she was happy to practice on her Spanish.  Nia knew her Spanish was fine but in Cuba they spoke it with their own unique accent and there was probably plenty of local slang she could pick up to make her sound more authentically Cuban.  Her Spanish had been refined in Miami and while inherently Cuban it also had its own flavor.  As it turned out the hotel staff spoke perfect English and Leon just went ahead and ordered.

Nia relaxed and sipped her lemonade.  She'd had enough alcohol for the day and knew after all the travelling it would only put her to sleep.  She didn't want that as the evening was turning out so nice.  She realized that back home she'd have smoked a blunt right about now and it was surprising to her that she'd not felt the urge to smoke anything all day.  Nia had started out looking at the situation practically and hadn't wanted to have any odor about her that might have been suspicious as she went through customs, either on the US or Cuban side.  The last thing she'd wanted was to be strip-searched at the airport.

The thought of a strip search caused her mind to temporarily jump back to when she'd had Leon's hands all over her body.  Nia fanaticized about where it might have led had they not been interrupted.

After they'd eaten the table was cleared and they stayed to listen to the exceptionally good house band.  The mood livened up and the band began to play some energetic Salsa.  For a while Nia and Leon spoke about nothing in particular and it was good for once to not be talking about work.  There were moments of silence in the conversation but not the uncomfortable sort.  These were the moments of silent pondering that just naturally occur between two close people who are comfortable with each other.  They formed as much a part of the conversation as the talking.

An area of the restaurant was cleared of its tables to create a medium sized dance floor and within minutes people were dancing.  The first few up looked like locals probably paid to stimulate the atmosphere.  As time went by others joined them and their pale or sun reddened skin showed them up as tourists.  Some of them could dance and might have even been in Cuba specifically for the music and dance but they were clearly new to it.  Maybe they'd danced before but it must have been a different style because their awkward movements and straight bodies couldn't generate the limber moves inspired by the body shaking Latin sound.

Leon and Nia watched with pleasure and couldn't help but find themselves tapping their feet to the rhythm.

"I remember some of this kinda music from the club back home," Nia said.  Thinking about that provoked mixed feelings.  "It seems more fresh and modern here though."

"Dance with me," Leon said firmly, his hand held out to her.  Nia found herself taking it although she worried she'd look like all the other amateur tourists on the floor.  It had been a long time and she wasn't sure how in touch she was with her roots.

As they started to dance Nia felt a little awkward and was conscious of the movements of her body.  She could also see that Leon wasn't a natural dancer with this type of music.  Both of them had the same taste in g-funk hip-hop.  Leon had probably only asked her to dance to stop her thinking too deeply about her father.  It was working because she soon relaxed and it wasn't long before Nia was connecting with the rhythm of the music.  It took her way back to her childhood and the connection was raw like the sound of African drums to a slave in the Deep South.  Nia's body began to move and flow like she'd always been dancing Salsa.

Leon was impressed and could see how happy she was.  Nia danced up close with Leon and it wasn't long before he was imitating her moves and enjoying himself as much as she was.

As Nia danced, she began to remember some of her earliest memories in Cuba.  They were memories of her mother and father dancing like this at home.  They were happy memories and it pleased her to think of them after so long but she also felt a sense of shame because these happy family memories were the exception.  The more she remembered the more she understood what Leon had said about reconciling her feelings about the past and her father.  The hardest part was being able to look to the future.  Nia told herself she had to accept her father had been less than perfect.  Just because she carried his DNA didn't mean she was going to turn out like him or end up with a man like him.  It was hard to convince herself because her heart feared the possibilities the future held.

"You okay lil' woman?" Leon asked, as he noticed Nia's gaze grow a little distant.

"I'm jus' a bit tired," Nia replied, realizing how much more tired she was than she'd previously thought.  "Let's call it a night.  It's been a long day."  Leon smiled and took her hand and they left the dance floor.

Back up in the suite Nia showered and changed into some night clothes, a pair of skin-tight cotton hot pants and a matching black top that ended just above her midriff.  Still feeling emotional because of the dredged up memories, she crossed the central living area of the suite to Leon's room.  She knocked on the door.

"Yo!  Come on in," Leon said from inside.  Nia entered his room to find the lights out and from the door could see he was already under the sheets.  Without saying a thing she closed the door and crossed the carpeted floor in her bare feet.  Although the temperature outdoors was higher than Miami, as was the humidity, the air-conditioning in the suite rivaled any Nia had ever experienced.  It wasn't cold but the cooler temperature, and her emotions, had her feeling like snuggling up in bed with Leon.  Lying in bed alone would have just made her feel worse and so after such a draining day she naturally slipped herself underneath Leon's sheets.  Neither of them spoke.  The routine was familiar to them both.  She had sought that feeling of comfort and protection from Leon many times before when she'd snuck out after her parents had begun to fight, or when she had become upset thinking back on the things that had happened.  Nia pulled Leon's muscular arm around her.

"Hold me," Nia whispered as she nestled in closer.  She lay on her side facing away from him and he lay up against her with his arm draped over the top of her.  He held her close.  They lay there like that for some time and when Nia occasionally moved to get comfortable Leon couldn't help but become a little aroused as her body rubbed against his.

For so long Leon had wanted Nia.  At first he'd resisted because he told himself she was too young but it wasn't just that.  Things had changed for him since his sister had been raped and murdered.  He had a much deeper respect for women.  Back then it just wouldn't have been right, he thought.  What was she back then, thirteen, fourteen?  But now she was turning eighteen, an age gap of six years didn't seem that much anymore.  Leon had thought Nia's feelings for him would dissipate like a crush but they hadn't and he had become attracted to the woman she had become.  It was more than just sexual attraction.

Leon cared about Nia but he worried their different levels of experience with relationships would mess things up and then ruin the friendship they had.  Despite that the kiss on the plane had left him wanting more.

Laying beside Nia under the soft sheets, Leon didn't know what to do.  He smelt the soft scent of her skin and felt the warmth of her body pressed against him.

Nia felt it comforting to be in Leon's arms but her thoughts weren't the same as his.  Tears rolled down her cheeks onto her pillow and at first they were silent but as she reran the same thoughts in her head she began to whimper quietly.

"What's up baby?" Leon asked.  Nia turned around in the bed and laid across his chest.

"It's just a lot to deal with, coming back here you know?  It's just got me feeling emotional I guess."  Nia wiped the tears from her eyes and they lay there together until they both fell asleep.

Nia woke to the sound of a knock at the bedroom door.  She turned over in bed to ask Leon to get it but he wasn't there so she got up and answered it herself.  It was the maid, accompanied by a waiter who began to layout breakfast.  She looked around quickly for Leon but he wasn't anywhere to be seen.

"Have you seen my friend?" Nia asked the maid in Spanish.

"No Miss, he ordered breakfast for you and we brought it up.  I'll clean now and if you need anything else just call room service or the concierge."  The reply carried a tone of impoliteness that Nia realized must have come from the maid mistaking her as a local girl due to her Spanish and the way she looked.  She'd noticed most of the hotel guests were rich white people.  Nia was neither and just like in Miami's affluent areas, she stood out because she was black.

Nia's Cuban accent was far from perfect by Havana standards but it had been enough to allow a maid's prejudices to come to the surface.  It probably hadn't helped that she'd referred to Leon as her 'friend' and the maid had probably assumed from this that Leon had paid for her.  The sex trade in young local girls was rife among the rich male hotel guests.  Nia laughed it off to herself and sat down to eat.

Nia deduced that since the breakfast was laid out only for one Leon must have gone out early to the shops again.  She didn't dare try to work out how much all of this was costing him.  The flights, penthouse suite and all the luxury treatment Leon had been talking about since they boarded the plane must have run up a hefty bill.  He'd said the hotel offered everything she could dream of and she could just charge it to the room.  But Nia knew dreams didn't come cheap.

Nia chose a healthy breakfast option, a bowl of cereal and a toasted bagel.  As Nia was almost done with the last bite of the bagel the maid reappeared.

"I think this is for you.  I found it mixed up in the bed sheets."

"Thank you," Nia said, wiping her hands and taking the envelope the maid was holding out to her.  "Are you local?" Nia asked the maid.

"I take the bus one hour twenty minutes every day," replied the maid.

"How are things in Cuba these days?" Nia asked.  The maid looked at her with a little suspicion.

"You not from around here?"

"No, I moved to America with my parents when I was a little girl."  That softened the maid.

"It's better since the reforms and your president is helping to make things better between our countries.  But what do I know?  I'm just a maid."

Nia could tell the maid wasn't comfortable talking politics with someone she probably now saw as a foreigner and most certainly a stranger.  That had been Nia's purpose to the conversation.  She wanted the maid see her for who she was and not just assume she was a local working girl.  She didn't want to be known as Leon's whore by the whole of the hotel staff and was sure it wouldn't have taken long for the rumor to have spread.

It seemed whatever political changes there had been in Cuba many things remained the same as always.  People still didn't speak out even now Castro had transferred powers to his brother.

Nia couldn't remember exactly what the political situation had been like when she'd lived in Cuba as a child but the stories were a dime a dozen growing up in Miami, which was probably the capital city for Cuban exiles.  The two countries had a strange relationship because they both harbored each other's dissidents.  Cuba was still a harbor for the aging Black Power revolutionaries that were still wanted in the US.  Nia thought particularly about a woman named Assata Shakur whose story had inspired her.  In her early days with Leon she'd read many books about black revolutionaries in the US.

Nia had read about Assata Shakur being accused of shooting and killing a New Jersey State Trooper in 1973, how she was imprisoned in several penitentiaries and how human rights groups had gained interest because of her poor treatment.  Nia knew there had been other questionable charges, attempted murder, armed robbery, bank robbery, and kidnapping but Assata Shakur eventually escaped prison in 1979 and went into political asylum in Cuba in 1984.

Nia couldn't believe, for all the injustices that so obviously existed in the US, so much had been done to vilify a woman who'd fought for her freedom.

In 1997 the superintendent of the New Jersey State Police wrote to Pope John Paul II pleading him to discuss the possibility of Assata Shakur's extradition in his talks with President Fidel Castro.  The pressure was ramped up further in 1998 when the New Jersey Governor asked the Attorney General to do whatever it would take to return Assata Shakur from Cuba.  Later that year the US Congress passed a non-binding resolution seeking Cuba to return Assata Shakur.  In 2005 the FBI classified Assata Shakur as a domestic terrorist and raised the federal reward for her capture from fifty thousand dollars to one million.  In a rebuttal to the raising of the bounty on the thirty second anniversary of the 1973 shooting, President Fidel Castro described Assata Shakur as a victim of racial persecution, terrorist portrayal, brutal injustice and an infamous lie.

Nia knew there were also others from the revolutionary movement hiding in Cuba and incarcerated in the US as political prisoners.  The names at the front of her mind were Mumia Abu-Jamal and Dr. Mutulu Shakur.  Both had similar stories.

The US and Cuba both laid claims to offering their own brand of freedom and yet each had a group of people who they oppressed.  Nia knew first-hand how tough it was being black in the US but at the same time she knew the stories of Cuba under Castro.

Nia finished her breakfast and took the envelope with her to the couch.  She noticed the high quality of the paper and the name of the hotel embossed on the back.  Leon had taken it from the stationary laid out on the desk that stood in one corner of the suite.  She pulled the single sheet of paper out from the envelope and recognized Leon's handwriting.

Nia read the note a second time and still found it hard to believe.  He was going to be gone for the next few days.  The note said it was business and he'd been asked to come alone.

Nia guessed there must be some big supply connection running through Cuba but Leon had never mentioned it before.  He had probably been tasked to handle something new that was going to see him get the promotion he'd been looking for back home in Miami.

She screwed up the note and threw it across the room.  She was frustrated he hadn't taken her to watch his back like she always did.  What frustrated Nia even more was that he'd brought her to Cuba only to leave her on her own.  That wasn't how he'd laid out the trip to her and it wasn't the way she wanted it.

Coming back to Cuba was always going to be tough and Nia hadn't wanted to do it alone, even if she was fixed up with the best hotel and all it had to offer.

All of this had Nia stressing more than she had done in a long while.  For the first time since arriving she wanted to get high but didn't even have Leon to watch her back while she scored some weed.  For several minutes Nia contemplated what the consequences would be of being caught buying weed.  She didn't know for certain but thought she'd end up in a lot more trouble than back in Miami.

Breakfast was barely behind her but Nia walked over to the private in-suite bar and poured a double of the first strong spirit she could lay her hands on.  Hopefully, it would set her straight for a while, she thought.  She still couldn't get over the luxury.  This wasn't just a drinks cabinet or mini-bar but an actual bar, complete with a fine selection of drinks and room for three bar stools.

A few moments passed and the drink did help her feel a little mellower.  Nia felt a little stupid for the way she'd frustratingly thrown the note across the room.  She picked it up and tossed it in the trash.  She showered, threw on a bikini and a sarong.

Despite feeling better with a drink in her, the massages, makeovers and manicures would have to wait until she got some weed.

It wasn't hard for Nia to find her way into the hotel's service area where the corridors were filled with maids, gossiping about what they'd discovered while cleaning the room of the next set of unsuspecting tourists, and waiters rushing back and forth with room service orders.  In some ways Nia felt more comfortable among them.  They were ordinary people like her and she knew there was no way she was going to get the hook up she needed by calling the concierge.

It wasn't long before she saw one of the waiters opening a pack of cigarettes.  She followed him.  No one gave her a second glance because she moved confidently like she was supposed to be there and they were also too busy going about their business.  Nia stepped out into the warm moist air and watched the waiter light up.

"Can I?" Nia asked in Spanish, pointing at his pack of cigarettes.  The waiter held out the pack and she took one.  From the packet she could see they were a local brand.  Probably strong, Nia thought.  She put it to her lips and he lit it for her.  Ordinarily she didn't smoke cigarettes but it was a means to an end.  The waiter introduced himself as Rico and she introduced herself in return.  He was probably only a year or two older than her and she got the feel from his relaxed body language and the way he smoked that he probably knew where to get what she wanted, even if he didn't smoke it himself.  It didn't take much small talk before she got down to the point.  "Do you know where I can get anything a little stronger?"

"Cigars?" Rico asked.

"No," Nia clarified.

"Are you a hotel guest?" Rico asked cautiously.

"I'm just looking for a little something and would be grateful if you could point me in the right direction," Nia replied.

At a nearby espresso bar Nia ordered coffee.  As promised, within a few minutes someone sat down opposite her and asked her how much she needed.  The transaction went without a hitch and Nia was glad when she made it back to the suite and was able to go out onto the balcony and get high.  Nia had never known the anxiety that came with scoring because she always got what she needed through Leon.

Stuck on her own in Cuba for at least the next few days Nia would have to learn to look after herself.  With the weed inside her Nia made the resolution to not let the situation get to her.  She was pissed at Leon and was ready to tear into him when he returned but in the meantime, she just needed to find something to keep her busy.

Nia spent the rest of the day getting pampered.  She indulged in the hotel's sauna and steam room before going swimming in the pool.  Swimming in a pool was something she'd never done before.  As a child in Cuba she'd learnt to swim in the ocean and had loved it.  In Miami there was the ocean and public pools but Nia had always had other things to do.

The water in the hotel pool was just the right temperature and the water was crystal clear as the ocean.  Nia swam lengths and enjoyed the feel of the water against her skin, especially as she swam under the decorative waterfall at one end.  While she swam she only saw two other people use the pool.  Most of the guests were probably in the ocean or laying on the beach which was only a thirty second walk away.

It was a peaceful three quarters of an hour in the pool and soon lunch was calling her.  She ate at the small restaurant by the pool and realized that with everything on tap, she was eating more than ever.  Nia wondered about watching her figure but decided that regularly timed healthy options would be better for her than how she normally ate back in Miami.  Weed had a habit of suppressing her appetite until she had a craving for junk food.

After lunch Nia had a massage, manicure, pedicure and her hair done.  It was a marathon of extravagance she'd known existed but never thought she'd get to experience in her lifetime.  The afternoon was rapidly drawing to a close and Nia didn't like the idea of spending the evening alone.

She visited the lobby boutiques in an attempt at retail therapy.  Shopping had never been Nia's favorite thing to do because she was so conscious of how little money she had.  At the hotel everything seemed too expensive.  Nia bought some things she knew her mother would like and decided she'd find the time to visit a local market to do some cheaper shopping for herself.

With the shopping bags put away Nia ventured down to the restaurant to have dinner but sitting alone she felt a little stupid.  She ordered and asked that it be brought up to the suite.  The waiter said it wouldn't be a problem and the food wouldn't take long.  When she reached the suite she began to ponder what an awful day it had actually been.  She'd been busy and had lavished all manner of things on herself but she didn't feel that she'd been enriched by it in any way.  She wondered about how the day might have gone had Leon been there and what they would have done together.

Since the age of thirteen Leon had been there for Nia and she began to realize he'd become a safety net for her.  He was always there for her when she needed company, help or advice.  They'd both been there for each other, she thought.  Before him she'd been alone, without many friends but had been okay.  No, she corrected herself, she'd only been surviving by locking herself away in her room or the library.  Life with Leon had taught her that it wasn't safe to trust many people but Nia knew she had to make connections because she couldn't go back to locking herself away.

Leon had helped build a fire inside her that consumed action, excitement and good music that could never be forgotten.  She was no longer the girl reading about the world, she was the woman ready to breathe in all that it had to offer.  Leon had built the fire but she alone had to nurture and sustain it.  Nia wondered whether Leon had brought her back to Cuba and purposely left her alone to face these challenges.  Wasn't that his way, the Ranger way?  In at the deep end, sink or swim.  It was definitely do or die.  Nia had always known this trip would make her face her demons but she realized now that her biggest demon was not in her past but was facing up to her future.  Nia didn't know if she could do it without Leon.  Without the bitter memory of her father to define her Nia didn't know who she was.

There was a light knocking at the door and Nia rose from her reclined position on the sofa to answer it.  The young waiter who entered happened to be Rico, who she'd met earlier smoking a cigarette.  He was pushing a trolley with her dinner on it and she held the door for him.  He was dressed smarter than he had been in the morning, having donned a jacket like the other restaurant staff.

He laid the table quickly and professionally.  They exchanged smiles both knowing that earlier when they had met it had been on a much more equal footing.  Yet here he was now setting the table in the penthouse suite for the same teenager he'd hooked up with weed.

Nia wasn't used to the formality and decided to continue where they'd left off earlier.  "Are you from around here?"

"I live across town.  Too expensive around here," Rico replied.

"It seems most people who work here live across town.  I guess Havana ain't that much different from Miami."  Nia thought about the massive differences in the neighborhoods in Miami and thought Cuba probably had its own ghettos as well.  It was sad that being poor translated almost universally worldwide.

"You're from Miami then?"

"Yes," Nia said.  Rico wasn't used to the small talk but Nia could see he was beginning to feel more relaxed around her.  It helped that she was speaking Spanish with him.

Nia asked him if he could spare five minutes to talk to her about the best evening spots.  Politely he advised her of the courtesy guide book provided by the hotel.  Nia glanced over at it sitting upright on the desk in the corner with a few other books about Cuba.

His answer was what he was trained to say but not what she wanted.  Nia wanted local knowledge and to get out beyond the Havana of the hotel and the tourist bars recommended by the guide book.  She wanted to go somewhere alive with local Cuban spirit, to experience what she would have had she grown up here.

Rico was young, almost her own age, and out of his uniform she imagined him to be quite attractive.  He certainly should have known the right places to have a good time in Havana.  "I'm not really into what's in the brochure.  I prefer a little adventure and maybe something a little more hip-hop."

"What about Mr. Rodriguez?  What does he like?"

"There is no Mr. Rodriguez," Nia answered quickly.

"But I thought..."

"It's Mr. Brown and he's just a friend."  Nia didn't hesitate in using the term friend because Leon had left without making it clear at all where things stood between them.  "He's away on business.  I want to get out and explore myself," Nia said, recognizing the double meaning of her words given her desire to explore what her Cuban roots meant to her.

From his jacket pocket Rico pulled a small note pad and a pen and began to scribble something down.  "I get off work at ten.  Take a cab to this place.  It's a short journey.  I'll meet you there and take you to a place I know.  We're not supposed to mix with hotel guests so you keep it secret?"

"Can't you tell me where the club is and maybe I'll see you there?" Nia asked.

"It's a private club but I'll get you in and show you a good time."  He smiled with all the charm he had and Nia smiled back.

"Guess you can show me around.  I'm all up in here by myself and I'm dying to meet some real people.  Back home I ain't used to all this," Nia said, looking around at the lavish hotel suite.  "I'm used to being where the action's at.  Know what I'm saying?"

"See you later then?" Rico asked.

"Sure."

Nia ate her dinner and afterwards watched TV for a while.  There was satellite but she chose to watch one of the local stations.  It was good for her to hear more Cuban people speaking Spanish.  Being able to speak Spanish with a Cuban accent connected her with her heritage in a way that made her feel proud.  Nia carried on watching TV and pushed more thoughts about her father she wasn't proud of to the back of her mind.  She was desperate to feel comfortable being Cuban despite him.

At around nine Nia showered and changed into some jeans and a nice top for going out in.  From what Rico had said, she wasn't sure what sort of a private party this was going to be and she wanted to be ready for whatever.

Rico had left work on time for once and was walking down the street with his bag slung over his shoulder when he heard the cab pull to a stop.  He turned and saw Nia poking her head out the window.  He jogged the few steps back to the cab and Nia opened the door.  He got in.  "Hey," Rico said.

"Hi."

"I wasn't sure you were going to come."

"How could I miss your mysterious private party?" Nia answered.  Rico spoke to the driver quickly to give him their destination and then he turned back to Nia.

"I didn't know if a woman like you would want to hang out with a guy like me, especially on your own."

"A woman like me?  You know back home I don't live in no fancy hotel.  I'm from the street like the next person and believe me I can take care of myself."

Rico's charm and Nia's confidence created chemistry between them.  The taboo of hotel guest and employee hanging out together only made it more exciting.

The cab ride was long enough for Nia to talk a little with Rico about music in Cuba and he explained how hip-hop there had a particular flavor.

There was some nervous flirting on both sides.

Nia told him how she had been born in Cuba and had lived there only while she was very young.  Rico complimented her on her accent and she confessed that she'd been trying to perfect it ever since she'd arrived.

Nia explained what she did remember from growing up in Cuba was the music and language.  She wondered whether immersion in both of those might help her remember more.  She explained how her father had been really into music and that was why they had left for the US to set up his club in Miami.  Nia wondered if that was why she found music so fascinating.  Had her father passed on to her a passion for music, she wondered.  Her taste in music was different to her father's but maybe that was just because they were generations and cultures apart, she thought.  He'd grown up here in Cuba and she'd developed her own taste in music in Miami.

Nia told Rico about her passion for rap, free styling and how she liked to watch rap battles.  She thought back to the day when she'd bumped into Chris and how she'd had her first rap battle.  She still remembered the intensity of the moment and the rush as she rapped out the rhymes that beat him.  Nia wondered whether she could ever get fully into it and be as good as so many people were back in Miami.

That first time had shown her a little of what the excitement was like for the big time rappers but they went on to make big money out of their stories and the rhymes they wrap them up in.  Nia wondered what it would be like to have a message and want so bad to get it out there.  She knew it was a raw passion and she'd only glimpsed a little of it.

The cab arrived at their destination and Rico led Nia to what could only be described, from the outside, as an abandoned and dilapidated building.  Looking around at the area, Nia guessed they were in some disused industrial area.  The inside of the building wasn't much different but it was packed with people.  Rico led her to the bar and ordered them both a bottle of Bucanero, a locally brewed beer.

It was nothing like the clubs in Miami.  There were some run down places there but this was different, it was more like a house party in an old warehouse.  When Nia questioned Rico about it she was on the right track.

"What's with this place?  It seems like it's falling apart."

"It's popular because they play the best music.  It's not popular with the government because we all want true freedom.  That's why we're here and the government calls us the underground.  Cuba has many underground clubs and markets for whatever you want that the government doesn't let us have.  Was this the action you were looking for?"

It surprised Nia a little.  She'd not expected anything like this.  People did similar things back home in Miami but if she got into trouble here she didn't know how to handle the cops.  After the treatment at immigration she dreaded to think what they would do with her.  "Are you sure it's okay here?" Nia asked.

"Sure, there's never any trouble and here we have safety in numbers.  Any police come and we all just run," Rico answered, smiling at her the whole time.  "Now come and dance baby."

"Baby huh?"

"Sure," Rico said, taking her arm and leading her to the packed dance floor.

The crowd was exhilarated by the music and the DJ was urging them on.  Nia was glad she'd let Rico bring her to the club as she vibed with the fusion of Latin sounds and American hip-hop.  She also enjoyed how the Salsa dance moves she'd learnt the night before were incorporated in the dance style of everyone around her.  It made for a very sexy and invigorating experience.  The Cuban blend of hip-hop, along with a few live rap acts, had her dancing long into the early hours of the morning.  Rico was good company and Nia felt he had an addictive charm especially after they'd both had a few drinks.

Growing up in Miami, so much Cuban culture had passed Nia by.  A lot of the time she'd resented the culture because she associated with her father and she'd resented him, too.  But as the music played and her body moved with it, her resentment quickly fell away.  Nia let the whole experience flood in and hoped it would fill the part of her that always felt empty.  Until now, her mind had been clouded by her feelings for Leon.  But tonight he was out of her mind and Nia was her own woman.  She was taking her destiny in her own hands.  She felt better than she had done in a long time.  Things were beginning to feel like they were behind her and even though Nia still had bad memories of her father they had gone to a place where they didn't seem likely to come back and haunt her.

Nia awoke with the sun streaming in through the large windows opposite the foot of her bed.  She'd forgotten to close the curtains when she'd returned just before dawn.  She lay there for the best part of an hour semi-awake and wishing the sun would leave her alone.  It was a bad thing to add on top of her intense hangover and tiredness after the third successive night out with Rico and his friends.  The second night the club had moved to a new location but it had been just as thrilling as the first night.  Nia had danced until her feet hurt and she'd drunk more than someone on their own in a foreign country probably should have done.  But every day in Cuba made her feel more like it had been her home all along and Miami had just been a long holiday.  Nia was now speaking the local slang as if she'd been doing it all her life and had no problem understanding the fast paced insults of the freestyle rap battles that the club had held the night before.  Some of the rhymes still echoed through her throbbing head and she thought about how American hip-hop could do with more of the Cuban flavor.  Admittedly, there were artists that tried to do it but she wondered if they had the same passion for it she did.  She'd heard nothing like it before.

Throwing back the covers, Nia got out of bed and went to the door.  She flipped the 'Do not disturb' sign so the maid could come and clean up.  She then took a shower.  The water was refreshing as it ran down her exhausted body, easing all her muscles that ached from the dancing.

While still in the shower, Nia decided she needed a relaxing and refreshing day.  She wanted to lose her splitting headache that pulsated to the beat of her heart.  Her birthday was the next day and she knew there would be nothing worse than feeling hungover on her eighteenth birthday.  Nia was determined to remember it as marking the end of one chapter in her life and the start of a bright future.  She wouldn't go out to the club tonight with Rico but maybe would the night after if Leon still wasn't back.

Nia ate a full breakfast to rid herself of the hangover.  She had eggs, bacon, orange juice and a banana.  She'd heard bananas were supposed to be good for hangovers.  She'd soon find out.  She popped a few aspirin as well for good measure but knew that what she probably needed was a couple more hours sleep.  She'd barely had four.

Nia took out the guide book to find something relaxing to do for the day and found herself on the section that listed the best beaches.  A quiet day at the beach sounded good but all the pictures had crowds of people in them.  What she wanted was an empty beach, her idea of paradise right now.  Apart from the crowds of people all the beaches looked good and the descriptions were great but just as she was about to give up flipping the pages she saw the perfect one.  It was probably further than she wanted to go but for the peace and quiet she didn't mind a few more minutes riding one of the local buses.

The guide book detailed how access to the beach was limited by rocky cliffs.  The only safe access was by boat and that meant hitching a boat ride locally from a nearby village.  Nia's headache was finally beginning to subside and her breakfast had thankfully stayed down so she made her decision and packed for a day at the beach.

Unsure of exactly when to get off she asked the bus driver to let her know when they arrived at the right stop.  Once out of Havana she enjoyed watching the coastline pass by for a while.  She drifted in and out of a light sleep.  She was occasionally woken by the bumps in the rough road and the firm ride of the old suspension on a bus which really should have gone out of service years before, like most of the vehicles in Cuba.  There was no air-conditioning and the breeze from the open window didn't take much of an edge of the heat.

In between her dozing Nia watched the local people getting on and off the bus and she thought about how this could have been her life.  She wasn't sure whether she felt lucky having grown up in Miami.  Both Cuba and Miami were tough in their own way.  Nia tried to imagine herself riding the bus every day to go and work in the Hotel like Rico did.  The prospects for school dropouts like her in Miami weren't much better.  It was just luck that she'd met Leon and was now in the position to be on such an extravagant trip to the country of her birth.  Destiny had looked kindly on her in that respect.

Nia was beginning to realize that any situation, no matter how tough, was nothing but an opportunity to learn from and build character.  She wondered how she'd look back on what she'd learnt from this trip when it was over.  Then Nia thought about what she'd gained growing up in Miami rather than Cuba.  She knew Miami had taught her to be streetwise, and that was the strongest attribute she had, but she also knew character was best revealed when tested.  After Cuba maybe she would see herself differently.

The bus dropped Nia at the side of the main street through a very small village and pulled away, leaving behind a cloud of dust and a brief smell of exhaust fumes.  Nia pulled her bag over her left shoulder and set off down the road in search of someone to give her a boat ride.  The village was very quiet and she began to wonder whether she would find anyone at all.  Anyone who saw her would see she wasn't a local, dressed in her khaki shorts, bikini top and Miami Dolphins baseball cap.  There was no one around so she took a side street down toward the sea front.  Being a fishing village, she figured that would be where the action was at and she was right.

A couple of children, aged around five or six, went running passed her excited about something as children often are.  Nia looked around and saw a man down by one of the boats moored to the jetty.  It wasn't a big boat, too small to be able to make a real living on but the man looked old enough to have already made a living twice over.  Nia suspected he still worked his boat either out of love for the sea or because he wanted to keep out of relative poverty during his retirement.

As she approached she could see he was busy working with a fishing net.  His face showed his age, his skin weathered and displaying several days' facial hair growth.  His beard was grey like his hair and it stood in strong contrast to his deep tanned skin.  It was a tan that had been built up over a lifetime working in the Cuban sun.  He had a friendly smile as he glanced upon her approaching him.  His hands continued to work his net from years of practice.

"Can I help you?" the old man asked, looking up at Nia.

"I'm looking for a ride to Basia beach."

"You won't get there today.  You're too late, most of the boats went out early this morning and the rest have gone to watch the baseball game in the next village."

"You're here," Nia said, smiling and trying to charm the old man as best she could.

"I have to fix my net.  I can't catch fish without my net."

"I'll pay you," Nia offered.

"Of course you will but it won't be much.  You barter the price down until it's not worth my time."  The old man's smile had hidden a bitterness he'd probably taken years to perfect, just like his tan.

"I'm not here to take advantage of you.  I'll pay you what you say is fair.  I just want to visit what looks like the most beautiful beach in the country of my birth."  Nia hoped the old man would be moved by her plea.

"You were born here?" the old man asked.  "I assumed..."  His words trailed off as he looked her up and down in her American clothing.

"Nia Rodriguez," Nia said, holding out her hand rather formally.  She surprised herself with how her confidence had grown in situations like this.  Cuba was beginning to feel like home as had Miami when Leon had provided her with street confidence.  Nia was no longer passively experiencing situations, she was an engaged participant.

"Antonio Cienfuegos," the old man replied.

"Well Antonio, tell me what would be a reasonable price for me to pay you to take me to Basia beach?"

"Thirty dollars."  It was more than what a doctor made in a month.

"Call it thirty five and you can't accuse me of bartering you down," Nia said, smiling enough that the old man laughed a little and led her on to his boat.  It seemed that she'd convinced him his nets could wait and she knew that he'd overcharged her.  But the difference was negligible to her and yet she was sure it would make all the difference to him.

The smell of gasoline and the sound of the outboard were background to the stories the old man started to tell about his time growing up in Cuba.  It was as if he sensed Nia's desire to know what it would have been like had she not moved to Miami.  His stories were far different though to what she would have experienced because he spoke about growing up under the Batista regime and how he'd joined Castro's 26th of July Movement in the late fifties, just in time for full scale revolution.  Nia was enthralled with his tales of revolution and how he spoke the about destiny of revolutionaries in Cuba.

While at the beach Nia found it hard to get the thoughts of destiny out of her mind.  What was she destined for and what did Cuba hold for her, she wondered.

Nia arrived back at the hotel just after half past seven and was satisfied with how relaxing her day had been.  The bus ride had been bumpy but then she'd been taking the rough with the smooth all her life.  Nia stopped by the reception desk on her way in through the lobby and enquired whether she had any messages.  So far there had been none from Leon every time she'd checked and if she hadn't been so pissed off at him she might have been worried.

"One message," the receptionist replied to Nia's surprise, handing over a folded sheet of paper.  Nia turned and walked towards the elevator.  She almost didn't want to read the note.  Was Leon in trouble, she wondered.  Did he need her help?  As the elevator doors closed Nia unfolded the message.  It wasn't from Leon.  The message instructed her to call 'Mr. R' about the evening's arrangements.  She guessed 'Mr. R' to be Rico and realized she'd not told him she wanted a quiet relaxing evening or even that tomorrow was her eighteenth birthday.  She'd call him once she was showered.  Nia could still feel the sand between her toes and longed for that just showered freshness before she could do anything else.

The salt water had also dried her skin and after showering Nia sat dressed loosely in her robe rubbing moisturizer into her skin.  With her other hand she picked up the phone and dialed the number on the message.  It rang twice before Nia heard the familiar sound of Rico's voice.  She tried to explain that she didn't want to go out to the club but he stopped her short and for a moment she felt silly for assuming that was what the message was about.  He explained that he wouldn't be going to the club either.

Rico sensed rejection in the tone of Nia's voice when he said he wasn't going to be taking her to the club tonight despite her saying that she didn't want to go anyway.  That was natural, he guessed, after all she was on her own in a foreign country.  He'd pieced together odd bits of information from their random conversations and he felt for her situation.  He also had to admit to himself he had a romantic interest in this American girl.  She was attractive but wasn't stereotypically American.

"What're you doing tonight then?" Rico asked.

"Was gonna chill here," Nia replied.

"Why don't you come chill with me instead?"

"I thought you said..."

"I know I said I'm not going out to the club but I am going to a small beach party.  Nothing wild, just a beach fire and a little food and drink.  You want to come?" Rico asked.

"I just..."

"Come on, it'll be fun, relaxing, whatever.  Trust me, you'll have a great time and enjoy a real Cuban beach party."

"I guess I could come for a while.  I hear Cuban beach parties beat the ones in Miami."

At ten thirty it was still warm and humid enough for Nia to be comfortable wearing an attractive floral print cotton dress she'd picked up at the market the day before.  Nia sat on the beach with Rico, just close enough to the fire so that the insects didn't bother them.  After some tasty local food and a few alcoholic drinks Nia and Rico were talking enthusiastically about the differences growing up in Miami versus Havana.  A short distance away on the beach one of Rico's friends started playing a guitar and singing in Spanish.  There was a relaxing and soulful quality to the music, accompanied by the sound of the waves crashing onto the beach.

Nia lay back, looking up at the stars and Rico did the same.  "Do you ever wonder what's out there?" Rico asked.

"Guess I've never really taken the time," Nia answered.

"I've noticed that you seem to have a lot on your mind but you should take the time to appreciate magnificent things like the stars."

"Since coming here I've realized there's a lot I need to let go of and many new things I need to try.  You've been great by the way.  You really know how to show a girl a good time."

"No problem," Rico said, propping himself up on one elbow and gently running his fingers along the inside of Nia's forearm.  It was a very light touch and it gave her a pleasurable feeling she couldn't ignore.  Nia turned her head slowly to look at Rico.  He smiled and his eyes seemed to pull her in.  She caressed him in return and without words he leant in to embrace her.  They kissed and she liked it.  Nia was attracted by his Cuban mystique but wondered for the briefest moment if she was just substituting for Leon.  She wondered how it was possible to have felt such confusion and clarity at the same time in the last few days.  The clarity came from everything she was learning about Cuba and what it meant to her to know who she was.  The confusion arose because there was still so much to learn, every answer posing at least one new question.

Nia broke away excitedly from the kiss.  "Did I tell you I went to Basia beach today?"

"Really?  I've never been but I hear it's really great."

"It was.  Had the beach all to myself.  It was kind of a chill out treat before my birthday."

"Your birthday?"

"It's," Nia paused to look at her watch, "in about an hour and a half."

"No kidding?"

"Kiss me again," Nia said.  For now she'd forgotten her feelings for Leon.  Rico was funny, attractive and had been so warm to her.

Rico kissed her again and this time it was better.  Nia's mind was in tune with the moment and she glimpsed all the young and exciting romances she must have missed out on while she'd been watching Leon's back.  Kissing Rico was enough to recapture some of them.  She'd grown up too fast but that was the way it happened, being poor, black and from a broken home.

Making out with Rico was better than she'd imagined and Nia barely noticed the time go by as they kissed and caressed each other.  Soon Rico was wishing her happy birthday.  Not long after, Nia reluctantly decided it was time to call it a night and go back to her room.  Nia decided to do so without Rico.  She liked him plenty but she didn't want him to think she was a pushover and besides, he worked there.  She decided instead to ask him if they could hang out over the weekend.

"Can I let you know tomorrow?  I have shifts at work I'll need to swap."

"Sure, and if you can then we could always take a trip down to Basia beach," Nia proposed.  The suggestion of visiting a deserted beach together was enough to let Rico know there'd be more making out if he swapped his shifts.

It was late but Nia didn't go straight to her room.  She walked in the hotel grounds a while, enjoying the heavy scent of the garden's flowers in the humid night air.  She smiled to herself and thought about how much she was looking forward to seeing Rico the next day.

Nia sat on the edge of one of several fountains that dotted the garden and she ran her fingers through the cool water.  The moment seemed perfect to her, one she would always remember.  She had broken from the past and was having a holiday romance.  Nia knew she'd never stop caring about Leon but things were different now.  After her experiences of the last few days Nia felt like an independent woman.  In her mind, the timing of her eighteenth birthday couldn't have been better.

Flicking the water from her fingers, Nia stood and made her way back inside.  She stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the penthouse.  At the last second, as the doors were almost closed, a hand slipped between them and triggered them to open again.  Nia looked up and saw Rico's face.  She was surprised for a moment but she couldn't help showing her happiness as he stepped inside the elevator.  Nia knew instantly why he was there.  The doors closed and he kissed her.

# TEN

Leon paid the cab driver and turned to enter the hotel.  It had been an awful ride and the only thing he needed more than a shower was a drink.  It was the journey before the cab ride which had been terrible.  He had been dropped off in a random part of Havana still hooded.  It wasn't actually that far from the hotel but given that he'd been blindfolded for hours in the back of a stinking hot truck Leon had hoped to be dropped off conveniently near the hotel.  But that could have been dangerous for his clients if Leon's hotel was under surveillance.  Precautions were always taken seriously.

It was all in the name of making money and that was what Leon was all about.  However, it frustrated him that despite all the secrecy and the hours in the blindfold he'd probably never been more than a mile or two from the hotel but that was part of the game.  He understood and probably would have done the same but that didn't make the experience any better.

Although the deal he'd brokered with the Cartel had been sweet he doubted it was sweet enough to see his immediate promotion back in Miami, as he'd planned.  It was rare that negotiations would take as long as they had.  However, the particular man he'd been dealing with, his host for almost a week, was well known for his lengthy hospitality which came from a desire to get to know personally anyone he was dealing with.  Of course Leon had tried to play his cards right but over several days it was hard not to let your guard down at some point.  That coupled with the fact he needed to ensure the deal met the requirements of his boss in Miami, had ensured a lengthy negotiation.

Leon could feel the sweat running down his back and was only mildly relived by the cool air conditioning in the hotel bar.  He took a seat at one of the barstools.

"Cognac, straight up.  Give me a double," Leon ordered in English.

It was late and the barman looked like he could do with a night off.  He served Leon the drink with little but a polite acknowledgement and Leon was glad of it.  He couldn't be bothered to make small talk, even if only with a barman and especially one who didn't share the same first language.  It wasn't a prejudice, although it may have easily been mistaken as one.  It was just that he'd become sick of it during the recent negotiations.

The negotiations had been tense and Leon had been unable to leave his host's compound.  Inside the compound he'd been free to move around but had been guarded around the clock.  It was supposed to be for his own protection but that didn't make him feel any better about having two armed men standing outside his room all night.  He didn't have a weapon of his own and had refused female company when his host had offered.  If he'd accepted then he was sure he'd have been lavished with a different woman every night.

Leon had refused without really thinking about it.  His impulse had been to avoid the obvious bribe and he told himself it was just safer that way because he didn't know these people.  Who knew what diseases he could catch in Cuba, he thought.  But as time wore on he thought of Nia and knew deep down he'd refused because of his feelings for her.  Each night he thought of her more often and of what had happened on the plane.  He regretted having left her so suddenly but the level of secrecy needed for the negotiations had demanded it.  He hoped she would understand.

As he sipped away at his drink he thought more about Nia.  His drink would soon take the edge off his mood and he hoped she would be what finally calmed him completely.  Nia always had before but tonight he looked forward to the affection he'd been fantasizing about for days.

Leon looked in the mirror behind the bar.  He looked like a disaster.  His shirt, damp with sweat, was beginning to dry but it was all crumpled.  He was sure he smelt awful but his nose had become accustomed to his own stink after hours of sweating in the truck.  Looking closer he could see his eyes were also bloodshot and he knew a shower would do him good.  Maybe, he thought, he'd have one with Nia and they'd make love right there under the water.  He took another sip of his cognac and imagined himself pressing Nia up against the tiles as he entered her.  He was sure he'd be her first and maybe her only.

Placing the empty cognac glass back down on the bar, Leon tried to straighten himself up in the mirror.  He stepped down from the barstool and picked up his bag.  Moments later he stood in front of the bank of elevators and pushed the call button.  Due to the late hour, one was immediately available.  He rode it alone all the way to the penthouse and at the door he had to dig in his pockets to find his key card.  As he did he imagined the next few moments unfolding, Nia falling into his arms, kissing him, so glad to see him.  Then he would surely find satisfaction as they showered together.

At last his fingers found the card in his left back pocket.  It slid into the door lock and he heard the distinctive release sound of the electronic door mechanism.  A couple of lights were on when he stepped inside and Leon wasn't surprised at all that Nia might still be awake at this hour.  After all, they had run a night time routine together for a long time.  As he looked around, however, things didn't seem routine.  His eyes scanned the room, looking for what was out of place with automatic efficiency, as they had done so many times before during urban clearance operations in Iraq.  He saw the two glasses on the bar, clothes on the floor and smelt the faint scent of a man's cologne.  For the briefest of moments Leon imagined Nia had missed him so much that she'd been wearing his clothes and cologne in an attempt to feel closer to him.  That thought didn't long.  They weren't his clothes and it wasn't his cologne.  Leon twisted the door handle to Nia's room and pushed the door open.

Nia was startled when the door opened.  The room had been dark and she felt a pinching sensation in her eyes as her pupils took a few seconds to adjust to the brightness.  As they did Rico moved from his position on top of her to lie next to her under the sheets.  Nia pulled the covers up around her neck and strained to see who it was standing in the door way.  Half of her was embarrassed by the situation and the other half of her was scared stiff.  The figure just stood there, silhouetted by the brighter light behind and it was stopping her from establishing who it was.

Her vision eventually adjusted enough for her to recognize who it was but by that time it felt like an eternity had passed.  Knowing Leon was standing there caused her embarrassment to subside but only because fear completely took over.  She realized that after how they'd left things he probably wouldn't be happy to find her in bed like this with another man.

There was also something about his body language that made Nia scramble to sit up straight against the bed's headboard.  In the heat of the moment with Rico Nia had totally forgotten that Leon might come back.  She'd not thought anything through from the moment Rico had entered the elevator.

"Baby I didn't know you were coming back."  The moment she said it Nia regretted sounding so pathetic.  She just couldn't find the right words for the situation or to explain to both men what was happening.  Both had to draw their own conclusions and Nia knew they would both be quite justified in what they thought of her.

"Don't baby me bitch!" Leon said, his voice firm and serious, his anger barely contained.  He stepped forward and was no longer silhouetted in the doorway.  Nia saw how ragged he looked and, in any other circumstance, would have enquired if he was okay but this wasn't the time for that.

He approached the bed and snatched off the sheets, leaving Nia and Rico exposed.  Nia drew her knees up to her chest, partially to cover herself and partially as a defensive move.  The physical threats of her father came flooding back as Leon towered over her and she cowered like she had done so many times before on the floor of her bedroom.

Leon's face turned as cold as stone upon seeing Rico's naked body.  "Who the fuck is this?  Fucking Cubans!  Go suck Castro's dick!" Leon shouted as Rico scrambled off the bed and to his feet.

Rico was like a deer caught in the headlights of a big truck.  The only way out was through the door Leon was blocking.  He made a move for it but was completely out matched by Leon.  He was physically dwarfed by Leon and didn't have any of the formidable hand to hand combat skills of the former Ranger blocking his path.  Leon grabbed Rico behind the neck with both hands and brought a solid knee hard up in to his gut.  It didn't knock him down but did send him staggering a few feet across the room.  Nia screamed as she watched the violence unfold.

"Hey!  Stop!"

Nia leapt naked in front of Leon, scared of what he may potentially do to Rico.  In the rush of adrenaline she barely felt the backhand Leon lashed across her face.  But it wasn't just the adrenaline that helped her take the blow.  Nia had a natural toughness developed over years of seeing the same thing happen to her mother.  Still, it didn't help when Leon seized her by the neck, his tight grip crushing her larynx enough to choke her and stop her from screaming.

"You better sit this one out," Leon said, throwing Nia clean off her feet and back onto the bed.  She clutched at her throat trying to catch her breath again.  Rico took his chance as a clear path to the door opened up.  As he passed Leon he wasn't fast enough and Leon shoved him off course just enough to smash his face in to the door frame with full force.  Rico lay sprawled out on to the floor, almost unconscious from the blow.  Leon followed Rico out of the bedroom and bent over him.

Nia scrambled from the bed as fast as she could but got her foot tangled in the sheets.  She fell forward on to the floor and put her hands out to break her fall.  She watched in what seemed like slow motion as Leon dragged Rico to the main door.  Rico looked weak and was barely able to stand without swaying as Leon opened the door.  Rico stood there for a second as if he wasn't going to leave.  He looked dazed.

"What the fuck you want?" Leon shouted.  "You already had my woman and I should'a killed you for that.  Maybe I still will.  You want these?" Leon picked up some of Rico's discarded clothes and threw them out into the corridor.  Leon shoved him clear of the door and slammed it hard.  "Communist mother fucker!"

Nia made it out of the bedroom just in time to see the door slam in Rico's face.  She screamed at Leon.  "Your woman?  You think I'd be your woman after that?"  Leon turned to her and backhanded her again across her right cheek.  The blow knocked her a little sideways this time and her anger flared even more than it already was.  She turned on Leon with increased ferocity.  Her arms flailed and she landed several blows on his face, each one to the sound of her screaming.  "I hate you...I hate you..."

In a moment of terrible remembrance Nia thought about the last and only other time she'd hit Leon.  He'd rescued her from two thugs who'd been intent on raping her.  She'd still been freaking out and had struck him as he'd tried to comfort her.  In the years since then she'd spent almost every day wishing Leon to want her as his woman but not like this.

Nia could already feel the swelling on her right cheek where Leon had hit her, the same cheek where the thugs had left her with a small scar as a permanent reminder of their brutality.  She realized Leon had always had the potential for violence like any man but now she saw it so plainly it scared her.  She didn't want to end up like her mother.  She wasn't going to let a man determine her life, not when she was turning eighteen.  As a woman she had to set her own destiny.

# ELEVEN

Nia spent the best part of two days locked in her room, only opening the door for room service and even then only ordering when the maids came round.  She just didn't want to have to keep confronting Leon.  They'd already argued for hours and got nowhere.  The fact was he'd crossed a line and she knew there was no going back to the way things were no matter how remorseful he was.  Deliberate or not, the fact that he'd left her by herself the week before meant that she'd developed the independence and strength to stand up for herself.

She saw his actions for what they really were.  He was jealous.  But what disturbed her most was the similarity to her mother's relationship with her father.  Nia understood very well why Rico stopped taking her calls but it hurt.  She'd called to apologize, although she knew none of it was her fault.  He'd hung up on her and after that she just couldn't get through at all.  Nia was angry that another man had abandoned her.  Her father, Leon and Rico had all let her down.  The point was proven to Nia that the only person she could rely on was herself.

Nia heard the phone ring through her closed door.  Leon answered and she strained to hear the conversation.  It was almost impossible to hear anything through the thick door.  Seconds later there was a light knock followed by Leon's voice.  "It's for you."

"I'm busy!" Nia sternly replied, the anger still evident in her voice.

"You'll want to take this one.  It's the head of security from the club calling about your mother."

Nia sat up in bed, immediately worried.  She didn't know what had happened but a call from Marcus Campbell made her mind jump to some horrible security incident at the club.  She instantly worried about how that could have involved her mother.  The phone was resting on the table and Leon sat across the other side of the room.  She picked it up.  "Marcus?"

"Yes ma'am."

"What's going on?"

"You need to come home ma'am."

"What's happened?" Nia asked Marcus again.

"It's your mother, she's had to go into hospital and it's important you come back."

"What are you telling me Marcus?"

"Ma'am, I'm telling you that you need to come home."

The airplane landed in Miami just after ten in the evening.  Nia had travelled back with Leon on the next available flight, their disagreement temporarily suspended.  Nia stood at baggage collection caring even less about collecting her bags than she'd taken packing them.  She was on auto pilot, caring only about her mother.  Marcus hadn't said much so it couldn't be that bad could it?

Nia had spent the whole flight unable to sit comfortably as she pictured her mother with a broken arm or leg, maybe even a concussion from whatever had happened at the club.  Waves of panic had come over her as she feared the worst, a bottle, knife or gunshot wound.  Nia had already decided to give Marcus Campbell piece of her mind for his security fuck up.  It angered her that this had happened after they'd survived her father for so long.  Now it was so much clearer to Nia how unfair life had been for both of them.

Nia grabbed her last bag as it came round on the carousel.  Minutes later the bags were in the trunk of Leon's Monte Carlo, which he'd arranged to have waiting for them when they landed.

As they drove in the rain the journey to the University of Miami Hospital was just more agony for Nia and the silence between her and Leon intensified the situation.

Nia stared out her window into the darkness and watched the streetlights pass.  Both knew the situation between them was far from resolved.  While they weren't arguing the silence was as loud as ever.  The only break in the silence had been when Nia phoned to find out what hospital her mother was at.  Marcus signposted her and Nia had half expected him to say he'd meet them there but he didn't.  He was keeping the club open and temporarily filling in for her mother.  It seemed a little cold of him but Havana needed the business.  Nia reminded herself that although Marcus Campbell had been with them for a few years he wasn't family.  She couldn't expect him to want to visit her mother in hospital.  But if this turned out to be his fuck up then she'd make sure her mother fired him.

At the nurses' station Nia met an unhelpful nurse who wouldn't allow her to see her mother because visiting hours were over.  The nurse looked to be in her late fifties and was probably tired from pulling so many late shifts.  When she talked to Nia there was a dismissive and patronizing tone in her voice.  Nia was so frustrated she saw it for what it wasn't, a white woman thinking she could talk down to the black bitch in front of her.

Leon saw the rage rising in Nia and pre-emptively stepped in, risking incurring Nia's wrath himself.  He lubricated the situation with the hundred dollar bill he slid across the desk.

"Visiting hours still closed for Benjamin?" Leon asked.  The nurse took a long look at him, shook her head and reached for the note.  "And find a doctor to tell us what is going on.  I don't care where you get one from, just get one," Leon instructed before letting her take the c-note.

The nurse checked her charts after asking the name of the patient they wanted to see.  She led them down the corridor a short distance and into a room with two beds in it.  It was dim inside.  The only light was from the corridor and the street lights outside.  The patient closest to the door was snoring and Nia immediately recognized her mother in the farthest bed.

"She's sedated," the nurse said, checking the chart as Nia approached her mother's side.

"What happened?" Nia asked as she pulled a chair alongside her mother's bed and took her hand.  It didn't seem like her mother's condition was as a result of an incident at the club.

"I'll get the doctor."  The nurse turned and left the room.

Nia studied her mother's face.  She was very gaunt and her skin felt clammy.  This wasn't the Jay that Nia remembered.  It had been only just over a week since Nia had last seen her but she'd changed so much, especially in her face.  The last few years she'd lost weight but Nia had put that down to her working hard and having lost her husband.  This was worse though and Nia feared what it meant.

Leon was trying to decipher the chart in the light from the doorway when the doctor walked in.  He was visibly disturbed from the late night request to consult on a patient but took the chart from Leon.  He was supposed to be catching precious sleep in the on call room and supposed to be summoned only in the event of an emergency.  He switched on a small side lamp to help him read the chart.  As his eyes scanned the notes he woke up a little, the frustration dropping off his face.

"Mrs. Rodriguez, she's your..."

"Mother," Nia replied, "I'm her daughter Nia."

"Miss Rodriguez, I'm afraid that the prognosis isn't good.  I'm not your mother's doctor but the notes here tell me she is suffering from advanced stages of cancer.  She was diagnosed some time ago but she elected not to receive treatment.  At this stage there is little we can do but make her comfortable."

Nia stood up visibly shocked.  The thought that her mother had kept this horrible illness to herself was almost as painful as the realization she may die.  Nia felt a sudden guilt for not having recognized the signs that her mother wasn't well.  All the weight she'd lost was probably down to the cancer and then there was the time she'd found her being sick.  It was only just before she'd gone to Cuba but maybe if she'd taken her mother to a doctor then it could have made a difference, she thought.

"There must be something you can do?" Nia asked, struggling to keep the tone of her voice steady.  The last thing she wanted was to show weakness in front of Leon after what he had done to her.  Her time relying on him was over.

"Normally there's a whole raft of things we can do.  Expensive without insurance..."

"I can pay whatever you want," Nia interrupted.

"What I'm trying to say is we're past that stage.  The cancer has spread to the rest of her body and she doesn't have long.  The best we can do is keep her comfortable.  It means some strong sedatives but..."

"How long does she have?" Leon asked, knowing Nia was too afraid to.

"The notes say she was rushed in after collapsing.  The EMTs resuscitated her twice on the way.  She's as stable as she can be for the moment but I couldn't give you any indication of..."

"You'd better say your goodbyes as soon as you can Nia."

Leon's interjection really pissed Nia off.  He was being brutal with the truth but at the same time she reluctantly knew he was right.

"Miss Rodriguez, you can stay here with your mother and if you need anything don't let Nurse Walker bother you.  Just say Dr. Barton said you could stay and she is to take care of you."

"Thanks Doc," Nia said, holding back her tears.  It was taking all her strength to not break down in front of Leon.  The doctor hung up the chart, turned and left.

"You want me to stay?" Leon asked.

"I'll be fine."  Nia didn't look at him.

"Call me in the morning then, or whatever time you need me."  Nia gave Leon a subdued nod and he left the room.

Nia studied her mother who was sleeping motionlessly apart from her slow shallow breathing.  She was holding her mother's hand tightly and the sudden realization of this made her relax her grip.  She was worried that if she'd continued to hold so tight she might have hurt her.  Nia was a well of mixed emotions and she continued to choke back her tears.

Leon hit the street in his Monte Carlo.  He just needed to drive.  He was so angry at himself for fucking things up with Nia.  It didn't look like he would have the chance to fix things with her any time soon.  He didn't want to be selfish when she was obviously more concerned about her mother.  He was going to do the right thing this time and give her the space she needed.  He'd be there for her if she needed him and to be sure of that he'd let her come to him when she was ready.  In the back of his mind he wondered what would happen if she didn't.  He didn't want to admit it but this bust up with Nia was making him slowly realize just how deeply he felt for her and how wrong he had been.

Nia woke up as she felt her hand being squeezed.  She rubbed at the dried tears crusting her eyes shut.  It was still dark outside.  Nia looked around, slowly remembering where she was.  Then realizing what the squeezing of her hand meant she sat forward.  She leant on the edge of the bed and gently squeezed back.

"I'm here Mama."

"Help me sit up," Jay said, her words whispered, raspy and only audible to Nia because she was so close.  Nia found the controls for the bed and raised her mother almost up into a sitting position.  "I'm sorry you had to come back early from your vacation."

"The vacation was over Mama, don't worry."

"The doctor said I don't have long left."

"I know Mama.  I..."

"There are things you need to know before I'm gone."

"Please don't talk like that Mama.  I can't bear to think of being without you."

"But I'll be gone soon baby and then you gonna have to hold on and be strong because you'll be all that's left of our family.  You have a legacy to continue.  Destiny runs through all of us and no matter how much I've tried to shield you from that I know now sometimes we can't avoid what destiny has chosen for us."

"What do you mean Mama?  I don't understand."

Jay turned to her side slightly, coughing heavily.  The sound of heavy mucus in the coughs reinforced how gravely ill her mother was.  "You have a destiny to fulfill and I know you're gonna do great things.  I first felt it when I was pregnant with you.  I was scared, and you might be at times too, but that's why I tried to raise you where you'd be safe."

"You mean why we moved to the US?  I thought that was to set up the club," Nia replied.

"Not exactly.  Destiny had a different plan but you've got to seize what you've got now and make the best of it.  I put all my time and energy into the club so you'd have something after I'm gone.  I didn't want to waste money on treatment.  I put it all in the club so I could give you a better life after I'm gone."

"You should have come to me for the money Mama."

"It would have only delayed the inevitable."  Jay started coughing again and the electronic monitor started bleeping.  Nia turned, ready to fetch the nurse but she was already at the door.

Jay's coughing began to subside but Nurse Walker wasn't happy.  She looked over the monitors and turned to Nia.  "It's late and your talking is worsening Mrs. Rodriguez's condition."  The nurse spoke as if Jay wasn't even there.  "I recommend you let her sleep."  Nia said nothing in return.  The nurse adjusted the feed rate of the sedative into Jay's drip line.  "The drugs are likely to make her incoherent if she tries to stay awake.  You should both get some sleep and talk in the morning."  The nurse turned and left.

Nia knew her mother wasn't making the clearest sense because of the drugs but there was something about what she was saying that Nia was desperate to understand.

"Don't let me sleep.  I'm scared I won't wake up again," Jay pleaded with Nia.  The drugs had begun to slur her speech a little.  "I need to tell you things, important things."

"Mama, the nurse said you should sleep," Nia said, despite how afraid she also was that her mother would never wake up and she'd never understand what her mother was trying to tell her.

"You need to know this because I ain't gonna make it to the sunrise baby."  Jay took her daughter's hand once more.  "What I said about trying to raise you where you'd have the best chance at a normal life..."

"I know Mama, I've seen what it is like in Cuba.  It's poor and rough in places but like you said, I'm here now and making the best of what I got."

"That's not what I meant.  Please let me explain."  The look on Jay's face showed she was struggling to put her thoughts in order.  The drugs made it hard and Nia could see that in her mother's eyes.  "I was pregnant before I moved to Cuba."

"But I thought you said that was when..."  Realization swept over Nia and then her mother's words made it crystal clear.

"Hugo isn't your Papi."

The words hit Nia like a ton of bricks and for a moment she almost let go of her mother's hand.  Her thoughts raced, thinking of all the pain and emotional suffering she'd been through because of him and because she'd thought that man was her father.  She'd agonized the last few years about how he'd died and the part she had played.  She'd fretted that she carried his blood, his DNA, and would somehow end up like him.

"All this time Mama?  All that we went through?"

"I never meant to hurt you," Jay said.  They'd both become emotional and Jay's coughing became worse.  Nia poured her some water from the jug on the bedside table.  It helped a little but Nia had to help her mother steady the glass as she drank from it.  The drugs were in full effect now and Jay had sloppy coordination as well as slurred speech.

Nia broke into a sob.

"He was horrible to you and you put up with him?  If he wasn't my father then why Mama?"  Nia begged her mother for an answer.

"It's probably hard for you to remember what things were like but we were in love once.  I never told him that he wasn't your father but he worked it out for himself.  That's when he started drinking.  It's hard for a man when he feels betrayed.  I should've been straight with him and that was my mistake.  I've made a few but you must know having you wasn't one of them."

It was hard to hear the justifications for the years of abuse they had suffered and Nia had never felt worse.  What her mother had said confirmed a feeling Nia only realized now she had kept buried.  She'd always felt for some reason that she didn't belong, at least not with Hugo.  She remembered his bitter words.

You ain't nothing to me and you ain't never gonna be nothing.

On one level the guilt she'd felt as a child was validated and she blamed herself for all the fighting and unhappiness.

It was a lot to learn and Nia struggled to get it straight in her head.  Did she still consider Hugo as one of her parents?  Nia knew now she had no biological connection to him and there wasn't much else that he had given her, she thought.  He'd never been there for her or taught her the ways of the world like a real father should.  She'd learnt that from the street, from Leon and the words of rap artists like Tupac Shakur.  Still, knowing that he wasn't really her father didn't lessen the blow of the guilt that she felt for being the cause of all her mother's suffering at his hands.  He had beaten her mother black and blue because she wasn't his daughter.

"Nick's book is the key," Jay said and then drifted away for a second as if in another world.  Nia stared blankly at her mother.  "Don't sell the club when I'm gone.  It's yours now."

"I won't Mama but who is Nick?"  The nurse had been right about the drugs.  Her mother wasn't making sense anymore.

"No...  The book is just a book, the key to the book is your birthday and with the book you'll find the key to what you're looking for."  What her mother was saying just didn't make sense.  Maybe her mother was trying to explain about the club's accounting books.  Maybe Nick was the accountant but Nia wondered what she meant about her birthday being the key?

Jay started coughing violently, much worse than before and Nia tried to offer her some more water but she was coughing too much to take it.

"Mama take it easy, relax.  You need to rest.  We'll talk more in the morning," Nia said, hoping the coughing would pass.

Jay's coughing did eventually subside and she lay back in the bed, looking visibly exhausted on top of her already gaunt appearance.  She held up a trembling hand to beckon Nia closer.  Nia leant forward and could hear her mother's shallow breathing.  The moment was burnt into Nia's mind forever.

She felt her mother squeeze her hand as she began to speak.  It was nothing more than a quiet whisper but it also seemed like a moment of clarity breaking thought the effect of the drugs.

"I know them aren't tears coming down your face.  Wipe your eyes.  In this world only the strong survive sweetheart.  I know it's hard out there but believe me when I tell you, things always get better.  God don't like ugly and God don't like no quitters.  God bless the child that can hold his own.  You know, you got to stand strong."

As Nia listened she innately understood the importance of the words as if they already came from a place deep within her.  As her mother spoke them Nia felt stronger and as the last words rolled off her mother's tongue she felt her mother's grip on her hand fade away.

The heart monitor at the side of the bed sounded a long beep as the display showed Jay's heart flat line.

In the few seconds before Nia could react, she saw the spark fade from her mother's eyes and it was replaced by a glazed and blank expression.

Panic came swiftly to Nia and the hospital's crash team arrived in response to the flat line alarm.  Nia watched for seven minutes as they tried to resuscitate her mother, all the while she was thinking of the one thing she wished she'd said when she'd had the chance.

When the team admitted defeat and the time of death had been called Nia was given a moment alone.  She retook her mother's hand.

"I don't know who Nick is and what book you were talking about but I know one thing Mama.  I love you."

# TWELVE

John Lloyd reached across the short distance between them and handed Nia a tissue.  She took it and dabbed at her eyes.  Lloyd gave her a light squeeze on the shoulder in sympathy.  He wanted Nia to know he was trying to understand, even if he couldn't fully appreciate her loss because he still had both his parents.  "Do you want a minute?"

"I'm fine, really," Nia replied.

Across the room Marcus continued to patrol the perimeter.

"I can only imagine how traumatic it must have been to lose your mother so unexpectedly at eighteen and to not have a father to turn to.  It was more than that though wasn't it?  Before she died she told you Hugo Rodriguez wasn't your father."

"That's right," Nia agreed.

"For anyone this would have been an emotional ordeal."  Lloyd was cut short.

"I'd barely started to cope with the fact that Hugo had died and I'd had a part in that.  I guess I wasn't directly responsible but my actions had contributed to the heart attack that killed him.  He was a bad father in so many ways and a bad husband.  For so long I'd thought there was something of him in me and I hated I might end up like him.  When my mother told me, it all seemed so unreal.  All those years I'd struggled with my feelings about him.  I used to look at myself in the mirror and think I could see part of him in me.  I'd look at my nose or my ears and wonder if they were like his.  I worried most I'd have his character.  I went in and out of phases with drugs and alcohol.  I'd drink and get high to forget but then I'd see him in my drinking and so I'd try to quit.  I didn't want to be like him one bit.

"But the hardest thing was that I'd come so far while on my trip to Cuba, you know?  It was like all the bad memories had begun to fade when I remembered how good it had been growing up in Cuba.  Like I said, I really believed that was where I was from.  It had never crossed my mind that my father was from anywhere else.  Going back to Cuba had been important to me at the time because it was so much more than just reconciling my feelings about Hugo.  I was a young woman, my character was maturing and, although I didn't know it at the time, I was searching for my identity.  Growing up here in Miami as an Afro-Cuban-American is one thing but my feeling of connection to my cultural and historical roots was so much stronger after I'd been in Cuba for a few days.

"Cuba instantly felt like home to me and the longer I was there the more certain of that I became.  My sense of identity grew more than ever in those few days and I was absorbed by the language, music and dance.  I wanted nothing more than to live and breathe Cuba.  I guess that's why I fell so easily for Rico.  I was young you know and for so long I'd been holding out for Leon.  But after what happened in Cuba I was sure it was over with Leon.  Cuba gave me a real sense of who I was.  I was Cuban.  Born there.  Raised there.  That's why I really had a vibe for the Latin flavor in the hip-hop and everything else like I'd never done before in Miami.  I knew I was home.

"Then my mother told me Hugo wasn't my father and that she'd been pregnant before she went to Cuba.  She said that she'd gone there to raise me so that I'd be safe.  She never explained what she was trying to protect me from.  At the time it didn't make sense to me because Cuba is just as rough and we wound up back in the US anyway.

"Learning all that had my head spinning and I didn't know where I was at.  I'd felt Cuban through and through but suddenly I learnt I wasn't.  I didn't know what to feel except lost.  My whole life felt like a lie.  I didn't blame my mother though.  In the back of my mind I was upset with her but I couldn't stay that way for long because she was gone.  If I felt anything else it was despair.  My Cuban blood was no more, I had no idea who my real father was and I'd had an irreconcilable fall out with the man who had been the closest thing to a real father I'd ever known.  And apart from the club, my mother had left me only a set of confusing last words.  I hadn't understood then and in the days that followed it really haunted me.  The thought that she'd died trying to tell me something that I might never understand affected me deeply.  I wished she'd lived to tell.

"Learning that I'd been the reason Hugo had treated her so bad completely broke my heart.  I know she didn't want me to blame myself and had said it had been her mistake for not being straight with him but I still find it hard not to.  I loved my Mama..."  Nia wiped more tears from her eyes.

"After the funeral I kept thinking about my father, or more to the point that I didn't know who he was.  All my life I'd been looking for a male figure to fill the void left by Hugo, before and after he died.  But it was even harder trying to fill the void of a father that I knew nothing about.  The void seemed too big and I was overwhelmed by that.  The probability was that my real father was no better than Hugo but I wished I had a great father.  The fantasy only made my depression spiral deeper.  Once again I was struggling with my identity and I fell back on the one thing that had always been there for me.  Rap.  It was my outlet and I fell deep into Tupac's music.  I could feel the same struggle and pain in his music that I felt in my situation.  With his words to guide me I didn't feel so hopelessly alone."

# THIRTEEN

Every night since her mother's death Nia had slept out back in Havana's office.  There she was surrounded by her mother's things and she listened to the music that comforted her.  The pain and loss she felt tore a hole in her heart that almost caused her to stop functioning.  Marcus had taken over management of the club temporarily because he could see Nia wasn't able to take her mother's place.  He'd not lost his ability to adapt to changing circumstances in the years since leaving the marines but Nia wasn't coping with the changes so well.  The office was untidy and paperwork was strewn all over the desk.  It didn't look like Nia was going to get to grips with her new responsibilities any time soon.

Nia had spent the evening going through her mother's belongings, knowing that she was supposed to decide what to keep and what to throw away.  She'd given up trying to decide.  She had so many questions and not a single possession of her mother's was comforting or forthcoming with an answer.

Nia lit her blunt with a match to the sound of 'Teardrops and Closed Caskets' playing in the background.  She inhaled the smoke like it was a kiss of life.  Holding the smoke in her lungs, she let the high rush through her.  It was a welcome relief.

The chorus struck an emotional chord with her and she wrapped her fingers around the pistol grip of her Glock.  There was a round in the chamber, the hammer was cocked and she flicked off the safety.  The chorus played over again.

"Teardrops and closed caskets

Will I forever be alone in this world?"

As she lifted the Glock to her temple she fully noticed its weight for the first time.  The muzzle felt cold against the skin of her temple and she wondered whether she'd feel pain as the bullet shattered her skull.  Her finger crept onto the trigger and she took another kiss of life from the blunt.  It tasted sticky sweet and she casually blew the smoke back out of her mouth and nose simultaneously.

Despite the dulling effect of the weed her senses were on overdrive, picking up tiny details as if sensing this was the last few seconds that they would have.  The crisscross texture on the edge of the trigger was picked up by her left index finger.  As she squeezed, Nia wondered how long the first trigger pressure would last before she hit the second which would release the hammer.  She could almost see it in her mind.  The hammer would strike the firing pin, which would in turn strike the percussion cap, igniting the charge and propelling the bullet down the barrel.  The grooves in the barrel would spin the bullet to give it greater accuracy over distance, not that it mattered at this range.  The biggest danger was that she didn't aim right and would end up only clipping the front of her head.  She might not die from that but end up a vegetable, spending the rest of her life unable to finish the job.  Nia moved the muzzle back so it was more central and tried to visualize the angle of the barrel.

Nia felt the trigger slide back, taking up the first pressure slowly and relief was now only a light squeeze away.  The round in the chamber was a hollow point.  As it struck her skull it would either shatter into pieces or mushroom out, transferring all its kinetic energy into her brain tissue and causing massive hydrostatic shock.  It would kill her instantly.

The door to the office opened.

Nia's hand trembled slightly as she maintained the pressure on the trigger.

"Teardrops and closed caskets

Will I forever be alone in this world?"

Fleeting thoughts of her mother raced through her mind and she closed her eyes.  She imagined her mother looking down on her.  In seconds they'd be together again.

This was it.

"Safety that sidearm Marine!"

Marcus stood in the doorway, his eyes almost popping out of his head as he shouted.  His whole body was erect as if stood to attention.  His steely eyed stare carried itself ruthlessly across the room and the moment seemed to hang for eternity.  His order carried authority even though he was no longer serving and Nia had never been a Marine.

Her finger slowly released the pressure on the trigger and she automatically applied the safety without looking.  The Glock dropped beside her thigh on the sofa.

Marcus marched forward across the room and pulled her up by her collar.  The Glock clattered to the floor and he kicked it under the sofa.  Nia was barely standing.  Her knees trembled beneath her.  Marcus raised his right hand and slapped her clean across the face.

"You honor the memory of the fallen by blowing your brains out?"

He slapped her again.

"You think it's so easy to throw your life away when you can just pull the trigger?"

Nia was unresponsive.  She just didn't care anymore and didn't know what she was living for.  Her mother was dead, she had no father and she didn't know who she was anymore.

Marcus slapped her hard again.  The force turned her head like she was a rag doll.  The burnt out blunt dropped from her hand to the floor.

"Tell me how easy it is to throw your life away when you have to watch it fade slowly and every instinct in you tells you to fight," Marcus shouted, as he placed a firm grip around her neck.  For a moment Nia didn't react.  He was gripping her just tight enough that she couldn't breathe but he couldn't be serious, she thought.  As the seconds ticked away she started to get short of breath.

"I've worked with your mother for the last few years and I've watched her work her fingers to the bone so that she'd leave you something after she was gone."

Nia started to struggle for breath.

"I didn't know it at the time but she was killing herself slowly for you so that you would have all that she'd built for you.  She must have known what she was doing and she had the guts to see it through to the end for you."

Nia began to claw at his vice like grip.  Her nails scratched his hands and forearms but he didn't stop.

"She faced death slowly so you would be able to have a life after she was gone.  Now tell me you can kill yourself with honor like she did.  Quit struggling and face an honorable death.  Pulling the trigger is the coward's way out.  Honor your mother."

Nia fought hard for any breath she could get.  When she twisted and turned in his grip she could draw enough air only to prevent herself blacking out.  He was crazy, she thought.  What was he doing?

"Don't think I won't kill you.  Do you think you deserve to live?  If you want to live then you had better fight for it."

Blood vessels were beginning to show all over Nia's face, her eyes becoming blood shot.  She tried to hit out but only landed a few weak blows.  It was as much as she could muster while her body screamed out for oxygen.

"You want it do you?  You want to live now?  If I let you go you'd better fight every second you're alive for the rest of your life to honor your mother."

Nia's eyes widened as if in acknowledgement of his demand and she struggled to nod her head in compliance.

Marcus released his grip from her neck, once more holding her up by her collar.  Nia gasped for breath, her lungs were on fire in a way she'd never experienced.  She held no animosity towards him for what he'd done because she knew he was right.

"Compose yourself, compose yourself," Marcus ordered over and over until she had her breath back.  "Look at me."  His eyes burrowed deep into hers.  "Don't think I won't do that again in an instant if I ever catch you slipping."

Nia went limp, her body drained, both physically and emotionally.  Forgiving her for that, Marcus caught her in his arms as she fell and he sat on the sofa holding her.  Tears flowed from her eyes and for the first time since her mother's death she realized the true enormity of her situation and the challenges ahead.

Nia held tight to Marcus in the comforting embrace of his strong arms but knew it was only a matter of time before she'd be without that.  He'd just taught her what was most important and her mother had also tried to tell her.  It was what she had also learnt herself in Cuba.

She had to depend on herself alone, be strong and never give up.

Ten minutes passed as she composed herself.

"You're right Marcus, I was ready to take the easy way out," Nia said, sitting up and wiping the tears from her eyes.  Tears weren't an option now.  She began to think about how her mother would have felt if she'd committed suicide.  What was it her mother has said?  "Afterwards you gonna have to hold on and be strong..."

So much of what her mother said at the end was confusing but she did know her mother had wanted her to be strong.  She had to cling to what she did know about herself.  She was a black woman with her whole life still ahead of her.

As the oxygen found its way back into her brain those facts rang true with her.  Black women throughout history had faced some of the hardest struggles.  Nia thought of strong black women like Assata Shakur and Maya Angelou.  She would be strong like them and make the best of this horrible situation.  There had to be better days ahead.

There was work to be done, the club, straightening things out with Leon and of course finding out who her father was.  Maybe the last task was a long shot but she knew she'd try.  With the determination Marcus had just instilled in her she also knew she'd never stop looking.

"We're good?" Marcus asked, still staring at Nia with an intensity she wasn't yet used to, although his eyes had softened slightly.

"We're good," Nia confirmed.

# FOURTEEN

Nia woke up with a splitting headache and she felt stiff all over because she'd slept on the sofa.  The previous night she hadn't had the energy to pull out the sofa bed and now she was paying for it with an aching neck.  She'd fallen asleep in her clothes and now looked as much a mess as she felt.

Nia thought back to the talk with Marcus several days before and it gave her a little more motivation to start the day.  Deep inside she was still battling the same feelings but what Marcus has shown her was that she didn't have to let it beat her.  She knew that taking control and changing things was a good thing.

Her mother had told her that some things in life are decided by destiny but she also knew, and Marcus had confirmed it, that everything else had to be fought for if she wanted to achieve it.  It reminded her of the stories the old man in Cuba had told her about the revolution.

After showering Nia ventured out to the front of the club and surveyed what her mother had left her.  Over the past few days she'd thought about it a lot and she was starting to realize that if she could learn to manage the place effectively then it might be possible for her to break away from working with Leon.  It wasn't just that the rift between them was deep but she wanted her new start in life to be a legitimate one.

What she should do about Leon had been a big weight on her mind the last few days.  They hadn't seen or spoken to each other since the hospital.  Since then she'd left him a message to say she wanted space to take care of her mother's funeral and that his help wasn't needed.  As a courtesy she'd invited him, and he came, but he stood in the back and disappeared early without saying a word.

The service was beautiful and Nia was pleased that she'd been able to take care of all the arrangements.  Even though she had been young she still remembered assisting with Hugo's funeral and that helped her through it this time.  She felt a greater weight of responsibility for the way her mother died than she did for Hugo.  That drove her to be fiercely independent in arranging the tribute to her mother.

But how right Marcus had been.  The most fitting tribute to her mother was to take every opportunity she had and make the most of them.  Opportunities were there, and she knew it was going to be hard, but she could do it.  There was so much to learn and so much pressure as the sole person responsible for the club but that wouldn't stop her.  It was a business that needed to make a profit and she'd find a way to make it work for her.

The trickiest aspect of her new plans was going to be Leon.  She wanted out but didn't know how he was going to handle it.  Street code said once you were in, especially as deep as she was, the only way out was in a box.  Before their disagreement, Nia knew she probably could have talked him around because they had been as close as family.  But now things were different.

It would be a long time before she could forgive him for what he'd done.  She was now starting to realize he'd probably been in love with her for as long as she'd loved him.  Nia could see now that he'd waited until she was old enough and he was sure her feelings were permanent.  If he'd not disappeared in Cuba, she thought, things might have been so different for them both.

Nia didn't want to think about it anymore and knew she wasn't going to rush to sort things out between them.  He had to know what he did was wrong.

Over the last few days Marcus had shown Nia the club's routine for a normal day but she'd still have to try to pick up the managerial skills and get the hang of the other infrequent duties.  There was stock control, banking, promotion nights and, most importantly, booking the best acts.  Thankfully, her mother had filled the calendar for some time but Nia was still worried about having ultimate responsibility for approving an act.  If there was one aspect she did know about running a club it was that an act or DJ could make an evening.  It wasn't just about picking the right one because each club was competing for the same talent.  Offer too low and you lost out to another club.  The best artists tended to be loyal so it was even more important to make good bids for the best new talent.

Nia knew Latin music but didn't have the gift to pick it out.  In that way she was like Hugo, whose ability had waned when the music had progressed and he'd remained stuck in the past.  Nia reminded herself that the resemblance was only coincidence.  Not dwelling on the thought, she found her way to the rear entrance of the club.

The morning shift was about to start and she had to let them in.  She'd heard a knock on the door and knew at least one person was waiting to come in.  Nia glanced through the peephole first after having been warned by Marcus about the dangers of robbery.  All was okay and she let them in.  The early shift started at ten and the club opened at eleven.  There was cleaning and tidying to do as well as restocking all the refrigerators, which had been emptied the night before.

Two staff worked the early shift.  Diego was in his thirties and a second generation Cuban-American.  His grand-parents had fled the revolution at the very beginning.  He mostly took care of stock and the heavy lifting.  It was his job to supervise the twice weekly delivery and ensure it was stacked neatly in the store room.

The second was Gabriella.  She was a year older than Nia and had only been working at Havana for seven months.  She looked a lot like Nia, brown complexion, athletic yet curvy and they had the same hair type.  She was an inch taller than Nia and still getting herself together after living rough on the streets.  Nia knew the signs of recovering addicts well enough and could tell that Gabriella hadn't lived rough on the streets because of drugs.  It must have been something else, maybe family problems.  Maybe that was why her mother had wanted to give her a helping hand.  Nia stopped herself.  It was Gabriella's business and maybe in time she'd open up but for now she would simply trust her mother's judgment.

Gabriella and Diego had both proved to Nia to be hard workers.  Nia thought they were probably cutting her some slack in sympathy for her recent loss and were probably even grieving themselves.  The team worked hard together and she had to be sure she also pulled her weight.  Nia didn't want them to lose their drive or the respect she had earned so far.  The sympathy wouldn't last forever and she had a short window to prove she was an excellent leader.  With that thought, Nia got stuck into some jobs around the main bar alongside Gabriella.  Leading from the front was rarely a bad thing to do.

"You wanna stick some music on?" Gabriella asked Nia.  Gabriella was so used to working with music it seemed unnaturally quiet without it.

"Sure, what d'you listen to?"

"Something with an R 'n B flavor to it."  Nia put the music on and they listened as they worked.

"So tell me what you think.  We've got a night coming up with nothing booked.  The band bailed on us and I need to sort something out.  I was thinking of doing something completely different.  Maybe a hip-hop evening."

"It ain't never been done while I been here and I doubt your Ma did anything like that before.  She was good at what she did but she kept it quite Hispanic up in here.  Could work though."

"That's what I was thinking.  Make it hip-hop but keep the Latin flavor.  Saw a lot of that in Cuba, real fresh stuff."

Nia knew that if she was going to keep running the club then she'd have to find a niche.  Her mother really had improved on what Hugo had done but her recent experience in Cuba had shown her that change was happening.  There was a whole generation of young Cuban-Americans clamoring for the same experience of home-grown hip-hop infused with Latin sound.

As Nia loaded glasses into the industrial washer her mind went into overdrive.  She thought back to what her mother had done with the complete renovation of Havana.  The evening she was planning would never be as big as that but there would be very similar promotion work to be done and acts to be booked.  Most importantly, she needed a really good DJ who could replicate the sound she'd enjoyed so much in Cuba.  There were already clubs in Miami that tried to do that but Nia only thought about being the best, the most authentic.  If she was going to take a risk like this then there was no other way to do it.

Leon Brown knew he'd screwed things up with Nia the moment he'd slammed the door to the penthouse suite.  He'd let the tension of the days before get to him and he'd set aside his clear head with the drinks he'd knocked back in the bar.  He knew he only had himself to blame.

It wasn't often he could be accused of rushing into things and even with Nia he'd waited so long the restraint had almost consumed him.  Balancing restraint with savvy action was why he'd been so successful in his line of business.  He may have started as a street dealer but he wasn't a hot head like most of them.  He treated people with respect, judged situations with the fairness that normally only came with extensive experience and, most of all, he looked after the interests of those around him.

Somehow his success with business hadn't replicated itself in his relationship with Nia.  That frustrated him immensely.

He'd known how she felt about him for so long that he'd almost taken it for granted.  The personal embarrassment of how arrogantly he'd acted that night was a big blow to his ego.  It hurt to not have Nia by his side anymore.  In many ways she'd been a rock to him and had stopped him dwelling on the occasional setbacks he'd suffered in the course of business.  He couldn't forget that she'd also been the one who had finally given him the strength to come to terms with his sister's murder.

He missed Nia's presence continually.  They'd developed a dynamic that had really worked, until Cuba.  Maybe he just couldn't mix his work and personal life, he tried to tell himself.  He cursed himself that Nia was in neither now.

The weeks since arriving back in Miami had been tough without her and they'd passed slowly.  He'd wanted to go to her and offer his support.  She was undoubtedly finding the death of her mother hard but he'd probably have only caused her more stress.  He was sure that if she really needed him she would come to him.  Leon tried but couldn't imagine what it must have been like to have lost both parents by the age of eighteen.  His parents were still alive, although he wasn't in contact with them anymore.  The closest he could get to understanding was thinking about how hard it had been having his sister snatched away.

Leon closed the door to his new apartment and tossed his keys onto the table in the hallway.  He'd moved up in the world and the expensively decorated apartment reflected that.  It turned out that the deal he'd struck in Cuba was better received by Alphonso than he'd anticipated.  His promotion gave him de facto control over Alphonso's entire network in Miami, though he'd not taken Alphonso's position.  Alphonso remained his boss but had given Leon responsibility for running the operation.  He knew it was in effect a trial to see if he was capable enough to take Alphonso's position, should he ever retire.

Leon knew it was a great promotion but without Nia it felt like a hollow victory, especially considering the condition it had come with.  Leon had very nearly refused.  Alphonso wanted to eliminate Nia because of the threat she presented while she was still rouge.

Alphonso had enquired about Nia taking Leon's spot.  It had been more of an order than a question and it was then that Leon had been forced to explain what had happened in Cuba and how things had been left.  Alphonso chastised Leon for being so foolish and reminded him about the intemperate nature of women, demanding that the situation be resolved.

Nia woke up with a jolt in the early hours of the morning for the third day in a row.  She couldn't remember any specific details of the nightmare but the terror of it had snatched her consciousness back to its waking state.  She lay in bed waiting for her heart to slow.  Each beat seemed thunderously loud in the silence of the room that still doubled as an office to the club.

One thing Nia had done since taking over management was to put in an order for air-conditioning in the office.  She didn't know how her mother had slept in such heat.  It was almost as if it was magnified out back, probably due to the restricted ventilation.  Nia even wondered if it was the heat giving her nightmares.  She rarely had them and when she did it was normally when she was sick with a fever.

Nia sat on the edge of the bed for a moment and tried to shake off the nightmare.  She found it unsettling that she couldn't remember what it was about and yet it left her with such a lingering fear.  For a brief moment her mind turned to thoughts of everything that had happened in this room, Hugo's death, her mother's silent suffering and her own suicide attempt.

Pushing those thoughts aside, Nia stood up.  She was wearing nothing more than her panties and an old faded t-shirt that barely reached her hips.  Her bare legs and the warm tone of her skin were enough to arouse any man.  But rather than feeling sexy right now Nia had been left feeling disturbed by the nightmare and conscious of her own mortality.

She wasn't able to get back to sleep despite having only slept four hours.  Over the last few nights the only way to keep her mind off the nightmares had been to concentrate on the plans she'd put together for the launch of what she was calling 'Hip-hop at Havana'.  Each morning she'd talked things over with Gabriella and together they'd come up with some great ideas.  Nia spent the days making calls and trying to secure the right DJ and live artists, as well as arranging advertising.

It felt good to be so driven and in pursuit of something legitimate which she knew wasn't going to one day catch up with her.  Nia thought about everything she had done with Leon and how lucky she had been not to have ended up in trouble, either with the law, or worse, Leon's business rivals.  In some ways she realized her time with Leon had been a cry for help.  After everything her and her mother had been through with Hugo, she'd wanted the permanence and security of the strong man who'd rescued her from those two thugs.  A lot had changed since then and Nia knew even more change would come.  She knew she had to change with it.

Nia worried less about what had happened between her and Leon.  It had been a couple of weeks and she'd heard nothing.  Nia fought back the urge to think maybe she'd been too harsh on him.  With things a little more in perspective, especially after her mother's death, it did seem that way sometimes.  Even if she'd been too harsh he'd still been wrong and it had to be him who put it right.  One other thing she'd become quite sure of was she wasn't going back to the street life.  Havana had taken hold of her in a way she'd never expected now that she was making it her own.

Nia sat at her desk.  Yes it was hers now wasn't it, she told herself, and she looked over everything she'd planned.  She'd been meticulous, remembering what Leon had said about plans never going to plan but achieving your goals was close to impossible without one.  So Nia had planned as much as she could and after reviewing her plans time and time again she was sure she'd accounted for everything she could.

Nia wondered what her mother would think if she could see her now and what Hugo would think of all of the changes to his club.  It was a success once more and hopefully 'Hip-hop at Havana' would bring further success.

Most of all Nia thought about her father.  Who was he and would she ever find him?  She wondered if he'd be proud of her for the new life she was leading.  Maybe they had things in common?  As much as Havana had kept her occupied these last few weeks it hadn't been enough to quash the yearning in her heart to find her real father.

Finding out the truth about Hugo had been overshadowed by the overwhelming sadness of losing her mother.  But the reality of not knowing who her father had soon set in deeply.  Nia couldn't ask her mother anything now and it was frustrating.  Especially because she had so many questions about what her mother had said at the end.  The questions consumed her thoughts when she was alone and she couldn't share them with anyone.  They were too intimate.  She kept them to herself and threw herself into her work.  The closest she'd been to telling anyone had been the night with Marcus when she'd almost pulled the trigger and blown her brains out.

There was nothing to go on, other than her mother's medicated words and Nia didn't want anyone thinking her, or her mother, were crazy.  She wished her mother had left her an explanation.  She'd trawled through her mother's papers over and over but found nothing.  The hardest thing about her mother's death was accepting that there was so much she would never know about her.

"I'm glad we see eye to eye," Alphonso said.  Leon had met him at the strip club again and it had become such a regular thing due to his promotion that the girls recognized his face and remembered his name.  They knew he liked to keep himself to himself but they tried hard to please him because they knew one day he'd replace Alphonso.

"It'll happen tomorrow night and then we can rest assured that she is no longer a threat," Leon replied, while an Asian girl in a bikini, drunk on champagne, draped herself over him.

"I know this has been tough on you Leon but I picked you because you know how to handle business.  I also appreciate your directness with me on this and that's why I've extended my trust to you.  I know you will take care of things in a way that best serves us all."  Alphonso cocked his head to one side.  "Women betray us even if we love them and that's when it's worst, but all the more reason for you to sort this out."

"I have my best people taking care of it and I'll be there to ensure it goes down like clockwork."  Leon couldn't believe what he was saying.

"I know you will," Alphonso replied.

The evening began well with plenty of people queuing outside Havana.  Above the entrance a huge banner read 'Hip-hop at Havana, fresher than any other!'  The usual Thursday night crowd had been tempted to try the hip-hop flavor with an offer of a free drink.  There were also many fans of the DJ Nia had booked and even more who had been drawn in by the advertising.

Marcus had his hands full with the crowds of people and in anticipation Nia had given him discretion to hire whatever additional security staff he needed for the night.  It was busy and if there was an incident the bad publicity would be damaging to the club.  Nia couldn't afford that so everyone was patted down, even after passing through the metal detector and handbags were also carefully searched.  Marcus had recommended it and Nia had agreed.  She knew it was wise to listen to him, after all Miami was one of the most dangerous cities in the country.

Nia was trying hard to oversee everything but was beginning to realize that it was too much for one person to be so hands-on.  She had to trust that she'd hired the right people to do their jobs and the right people to supervise them.  As the full flow of people began to enter Nia turned her focus to greeting the VIPs as they arrived.  She then escorted them to the VIP lounge.  There they were waited on and most of the drinks were free.  Inviting VIPs was all about the effect it had on the rest of the crowd.  Everyone loved the chance to say who they'd seen or met.  If there was money to be made directly from the VIPs it was from their purchase of expensive champagne, which the club had stocked up on.

Among the regular guests Nia recognized a few faces from her past with Leon and was sure they also recognized her.  Knowing what dangers were out there from that life, she'd asked Marcus to be tight with her own personal security.

Through the glass windows of the VIP lounge, which overlooked the dance floor, she saw Chris.  He was the guy she'd met the week before her trip to Cuba and who she had once been classmates with.  A feeling of satisfaction washed over her as she remembered her first rap battle and how she'd beaten him in front of his crew after he'd tried it on with her.

She'd not seen him since then but she'd enjoyed practicing her freestyle which had been an amazing vent for her feelings.  Served up in a rhyme, feelings were often powerfully exposed with raw honesty.  Nia's freestyle had been more than a vent.  It had become conscience, counselor and companion to her.

Nia approached Chris.  "What's up man?"

"Hey...  Wow you look good," Chris said, looking Nia up and down in a sleek dress she'd bought in Cuba and had finally found an occasion for.  She had anticipated that Chris would try to lay it on thick with her like before but he didn't.  He could see she was doing business tonight and remembered the humiliation of before.

"Thanks," Nia said, responding to his compliment.  "I like to make a good first impression."

"Trust me, you already did that.  Are you..." Chris looked around, "running this place now?"  Nia smiled at him confidently.

"Walk with me."  Chris followed her.  "You come with anyone?"

"Nah," he paused, "I got this girl coming later to meet me.  That's what she says but you know.  Otherwise I'm just here to check out the new flavor."

"Consider yourself taken care of tonight," Nia said as she handed him a VIP pass at the entrance to the lounge.  "If she turns up then you'll have to introduce me and I'll hook you up with another pass."

Nia left Chris and walked back to the front entrance where she found Marcus talking with Leon.  Marcus had the sense to hold off on allowing Leon in until Nia returned.  She'd never told Marcus what had happened between them.  He was astute enough to know the business they had been in and to know something must have happened to cool things off between them so dramatically.  Before they'd gone to Cuba Marcus had often seen Leon in the club but this was his first visit since.

"Thanks Marcus."

"Sure thing ma'am."

Nia led Leon in through the entrance.  Their first words were a little awkward, both guarded about their feelings.  "Come on up to VIP, I put you on the list.  I'm sure you'll have a good time."  She handed him a pass.  Her words were formal, attempting to disguise her emotions.

"I want you to know I'm here to show my support for this big venture you're taking.  Not just tonight but your decision to manage Havana.  You should've stayed with me though.  If you had you'd be making plenty of paper."  The music was loud so Nia took him to one side and spoke as quietly as the music would allow.

"I'm out Leon.  I'm running this place now and I hope you can respect that.  I don't want no drama so we should just accept where the chips have fallen and move on."  Her tone was firm but Nia worried she was being too harsh again.

"It's a shame but I can respect that," Leon replied, thinking about what he needed to do to secure his promotion.

"I noticed some of your guys earlier," Nia paused, "I don't want any trouble tonight.  I want this place to stay clean."

"I can have a word but know there are only so many favors I can do for you now that you're out."  It was Leon's turn to be firm and professional.  Both were holding back and it didn't feel right.  Before, they'd had something.  There had been a bond of trust and openness between them.  Now it was gone and it seemed impossible that they would ever find it again.

"I understand," Nia said.  She watched Leon smile as he walked away towards the VIP lounge.  Just for a moment Nia contemplated how different things could have been but then turned her mind to business.

It hadn't taken long for the club to fill to capacity and for the atmosphere to start getting lively.  Nia found her way to the DJs station and picked up the cordless microphone.  "Ready?"

"Anytime," the DJ replied.  Nia stood atop one of the podiums where everyone could see her.  The volume of the music dropped a little and her face appeared on all of the big screens around the club.

"Good evening Miami!" Nia greeted the crowd.  "Tonight I wanna welcome you to the first ever night of Hip-hop at Havana."  The crowd offered a mild cheer, not used to being addressed by the club owner.  "Tonight is a glimpse of the future of Havana.  Tonight we bring a fusion of hip-hop and Latin music with one of the hottest DJs around and you gonna love what we've got going on later."  The crowd cheered louder and the music returned to full volume.

Nia thought about the music and about the reality that she had experienced on the streets.  It was hard to pull off the cultural fusion of the evening but infinitely easier than to resolve the racial and cultural tensions between black and Latino people.  It happened all across America but she had seen it plain enough on the streets of Miami.  Although Nia knew now she had no Latin blood in her she'd grown up with the culture and still felt she had ties to it as much as she did to her black heritage.  For that reason she found it hard to understand why black and brown clashed so much.  Neither group wanted to be in last place while white people took first with most of the wealth and power.

Nia thought about what she'd read about the beginnings of the Black Power movement and how people had called for black unity.  What was needed now was cross-cultural unity, particularly between black and Latino people in Miami.  Music had a way of breaking down barriers and Nia hoped the evening might help progress that in its own small way.

Nia handed back the microphone and walked the club, proud of what she'd achieved.  People came up to her and they were all talking about the fusion of the music.  The atmosphere in the club was very open and friendly and she only wished it could be like that on the streets.  It made Nia sure she had made the right decision to leave the streets behind.

Chris dipped in and out of the VIP lounge.  He reveled in the free drinks and that he'd had a chat with a few celebrities he'd thought he'd never meet but most of all enjoyed the atmosphere on the main dance floor.  The girl he was supposed to be meeting was nowhere to be seen, as he'd expected would happen, but he did spot a couple of people he knew.

"What's up with the VIP ticket Chris?" one of them asked him as he approached.  They must have seen him emerge from the lounge and he detected a hint of jealousy.

"My girl Nia hooked me up.  She's the one managing this place now."

"The one who interrupted the music just now?  Man, who does that at a club?"

"She's alright, chill."

"Looks like some rich kid to me.  How else would she be rocking a place like this at her age?"

"Rumor is she's been running the streets since we was in school together.  I know for sure she used to run with this one dude I just saw."  Chris looked in the direction of the VIP lounge.  "Word is he's a made man now, but I bet they're still stacking the paper together.  Her mom used to run this place and I heard she just died a month back.  It wouldn't surprise me if she's now using this place as a front."

Chris really could run his mouth.  He exaggerated the things he knew about Nia and speculated about the things he didn't.  His interaction with her had been minimal but because he'd known her at school he talked like he was the foremost authority on her.  He recounted the story of her freestyle rap skills several times and, not knowing it had been her first battle, endowed her with a reputation for being an experienced lyricist.  The people he told also told others and it wasn't long before the buzz about the evening had turned into a real buzz about Nia.

The rumors said she was a young attractive club owner with real street knowledge.  She'd been born in Cuba, her family was gone and all she had left was Miami's organized crime.  For each of these pieces of information there were numerous variations and exaggerations that began to circulate, like why her parents were dead and what the real business of the club was, and whether she really did have unbeatable freestyle skills.

Leon mingled with the impressive selection of VIPs from television, film and music and felt proud of Nia.  She'd done so well for herself.  He'd hoped she'd bounce back this strong following her mother's death but also knew how deeply Nia felt her emotions.  Sometimes they overpowered her.  Leon was proud that she'd learnt to harness them and he'd heard it tonight in her firm tone of voice.

As much as her resilience pleased him Leon knew it was also a problem because Nia had not accepted his request to re-join him.  She'd been quite clear about wanting to be legitimate and running the club.  Unfortunately, it had been her last chance.  Now he knew everything he'd discussed with Alphonso was going to be necessary.  Everything he'd planned went against his instincts of loyalty and Leon couldn't help but feel it was one of the worst betrayals possible.  Everything about the street code said he shouldn't do it but he'd been left no choice by Alphonso.  It was his own head on the block if he didn't eliminate the threat to the organization.

As well as breaking the street code this was going to forever end things with the woman he was now certain he loved.  The pain of that was comparable only with what he'd felt when he'd lost his sister.  Leon had wanted to talk to Nia and warn her about what Alphonso had instructed.  Leon had even thought about raiding his substantial emergency fund and trying to convince Nia to run away with him.  Deep down he knew she wouldn't go with him, not after what she'd said tonight and what he'd done in Cuba.  Running was just a fantasy.  There was only one way out.

The evening was more than halfway through and was turning out much better than Nia had anticipated.  They'd reached full capacity early on and the queue outside was still there.  Marcus' team at the door was now operating on the basis of one out one in.  The last thing Nia wanted was to be shut down for violating fire regulations.

At the bar the drinks were being bought at a ferocious rate.  An additional order would need to be placed to cover stock for the next few days.  The entire bar staff were in.  Nia had persuaded Gabriella and Diego to pull a double shift and that way people were able to take breaks without leaving the bar short staffed.

Nia bumped into Gabriella taking her break while she was shifting some empties out back.  "Hey," Nia said.

"Crazy in there huh?  You really had a good idea with this," Gabriella replied.

"Yeah, looks like they love it but it wasn't all my idea, you helped a lot."

"Well, a lot of people been asking stuff about you at the bar."

"What about?"

"Ah jus' rumors, you know.  I tried to set some of them straight 'cause they talking some crazy stuff about you but they keep comin' to me 'cause they think we look alike."

"Don't really see it myself," Nia replied out of politeness, not entirely believing her own words.  There were definite physical similarities she could see but she was keen not to overstate them and let it characterize their relationship.  Nia didn't know Gabriella too well and some people could be funny about things like that.

"Tell me about it," Gabriella agreed.  "Hey, one of the rumors is you're a bad ass freestyler."

"Huh?"

"Yeah, supposedly you've got skills and a whole bunch of people been asking if you're gonna freestyle later when we open up the mic for the competition."

"I think I'll give it a miss," Nia replied with a smile.  "See you later."

"Later."

It had been a long day for Marcus.  Even before Havana opened he'd had numerous security tasks to complete and then there was the team brief and coordination.  It was all going well but he knew the time for relaxing was later.  His experience with the Marines had taught him a lot about timing.

Marcus had thought he'd never get out and become a civilian.  Serving had been his whole life and he'd joined as early as he could.  The Marines had made him a man then a sniper and eventually he'd won a place with Force Recon.  The reason he'd left was still raw years later but he knew he'd done the right thing.

Marcus noticed some commotion by the front entrance.  As head of security he was responsible for supervising all of the security teams but routinely gravitated to the door because that was where things often happened.

Two guys were jumping the queue and everyone else was unhappy about it.  Marcus noticed immediately that they looked like cops and sure enough they'd flashed their badges to get to the front of the queue.

"They say it's nothing official boss.  You want me to send them to the back of the queue?"

"It'll probably only get official if we do that.  Let them through."  Marcus didn't like it but there wasn't much else he could do.  They walked by and smiled in thanks.  Despite that Marcus got a strange feeling about them.

Marcus had talked things over with Nia a few days before and they'd agreed that the club was to be run legitimately with maintenance of good relations with law enforcement.  They'd had several long talks in the days following her suicide attempt and it was clear she had decided to step up and manage the club legitimately.

Marcus and Nia's mother had worked well together because they'd both held the same values.  Marcus was glad it turned out Nia had similar ones, too, because he was determined to run security under Nia the same way he'd always done.  He knew of Nia's involvement with Leon's business but made no judgment on her past.  It wasn't his place, especially if she was going legitimate.

They had agreed on the standards and he was delegated responsibility for all security decisions.  It allowed him an almost unlimited remit to implement whatever he considered necessary.

Marcus knew Nia was struggling with her transition away from the past.  He'd struggled with it before and he knew she realized that now.  Except now they were on the same page.

Marcus got on his radio and made the rest of the security staff aware that there were two cops in plain clothes in the club and to be ultra-vigilant.  His strange feeling about them hadn't subsided and he couldn't place why he had it in the first place.  Why they were here he didn't know and it frustrated him when he didn't have complete knowledge of what was happening on his territory.  The frustration was there on every job because perfect operational intelligence never existed but knowledge of that kept him sharp and good at his job.

Marcus walked through the club to the VIP lounge, expecting to find Nia there.  He thought she'd be there associating and networking with the VIPs.  He wanted to have a word with her about the cops but couldn't find her.  Marcus left the lounge and saw the final live act for the evening had just finished playing.  It wouldn't be long before the freestyle battles started.

Nia had offered up an attractive cash prize for the winners and local club champions had all signed up for the competition.  In total there were eight competitors and the winner would be decided by knockout, with the crowd deciding the winners of each round.

"Anyone have eyes on the boss?" Marcus asked over the radio.

"Down at the bar talking to customers," came the response.

"Copy that."

Marcus realized he should have known better than to think she'd be mixing with the celebrities.  An admirable quality he'd noticed about Nia was that she took time to talk with ordinary people regardless of wealth or fame.  It always had the effect of livening up the party atmosphere and he could see it was working now.  She was at the bar talking about her recent trip to Cuba.

There was a prevailing negative feeling towards Castro in Miami but when Nia spoke about the youth freedom movement in the underground clubs people reveled in it.  For them the youth in Cuba were the hope for the future.  People had little faith in traditional politics bringing democracy to Cuba anytime soon and the past dreams of counter revolution remained only in the minds of those who were old enough to remember Castro's revolution.  Most hoped that the tide of change and the advancement of the younger generation would slowly bring about change in Cuba.

Nia still felt caught between the two worlds.  It held a special significance for Nia even though she had no physical connection to the country.  She'd found part of herself there, even if it was just an inner strength and not her heritage.  By finding her strength as an independent black woman, she felt inexorably linked to the black revolutionaries, some of whom, like Assata Shakur, were still exiled in Cuba.

The other side of her sympathized with the pro-democratic movement and she recognized that Castro hadn't brought about a perfect form of government.  But Nia had a feeling that Cuban exiles could also see that things weren't perfect in the US either.

Marcus waited for the right moment and then asked for a quiet word.  They took a walk to the office and after closing the door to the loud music it was easier to talk.  Marcus told Nia he thought something was up with the cops.

"I've got nothing to hide so just keep your eye on them and let them go about their business," Nia replied.

"Exactly my thoughts," Marcus said, glad to get confirmation from Nia that there was nothing going on he didn't know about.  He'd thought twice about it when Leon had turned up and Nia had swiftly ushered him through to the VIP lounge.  But now Nia had looked him in the eyes her word was enough.

"Did you want to let Leon know or did you..."

"No, he's not here for anything like that," Nia interrupted, "and I've had words with him already.  He's clear that we're running a legit club and his presence is to be strictly recreational, no business."

Marcus noticed a troubled look wash over Nia's face and she turned to the sofa and started trying to shift it.  He guessed what had entered her mind and knew that with everything that had happened since she'd probably not thought back to that moment.

"Ma'am, I took the liberty of disposing of the Glock."  Nia looked round at Marcus as if he'd read her mind.  "You seemed clear about your intentions for the club and so I didn't want to remind you about..."  He paused, "I got rid of it, destroyed, untraceable."

Unspoken thanks passed from Nia to Marcus in nothing more than the change of expression on her face.  "Okay ma'am, I'm going to get back out there."

"I'm gonna to take five but let me know if you need me."

"Yes ma'am."

Special Agents Andrew Causon and Robert Spickett watched the activity in the club.  Both of them were junior agents but Spickett was the older of the two.  They'd risen fast in the DEA, working undercover cases faster than anyone else in their Miami division.  They had an aggressive record of taking down the big players and were prepared to get a little dirty to get the job done.  Both had faced a misconduct investigation for their most recent bust and it was a surprise that they hadn't been reassigned new partners.  But the truth of it was their superiors couldn't afford to split up their most productive team.  It had put their promotions were on hold and that had been a sore point with both agents, as well as their wallets.

Causon sipped at his drink and gauged the atmosphere of the club.  He liked hip-hop and the rappers tonight weren't so bad.  He'd grown up, like most middle class white kids, listening to Eminem and poorly trying to imitate his skills.  After college the DEA had been a smart career choice for Causon.  It was a solid job and the potential for making money on the side was huge.  He'd been lucky to find a partner he could work with in that respect.  Spickett was malleable and had eventually given in to the idea.

They were closing cases, not just for the DEA, but for another anonymous source who would also feed them information.  In return they were paid well and they only occasionally had to look the other way to avoid getting wrapped up with their source.

Tonight was a little different though.  They'd received a special request, which made Spickett nervous, but both were on board.  After the recent investigation into their conduct the extra work had died down and they needed the money.  The information they had on their target was sparse but was enough to achieve their objective after some preparation.

They had both studied the photo before they'd arrived but Spickett slipped it out of his pocket for another look.  Their target was young and that was a shame.  He wondered what she'd done to attract the attention of their anonymous source.  She was pretty and Spickett was sure Causon was looking forward to getting his hands on her.  Causon was the sort of guy who wasn't afraid to wade into a situation like this until he was neck deep and Spickett knew his partner had a thing for black women.  He'd once had to call him off during a street interrogation that ended up going too far.  Causon had stripped and beaten a prostitute in a back alley, only narrowly avoiding the wrath of her pimp.  Even if it did generate results, operating like that could get messy and dangerous real fast.  It was the sort of thing that had brought the heat down on them recently and Spickett wanted to avoid it happening again.

Gabriella couldn't help noticing the two men at the bar who were staring heavily at her.  Most men checked her out and she was used to that, or at least knew how to ignore it, but these guys were different.  They weren't dressed for the club and the younger one had a menacing look about him.  They didn't talk much but were definitely together.  Maybe the one giving her the evil eye was just jealous because she was flirting with all the guys at the bar except him.  Gabriella flirted a lot for the tips but these guys had only bought themselves one drink each and neither had said much.  She wasn't going to waste her time on them.

Leon checked his watch.  It was just before two in the morning.  The final rap battle had just started and it was after that he'd given permission for the orders to be carried out.  He just wanted it to all be over.

Nia was watching the rap battles from an obscure position at the side of the DJ's station.  She didn't want to be disturbed while she was listening because she enjoyed it too much.

As the final battle ended, and the crowd cheered for their favorite, she knew the prize money she'd put up had been worth it.  Showcasing new and young talent was exhilarating and one of the greatest things about managing her own club.  Nia was already thinking of making hip-hop a more permanent feature at Havana.  The thought ran through her head again.  It was her club after all and, tonight, it finally felt that way.

As the battle ended Spickett and Causon both got up from their seats.  They walked to the end of the bar where Causon flipped the counter top and stepped behind the bar.

Out of nowhere, two of Leon's guys passed in front of Nia.  It caught her off guard for a second until she recognized them.  She smiled but, as she did so, one of them stepped in close to her, shoving her and nearly toppling her off her heals.

"You're dead bitch!  You don't just quit."  He continued to pass her and drew his fingers across his throat.  Nia froze for a moment.  She looked up to the VIP lounge and saw Leon's figure through the large glass window, silhouetted against the lights behind him.  She couldn't see his face or the expression it carried.  She watched him drink from his glass and turn away.

Leon's guys couldn't be serious, Nia hoped.  But suddenly she felt very exposed.  She'd been in deep with Leon and maybe he was colder than she'd thought.  Panic gripped her as she realized she'd turned her back on everything that had kept her safe in the streets.  She'd hoped for a problem free break but she'd been naive.  Her association with Leon had afforded her immunity in many ways but if Leon was after her now she had a lot to worry about.

# FIFTEEN

Agent Causon saw she had nowhere to run because they had her surrounded.

"You're not supposed to be behind the bar.  Don't make me call security," Gabriella said sternly.  Causon had no information that suggested she would run but it was always best to pre-empt it because he hated having to chase women.  He flashed his badge.

"DEA.  Miss Rodriguez, we're here to take you into custody."

Nia was still trying to compose herself from the run in with Leon's guys when she was called out onto the stage.  She was supposed to congratulate the winner, thank the other competitors and handover the prize money.  She walked out with the cash in her hand.

Leon had watched Nia receive his threat but turned away when he saw her look across the club at him from her position at the side of the stage.  He couldn't bear knowing what he'd ordered to be done.  Now he watched her on the stage feeling tension increasing throughout his body.  Even though Nia had quit him he still couldn't help but feel it was he who was betraying her.

Marcus had been alerted over the radio that the DEA officers had gone behind the bar and it only took him seconds to get there.  He didn't know what they were doing or why they were hassling Gabriella but he was prepared to set it straight.

"I ain't her," Gabriella cried out as Marcus approached.

"Who are you then?" Agent Causon asked sarcastically.

"She's Gabriella Mason and we have copies of her ID on file if you need to verify that."  Marcus' voice was firm and professional, immediately calming the situation.  "Tell me who you are looking for and maybe I can assist you."

As the two agents turned to face Marcus he could see Gabriella behind them shaking her head in a desperate attempt to signal him not to assist.

"We're here to take Miss Rodriguez into custody."

Nia handed over the money and was about to walk away, expecting that to be it but it wasn't.  The winner, twenty year old Trevor Hudson, had heard the rumors circulating the club.  His friends had placed a bet with him and he wasn't going to back out.

"Hold up, hold up," Trevor said into the microphone.  Nia stopped, unsure of what he was about to say.  She shot a glance to the DJ who just shrugged at her.  "There's some mad rumors going around tonight that you also got ill skills on this here mic.  You wanna kick it?"

This wasn't a challenge Nia could decline.  She was in the spot light more than ever.  This wasn't like when she'd battled Chris.  This was for her reputation and business.  If she choked she'd look weak and she couldn't afford that, especially when people were making threats.  Nia needed a tough and fearless reputation, independent from Leon, if she was to survive.

"Alright...Ready for whatever, right?"

"Fo' sure.  Drop that beat DJ."

Nia looked across at the DJ and nodded.  The beat came in thick and heavy.

Agent Spickett had noticed the tiny subconscious glance towards the stage when Causon had mentioned their target's name.  He looked across and could see now why they had been confused by the girl at the bar.

"Fuck!" Causon said to himself.

They looked so alike but the woman on the stage was clearly the club manager judging by the way she was dressed.  She had more class than this girl supposedly named Gabriella.  Spickett and Causon immediately started pushing their way through the crowd to the stage.  Marcus was hot on their heels, slowing them with questions as they went.

Nia felt a rush of inspiration course through her body as the first beats of the track played.  Her mind opened up and she saw the path of her rhymes with breath taking clarity and a depth of understanding that she normally only got from a big hit on a joint.  The microphone felt at home in her hand and she was suddenly at ease with everything.  Nia let rip on the microphone like she'd done it a thousand times before.

"Recognize the fact I'm young gifted and black

A young nigga tryin'a give up the strap

Makin' the best of what my Mama left to me

Wonderin' why my Papi turned his back on me

I fell in love with the streets at such an early age

A stranger to defeat, I roll my blunt and blaze

Now Mama's gone I'm tryin'a change my ways

But one single thought occupies my head...

Nia Rodriguez is out for them dead prez"

Nia's freestyle ended to the sound of cheers across the club but before she could appreciate it she noticed Marcus rushing towards her with two other men she didn't recognize.  She feared it was connected to the threat from Leon's people.

The scene on the stage descended in to chaos, no one was quite sure what was happening so the DJ cued up the next track and began to play the final set of the evening.  The crowd watched the inaudible conversation between Nia and the men flashing badges.  The expression changed on Nia's face as she saw their badges.

"Nia Rodriguez?"

"Yeah?"

"You need to come with us.  It's for your own protection.  We have reason to believe that your life is in danger and we can help you."

"I just..."  Nia was speechless.  It was as if they were reading her thoughts.

"Miss Rodriguez, we really must insist that you come with us now or we will arrest you for obstruction of justice."

"Obstruction of justice?"

"As part of our on-going investigation."  They took a firm hold of her and began to escort her through the club.  Marcus moved to stop them but Nia waived him off.  He didn't know about the threats and there was no point resisting if they weren't giving her a choice.

The crowd saw it unfold and having a prevailing dislike of authority began to shout abuse at the agents.  Marcus called his team in to control the crowd and before Nia was out of the club he called out to her.  "Your orders ma'am?"

"I'll call you when I know what's going on."

On the walk to their vehicle Nia spotted the same guy who'd threatened her earlier.

"Think you'll be safe with them?" he called out.

"Looks like we were just in time," Agent Spickett said.  Nia said nothing as they bundled her into the back of the SUV.

Just before dawn Marcus Campbell locked up the club and began his drive home.  There had been an electric atmosphere about the club after Nia had been taken away.  To most of those present it had confirmed the rumors about Nia.

Marcus wanted to find out where she was being taken and help her but Nia had said to wait for her call.  If she needed a lawyer when she called he could arrange that.  He didn't want to jump the gun if there were things going on he didn't know about.  But the way she had been taken was quite forceful.  Maybe there was something to what the agents had said about her life being in danger.

Whatever was happening Marcus just hoped Nia would stay true to the new course she was on.

Nia was very confused.  Her world had just been turned upside down and she was grasping for a point of reference.  She wasn't under arrest but she might as well have been because they had taken her to some kind of safe house.  It had been a long time coming but Nia hadn't imagined when the time came it would be the Feds who picked her up.  Miami Dade PD was one thing but she'd been picked up by the DEA.  It was her worst nightmare.  They claimed it was for her own protection but Nia knew they must want something from her.  The Feds wouldn't pick her up just because Leon's guys had threatened her.  They'd threatened her with obstruction of justice and that meant they had to have a case against someone.

Nia found it hard to accept that this could happen now.  It didn't seem fair.  She'd decided firmly to get out and pursue legitimate business at Havana.  Nia hadn't prayed to God for a long time but she thought about it now.  Although it hadn't helped back when she'd watched Hugo beat her mother and it probably wouldn't work now.  Nia asked herself why, if there was a God, would he put her in this position now, after all she had decided.  It seemed a cruel form of justice and she had no answer.

Nia wasn't sure how much time had passed since they'd picked her up but her instinct told her it was at least two hours.  During that time she'd been in a holding room at the safe house and the senior agent, Agent Spickett, had been in to see her several times.  Each time the story was the same.  He'd advised her that they had word from an informant on the street that a hit was out on her and that she probably knew who had ordered it.  She was supposed to help them and they'd overlook the undisclosed information they had on her in their files.

Nia didn't want to play ball with these agents.  She wanted to leave her street life behind but hadn't yet escaped it completely.  Nia still had to be street smart and that meant sticking to what Leon had taught her, even if she was sure he was the one who wanted her dead.  She'd keep her mouth shut, ride it out and deal with Leon herself.

She kept thinking of the threats and it bothered her that she'd misjudged Leon so much.  His reaction was far in excess of what she thought it would be.  If anything, she thought he would have asked her more firmly to re-join him.  She thought back to their only conversation on the matter and recalled how disinterested he'd been.  He'd asked but it seemed routine rather than a real request.

As Nia's mind worked the details over and over she began to realize why the agents had left her alone for so long.  They wanted it to play on her mind and for her to worry.  That was why the room was so plain and devoid of anything to distract her.  The only godsend was that it had been cool when she'd arrived.  In comparison to the office at the club, the air-conditioning was a pleasure but now she was starting to feel a chill.

The door opened and Agent Causon walked in.  Since she'd arrived Nia hadn't seen him and she hoped that this was a sign that the situation might finally be moving forward, despite her on-going silence.

"Hands," Causon ordered her firmly.

"Huh?"

"I said hands, hold out your hands."

With some hesitation Nia held out her hands and Causon reached across the table and took a firm hold of her right wrist.  He pulled her forward hard enough that she almost went face down on the table.  As he slapped a handcuff on her wrist Nia steadied her balance with her left hand.  Causon had acted with sufficient surprise that it stopped her resisting.  It was the best way for him to ensure he could cuff her on his own.  It took him only seconds to get her other hand cuffed and to further restrain her the cuffs were linked to a small loop in the center of the metal table.  Nia tugged at the cuffs, visibly frustrated with how she was being treated.

"You're under arrest," Causon said, almost superfluously, reading her rights to her.

"Does this shit have to be so tight?" Nia exclaimed.  Causon took a cursory glance at the cuffs and spitefully tightened one of them a little further.  "And what the hell is this about?  You said you had me here for my own protection."

"We did and you're not cooperating.  We warned you about that.  Someone wants you dead and you don't even want to help yourself.  You're pathetic, risking your life like that."

"Bullshit, this is what you wanted all along isn't it pig?" Nia screamed, finally losing her cool.

Agent Causon slapped her sharply across the face and turned his back.  When the door slammed behind him Nia was in shook.  She couldn't believe she'd just been slapped.  Memories of Hugo came flooding back and the anger inside her started to boil.

Spickett entered and was nice in comparison but the finger printing and having a DNA sample taken was enough to put a new fear into her.  Things had just become very real.  Leon wanted her dead and her adherence to the street code had just alienated the only people protecting her.

Nia let her head sag and she tried to rest it on the table.  She was exhausted from lack of sleep but the way the handcuffs were linked to the table made almost every position unbearable.  The whole situation seemed impossible.  Nia only hoped she'd be safe for now.  Leon's reach was deep but she'd never known him to reach this far.

The more Nia thought about it the more she realized killing people wasn't his style.  He was ruthless but Nia struggled to remember Leon actually having to follow through on the threats so expertly wielded.  If he had killed it would have only been to preserve his own life like anyone would do.  A split second decision, kill or be killed.  So what was it that she had done, Nia wondered, to push Leon this far?  She didn't understand how the man who she had loved so much could want to take it this far.

Nia calmed herself and told herself that for now she was safe.  If anyone was going to get to her it would happen on the outside or when they moved her to county or state penitentiary.  Right now she just had to deal with whatever the agents threw at her.  She didn't know what they had on her but she hoped the prints and DNA wouldn't turn anything up.

Nia guessed another hour had passed but it seemed like an eternity because she was worrying about what they had on her.  The handcuffs were beginning to chafe and the posture she had to maintain because of how they were fastened to the center of the table was beginning to cause her whole body to ache.  What were the handcuffs even for, she wondered.  She wasn't violent.

As her mind settled a little the tiredness crept back in.  She'd been up before dawn in preparation for the hip-hop night at Havana and she guessed it had been at least twenty-four hours since she'd last slept.  She longed to sleep and clear her head but the lights in the room were bright and relentless.  She knew they'd be back to question her, put pressure on her and she wanted to beat them at their game.

Nia wasn't sure if it was her tiredness, or just that she was irritable about the situation, but she had become uncomfortably cold.  They'd picked her up wearing only a thin dress and it was failing miserably at keeping her body heat in.

Her skin had become cold to the touch and covered in goose bumps.  Nia glanced over at the one way glass.  She knew they were watching.  As bitter as his name was to her now, Leon had given her a good insight into arrest and interrogation techniques.  He'd been through some tough arrests, most before he'd gone to Iraq but some after.  He'd kept a mostly clean record and he swore it was because he'd followed the rules of interrogation he'd learnt in the Rangers.  If they didn't really have anything on her and she kept her mouth shut then it was possible she could beat this.  They couldn't hold her forever.

"What do you think Bob?" Agent Causon asked his partner.

"The threats were a godsend and without it we wouldn't stand a chance at cracking her," Spickett replied.

"You know they crack easiest when they think they can't trust anyone.  Paranoia breaks loyalties faster than anything else."  Causon's voice carried a tone of confident satisfaction.

"She hasn't fallen asleep yet though and you know the guilty ones always start napping once we have them."

"True, but you know I'm running the air in there real low.  I'm not sure even a narcoleptic could fall asleep at that temp.  The longer she is awake the more tired and confused she'll be.  We only hit the jackpot if she breaks remember?"

Spickett turned and looked through the one way glass again.  They were standing in the adjoining room that was usually used for observation and recording.  Today they'd disabled the recording equipment and had the safe house to themselves.  The whole interrogation was off book and Causon hadn't sent the prints or DNA off for analysis.

"I'm with you on this but have you seen how blue her lips have turned?"

"Tell me about it and get a look at those hard nipples."  His eyes ran the course of Nia's body.  "You ever wanna get some of that?" Causon added.

"Huh?"

"Young black pussy?"

"Ah come on man," Spickett said, "I got a wife and kids."  His tone was only semi-serious.

"You got to appreciate it though, right?  Maybe think about it when you're fucking the wife?" Causon joked.

"Ain't no fucking with my wife.  We got to make love!" Spickett joked in return.  "Let's get this shit done, get paid and maybe I'll be able to make the payments on my house next month."

When the agents finally got fully into the interrogation Nia felt a certain sense of relief.  She recalled Leon saying the initial feeling of relief was dangerous.  A lot of people would spill their guts as soon as the waiting period was over.  Nia felt the same relief but was one step ahead of her interrogators.  She knew she had to know what their hand was, what they had on her.  So long as she held out long enough they'd show it in one form or another in an attempt to get her to confess.  It was at that point she would know whether or not to get a lawyer involved or not.  The last thing she wanted to do was call in a lawyer too soon as if signaling her guilt.

In theory, it all seemed simple but Nia knew that the reality was different.  She needed to focus and already she was struggling with that from lack of sleep.  She couldn't afford to slip up.  The cost was too high and she couldn't forget that she had Leon to deal with as well.

The agents took turns at the interrogation.  It was straight up good cop bad cop routine but despite how nice the once called Bob was to her she refused to bite.  It was all a psychological game and Nia knew she had to beat them at it.  She didn't even acknowledge the offers to have her cuffs loosened or the heat turned up.  If anything the pain from her chafed wrists and the shivering from cold was helping her beat the tiredness.

The bad cop had introduced himself as Agent Causon and after a couple of hours he was starting to frustrate her and get under her skin.  At least Bob was polite with his questions.  Nia had only allowed them to confirm who she was and all other questions went unanswered.  They'd insinuated that they knew she was a mid-level player in Miami's drug game.  It wasn't far off the truth considering the position she'd held with Leon before she quit.  All the time she was looking for specifics in their questioning that would indicate something about what they knew.

Detail about anything criminal, though, was sparse or outdated.  There was nothing that would stick, no hard evidence.  They didn't have much more than street gossip.  They were definitely leveraging her for bigger fish and had probably got lucky that there was a contract out on her.  It was unlikely they knew who it was coming from but they were trying to use it to land Leon, she thought.

The agents tried to get to her personally, especially Causon, insulting her mother and father for raising such a disappointing child.  Nia felt angry about it because they knew nothing of her childhood, they couldn't possibly know, and had no right to insult her.

The tiredness and bright lights had brought on a splitting headache.  Nia's tolerance was wearing thin.

"Your mother was nothing more than a weak whore for raising a little bitch like you," Agent Causon said, leaning over Nia.

"Fuck you!" Nia responded in real anger for the first time, spitting in his face.

It only intensified the pressure from the two agents.  They kept reminding her about the threat to her life but she didn't let them see her fear.

"Let 'em do it.  Do I look like I got much to lose?  A couple of weeks ago I was this close to doing it myself."  Nia couldn't keep silent any longer, and her anger overflowed.  The situation seemed hopeless and she hung her head.  "Everybody I ever cared about is dead and buried.  I got nothing to lose."  It was true in part but she reminded herself that there was one person left she had to sort things out with.  It wasn't Leon.

Nia had made a pact with herself about finding her father and she had no intention of breaking it.  Finding him was likely to be impossible, and he'd probably only be a disappointment, but she had to know who he was and she'd do everything she could to locate him.

Agent Causon tossed a pile of bloody gang murder photos on the table in front of her in another attempt to break her.  The photos disgusted Nia and she felt close to breaking point.  Causon had her responding emotionally and it seemed only a matter of time.

"We have an idea who the threats are from and if you'll confirm it then we'll put you into protection.  We'll forget your charges."  Spickett made it all sound so easy.  Nia kept herself from telling him what she thought of his tricks.

"Of course, there's always the chance you won't make it inside.  I've even got worries about sending you to lockup."

Agent Spickett closed the door and Causon could see the frustration on his face.

"She's turning out to be tougher to crack than I'd hoped," Spickett exclaimed.

"We knew it wasn't going to be easy.  You take it easy for a while and give me another shot at her.  It's time we turned up the heat.  Pretty young thing like that won't last long when I apply some pressure."  Spickett knew what Causon meant and knew where it had landed them before.

"I don't know man, just take it easy."

"Sure."

Causon stepped into the room adjusted the thermostat and firmly locked the door.  Some warmth would make her drowsy and hopefully the tiredness would finally get to her.  If only he could tease out something, he'd work at it until she broke open completely.  Causon knew getting physical would speed things up.

Nia was as silent as she'd mostly been for the past few hours.  She didn't look at him as he walked around the table.  Causon put his foot on the side of her chair and kicked it out from under her.  The metal legs scraped the floor and it clattered to the other side of the room.

Nia fell awkwardly to her knees, her hands still cuffed to the center of the table.  Causon knelt down on one knee beside her.  His fingers groped through her hair and he grasped a handful firmly.  He pulled her head back and it twisted easily under his strength.  He turned her head so he could look directly into her eyes.  He was close enough to smell her faded perfume and thought he could smell her fear, too.

Nia winced as he landed a punch in her stomach.  Several more landed where Causon knew the bruises wouldn't show.  She couldn't help but cry out.  It probably shouldn't have but it turned Causon on and he felt himself start to go hard.

"Give it up because I can keep it up all day," Causon growled at Nia.

"Fuck you pig."  Nia tried to spit in his face again but he twisted her head away before she had the chance.  He stood and turned his back on her as she slumped at the side of the table.  Her dress was crumpled and her knees were covered in marks from the dirty floor.

Causon turned back to her, still aroused by the opportunity to beat on a young black girl and get away with it.  There were no pimps to cause him a problem this time.  He tried to tell himself he wasn't prejudiced against blacks, they were just ninety percent of his workload and it was nice to hit back once in a while.  It didn't matter that Nia hadn't done anything to him.  She was black and might as well have been one of the dealers he despised.  Someone wanted her dead so he might as well have his fun first.

It was a shame she'd end up dead, he thought, because she was sexy in the way only black women were to him.  He liked his women like her.  If they'd been up in the Triangle he'd certainly have fucked her and if she was lucky he'd have paid her more than a few bucks.  Causon vented his sexual frustrations by beating her.  She'd been one tough bitch so far but he could see she was struggling to hold back the tears.  Surely she was only moments away from spilling her guts.

Being roughed up wasn't a surprise to Nia but this level of brutality scared her.  She couldn't believe how much this agent was laying into her.  As Nia lost the ability to hold back her tears she could have sworn he was getting off on it.

It was a situation she was familiar with, a man trying to get what he wanted out of a woman by force.  Nia knew it was a weak man who attempted to assert his control over a woman.  Nia didn't want to be a weak woman and let him win.  She was determined to learn the lessons of her mother.

Images of Hugo flashed through her mind.  She'd finally put the pieces together in a way that made sense to her.  Hugo had beaten her mother because that was the one thing he could do.  Everything else must have seemed beyond his control when he found out Nia wasn't his daughter.  It was then he'd begun to let the business slip.  It didn't make what he did right in Nia's mind but finally she understood and it gave her some closure.

The punches stopped for a moment and Nia went limp.  Her stomach was on fire and she was struggling to draw a decent breath because she was so badly winded.  She was beginning to understand what it was like for the prostitutes she'd often seen badly beaten by their pimps.  For the first time in her life Nia was glad of the beatings from Hugo.  It didn't compare to this but it had been good preparation.  Without it she was sure she'd have cracked long ago, spilling everything about Leon and his business just to make it stop.  But for now the agent had only succeeded in extracting tears from Nia.

Nia tried to use the breaks in the beatings to think but the pain made that hard.  It was warmer now, too, and she was extremely sleepy.  It was hard to put her thoughts in order.  There had to be a way to make this stop.  Before she could find the answer Agent Causon punched her again.

It pleased Causon to see tears but less so when the confession he thought was so close didn't come.  It had started out as business for him, some extra money, but now it had turned personal.  He wasn't about to let this young bitch nigger get the better of him.

He increased the pain, a couple of blows to her kidneys.  His knuckles were red and he'd forgotten how tiring this could be.  He pulled her up off the floor by her hair and bent her face down over the desk.  He was still aroused and pressed himself against her from behind.  He could feel the softness of her body and he liked it.

Bob Spickett watched on.  He'd been apprehensive from the beginning but the money always swayed him.  He had alimony to pay to his first wife and mortgage payments with his second.  For this job he'd been offered a healthy sum and he needed it all.  What they were doing wasn't routine business, this was a personal favor and that came at a premium he liked.  He only wished it hadn't come to this.  He had daughters of his own and that made it hard to watch this young woman take a beating.  Causon's violence was necessary though, so he tolerated it.

Agent Causon held her head down, her left cheek pressed against the table.  As he held her hair tightly his finger nails scrapped at her scalp.  He could feel the curls of her hair growing through, which had not yet been relaxed.  He also noticed the heat now and had worked up a sweat.  It was a little uncomfortable but he only hoped the heat was doing its job on her.

He leant closer to her, his lips close to her face.  He whispered in her ear.

"Tell me what I need to hear or I'm going to take what I want."

He ran his free hand up her thigh, lifting her dress as he did so, and pressed himself harder against her.  He ran his tongue along the outside of her ear, following its curve.  Her resistance increased.

"Oh you feel me now?"

Nia felt disgusted.  There was nothing Leon could have taught her that would have prepared her for this but she thought back to that day when she'd met him and knew she'd survived similar situations.  Only Leon wasn't here to save her this time and if she somehow got out of this he was probably going to kill her.

The day she'd met Leon seemed like only yesterday but since then she'd matured in ways that were enabling her to cope with what was happening.  In the few short moments since the beating had stopped and she'd been thrown over the table her mind had begun to furiously work on assessing the situation.

What did she know?  What did they know and what did it mean?

They knew a little about her but nothing very current or dangerous enough to have her put away.  They were bluffing, making threats and obviously fishing for something or someone bigger than her.  For Leon?  They'd really tried to put pressure on her to talk because of the death threats, which had been very convenient for them.  Maybe too convenient?

Was this some sort of a test?  In theory she should be dead for trying to leave Leon.  Nia had hoped their personal relationship would protect her but maybe it was and he just had to make sure she wasn't a liability.  The more she thought about it the more it made sense.

This wasn't, it couldn't be routine DEA tactics.  Nia tried to think clearly but it was hard.  She'd been awake for far too long.  Nia wasn't even sure how long it had been but she could feel her mind drifting.  If it wasn't for the physical struggle keeping her awake then she'd have passed out within seconds.  What she needed to workout was the endgame, the way to finish this test without getting herself killed.

Nia had no way to know how long it would go on before she'd pass the test, assuming of course that she was right.  She didn't know either how much longer she could last.  She had to find a way to play her way out of the situation.

As nice as Agent Spickett might have been to her she knew Causon would be the easier sell.  Nia had suspected it from the beginning but now she knew Causon was really getting off on this.  She could use that to her advantage.  He wanted to dominate her so she'd let him.

Agent Causon was beyond frustration.  The money was supposed to have been a quick win and this nigger was keeping him from it.  If he wasn't going to get his money he at least wanted to fuck the bitch.  For a moment he forgot about not hurting her where it would show and he smashed her head down hard on the table a couple of times.

At first he thought she was unconscious.  She'd stopped struggling and he felt her body relax.  He looked at her face but she was still alert.  She still had tears in her eyes but there was a frightened look with them now.  She'd cracked, he knew it.  Causon unhooked her cuffs from the table.

"Please Papi," she begged him, "I'll tell you what you want."  Her hands grasped at him as much as they could while they remained cuffed together.

He tightened a hand around her neck.  "You'll tell me everything?" Causon asked to be sure she wasn't playing with him.  She nodded.

"I promise Papi."

Causon smiled to himself.  He had her now.  The fucking bitch was even calling him daddy.  He liked it.  He just had to make sure he kept his control over her.  He let go of her hair and sat her back on the chair.  He pulled his chair close to hers and gently caressed her thigh.  She looked a mess but Causon had felt her young body in his hands and was still tempted.

"Can you?"  She looked at her cuffed hands.  Without hesitation he slapped her across the face and she hung her head.  "I'm sorry Papi."

"You tell me what I need to hear and then we can talk about making you more comfortable."

Causon let her hands wander over him for a few minutes before pressing her further for an answer.

"You promise to protect me don't you?"

"Of course, just tell me everything and I'll arrange it personally."  So what if she was going to be dead in a couple of days?  He could drop by, make her feel safe and maybe pick up where they left off.

"You know I've been trying to get out and that's why he wants me dead.  I'm running my club now but I used to turn tricks for Tony over in the Triangle.  You know Tony, with the pool joint?"

"Sure."

"But it ain't just a pool joint.  It's other shit going on up in there."  Nia turned her head away from Causon.  "Things I'm ashamed of and wish I could forget."

"I've heard of what goes on there.  Some guy over at vice..."  Causon's words trailed off.  There was no guy at vice.  He knew the place himself.  He'd been there once or twice and had paid very little for the pleasure.

"Tony started me young.  People paid a lot and I'd get taken out to their motels mainly."

"Drugs?"

"He had me high most of the time."

"Does he shift any weight?"

"I never saw..."

"Don't lie to me!"  Causon slapped her again.  This time she didn't hang her head.

"Papi please, I'm telling you the truth.  I never saw anything like that.  You got to understand what they had me doing."

It made sense to Causon.  She might not have known but they probably shifted some serious weight through there and the whores were an extra cover, in addition to the pool bar.

He didn't know who his anonymous source was but he'd put a bet on it coming from that spot.  Whoever it was thought Nia knew too much and wanted to see if she'd crack.  She'd sealed her own casket now, he thought.  His eyes looked her over again.

"Did I do good?  I can lie for you if you want me to."

"No, the truth is just fine," Causon answered, knowing he had enough to get his pay-out and he wondered if he'd be asked to do the follow up work.  He'd have fun with that.

Nia spun the lie from as much truth as she thought she could get away with.  Some of Leon's business might be compromised but she didn't care.  She was still pissed at Leon and if this got her out of here then she'd sort that out with Leon, face to face.

The lie seemed to have worked.  She'd lied about being a whore because it seemed that was what Agent Causon wanted to believe she was.  The lie played right into the way he'd treated her, as did her submissive character.

Calling him Papi had made her sicker to her stomach than anything she'd ever done.  It made her sick because she'd already spent too many years calling Hugo Papi.  Nia reaffirmed a vow to herself that 'Papi' was reserved only for one man, the true holder of the title, if she ever found him.

Causon mentally rubbed his hands together over the pay-out he'd soon receive.  He let Nia know that they were no longer going to consider charges against her and Spickett would give her a ride home.  He gave her his card and lied to her that an agent would covertly remain close by for her safety.

Leon listened over the phone as the details were confirmed to him.  Nia had been clever, very clever and he was happy about that.  She'd confessed to a lie and the parts that were true were as outdated as the vague information he'd given to the Feds about her in the first place.

He betrayed nothing of his satisfaction in his voice and agreed payment.  They'd failed at his request but they didn't know it and it was better to keep it that way.  It was enough for him to show Alphonso she wasn't a threat to the business.  That she would fabricate credible lies rather than expose his sensitive operations.

All along he'd wanted to protect Nia from Alphonso's insistence that she be killed.

Leon couldn't kill her.  He loved her.

He'd realized finally how strong his love was.  Nia wasn't someone who could be disappeared or replaced.  He could never forget her.  It was why he'd convinced Alphonso to let him prove her loyalty.

Leon wasn't sure what he'd have done if she'd given him up to the Feds.  They were under his control but the betrayal would have hurt and, even worse, Alphonso's orders would have stood.  Leon's instincts were to protect Nia to the end.  He felt too much for her to do anything less.

He had saved her from Alphonso but he knew things were far from okay.  There would be fallout with Nia from this and there was still Cuba to sort out.  He'd fucked that up big time and didn't know how they could ever work it out.  His only option was to take it one day at a time.

# SIXTEEN

"What happened with Leon?" Lloyd asked Nia.

Across the room Marcus had parted the slats of the closed blind and was peering through it into the darkness.  He turned suddenly.

"We need to go ma'am," Marcus called out.

"Already?"

"We've stayed longer than we should've."

"What's happening?" Lloyd asked impatiently.  He was more concerned with finding out what had happened between Leon and Nia.

"I thought we'd have more time than this.  I don't know how they found us but I think we're surrounded," Marcus answered.

"The same people who..."  Lloyd's voice trailed off as Nia's expression answered his question.

"Time to get strapped," Nia said, as she picked up her M4 and quickly dropped the sling over her head.

Marcus and Nia readied themselves while Lloyd looked on, not sure what to do.  He was unsettled by the matter of fact way that they were preparing.

Nia realized that until now everything she'd told him didn't affect him.  She'd explained some of her past but it wasn't enough.  Lloyd hadn't been with her earlier that evening when she'd been attacked or for the twenty-four hours before that.

To him the possibility of danger must have seemed remote.  To her it was the opposite.  Every day since she'd discovered the truth she'd carried a fear for what it meant.

"Can't we hold out here?  This place is alarmed and we've got our own police force on the island.  I'll call them."  Lloyd glanced at the phone.

"Don't," Marcus cautioned him.  "It's probably tapped and then they'll know that we know they're here.  They won't expect us to make a run for it so we need to maintain the element of surprise."

"But the police will..."

"They have the police in their pockets," Nia interrupted.

"What about the FBI?"

"You gotta understand we can't trust no one.  Not the police, FBI, DEA, no one.  Why do you think I came to you?  As much as you might have tried to screw me with your documentary, I know deep down you're an honest guy.  You've got standards and character.  You'll expose the truth if I have long enough to tell it to you."

Nia was becoming frustrated and she noticed Lloyd was deep in thought.  What she'd been through put her one step ahead of Lloyd and he was playing catch up.  Nia didn't know that he felt shit because she still held him such high regard after what he'd done.

Nia had wanted to tell him everything a lot sooner.  But there was no way he would have believed her.  It had taken her a long time to come to terms with everything she had discovered.

"You realize the size of the conspiracy you are suggesting?" Lloyd said.  His voice was neutral.

Nia could tell he was trying to not offend her.  But there it was, the word conspiracy.  It was how she feared he'd respond if she didn't have time to explain.  It was how she'd have responded if she hadn't been through all she had and uncovered the secrets herself.  Nia guessed he was trying to match what he'd learnt about her past with the events of the present.  Maybe he believed her but the lack of detail regarding the most recent events must have left Lloyd with gaping questions.  Nia wanted to explain it all but there just wasn't time right now.

"Just know that someone is pulling the strings of the cops.  You've seen they've fixed it their heads I'm the lynchpin in an international trafficking operation.  Well I swear to you that ain't true."

"Then why..."

"I know what the people at the top don't want you to know."

"Like what?"

"We don't have time for this, ma'am," Marcus interjected.

"The Declaration of Independence, the Constitution and the American Dream, all principles this country is supposed to be founded on but it ain't nothin' but a blindfold to the truth."

"What are you saying?"

"Black people built this country and even if slavery is legally gone you know we haven't felt the American Dream like we should've.  Same goes for others, Latinos, Native Americans, you know.  And that's because we've been held back, held down or locked up."

"What about Obama?" Lloyd questioned.

"One nigga slips through the net and you think everybody equal now?  You think it ain't still happening?"  Nia was frustrated now.  She was angry, too, because the truth cut her deeply.  The truth had stolen so much from her that she'd yet to explain.  Lloyd could never really know who she was until she'd explained.  Until then he wouldn't understand her or the situation.  Nia knew she risked making herself look like a crazy conspiracy theorist but she knew the truth.

"Ma'am."  Marcus' voice was louder this time and firm.

"Get your shit together, we got to get the hell out of here," Nia said to Lloyd, with urgency in her voice.

Lloyd had listened to Nia but now she was sounding more and more like a Black Power nut.  What she'd said about her past was building a great biography but the last thing he wanted was to end up labeled as a nut alongside her.

He reminded himself that he wanted to trust her but was that only because he felt guilty for back stabbing her?  Or was it because of the way he still felt for her?

His feelings were rapidly coming back and he missed the way things had once been between them.  Lloyd realized it wasn't just the scoop he'd wanted, he'd hoped in his heart he could show the world Nia hadn't become the person vilified by the authorities.  Lloyd was clutching at any scrap of evidence that told him she was the same woman he'd once felt so deeply for.

His academically trained mind had so many questions that demanded answers she'd yet to give him but Nia had been insistent that she tell things in an order which made sense.

The more Lloyd thought about what Nia was telling him, about Leon and the DEA, the more it looked like the news on her was accurate.  She was out of the game now, wasn't she, he hoped.  Or was she taking him for a ride?  What better way for her to go out than to fabricate a conspiracy that points the finger at the very people trying to bring her to justice, claiming they have a twisted and ulterior motive.  That would be cunning Lloyd thought.

If Nia made a stand and wasn't taken alive then everything he had on tape would generate endless conspiracy theories leaving her as one of the legendary figures in history supposedly assassinated before their time.

"Evidence," Lloyd said, as if his mind had suddenly unclogged.

"Huh?" Nia replied, while checking she had a round chambered.

"I want evidence."  Standing from his seat, Lloyd's body and mind became active once again.

At the precise moment Lloyd stood there was a loud and rapid popping sound in tandem with three dull thuds.  Nia moved quickly to cover, kneeling down and shouldering her M4.  Marcus pulled Lloyd to the ground so hard it almost knocked the wind out of him.  They quickly scrambled to cover.  Lloyd glanced back and saw the back had been blown off his chair.  His heart was racing in his chest.  He'd never seen the effects of gunfire with his own eyes.

"You wanted evidence?" Nia called from across the room.

"Alright," Lloyd cried back in submission.

"Take it, you might need it," Marcus said, handing Lloyd his own Kevlar vest.

Lloyd stared at the man he'd always been so jealous of.  Marcus might not have had the same intimacy he'd once shared with Nia but he'd had consistency and had never felt the guilt of letting her down.

"It's yours," Lloyd replied.

"Sir, we have a mission to complete and your survival is critical to that.  Miss Rodriguez needs you."  There was no point arguing with him.  Lloyd slipped the vest over his torso.

"How'd they..."

"Thermal imaging.  They can see right through the glass even with the blinds shut."

"Alright, listen up.  We're out of here," Marcus said.  "Same way we came in.  Move quickly, grab the camera equipment and keep your head down.  I'm lead, you follow and Miss Rodriguez brings up the rear."

"Okay."  Lloyd nodded, feeling his heart begin to race again.

"Don't trip, follow my signals and don't get shot.  Prepare to move."

Lloyd noticed Nia quickly check her weapon again.  Magazine on securely.  Round chambered.  Safety off.  It was getting all too real for Lloyd.  Who just shoots through windows, he thought.  Maybe Nia was on to something but he still needed proof.

"Move!" Marcus ordered.  The distance was short and they moved quickly.  Lloyd snatched up the camera equipment as they dashed towards the kitchen.  The rapid popping sound of rounds passing through the glass windows filled the air again, followed by the same dull thuds and cracks as the rounds hit walls and furniture.  This time it wasn't a conservative three round burst, it was full automatic fire.

Lloyd watched Marcus take the turn at the top of the stairs.  His weapon was leveled and he was fully focused on the situation.  He'd not lost what he'd been taught in the Marine Corps.  Professionalism oozed from his every move.  When Lloyd turned back to check Nia was still with them he noticed she moved like a professional, too.

Lloyd tried to stay as calm as he could.  Marcus was right, he was here to tell a story.  The camera was still running.  It came up and into focus.

Marcus moved forward, his aim sweeping into blind spots as they descended to the ground floor.

Training Nia had brought memories of basic right back to him.  Marcus had taught her as much as he could in the very short time they'd had and she'd been a quick study.  Some of it he'd had to practice himself, shaking the dust off the knowledge.  The drills were almost innate to him but it had been so long since he'd used them.  Part of him had never wanted to use them again but there was another part of him that knew he couldn't escape putting his honed skills back to work.

Working security was supposed to have been short-term.  Marcus had even dreamt about one day feeling like a civilian but Havana had just been too hard to leave.  Jay Rodriguez had been a strong woman.  He'd respected her deeply and he'd been inspired by the way she'd endeavored to turn the business around.  Seeing it through with her had been important to him.

Then there had been her daughter, Nia.  Marcus had known her well before the death of her mother.  He knew that she'd been let down as a child and, from what he'd heard of Hugo, Nia needed some adult consistency in her life.  That was confirmed to him the night he found her about to kill herself.  He couldn't walk out of her life at such a vulnerable moment, so he'd decided to stay until he felt she was ready.  Nia had been ready for some time but events had conspired to keep him at her side, first as Havana's head of security and then as her bodyguard.

Marcus couldn't leave her now.  Knowing what they had discovered he felt ashamed.  He'd fought for a country that was a lie.  Nia knew the truth.  This wasn't just about her.  Nia was mixed up in a conspiracy so serious it reached deep into the heart of the government and its agencies.  When it came down to it, this was about murder.  Everything they'd been through had been about exposing the truth.  For that he was prepared to risk his life one more time.

It was a big risk but Marcus knew the odds.  They were more than likely surrounded and outnumbered.  Earlier, they'd been lucky to survive.  But now the element of surprise was lost.  The enemy knew their location and was trying to flush them out.

Marcus couldn't see an alternative to making a run for the armored Hummer.

He didn't know how they had been tracked to this location.  Maybe it had been an educated guess on the part of their pursuers but there was no time to worry about it now.  They had to focus on escaping.

Marcus entered the parking garage and immediately noticed two figures.  One close on his right.  The other in the back left corner.  He turned right, with Lloyd following, and let off a three round burst from his M4.  The first two shots hit the figure in front of him in the chest and the recoil from the weapon pulled the last round up so it hit him in the throat.  It blew the back off his neck and the threat he posed was instantly eliminated.  His body dropped and his AK-47 clattered to the floor.

Nia was following immediately behind Lloyd and her shots were only microseconds behind Marcus'.  There was little light but it was enough for her to see her target raise his weapon at her.  Her shots took the target down but, as they did, a wild burst of fire let rip from his AK-47.  It tore through the air close to Nia and peppered the front wing of the Hummer.

Marcus continued to sweep his side of the parking garage and Nia hers.  Her target was down but not dead.  She kicked away his AK-47.

"Clear," Marcus called out.

"Clear," Nia called in return.

Lloyd panned the camera around and found focus on both of them, standing side by side.

Marcus pressed his boot heal into the wounded man's flesh.  He let out a tortured scream.  He wasn't going to survive long and Marcus needed information fast.

Nia took the keys for the Hummer and jumped in.  It was facing outwards, ready to go after being re-parked by Marcus earlier on.  She found a spare vest for Marcus on the backseat and tossed it out to him.

As Marcus strapped on the vest the wounded man smiled at him, blood oozing from where the high velocity 5.56mm rounds had torn open his flesh.  Marcus dug his heal in further.

"Tell me how many of your friends are out there and we'll get you to a hospital."

"You won't get out of here alive and that vest won't save your skin nigger lover!"  The man choked on his own blood and spat it up all over Marcus' boot.

The foul insult angered Marcus and he'd noticed how the racist had looked across at Nia as he'd spoken.  Marcus hated the word nigger but something told him the glance at Nia hadn't been related to him thinking she was a nigger.  It was the Hummer.

Nia slipped the keys into the ignition.  Lloyd was getting comfortable on the backseat.

The memory was burnt into Marcus' mind and the images came flooding back.  Afghanistan.  His mind filled with images of all the Hummers he'd seen taken out by IEDs.  It wasn't something he should've had to worry about on American soil.

"Stop!" Marcus called out, already making a move towards them.  "I think it's rigged."

He dropped to the floor, his body pressed flat against the ground.  It was a dirty job, close to the gas tank.  He knew how to disarm it but they didn't have enough time.  Marcus knew the enemy was closing in on them.

"The Audi," Marcus said.

"The keys are..."

"I'll hotwire it," Marcus interrupted Lloyd.  "Shit they've slashed the tires."

The anger in Marcus was visible in his face.  If they were killed now it would be over and the truth would never surface.  Even worse they might be caught alive and would probably be tortured to find out if they'd already exposed anything.

Their options of escape had narrowed rapidly and Marcus was running out of ideas.  When they'd stopped at the motel he'd barely slept, too worried about taking his eyes off Nia and his hand off his gun.  As his mind began to calculate the next move Lloyd began to walk backwards towards the open front of the garage.  His camera was in hand and Marcus realized Lloyd must have forgotten the enemy was out there.  This guy was a rookie but Marcus couldn't blame him.  Lloyd didn't have even a fraction of the training he'd given Nia.

It was in preparation for situations like this that the training in the Marine Corps was so tough.  The discipline was ruthless at times but created a heightened focus when it was most needed.  At this rate Marcus couldn't help feeling Lloyd was going to get one or both of them killed by the end of the day.  His preference was neither.

Marcus rushed forward and grabbed Lloyd's vest at the front to drag him back to cover.

Two shots rang out in rapid succession.  Both struck Marcus in the back as he turned to push Lloyd back into cover.  The force was like being hit by a truck and it lifted him off his feet immediately.  He slammed face first into the ground, his head taking a blow hard enough to knock him out.

Marcus' body sprawled out face down and Nia watched as Lloyd stumbled towards her.  She reacted with rage and punched him in the face.  It knocked him to the ground behind the Audi.

Marcus was down in the open and she had to do something about it.  Marcus had told her several times to leave him if it ever came to a situation like this but Nia couldn't leave him.  He'd done too much for her.

"Hold fire!  I told you the black bitch is the primary target.  You weren't supposed to engage again until the explosion was triggered."

Clyde Roberts was pissed.  Organizing a successful hit was complicated enough but the events of the last forty-eight hours had caused him to cobble several rush jobs together.  In doing so his options were limited and as his target became more aware of the threat he posed she proved to be evermore elusive.

His most recent effort involved hiring a group of right minded individuals – they wanted to kill niggers – but they were extremely lacking in skill and discipline.  If they had known the stakes they might have been better disciplined but he couldn't trust these low lives with the truth despite their shared hatred.

"What's one nigger when I could've killed two nigger lovers?" the sniper replied, spitting on the ground to the left of where he lay prone, his blood boiling at the disgrace of such people.  "Besides, she was probably hit in the first shots I put though the windows."

Roberts observed the tattoo on the sniper's right forearm, a swastika, and he knew he'd hired the wrong people for the job although he'd never really had a choice at such short notice.  Anyone who was so blatant about their beliefs, in what had to be a covert war, would never have a place with the gentlemen he served.  At most they could only ever be convenient tools of war and the coming revolution.

Roberts had to protect those he served and usually completed his work with anonymity, pinning the blame on others, like the marathon job.  But time was getting short and he'd had to resort to a crude brute force attack.

Rodriguez needed to be eliminated because of what she knew and the threat her knowledge represented to the system.  She was one step away from countering the revolution before it had even happened.  Roberts understood clearly why she'd contacted John Richard Lloyd.  If anyone in Miami could break the story quickly and with credibility it was him.  If the public heard it from him it would be so damaging to the country.  The revolution was supposed to be swift but if this got out it could lead to civil war.

Roberts was pleased with his genius at making the connection between them.  When he'd looked over old files for a way to get to Rodriguez he'd seen that his employers had sponsored Lloyd's documentary.  It was unfortunate for his initial plans that they weren't in contact but when she was on the run he'd considered she might turn to him.  He'd hit the jackpot and now just had to wrap things up.

There had been no response from his team over the radio and Roberts assumed they were dead after seeing Lloyd walk out into the open.  The plan had been to drive them out of the house.  He knew they'd try to take the Hummer so he'd stationed two of his men there and if that hadn't worked he'd hoped the explosive device on the Hummer would do the trick.  But Marcus Campbell was turning out to be as good as his file said he was.  He'd eliminated the two men and it was possible he'd spotted the explosive.  Roberts hoped that the two shots fired by his sniper had killed him because dealing with the leftovers would be much easier.  Without the Marine to lead them this would come to a swift and brutal conclusion.

There was nowhere for Roberts' prey to go now and all that was left to do was to close in on them.

Nia's instinct overrode Marcus' instructions to leave him behind.  They'd been through too much together.  Loyalty was one thing she would always have no matter how much her life had changed since her days on the street.

Nia darted forward, feeling the adrenaline course through her body like never before.  She expected to get hit any moment but she had to try to save him.  She barely halted but it was just long enough to take hold of the strap on the back of his vest.  In any other circumstance she wouldn't have been able to move a man of his muscular build but her muscles worked hard and sucked up the adrenaline.  As Nia dragged Marcus, she was able to raise his face just enough to stop it dragging on the concrete, something he'd appreciate later if he lived.

Nia got him to cover and laid him down between the back wall and the rear of the Hummer.  She rapidly checked his vest.  Two rounds.  Neither had gone though.  It was a good start but she knew it wasn't like the movies where actors would just shake off a hit like that.  He could have internal bleeding, even a spinal injury from the force of the impact.

Nia rolled Marcus over very carefully on to his back.  Lloyd continued filming, his lip busted up from her punch and bleeding all over his shirt.

Marcus was still breathing and it came as a huge relief to Nia.  The relief stopped there.  What did they do now?

The world closed in as Nia felt the sudden responsibility for formulating their escape and the survival of the secrets she carried.  Pulling Marcus to cover had been a crazy risk.  They had to escape and get the truth out but how?

Nia's vision blurred and darkness swept over her.  She couldn't see.  Had she been hit, she wondered.  Had she passed out?  The darkness had a familiarity to it.  It wasn't a welcoming familiarity, rather one of dread which slowly filled her with terror.

She'd been there before.  Her awareness of impending death was acute and Nia soon found it hard to breathe.  The darkness was choking her and she could hear the sound of her own breathing amplified in her ears.  Her whole body was sluggish as if starved of oxygen.

Where was she?  What was happening?  Nia desperately searched her mind for answers.  She recalled her nightmares but this was worse.  It was more real than ever, as if the nightmare had become the reality.  Maybe this was death.

Feeling pain in the side of her chest she reached down in the darkness.  Her hand found her side.  It was wet and warm, the feeling of her own blood.  A sudden jolt of pain shot through her body and told her that she'd found the entry wound.

Anger came over her, blotting out the fear.  She wasn't ready to die.  She forced herself to deny what she knew must be a nightmare.

Nia knew she had to turn her mind to the present to solve the problems that were waiting there for her.

Only seconds had passed but when the waking nightmare left her it was as if she had been struck by lightning.  She'd gained an instant realization of what they had to do to escape.  And they had only moments to make it work because she'd spotted movement out front.

The rapid punctuation of small arms fire rang out.  High velocity rounds ricocheted off the concrete and more sunk themselves into the bodywork of the vehicles.  Marcus stirred.  Nia sat him up and knew it was now or never.

"You ever get the boat you used to talk about?"

"Not yet," Lloyd replied.

"Neighbors got one?"

"Sure."

"Which side?"

"Both, but the Petersons are away."

Lloyd was starting to catch on.  Absentee owners meant there wasn't anyone to report it stolen.  Of course, that remained the least of their worries until they could lose their attackers and get to the boat unseen.

"Can you get Marcus to the boat?" Nia asked Lloyd.

"Sure."

"I'm gonna lay down some cover fire and you slip out back.  Preferably without being seen."

Nia snatched up a couple of items from Marcus, leant around the rear bumper of the Hummer and urged Lloyd to go while she emptied a clip in the direction of the movement she'd seen.

Marcus was barely conscious but his legs carried a fair amount of his own weight.  Lloyd had Marcus' arm draped over his shoulder and steadied him as best he could while they tried to run, stumbling most of the way to the rear property boundary.

The camera was still running, hung on its strap around Lloyd's neck, as was the bag of camera equipment.  Lloyd found himself gripping Marcus' M4 in his free hand.  He barely had a clue what to do with it and he doubted he could aim straight because he was trembling so much.

Whatever it was that Nia was up to her neck in, it was more dangerous than he'd ever imagined.  This couldn't be the DEA.  They wouldn't just attack like that.  A surprise raid maybe but this was an unprovoked attack.

For the first time in his life he was really scared because money, education or celebrity status weren't going to help him avoid senseless violence.  As he gripped the M4 tighter he felt survival instinct rise up within him.  Lloyd knew he'd become part of events and was no longer just filming them.

Lloyd crossed into next door's property with Marcus, getting wet as they strode through the lawn's sprinkler spray to the jetty.  Behind them, Lloyd could still hear the gunfire raging.  It seemed more intense and he desperately hoped Nia was not far behind.  She had to make it out alive.  He didn't have answers and if she didn't make it then all this would have been for nothing, her life wasted trying to tell him who was out to kill her.

They stepped aboard the Azimut 85 Ultimate, a motor yacht described in advertisements as a private club on the sea.  Equipped with four ample cabins, a luxurious living space, galley and Jacuzzi it was the sort of home on the water Lloyd had dreamed his money might one day buy him.

He had no idea how they were going to get the thing started but he watched Marcus come to life.  Marcus found new strength aboard the ship, the Marine within him resurrected, and he immediately began preparing to launch.

Without warning an explosion ripped through the warm night air.  Lloyd felt the shockwave hit him and watched as half of his house was engulfed in a fire ball.  He felt the heat on his face and gasped.  Not for the house but for Nia.  She was nowhere in sight.  What had she done?

Clyde Roberts had advanced with his men and opened fire.  Fire had been returned in aggressive amounts, the sorts that characterized last ditch escape attempts.  His team had been forced to take cover as they tried to move closer.  In between volleys Roberts raised his head above cover.  He saw Rodriguez dash to the open Hummer door, firing as she went.  She climbed into the driver's seat.  She rested her weapon above the hinge of the open door and began to fire.  Roberts ducked down again.  Light from the Hummer's headlights shone out across the driveway.

If she planned to shoot her way out then maybe Marcus Campbell hadn't seen the Hummer was wired to explode, Roberts thought.  Maybe the sniper shots had taken both him and the television guy out.  Roberts began to feel his luck was turning, although he didn't believe in luck, just thorough preparation.

The incoming fire ceased.  He stuck his head up and looked into the glare of the headlights.  His eyes barely had a few seconds to adjust as his team started to return fire again.  Moments later he watched the Hummer explode as soon as the ignition key was turned.  It was an improvised explosive device with a little too much C4 but he'd told his men to make sure there was no doubt it would kill.  It was crude but very effective.

Roberts watched with pleasure as the house began to collapse on top of the parking garage from the force of the explosion.  Within minutes half of it was destroyed and the other half was burning.  Roberts smiled and turned his mind to phase two.

"God damn!" the sniper exclaimed with pleasure and excitement.  "We sure killed that nigger now."

Roberts took out his handgun.  He smiled as he killed the sniper and every other member of his team.  They had been dead all along, they just didn't know it.  He couldn't risk them screwing things up afterwards.  He took out his cell and made a short call.  The police would arrive within seconds.

Confirmation of the bodies was required but having seen it happen he knew there was no way anyone could have survived the blast.  There was no delay in the blast after turning the ignition.  No one could escape it.  Rodriguez was dead.  The cops would spend hours picking up her pieces, if they found any at all.  He'd recover anything that might lead back to the gentlemen he worked for and he'd check in with the security team that was on alert, looking for data breaches.

Within thirty minutes the entire Indian Creek Village PD was on the scene, Miami Dade PD were wading in too.  The fire department were desperately trying to contain the blaze.

Roberts found the scene commander.  "Special Agent Andrew Dean, FBI," Roberts said, introducing himself and extending his hand.

# SEVENTEEN

Nia learnt that running a business meant time passed quickly.  There was always more to do than there were hours in the day to do it.  The last seven months had gone by with her barely being able to take stock of everything that had happened.

The club had just closed up for the evening, morning actually, and Nia was sunk deep into the office sofa with a glass of cognac.  The accompanying bottle rested on the coffee table.  Cognac and weed were two habits she'd picked up from Leon and in the past she'd pursued them to the excess.  But things were better now.  She'd learnt from Leon that business was always the first priority and so now she kept her vices in moderation.

Nia liked to drink before she slept because it dispatched her into a much more pleasant slumber.  Tonight it had her feeling reflective.  Nothing had come of her short stay with the DEA, other than the bruises which had eventually healed.  Not even the protection she was promised came.  Anyway, she figured she didn't need them.  Whatever had gone down with Leon seemed long over now.  She'd not seen or heard from him since she'd told him that night, seven months ago, that she was out.  Of course she'd been worried about the threats in the beginning and had hardly left the club.  When she did it had been with Marcus, to whom she'd confided some of the details.  But as time went on and she crossed paths with people she recognized from her former life she saw that any threat had fizzled out.

At first Nia had hated Leon, at least as much as she could.  Whether she liked it or not she still had some feelings for him buried deep inside.

Elsewhere Nia had surged ahead, taking her role as club manager very seriously.  She had her sights set firmly on the future and business was doing exceptionally well.  Her idea to create a fusion of hip-hop and Latin music had paid off better than she'd ever imagined.

The opening night had been a storm and further nights were also a resounding success.  Havana quickly became the number one spot in Miami for the fusion of hip-hop and Latin music.  The street fame she'd gained from being led away by DEA agents during the opening night had served as free publicity, helping bring in even more business.  The rumors had already been flying about her street connections but after that night they'd grown exponentially.  Some were obviously untrue but Nia tolerated them because they seemed to be good for business.  People liked the thrill of being around a Cuban gangster figure.

Nia handled the business with outstanding dedication and soon one night of hip-hop at Havana had gone to three.  Then it took over.  Nia renamed the club Hip-hop Havana and it quickly picked up the street name H¬¬3.  Each night ran a different promotion centered on the hip-hop Latin blend.  H3's thorough update in entertainment was a real driving force in its success.  Nia was the young blood that H3 had needed.

She'd found her calling and worked hard at it.  She was constantly on the lookout for new talent but when H3 became very well known it wasn't long before talented artists were coming to her.  H3 developed a role in promotion and, with Nia's gift for picking new hip-hop talent, it was earning her good money.

But Nia wasn't satisfied with just that.  She had a sweeping vision of modernizing the club.  The music had been the key but there was more.  Nia spent money to save money.  She introduced a modern computerized system for stock control and running the cash registers.  It cut down administration duties by more than two thirds.  Her accounts became computerized and stock orders were placed automatically.  After talking it over with Marcus she'd also introduced a system of voluntary membership.  It made the club safer and easier for Marcus to police, which reduced her insurance premium, while creating regulars through a loyalty scheme.

Nia's increasing success made her realize that, had she finished school, she would have been able to go on to college, probably with a scholarship.  But she didn't regret the choices she'd made because they were what had seen her though at the time.  Instead she thought of H3 as a real life college course in business administration.  So Nia taught herself about the new computer systems and read books on business management.  She did whatever she could to make up for what she might have missed in school.  She'd always been bright but in a short space of time she made up a lot of ground.

Nia took another sip from her cognac and looked around the office.  It was the one place that hadn't changed much through the hard times of recent years but that didn't mean she had a fondness for it.  The rest of the club had gone through several makeovers and this place hadn't even seen a lick of paint.  It had taken Nia a while to get around to considering a change and the design catalogues were still cluttering her desk.

Apart from the fondness for her mother that she saw in some aspects of the office, she was glad to be getting rid of all the memories.  The room embodied Hugo's failure and consequently reminded her of the fact that she didn't know who her father was.  However, it also reminded her of her mother's determination and sacrifice.  Nia was determined to galvanize the new direction she'd set herself upon.  Nothing signaled that better to her than to rip out all the old and put in some new.

Nia had been struggling to find a design that would still leave her with a sense of the presence of her mother.  Nia missed her terribly.  Nia had been toying with the idea of opening the office up a little and starting a picture wall.  She had few picture memories to add to it at the moment but in time she hoped to make some.

Nia decided to call the renovators the next day to get things started and she'd also hunt for some great photos of her mother.  It seemed right that her mother be at the center of the picture wall.

As the cognac relaxed her body Nia realized how tired she felt.  She'd taken to working out regularly but it wasn't that.  The tiredness wasn't physical.  At her age she should have been at college, not worrying about a business, and if not college then she should have been an employee rather than an employer.

Looking back on her life so far it hadn't been good.  There had been times she'd been off the rails and she was lucky to still be alive but she hoped most of that was behind her now.  Everything that had happened to her seemed to come down to the fact that she'd never known her real father.  Growing up, Hugo had been a disappointment and she'd tried to find the male figure she was missing in Leon.  It was why she'd got so mixed up in the streets.  For as long as Nia could remember, whether she'd known it at the time or not, she'd been looking for someone to fill the hole left in her heart by the father she'd never known.

Nia noticed how every guy she'd met she'd seen as some sort of father substitute.  Both Hugo and Leon had eventually let her down and she despaired that she didn't know where to find her real father.  Nia knew nothing about him and that caused her pain.  In the end, Nia's only option was to try to block out all the emotional mess she didn't understand and divert her attention away from it by focusing on her work at H3.

There was a short knock at the door.  Marcus entered.

"All locked up ma'am.  Just thought I'd check on you."

"I'm fine."  Nia sat up on the sofa and rested her glass on the coffee table.  Faded images ran through her mind of Hugo's body lying there among the shattered remains of the last coffee table.

Nia looked up at Marcus who towered in front of her, silhouetted in the light of the hallway.  She smiled softly at him and he came to sit beside her.  They talked for a while, like they did most nights, but tonight she noticed something different about him.  He was handsome in a rugged way.  His body language always spoke of confidence and his eyes were a deep with understanding and wisdom.  He'd been a constant in her life lately, dependable.  It was comforting.

 "You know you don't always have to call me ma'am," Nia said, with a flirtatious smile.  She'd told him so many times already.

"Habit I guess," Marcus replied.  Nia was sure he'd noticed her flirting.

Nia swung her legs up over the edge of the sofa and rested her head back on Marcus' lap.  She turned her head to the left and let her gaze fall across the room.  The dim light accentuated her beautiful features.  Nia radiated the confident and flirtatious behavior of a young woman while feeling less sure about herself on the inside.

She pulled Marcus' hand up to her bare shoulder.  His hand was firm but his touch gentle.  She sensed hesitancy in him but reassured him with her own hand on his.  She was hesitant as well and guessed at what was running through his mind.  He'd be worried that they worked together, that she was his boss and also too young for him.  She worried about that too and also that she might be throwing herself at him because she was trying to sabotage the one male friendship that was working out for her.

Nia closed her eyes as Marcus' fingers caressed her shoulder ever so slightly.  She wasn't sure what she was supposed to be feeling.  It had been months since another man had touched her like this and she vividly remembered how terribly that had turned out.

Marcus' attention shifted to her long curls that were resting across her neck and the side of her face.

"Anyone ever tell you how beautiful you are?"  At first the soft words didn't sound right coming from Marcus.  Nia was used to his efficient military tone.  But the words made her heart quicken all the same.  "Your skin's like silk, a soft flawless chocolate."

His fingers traced a line across her shoulder.  He paused for a moment and Nia wondered if he was also thinking of someone else.

He drew back her curls to reveal her face fully to him.  She lay there waiting for him to just take her.  Nia wanted him if only to help her forget.  It had been months and as much as she'd tried to forget and block it out she'd not been able to rid herself of her feelings for him completely.  To her surprise, it had been Leon rather than Rico she'd been struggling to forget.  Even after all their problems she knew she still had feelings for him.

Regardless of what had happened with Rico in Cuba she couldn't help but feel that the first man she'd ever been intimate with was Leon.  She remembered with passion the few minutes they'd had together on the plane to Cuba.  They'd only made out but she'd never wanted a man more than she had in that moment and in a girlish way she'd felt she was his and no one else's.  After Cuba things had changed.  It was complicated.  He'd lost his temper and then there was how things had gone down when she'd stopped working for him.  That had really hurt and she still didn't understand what had happened.  If only she could truly believe Leon was just another man who'd let her down.

Marcus caressed her cheek gently.  His fingers traced the line of her jaw.

"How'd you..."  His fingers rested at the scar that five years later was almost invisible.

"It's nothing," Nia said.

But it wasn't.

As soon as he'd touched her scar it had brought her back to that day.

Pushed down in the grass, a knife against her face and a hand up her skirt.

Others would have walked away.  Leon hadn't.  He'd saved her.  Nia had turned to him after that and he'd done everything he could to stop her getting mixed up in his world but she'd insisted on being a part of it.

It was her fault for getting involved.  She knew the street code said live by the gun, die by the gun.  He'd tried to protect her from all that but she'd wanted to join him anyway.

Time had also given her perspective on Cuba.  Nia understood his anger and imagined how she would have felt finding him in bed with another woman.

Nia didn't realize she was crying until Marcus wiped away the tears running down her cheeks.  She turned into his arms and sobbed.  He held her close.

"I'm sorry," Nia said through her tears.

"For what?"

"I thought you could help me forget.  I wanted to forget Leon but I still love him."

Nia cried herself to sleep in Marcus' arms, troubled over what to do.  Even if she did love him Leon was still wrapped up in a business that she'd escaped and didn't want to go back to.  Nia knew she could never be his again.

For a few seconds after Nia woke she wasn't sure where she was.  She'd spent many uncomfortable nights, like her mother, sleeping on the pull-out sofa in the office.  But this morning she was pleased to find herself waking up under the soft sheets of her king-size double bed in her new apartment.

Nia pulled the sheets around herself and slid one hand to the cool underside of her pillow.  She stretched and vaguely recalled Marcus carrying her to bed.  She'd barely been awake, so tired from so much work and the emotional pressure she'd been feeling.  He'd helped her undress and...  Nia turned in the bed.  He wasn't there.  She didn't think that he'd have stayed after she'd confessed that she still loved Leon.  As he always was, Marcus had been a gentleman, professional and selfless.

Nia's new apartment was one of the two units thirteen floors above H3 she'd purchased the month before.  She'd refinanced the club to purchase both of them.  Nia couldn't sleep on a sofa forever and the club was making enough money now.  To ensure a good return on her money she'd had the other unit turned into a recording studio.  It was nearly finished and she already had a few bookings.  Nia was sure that she'd get more bookings and one of her prime customer bases would be the new talent she was bringing into H3.

Nia stretched again and threw back the sheets.  Her alarm clock read six fifty-seven.  Three minutes before it was set to go off.  She reset it and went to the bathroom.  Everything was still so new in the apartment it barely felt her own.  Nia had never lived in a place so pristine like this before.  The hotel in Cuba had been fancy and Leon's place was nice too but everywhere else she had lived had been falling apart.  She wondered how long it would take before this apartment really felt like home.

Nia stood in front of the sink in her underwear and splashed warm water on her face.  Brushing her teeth woke her up.  She knew any remaining sleepiness would disappear when she got out on her run.

Nia ran a couple of times a week after Marcus suggested it might help relieve some of her stress.  It had and usually they ran together.  They'd meet on the water front not far from H3 at seven thirty.  Nia didn't know if he'd be there this morning.

She got to the water front promenade on time and was busy retying her sneaker when she saw Marcus approach.  For a second she wasn't sure what to say.  Nia wondered if things would be awkward between them because of the previous night.

"Good morning ma'am," Marcus said.

"Morning," Nia replied, a little hesitant to say anything else.  "You okay?"

"Yeah I'm fine.  Come on let's run," Marcus replied, and they ran along the promenade as usual.

A couple of months had passed and Nia was preparing for the work to be done in the office.  It was late and Nia had spent the evening moving everything out so the renovators could start the day after next on her birthday.  She would be nineteen.

All the furniture had gone, and would be replaced, but all the files and her computer had been moved temporarily into the small office up in the studio.  In time she planned to hire someone to manage the studio.  Once business took off it would be another full time job and she just didn't have the time for that, she was doing too much already.

Nia picked up the last of the papers to go up to the studio.  As she walked out she turned back for one last look.  The room was empty and seemed somehow different.  It was larger and plainer.  With everything gone that was familiar, the room was less intimidating to her.  The bad memories were fading and she hoped that in only a few days they'd be gone altogether.  Nia turned and closed the door.

Nia rode the elevator up to the thirteenth floor and entered the studio unit.  The unit actually housed two recording studios but neither were currently in use.  Upon entering Nia stepped into the large lounge which was kitted out with sofas and a large High Definition television.  It was a space big enough for any reasonable entourage.  Off the lounge was a hallway which led to the small office and also to the two recording studios.  One was slightly smaller, mainly for vocal sessions, and the larger one was used for groups or artists with instruments.  She passed them both, entered the office and added the documents to the pile that she'd sort out tomorrow.

It was late and she had every intention of falling into a deep sleep in her bed.  But when she passed the studios she paused at the door.  She'd been in them both before, had even supervised the renovation work right up to when it was finished, but she wanted to take another look around.  Nia entered the smaller studio, switched on the lights and the heavy door closed behind her.  She heard it slide firmly into the soundproofed frame.  The whole studio had been soundproofed to the highest standards.  With the noise from H3 and the street below it had to be.

There was something unsettling about just how quiet it was in the studio.  Nia sat down on the chair behind the mixing desk and listened.  She could almost hear her own heartbeat and still had a slight ringing in her ears from H3's loud music earlier that evening.  The silence and the ringing in her ears both built to a point that seemed overwhelming but Nia didn't want to leave just yet.  Instead, she plugged her iPod into the sound system and set it to play.

The iPod pumped music into the studio's system and out through the speakers either side of the window that looked into the vocal booth.  The speakers were a pair of Wharfedales and Nia immediately enjoyed the sound of Tupac played in such high quality.

"What do you get from boosting?

Niggas coming out from California gonna represent them niggas in Houston"

The recording was of an impromptu Tupac freestyle.  She was familiar with the particular track having watched the video many times on YouTube.  Nia was feeling the flow of the raw emotions in his lyrics.  It filled the studio.  She imagined Tupac in the booth in front of her, shirtless as he often was at recording sessions, his tattoos on full display.  If it hadn't been freestyle rap he'd be standing there with a headset on and a yellow legal pad in his hand.  But for now she pictured him letting his words rip straight from mind to mic.

"And now we rock 'n keep this shit popped

And all my niggas across the bay know L.A. can keep the shit hot

I keep a Glock inside my pants, don't give niggas a chance

To put me inside a casket, you dirty bastards

Until the day I die..."

Nia couldn't help it and began to rap with Tupac.  She'd stood up and her body moved with the music.  The Wharfedales produced such high quality sound that she could almost believe he was in the booth next door.  The lyrics were absorbing, taking her back to her time on the streets with Leon.  She felt the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stand up as she connected to the music like it was meant to be.

"My shit will drop and I'll sell five million

While all these niggas in it for the game

They caught up in this drug dealing

Now how can I fall?  How can I ball?

How can I catch my enemies and murder 'em all?

My words are flames burnin' niggas inside their brain

Niggas can't hang with me, and nothin' changes, uh

Scarface got me on this shit

We laced it, motherfuckers in their body and face, uh

God, trigger, liquor made the Italian nigga

Niggas don't wanna see me worldwide mob figure"

At the end of the track Nia was breathless.  She stopped her iPod and leant on the mixing desk for a moment to fill her lungs.  There was something about Tupac's lyrics that ignited passion inside her.  It was a passion for creative expression and it also helped release some of her anger she had been bottling up for years.  Nia had felt the very essence of his words and the anger inside them, and that somehow comforted her.  She knew she wasn't the only one who felt like that.

The silence was once again overpowering.  Nia raised her head and looked through the glass into the booth.  She half expected Tupac to be standing there behind the microphone but instead what she saw was her own reflection staring back at her.

Nia entered the booth and walked around behind the mic stand.  Her passion for rap hadn't faded but she hadn't rapped on a mic except that one time in the club.  That had been different to this because it had been live.

She looked at the mic with some reverence, thinking of all of the rappers, singers and musicians who had made their music standing in front of a mic like that.  Nia wondered how many had gone from nothing to something because they had a creative gift.  She thought about people like Tupac who'd been more than creative and had a message.  Music got messages out there and moved people to listen.

Nia fanaticized for a moment about what message she might have if she were a rapper.  The question was too big to come up with an answer immediately.  Instead Nia decided to make sure she came to watch some recording sessions so she could learn how the music was put together.

The next day, while Nia was busy about her work in the club, she thought more about the renovation of the office.  She was looking forward to her birthday and the year ahead of her.  The only thing missing was to draw a line under the business with Leon and so she'd called him and asked him to come and see her.  The phone call had been short, not much said other than he was to come see her.

It was just before midnight when he arrived.  Marcus escorted him in.  She could see Marcus was uneasy at leaving them alone together but she insisted.

"We should talk," Nia said to Leon, her tone flat.

"Sure," Leon replied, nodding his head.

Nia led him out the back of the club and up to her apartment.  They entered and she closed the door behind them.  Nia offered Leon a seat in the lounge.

"You want anything to drink?" Nia asked.

"Cognac if you have it."

"Hennessy?"

"Sure."

For a moment, it could have been the old days.

Nia poured two glasses and brought them over.  Leon took his and Nia watched him cradle it the way she'd seen him do so many times before.  She was nervous and didn't sit.  She'd been trying to work out what to say all day but there didn't seem to be an easy way to ask someone why they had done what he had.

"Okay, I'm gonna just come out with it.  Why'd you threaten my life?"  Nia downed the whole glass of Hennessy, set it down again and began to speak again before Leon had a chance to answer.  "It's just I thought I knew you.  I know you were angry about Cuba, and I've probably forgiven you about that," Nia couldn't believe she'd already started to let her guard down, "but what you started when we got back is a whole other level of fucked up shit.  And then I'm just left hanging for months, knowing you put those threats out there."

"I never wanted you dead," Leon jumped in, his voice firm.  "You hear me?  Never."

Nia looked at him.  Her face was flushed with anger but as she heard his words it was slowly replaced with confusion.  She grasped at her first question of many.

"Why did you..."

"Because I had no choice," Leon interrupted again.  "I was trying to protect you."

"By trying to kill me?"  Nia's voice carried a hint of sarcasm.

"When I moved up in the business I was told to give you my spot.  You'd made it clear you were out so I was told you had to be killed.  I could never...  So I had to find another way.  I had to prove to Alphonso that you could be trusted to keep your mouth shut.  That was the only way I could convince him to let you live."

"You're lying to me, trying to trick me."  Nia started to slowly back away from him.

"It's the truth."  Leon stood up, leaving his glass on the coffee table.  "You have to believe me."  He stepped closer to her and took hold of both her hands.

Nia was still feeling uneasy.  She hadn't known what was going to happen when she spoke to him but it wasn't this.  Even though she'd guessed in the end the interrogation had been some sort of test, she'd since let that fade from her mind.  Battered and bruised afterwards, it was hard to feel that Leon had wanted her anything but dead.

Tonight she'd expected him to say he'd made a mistake, that he'd been wildly jealous but not this.  She wasn't ready for it.

"I'm sorry you thought I wanted to kill you.  It had to be that way or Alphonso wouldn't have believed you could keep your mouth shut."

"No, it was real.  The Feds knew there was a price on my head.  They were ready to take you down if only I'd give up what I knew."

"That's right.  I paid them to get what info they could from you."

"Do you know what they did to me?"

"I heard it was rough and I'm sorry.  If I hadn't, Alphonso would've had you killed.  I was trying to save your life."

Nia looked into his eyes.  They were telling the truth but it was so much to take in.  Leon was still one step ahead of her when it came to the street game.  She felt her body slowly relax and as the tension left her she had to force back the tears.  She didn't want him to see how relieved she was and she was too proud to let him see her cry.

Still looking into his eyes Nia noticed for the first time that he was holding her hands.  She could smell his familiar aftershave.  She missed what they'd had just as much as he did.  He was as sexy as ever, his body toned and his thick dreadlocks hanging over his shoulders.

"I want you to know I could never have done it," Leon said softly.  "I love you."

The words washed over Nia and for a moment she forgot everything.  Leon leant forward slightly and they locked together in a passionate kiss.  It was not hurried and sexual like it had been on the plane to Cuba.  Nor was it like anything she'd experienced with Rico.  This was a much deeper connection.  Nia wanted more and for a brief second imagined herself with Leon.  The thoughts brought her back to reality quickly.

"I can't," Nia said turning away.  She poured herself another glass of Hennessey.  "I like the life I have now and I don't want to go back to working the streets with you."

"You don't have to.  I'm within reaching distance of the top."

"You know what I mean.  That life will end up killing me or sending me to jail.  I don't like what I saw of the Feds.  Jail is not the spot!"

"What do you want me to do?"

"What can you do?"  Nia's question was rhetorical and Leon just stood there.

Nia drank her second glass and walked him to the door.

"So this is it?" Leon asked.

"I guess so," Nia replied, watching him step into the elevator.

Nia had a restless night's sleep, tossing and turning while her mind went over and over the talk with Leon and the kiss.  When morning arrived Nia was determined to put it all behind her once and for all.

The renovators had arrived in the early morning and Nia went over the plans again with them.  The room was to be completely stripped and rebuilt.  The floor was coming out.  The walls would be stripped of their wood paneling before they were re-plastered.  One wall was being knocked through to the VIP lounge and in its place Nia was having a large one way mirror installed.  Nia though it would be nice to be less isolated but to still have the privacy of her own office.

The wall where the door currently was would be replaced with glass, the kind that went opaque at the touch of a button.  It didn't seem like much but with the new furniture the office was going to feel a lot more spacious and airy.

Confident that no further discussion or instruction was needed, Nia left the renovators and took a quick walk around the club.  She'd made plans to spend her birthday away from H3 and have some time to herself but she couldn't resist one last check that everything was running on schedule for opening.  Nia stopped to speak with Gabriella, who was restocking the bar, and was assured that they could manage without her.  As she turned to walk away, Gabriella called her back.

"There was one thing.  Someone dropped by earlier and left you this."  Gabriella handed Nia a gift wrapped box and a small envelope.  Nia smiled and left Gabriella to her work.

As Nia walked through the club she opened the envelope.  Inside was a card.  It said nothing but contained Leon's signature.  He knew it was her birthday.  Nia entered her apartment and placed the gift down.  It was unopened because she had every intention of sending it back to him.  The kiss the night before had been enough of a mistake but opening the gift would send another wrong signal.  It had been hard enough explaining to him after they kissed that she couldn't be with him, not because she didn't love him but, because she couldn't live that life anymore.  Nia would send the gift back to him but she would do it later, she had somewhere else to be.

Nia changed into some smarter clothes and left the apartment.  She had her license now but no car.  She knew it was time she got a car but the convenience of her living arrangement removed the necessity and work had kept her so preoccupied lately that she'd just not thought about it.  So Nia took the bus to the cemetery after picking up some beautiful flowers.

It had been less than a year since her mother had died but Nia had decided to mark the anniversary each year on her own birthday.  The two anniversaries were close and Nia felt it was only right that she take time out on her birthday to remember her mother who had given her life.

Nia knelt to one side of her mother's headstone and placed the flowers down.  She looked over the inscription.

Jay Rodriguez beloved mother and rock.

Nia was comforted by the inscription.  It was how her mother should be remembered.  Jay had been so strong over the years and as Nia looked back she could see it was to try and provide her the best start to adulthood after everything she had gone through as a child.

There were still things that she didn't fully understand.  Her mother had told her just before she died that she had a legacy to continue and that she was destined to do great things.  The memory of her mother on her death bed was painful.  Nia assumed her mother had been trying to give her inspiration to go on to greater things after she died.

It had been hard at first and later Nia had felt so ashamed for trying to kill herself.  But her mother's words had meant a lot to her.  Each day she'd faced new challenges and had kept the words close to her heart to give her strength.  Jay had worked hard to return the club to profit and Nia knew now it was her duty to continue that.

But Nia still couldn't explain everything her mother had said and as she knelt at the grave side she wished her mother had been given more time to explain.  Nia had so many questions.  Why had her mother moved to Cuba when she'd found out she was pregnant?  What had she been running from?  Nia didn't know and expected she'd never know, just like she doubted she'd ever find her real father.  She had nothing to go on, not even any relatives on her mother's side who might know something.

Nia was alone.

If she hadn't loved her mother so much it would have been easy to feel resentment at not having been left any clues.  Searching for him seemed to be as fruitless as trying to understand her mother's final words as death and drugs overpowered her.

Jay had talked about a book and a guy called Nick.  At first Nia had thought it was something to do with the club's accounts but later when she'd begun managing things she knew it wasn't the case.  She'd also said Nia's birthday was the key to the book.  Nia could only put it down to random thoughts and memories entering her mother's mind as her brain finally shut down.  Nia was glad she'd been there to hear the very final thing her mother had said about not being a quitter.  That was what had given her strength in recent months.

Nia knew, as long as she didn't quit and worked hard to make H3 successful, her mother would be proud of her.  And that was what Nia had come to tell her mother, that she was doing well and that she could be proud of her.  Nia missed her mother more than she knew how to express.

In many ways Nia wished that she had been closer with her mother.  As she'd grown up and started working for Leon she'd virtually moved out but her mother had been stuck with Hugo.  And when he died Jay was stuck with the debt of Havana.  Nia wished she had been there for her mother.

She spent the rest of her birthday shopping.  It had seemed a little weird at first going from the cemetery to picking out new clothes but despite all her responsibilities she was still a young woman who liked to shop.  She shopped for some new casual clothes and a couple of new outfits that she would wear while she worked at H3.  Nia liked to look good when she was working, wearing sexy but professional suits.  Under the jacket she'd often wear a tastefully low cut shirt.  She'd learnt early on that sharp suits, revealing just enough to be provocative yet smart, was where the power was.  Outside of work she dressed much more casually, still feminine but reflecting her passion for hip-hop.

Nia arrived back at her apartment later than she'd expected.  She dropped her bags off and immediately went down to see how the renovators had got on.  Putting the hole through the wall to the VIP lounge had been a concern for her because she didn't want it impacting on business that evening.  They'd been instructed to ensure that while it was still under construction it should be tastefully covered up from the standpoint of the VIP lounge.

Nia stuck her head in the office and was immediately struck by the amount of debris that was scattered across the floor.  The renovators were gone for the day.

"Ma'am." Marcus said, startling her from behind.  Nia turned, realizing she had jumped unnecessarily.  "Take a look at what they found."

He stepped past her, through the door into the office.  She followed.

"When they were taking off the paneling they found this safe in the wall.  It's only small so I doubt there's much of anything in it.  Whatever's in there is probably worth less than what it's going to cost you to have it opened."

Nia looked it over.  It was marginally larger than a shoebox with a combination dial lock on the front.

"What do you want to do with it?" Marcus asked.

"Is it heavy?" Nia asked.

"I can lift it."

"I don't want to leave it down here.  Could you bring it up?"

"Sure."

Marcus carried it up to Nia's apartment and set it down carefully.

"I'll be down in a few minutes," Nia told him.

"Club's off limits for you tonight ma'am."

"Is that right?" Nia asked, looking surprised.

"The staff have all made a decision, we don't care what you do on your birthday but you're not working."  Marcus promptly turned and left before she could respond.

They were probably right, Nia thought.  She needed a break.  It was only early evening so she thought about breaking out some snacks and watching a couple of movies.  She decided she'd shower first and then see what show she could find to interest her.

The shower was relaxing and afterwards Nia felt revitalized enough to get back to reading the book she was halfway through but always struggled to find time for.  The book was called 'Queen' and was the counterpart to Alex Haley's 'Roots'.  It told the story of his ancestry on the opposite side of his family to Kunta Kinte, stretching as far back as Ireland.  It was told so beautifully that she'd shed many tears.

While Nia read she couldn't help but find distraction in the safe.  Her eyes read a few lines and then, from where she sat on the sofa, she looked across the room and stared at the safe.  She stared as if her will power alone would allow her to guess the combination.  Nia's eyes went back and forth from the book to the safe a hundred times until she was so frustrated it made her reading impossible.

Nia knew it was unimaginable that she could just guess the combination but to satisfy her frustration alone she began to play with the lock.  The only time she'd used a dial lock such as this was on her locker years ago at school.  She turned it this way and that, assessing how it worked and trying random combinations of numbers.  Nia didn't have to calculate the probability to know there were too many combinations to give her any decent chance at guessing.  She was sure her mother would have set the combination but Nia just drew a blank at what it might be.

Nia sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the safe and gave in for a moment.  She could always have it broken into, she reminded herself.  But she didn't want to wait.  She gathered her determination again while listening to the music playing in the background.  Before she knew it she was rapping along.

"They say my ghetto instrumental's detrimental to kids

As if they can't see the misery in which they live

Blame me, for the outcome, playing my records - check it

Don't have to bump this but please respect it..."

Often she found it so much easier to think when she was rapping, especially to Tupac.  There was something about his voice that soothed her.  It wasn't just his lyrics that were so familiar to her, she felt his raw emotion and pain, too.

"Watchin' time fly; I love my people do or die

But I wonder why, we scared to let each other fly

June 1-6, 7-1, the day

Mama pushed me out her womb, told me, "Nigga get paid.""

Suddenly, it struck Nia what the combination might be.  She dialed in 061671, Tupac's date of birth.  He was one of her mother's favorite musicians as well as her own and it seemed to make sense.  The lock didn't yield but that didn't stop her.  She tried the date in the format used more commonly across the rest of the word, the days followed by the month and then the year.  Nothing.  She had been so sure for a moment that was what it would be.

Then Nia recalled her thoughts from earlier in the day and cast her mind back to try to remember exactly what her mother had said to her just before she died.

Nick's book is the key.  No...  The book is just a book, the key to the book is your birthday and with the book you'll find the key to what you're looking for.

Nia realized she'd probably been right about the combination being a date but now wondered whether she'd just got the wrong one.  The only thing that seemed to make sense from what her mother had said was that her birthday was the key to something.

Nia dialed in her own birthday in the regular US format.  She felt the lock take and she turned it slowly.  She didn't know what she was going to find inside and so she hesitantly opened the door.

What Nia found inside sent a shiver up her spine.  Inside was a book.  What her mother had said seemed less and less like the ramblings of a dying woman.  Her birthday had indeed been the key to a book.

Nia carefully removed the book.  It was face down so she turned it over to look at the cover.  It felt old, the pages well read and worn.  The title was 'The Prince'.  She'd never heard of the book but when she read the author she had a second moment of astonishment.

The author was Niccolo Machiavelli.

Her mother had mentioned Nick's book.  Could she have meant Niccolo?  Jay had said that with the book she would find what she was looking for.  Nia didn't know what that was but she looked inside the safe again.  At the back of the safe was a single key.

Nia didn't know what that meant.  She racked her brain and desperately questioned what her mother had been trying to tell her.  Nia realized she couldn't dismiss a single thing her mother had said and it was all important.  What were the book and key for?  Nia flicked through the book hoping to find a note enclosed.  There was nothing.

# EIGHTEEN

Nia ducked down when the clip was spent.  Lloyd and Marcus were gone.  Now she had to cover her retreat.  She knew the only safe way to do that was to make her attackers think her and the others were dead.  If she didn't, the attackers would pursue them.

Nia slapped another clip into her M4 and fired more shots as she ran to the Hummer's open driver's side door.  Shots aimed at her ricocheted off the bullet proof windshield.  She was safe but only for a moment.  They would surely close in on her and the Hummer had been disabled.  She couldn't use it to escape because the explosive device would detonate the moment she turned the key.  Marcus had made that clear to her but she was one step ahead of whoever had rigged the device.  Nia fired more shots from her M4 which was cradled between the open door and the windshield pillar.

Reaching over, Nia flicked on the lights, both the headlights and fog lights.  They shone brightly in the darkness and lit up the area out front of the property like a floodlit football pitch.  From the shots hitting the windshield Nia knew she'd been seen entering the vehicle but she hoped the Hummer's lights would dazzle them enough so they wouldn't see her flee.  She couldn't be sure it would work but she had to take the risk.  It was the only plan she had.

Nia darted out of the Hummer, sticking close to its body and made for the rear exit of the parking garage that led to the garden behind the house.  She unclipped the high explosive grenades from her vest and after pulling the pins she tossed them through a window above.  The glass shattered but that didn't matter because of what she was about to do.  The grenades had seven second fuses but within three she'd pressed the button on the Hummer's key set.  As she did she dived behind the low wall separating the patio and the lawn.

The Hummer was fitted with a remote that allowed the vehicle to be started from a distance so either the air or heat could bring the vehicle to a comfortable temperature.  Nia had only used it once or twice before.  She'd not had the Hummer long, but it did beat getting into a baking hot vehicle when it had been left in the sun.

The Hummer's engine roared into life and simultaneously the explosion ripped through the air.  Even though Nia was shielded from the direct blast she felt the sudden and overwhelming increase in air pressure from the force of the explosion.  For a moment it seemed to crush her chest and she struggled for breath.

Nia turned and saw the building coming down directly above the garage and water was pouring out of the pool.  Debris had strewn itself across the lawn in front of her.  Broken glass from the windows sparkled as it rained down and chunks of masonry imbedded themselves into the soft turf.  The grenades had done their job, too.  A fire had quickly taken hold in the rest of the house and would keep the emergency services at bay for some time.  It would be a while before anyone could pick through the wreckage in an attempt to identify the bodies inside.  Nia hoped desperately that it would buy them enough time to be long gone.

Nia looked around carefully to check no one was following her.  She couldn't see anyone.  Her legs felt like jelly, the amount of adrenaline running through her blood was so high it was making her tremble.  She steadied herself and then ran as fast as she could towards the bottom of the garden.  She feared that some of the attackers might have been covering the back but the route through to next door was clear.  Nia was running so fast she almost slipped on the wet grass.  Within seconds she was on the jetty and boarding the yacht.

"My god Nia!" Lloyd said, giving her a helping hand aboard.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about the house," Nia said between her gasps for air.

Marcus engaged the throttle slowly and moved the yacht off as quietly as possible.  The running lights were off and would be until they were clear of the area.

"I'm just glad you're alive.  I really thought you were gone."

"I ain't dead yet JR, that's for sure," Nia said, noting that Lloyd's eyes were fixed on her rather than his house which she'd just destroyed.

Marcus might not have been as accomplished at sailing as some of the former Marines he'd served with but he wasn't inexperienced by civilian standards.  He avoided the police patrol boat in the immediate vicinity of Indian Creek and once they were far enough away he switched on the running lights.  There was no way they could outrun the coast guard or police if engaged in a pursuit.  Any chance they had of successful evasion would be because he'd adopted a normal sailing posture and set a routine course through the local waters.  The night waters were quiet and they blended in.

It was tempting to head out to sea.  The yacht was more than capable but Marcus preferred to stay off the radar of the Coast Guard.  It was better to hide among what local traffic there was and hope that the police on the scene weren't sharp enough to notice too quickly, if at all, that the neighbor's yacht was missing.  The further away they could get the safer they'd be, or at least it certainly felt like that.  What Marcus knew they really needed to do was find somewhere to dock, preferably out of sight.

Nia assessed the situation.  They had only the weapons and equipment they had fled with, plus whatever was on the yacht.  Most importantly, that amounted to two M4s and less than four full clips of ammo.  If they ended up in a similar situation to the one they'd just fought their way out of then they probably didn't stand a chance.  Nia knew they had to do something about that but it was the middle of the night and they were on the run, not only from the law but also from an enemy who had proven to be extremely formidable.  There weren't many people who could help her now.  In fact, there was only one, Nia thought, and even then she wasn't completely sure.

"I believe you," Lloyd admitted to Nia, pulling her thoughts back to their earlier conversation.  "How are we going to stop these people trying to kill you?"

"The way I see it, if I go to anyone in authority with this it'll just get covered up.  It has been before because so many people in authority are involved.  The only way that things will change is if the public knows.  And so I'm laying out all my cards, through you and this film we're making."  Nia motioned to his camera.  "They'll believe me when they get to know me like I know me.  They'll see how I've been caught up in all this because of who I am and in turn what I stand for.  Your film's gonna show that."

Nia ripped open the Velcro fastening on one of her vest pockets.

"And if my word isn't enough," Nia continued, "the sort of evidence you're gonna put in this film will convince them."

Nia pulled a hard drive from her pocket and placed it down on the table in front of them.  For a moment they both just looked at it.  Nia had read only a fraction of what was on it but that had been enough to tell her why people were willing to kill her for it.  Nia could see Lloyd had immediately begun to mentally speculate on the drive's content.  He'd asked her for evidence and here it was.  Nia knew that what was on the hard drive would shock the nation, maybe even the world.

"Can I take a look?" Lloyd asked.

"Sure but my laptop went up with the Hummer."

"We need to get off this boat.  Get this to a computer and we can have it all over the web in a few minutes."

"If we tried that our upload would be shut down in seconds.  The people who want this back won't let it surface.  We're meeting with someone who is going to get this to the right people.  Whatever you need will be yours to use when you finish this film.  I came to you because you command the public's respect despite our past differences.  Your reputation will help the truth surface and my story will bring it to a new generation who will be able to understand and relate.  If you help me tell my story and how this is connected to it," Nia tapped the hard drive, "then people won't be able to ignore it."

"But I don't have the respect of your world," Lloyd replied.  "After the way I presented hip-hop in my last film do you really think people like you would believe me on this?"  Lloyd cast his eyes down at the hard drive.

"People will know what's on here is undeniably the truth when they see you present it, that it has caused you to rethink your position on hip-hop.  But remember, this is much bigger than hip-hop."

"It means a lot to me that you'd trust me enough to give me a second chance.  As soon as we get this drive hooked up I'll see about setting the record straight for you."  Lloyd paused.  "You mean a lot to me and always have."  Lloyd's eyes softened and he reached out, taking Nia's hand in his.  "I'm not going to let you down this time."

Nia knew how charming Lloyd could be but was still surprised when he leaned in to kiss her.  For a moment she didn't know how to react and Lloyd kissed her passionately on the lips.  It was familiar to her but it wasn't right and her body stiffened.  He must have felt it because he pulled back.  For him it must have seemed like a perfect moment to pick up where they had left off but for Nia it wasn't.  There was still a lot he didn't know.

"I can't," Nia said, shifting position on the Azimut's soft couch.

She gently eased her hand out of his not wanting to pull away so fast that it would hurt him.  Nia knew all too well what that felt like because he'd done it to her in a fashion with his documentary.  Everything in it had been the total opposite to what they had spent so many hours discussing in private.  She'd felt suddenly like she didn't know him.  She'd moved past that now but could see their old relationship was still fresh for him.  With the way Lloyd looked at Nia she guessed there probably hadn't even been another significant woman for him since her.  He was looking for more than she was able to give.

"After everything that's happened today, I understand," Lloyd said, plainly feeling some embarrassment.  "We should carry on filming."

Nia nodded, trying to finesse the situation.  There was still much to tell him and in time she would tell him that it wasn't just today's events that had stopped her kissing him back.

Nia slid her hand under her Kevlar vest and grasped at what hung around her neck.  It comforted her.

Lloyd lifted the camera from around his neck.  It was still running and had been since they'd fled the house.  He pulled a light weight tripod with extendable legs from his bag and set it up on the table to frame the shot of Nia.

Nia spoke for some time without interruption, telling Lloyd everything that had happened up to the night when she'd opened the safe that had been discovered at H3.

"As soon as I saw the book was by Niccolo Machiavelli I knew my mother hadn't been talking nonsense just before she died.  She'd left this world desperately trying to tell her only child one last thing.  Until I opened the safe I'd dismissed what she'd said because I thought it was the sedatives talking."

Nia dropped her head into her hands, her elbows resting on her thighs.  Her heart still felt heavy recalling those last few moments with her mother.  She knew she'd been lucky to have had them but there had been many nights since when she'd cried herself to sleep.  Nia felt guilty for not understanding her mother's last words and desperately wished she could have a second chance to do it over again.  Nia had so many questions.

On top of questions about who her real father was Nia had been desperate to understand what the key and the book were for.

"Discovering that my birthday was the safe's combination explained Mama saying 'the key to the book is your birthday', but she'd said more than that.  It kept running through my mind.  She'd said 'with the book you'll find the key to what you're looking for'.

"I'd found the key in the safe with the book but didn't have a clue what I was supposed to be looking for.  I didn't recognize the key and I couldn't find anything that it opened at H3.  The only thing I had to try and answer my questions at that point was the book but Mama had said 'The book is just a book'.  I read it cover to cover because it and the key were the only things I had that might have told me what my mother had been trying to tell me.  It frustrated me but I wouldn't let it beat me."

A phone rang, startling them both.  Nia looked around the luxurious interior of the yacht.  Since they'd stepped aboard she'd barely taken time to examine their surroundings.  They were in what, for a yacht, was a relatively expansive lounge area.  The sound was coming from the forward seating area next to the lower helm station.  Nia rose from her seat and picked up the phone.

"Hello," Nia answered.

"It's Marcus.  I've found us a quiet bay area where we can put in for a few hours to get some sleep."  Marcus was up on the flying deck, an open top area from which he could pilot the yacht and get a much better all-round view of any potential threats.

"Okay," Nia answered, feeling the yacht turn and the engines slow.  Nia looked at herself.  She was covered in dirt from her dive onto the lawn in the midst of the explosion.  She could live with a little dirt but what she really wanted was a soothing shower and a couple of hours of undisturbed sleep.

"There's one in the chamber, safety's on," Nia said, holding out her P228 handgun and a radio.  Lloyd automatically took them but his facial expression changed as he wondered what he'd do with a gun.  "First watch is yours because you don't look like you're gonna sleep anytime soon."

"I guess I'm just wired from everything that's happened."

"You'll crash eventually so come and wake me in two or three hours," Nia said.

"I can take second watch," Marcus said as he descended the steps from the flying bridge on the deck above.

"It's okay, I slept earlier," Nia replied, knowing Marcus needed more sleep than her, especially considering the hits he'd taken during their escape.

Earlier, when Nia had slept at the motel for a few hours, he'd just watched over her.  At least now with her and Lloyd taking watch he could get a good stretch without worrying about being her only line of protection.

"Do I really have to use this?" Lloyd asked, wielding the P228 rather clumsily.

"I hope not," Marcus replied.  "Just sit up top and keep your eyes open.  If anyone approaches then radio me immediately."

"Then what's it for?" Lloyd asked again, waving the P228.  Marcus stepped in close and spoke barely louder than a whisper.

"When I was in the Marines we trained to board boats not much different to this one.  We'd do it in the dead of night, unseen and unheard.  So you watch out and, if it happens before you can radio me for help, try to drop at least one of them before they slit your throat."

Lloyd nodded rapidly and began a nervous walk up the steps to the deck above.  Nia and Marcus turned to make their way to the below deck.

"I think you scared him a little," Nia said.

"He needs it.  He lost focus back at the house and ended up drawing fire down on us.  He's here to ask questions and film, not get us all killed."  Marcus was pissed because he was in pain.  He winced several times as they descended to the lower deck and Nia knew he was at least bruised or, more probably, suffering with cracked ribs from the impact of the rounds into his Kevlar vest.

"Hey, you should get some ice on those bruises."

"I was just thinking that."

"You want me to take a look?"

"I'm good, you hit the sack."  Marcus turned towards the galley.  There had to be a freezer with ice somewhere on this huge yacht.

Nia found a cabin and showered.  She couldn't sleep in the clothes she'd been wearing and reluctantly had a look through the clothes stored on board.  Nia felt bad about going through other people's things.  While it was the lesser evil in comparison to having stolen the yacht, it seemed worse because it was more personal.  She made a mental note for a future date to return the yacht safely if she made it through this.

Nia lay on the soft double bed and drew the top sheet around her.  It wasn't that she was cold, she just wanted the comforting feeling of something wrapped around her.  She reached for the chain around her neck and pulled it from under her top.  Her hand clutched tightly what hung on it.  It meant so much to her because what it signified to her.  Change really could happen.  In a few days, God willing she was alive, this would all be behind her and she'd be able to be her true self.

# NINETEEN

The months passed by quickly and Nia thought about the key every day.  There was barely a moment she would take her mind off it.  It hung around her neck on a chain she'd specifically purchased for the purpose.  Until she knew what it was for it just felt right to have it hanging close to her heart.

Nia thought about what secrets the key could hold, her mind struggling to unlock its mystery.  Her mother had told her that with the book she'd find the key to what she was looking for.

She'd found a key but had no idea whether it was the key to what she was looking for.

Maybe she'd already found what she was supposed to be looking for, Nia wondered.  She'd gone from gang life to successful business owner.  Wasn't that the American Dream?  The struggle she'd been though had been a nightmare but having a successful business was more than any kid from the streets could hope for.  Hip-Hop Havana was now the hottest hip-hop joint in Miami and Nia's recording studios were a favorite venue for artists from all over the country whenever they spent any time in Miami.

But Nia still felt her life was incomplete.  Every cent she had was a reminder of everything that had happened to her.  Running her fingers over a fold of hundreds Nia could still remember the days when there had been no money and hundreds were something she had only dreamt about.  She remembered the stench of Hugo's hangovers and the beatings her mother would catch if she looked at him the wrong way, or any way in fact.

Life had been far from perfect.  There was so much Nia wished she could have done differently.  It would be nice to have no regrets, Nia thought, but she had more of those than she could count.

With her mother gone, Nia wished she could find the only man she could rightly call her Papi.  Nia longed to find him, her perfect vision of a man who she could trust, who could hold her and tell her everything was going to be alright.  Only her Papi could make her feel like the young innocent girl she once was.

Nia flicked on the dim lights to the studio, for once finding it empty.  Recently it had been booked back to back, which always caused tension when sessions ran over.  On nights like this Nia liked to clear her mind by sitting in on a recording session.  She was young and beautiful so none of the artists minded having her around.  But they quickly learnt they couldn't run their game on her.

Nia loved the creative process too much and she'd let it become part of her routine lately.  She'd learnt the whole roster of tasks around the studio.  At first Nia had watched but that had slowly developed into assisting the sound engineers and producers.

Tonight, however, Nia was alone.  For a moment she lingered in the doorway.  Light reflected off the microphone set up in the vocal booth and she felt it stir a passion inside her.  She let the studio door close behind her and she poured herself a glass of cognac.  It slipped down her throat with familiar warmth.  She poured another.

She barely thought about what she was doing as she flicked on the microphone and cued up an instrumental track, not much more than a drum beat.  Nia stepped into the vocal booth and slipped the headphones over her ears.  The world closed in around her.  The drum beat pumped in through the headphones like blood through her veins and her mind began to race.  Words filled her up inside.  The swirling emotional pain Nia had suppressed for far too long urged her to express herself.  She was overcome and in that moment only two things existed for her, the music and the microphone.

"I began to learn the game ever since my early teens

Earned my name beside drug dealers, pimps and dope fiends

Out on the mean streets the first lesson I learnt

Was mother fuckers'll do you dirt and get you burnt

Watch your own back 'cause trust'll come back to bite you

People that were once close'll do shit that can surprise you"

Nia closed her eyes and felt the raging pulse of the music.  The beat ran rampantly through her body like an electric current.  She swayed with it and her left hand carved up the air at the side of the microphone as she massacred it with her lyrics.  She was so close to the microphone her full lips pressed up against the pop shield.  She rattled out each line like automatic gunfire.

Several minutes passed as Nia spat a torrent of emotionally charged rhymes, hardly pausing to draw breath.  This was different to every other time she'd rapped.  Alone in the studio nothing was holding her back.

"Life unfolds and I found my own storms to weather

Couldn't carry on like when we used to ride together

Our relationship turned quick to conflict from pleasure

Nightmares that can't be forgotten are only gettin' bigger

Flashbacks to the time I almost pulled the trigger

Brains nearly blasted out who'd have figured?

But now I'm out the game, changed?

Tell me, am I still just a Nigga?"

Nia kept going until the track played out.  She was short of breath and for a moment before she opened her eyes her whole body trembled ever so slightly.  It was impossible for so much emotion to leave her without it physically draining her.

Suddenly startled by a voice, she opened her eyes to see she wasn't alone in the studio.  On the other side of the glass she could see people crowded around the mixing desk.  One was speaking directly to her through her headphones.

"You wanna run again?"

Nia smiled, feeling self-conscious for a moment.  It wasn't because she shouldn't have been in the studio, she had every right to be there, but because she'd had an audience.  This wasn't like an audience in the street where everyone tried to drop a rhyme.  This group of people were about to rip her to shreds because they were among the best in the game.  One was an artist who had recently had several records in the Billboard top 100.  The rest were his crew from Atlanta, along with one of the freshest hip-hop producers in Miami.

Nia removed her headphones and mentally prepared to get her freestyle torn to pieces as soon as she was out the booth.  But it didn't happen.  Instead they looked her up and down like they didn't recognize her, which she knew wasn't the case.  She'd spent several evenings with them the previous week right there in the studio.

"Don't know about y'all but I was really feelin' that shit," said the producer behind the mixing desk.  "You've been holding out on me Nia."  His fingers were working the mixing desk furiously.

Nia turned to the others, wondering if they were all playing parts in this wind up.  "You guys are playin' right?" Nia said.  The only answer she got was the crew's front man hitting her up with a battle rap.

"Steppin' in the booth?  What's the use?

Lyrically I'll rush you quick

Cut you quick, slit your wrists, make you bleed

Beggin' on your knees is what you need

When you plead for your life

My rhymes is tight and you can't beat the hype..."

Nia didn't know what made her think she had any chance but she cut him off and jumped in.

"Can't beat the hype?

When I'm done with you I'll wipe your blood from my knife

Let me say it slower, maybe say it twice

The proof is in the puddin' but what you got ain't nice

Look at me here, cream of the crop

Nia, a force of nature no one can stop

My ill skills are self-evident

One more line like this and I'll be hip-hop president..."

Nia finished to a few exclamations of approval from her rival's crew and she'd gauged by now they weren't winding her up.  She felt a buzz of excitement as she began to realize this battle was them actually accepting her as one of them, as a rapper.

But it wasn't until Nia heard playback of her rap in the booth that it really sunk in.  She listened to her own voice and the rhythm of her rap was soothing.  Nia was still so angry inside about so many things but rapping about it had helped her frame it so she could begin to deal with it.

"You mind if I use this?" the producer said, as he played back the roughly edited recording again.

A couple of months passed and things changed rapidly for Nia.  Her rap was featured on a nationally released track, 'Am I still just a Nigga?'  And it was shooting to the top of the Billboard.  Nia didn't feel like she'd done much for all the attention it had brought her.  But that didn't stop Hip-Hop Havana from becoming rammed with more people than ever who wanted to catch a glimpse of her.

The week after the track was released Nia had made a short trip across town to get her hair done and discovered just how many people recognized her.  She'd only contributed to one verse and the hook but people had been thrilled by her.  It only took a few clicks on the internet to find out who she was.  Nia realized that later when she Googled herself.  She found endless information, some true and some pure speculation.

Nia had been forced to take refuge at the hair salon and call Marcus to come and pick her up.  From that point she realized it wasn't going to be so easy anymore for her to go out alone.  Thankfully there was plenty of time to be spent at H¬3 running the business.  To begin with it helped shield her from her own rising celebrity.

Nia struggled to find her bearings.  It wasn't just dark, all around her there was nothing but a black void.  The sheer emptiness was sucking the life out of her.  She was overwhelmed suddenly with the realization that this might be death and as quickly as the feeling shot through her she woke up.

The sun was streaming in through the blinds and Nia's face was pressed against the cover of 'The Prince'.  She blinked several times to clear her dried eyes and slowly peeled her face from the cover of the book.  This wasn't the first time she'd fallen asleep trying to figure out what the book meant.  It was as mysterious to her as the key.  Nia's hand ran down the chain around her neck and found the attached key.  It was still there.

Nia knew the key was somehow important and was ready to do anything to find out why.  If anything was keeping her grounded while her world changed around her it was her desire to find answers to the simplest questions about her life.

Nia felt a migraine coming on.  She was sure it was the combination of lack of sleep and dehydration that had done it.  She sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, still wearing her clothes from the night before, and then reached for the glass on the bedside table.  It was empty and that was probably a good thing because the night before she'd been filling it with cognac.  Nia decided she needed water and some Aspirin to survive the morning.

Considering the day she had ahead of her, Nia knew she'd made the wrong decision to drink so heavily the night before.  She was glad she hadn't planned to go running with Marcus this morning, complete with a hangover.  But having to shoot a music video wasn't much better.

Nia checked the time, running late already.  She stood slowly, feeling her pulse throb through her head, and made her way to the bathroom.

Nia found Aspirin in the bathroom cabinet.  She shook two pills from the bottle, threw them into her mouth and tipped her head back.  She swallowed them and gulped down a glass of water.  She needed it to relieve her dehydration.  Next she needed a shower and a proper breakfast.

Marcus had done more than just convince Nia to go running regularly with him, he'd shown her the benefits of decent nutrition.  And now she could afford decent meals she liked to take care of herself.

Her demanding role managing H3 and the studios required her to always be on top form, something she was far from when she'd had this much to drink.

The shower was cool and it sharpened her senses.  She ran shower lotion all over her body and tried to wash the previous night away.  It almost worked but her mind still darted back to the problem she'd tried to resolve the night before.  With the cognac inside her, Nia had latched onto the idea that there was some sort of message hidden in the underlining present throughout the book.  The idea that she could understand it, if in fact it did hold some sort of message, made her smile.  She'd only seen that sort of thing in the movies where codes were cracked by people who'd studied cryptology at Ivy League universities.

Nia laughed somewhat painfully to herself, knowing that she'd probably been smart enough to do that but things just hadn't played out that way.  The smile slowly eased from her face and she leant against the shower wall, her hands resting on the tiles.  Nia hung her head down, feeling the weight of responsibility as someone who had made it out of the ghetto.

Sober and feeling a little refreshed, Nia realized her mother wouldn't have encoded a message into the words and sentences underlined in the book.  If her mother had really had a message for her she would have been more practical than that.

The cool water ran down the nape of her neck and eased some of the stress from her body and mind.  After a few minutes Nia switched off the shower and snatched up her towel.  She paused long enough only to wrap it around herself.  She dried her hands off on it as she walked over to her bed.  The book was still lying there on her pillow the way she'd left it.  She sat on the edge of the bed and picked it up.

When she'd woken she'd noticed that a night spent with her face stuck to the book had damaged it slightly.  The spine of the book had come away from the cover and now, as the book lay open in Nia's hands, she could see there was something tucked inside the gap between the spine and the cover.

Nia threw on some clothes.  Her hair was still wet so she just tied it back.  They'd have to fix it at the video shoot, she thought.  She didn't have time right now.

While locating her tweezers she thought about how ridiculous it really was that her mother might hide a message in the book.  But if her mother had this is how she would have done it, simply, practically, tucked inside the spine.

Nia checked the time again.  She was going to be late.  The video shoot was a big deal and not something she could blow off or even delay.  Still, something inside her had to know if it was a message from her mother and most of all what was such a big deal that her mother would have gone to such lengths to hide it.  It couldn't wait.

Nia pulled the tiny piece of paper out from the spine of the book with her tweezers.  It was folded as tightly as the suspense she felt inside.  As she unfolded it she immediately recognized her mother's handwriting crammed onto the small piece of paper.  She began to read the message and found herself sharply drawing a breath, unable to believe that what she was reading could make sense at all.

For a moment she sat shocked on the edge of her bed until she was disturbed by a knock at the door.

"Just a minute," Nia called out.

She quickly stuffed it into the back pocket of her jeans.

By the time she'd reached the door, only seconds later, she'd forgotten completely that there had been someone there.  The message was consuming her thoughts.  When she opened the door Marcus was standing there waiting to take her to the video shoot.

"Traffic is backed up this morning ma'am so we need to make a move," Marcus said.

"I'm not going," Nia replied, striding passed him to the elevator.  He followed her as she called out to him.  "I've got some personal business.  I know I can't afford to miss the video shoot so we've only got one option."

Waiting for the elevator provided Marcus with the opportunity to catch up.

When Nia entered the club she found Gabriella restocking the fridges behind the bar.

"I need your help," Nia said.

"Sure, what's up?" Gabriella replied casually.  Then, noticing the urgency on Nia's face as she looked up, she stepped over to Nia to give her boss and friend her full attention.

Nia may have been her boss but that was now the junior part of the relationship.  They were close.  They'd spent long hours together and had shared a lot.  Gabriella was the closest thing to a sister Nia had ever had and it felt great when Gabriella took her hands in support before Nia had even asked her to do what she needed.

Standing face to face it was as if someone had put a mirror between them.  As much as they'd both joked about not seeing the uncanny resemblance in each other they both knew it was true.  Nia was relying on this for what she was about to ask.

"I need you to go to my video shoot this morning."

"Yeah sure no problem."

"As me."

There was a moment of silence as the request sank in.

"I've got to be somewhere else right now and I really need you to cover for me," Nia said.

"Are you sure?" Gabriella asked.

Nia brought her hands up to cup Gabriella's face and she looked at her.  Nia's fingers adjusted Gabriella's hair slightly and then they both wrapped their arms around each other.  Emotions reverberated between them and although Gabriella didn't know why Nia needed her to do this, they shared a bond that meant she didn't need to ask why.

"Marcus will take care of you," Nia said, breaking from the embrace.  It was as much of a reassurance to Gabriella as it was an instruction to Marcus.  She knew Marcus would worry about her going off on her own but the look she gave him told him she'd be careful.  Nia left, squeezing Marcus on the shoulder as she went.

Nia drove across the city looking less like herself than usual due to her hurried departure.  With her hair still wet and simply tied back her glamour was gone and it reminded her of back in the day when she'd not taken such good care of herself.  The hangover sure felt the same too.

She hoped the difference in appearance would be enough to help her evade the paparazzi and her ever increasing number of fans.  She was sure most of them would be too busy trying to slip past security at the video shoot anyway.  It still amazed her how celebrity status changed things so quickly.  One day she'd been able to go places without worrying about anything but the dangers of the street and then the next she could hardly go anywhere without being recognized.

Nia started to slow for a red light but before she came to a stop it went green again.  She quickly shifted gear and put her foot back on the gas.  Her mind was running over and over the message she'd found tucked in the spine of the book.

'Take the key to First National Bank of South Miami and inside a safety deposit box is the name of your father.'

Nia could have waited, gone to the video shoot and then taken the trip to the bank but she needed to know now.  She'd waited too long to wait anymore.  She'd not hesitated in deciding to go straight away but it didn't mean that she wasn't nervous about finding out who her father was.

Nia racked her brains about why her mother had gone to such lengths to keep all of this from her.  Her mother had moved to Cuba when she fell pregnant and had brought her up believing Hugo was her father.  She'd told her she'd done it all to protect her.  But from what?  Was her real father a criminal, a junkie or a murderer?  The thought depressed Nia for a second.  Maybe her mother hadn't wanted her to find out until she was old enough to deal with it.  Nia wasn't sure even now she would be strong enough to handle finding out her father was a murderer, or maybe worse, that he had done something like raped her mother.  Nia shuddered at the thought of being the product of rape.

Nia slapped the steering wheel in frustration and put her foot down further.  She was flirting with the limit, frustrated at all the pain she'd felt for so many years because she'd never had a real father.  Now she was tangibly close but knew deep down that something wasn't right and the reality of the man her father was would rip her girlish dream away from her all over again.

If he was a criminal, she wondered, would she go visit him?  She wondered where he might live.  The chances were he knew nothing of her and any reunion would be a complicated affair.

Nia knew now her fantasies of running into his arms and feeling whole again were so far from what the truth would be.  Maybe he'd have other kids and maybe they would resent her.  Maybe she'd still not be able to track him down from whatever information her mother had left her.  Was it just a name?  Or would there be an address too?

Nia was no less anxious when she walked into the bank.  Her feelings were so intense she had a cold sweat come over her despite the humid Miami heat.  She approached an available service desk and struggled to speak through a dry mouth.

"I'd like to access a safety deposit box please."

"Certainly, please take a seat," the clerk said smiling, "Do you have your key?"

Nia sat and reached for the chain around her neck.  After unfastening it she held it out to the clerk with a trembling hand.

"Do you have some identification?"

Nia retrieved her driver's license from her bag and removed her sunglasses for a moment so that the clerk could put her face to the photo.  The clerk tapped away at her terminal, oblivious to who Nia was.  She was older than Nia, early forties, and didn't look like she might listen to rap, at least not what was playing in the clubs these days.

"Please sign here."  The clerk passed Nia an electronic pad across the desk which Nia signed.  Nia realized her mother must have had her sign papers for the box among a whole bunch of other things she had signed when Hugo died.  Her mother had given her access to the box without her knowledge.

"Can you please confirm the name of the other account holder?"

"My mother I think, Jay Rodriguez."

"There are rental fees outstanding for the box totaling..."

"That's fine," Nia interrupted, handing over her credit card as she took back her driver's license.  She didn't care what the cost was, she just wanted to open the box and know who her father was.

The clerk politely took payment on the card, picked up the key and stood.

"Please follow me Miss Rodriguez," the clerk said, ushering Nia away from her desk.

It was a short walk across the bank and out back to the vault.  Behind a lattice of titanium bars a security guard stood in front of the open vault door.  Nia and the clerk stopped short of the vault at the cage.  The guard smiled at the clerk and they went through their security routine.  The clerk passed him the key and he retrieved the box.  He slid the box though an opening in the cage that was designed for the purpose.  The clerk thanked the guard then turned and walked with Nia to an adjacent private room.  The clerk placed the box down on the table.

"I'll be right outside should you need anything Miss Rodriguez but please take as long as you like.

After the clerk left Nia looked around the room.  It was more of a cubicle than a room.  It had no windows, only the door through which she had entered.  The feeling of claustrophobia it created only deepened Nia's reservations about what she might find in the box.

As much as Nia had been eager to discover the contents of the box and to know who her real father was she now felt a moment of swelling hesitation.  In such a small space her worries felt amplified.

Nia took several deep calming breaths and told herself that no matter what was in the box or who her father was it couldn't change her.  No matter who her father was she would always be who she was.

Nia's fingers gripped the edge of the box's lid and she slowly lifted it.  The light overhead illuminated the inside of the box and Nia's gaze fell quickly on the contents.

It wasn't like the movies, there was no gun, a stash of money and a variety of passports from different countries.  This was as real to her as her days on the street and just as nerve-racking, if not worse.

There was a solitary envelope inside the box.  Nia lifted it out and pushed the box to one side.  She recognized the stationary set.  Back in the days when Hugo had been running the club successfully he'd spared no expense on the high quality paper and envelopes that bore Havana's name, embossed in gold lettering.  Below that the envelope was addressed to her in her mother's handwriting.

Nia slid her finger under the edge of the envelope seal and tore it open gently.  From inside the envelope she removed a folded sheet of paper.  She laid it flat on the table and began to read the letter from her mother.

The letter was to the point and clear but Nia read it over and over again.  It couldn't be true.  She read it over once more, following the elegant lines and curves of her mother's handwriting.  She could almost feel her mother in the room with her as she read it.  Nia knew every word was heartfelt and genuine but what it said just couldn't be true.

'Nia my darling princess,

A few weeks ago I discovered I was ill.  I hid a message in a book called 'The Prince' hoping you would one day find it in the old safe at Havana.  I did it just in case I don't find the right time to tell you about your father before I die.  As you are reading this I guess this is how you have come to find all this out and I'm sorry you've found out this way.

I'm so sorry that I didn't tell you the truth about your father from the very beginning.  I always planned to tell you but it was never going to be easy.  I should have told you when Hugo died and I know you feel so responsible for that.  Don't, it wasn't your fault.

Almost as soon as I knew I was pregnant with you I moved away to try to protect you.  Not from your father but from the crazy world that surrounded him.  I was young and idealistic and Cuba seemed like a great place to escape to.  With the great health and education system I thought it would be a good place to raise a child while still being able to disappear.

I still love your father and it broke my heart to move away but I had to think of you.  Maybe things would have turned out very differently if I'd stayed but at the time I only wanted the best for you.  Staying was a risk I couldn't take.  There was too much against us because of who he was and what he represented.

I tried so hard to give you the best upbringing I could.  I know it didn't work out and we ended up back in the states anyway, but at least we were safe.

You probably don't remember but Hugo was so good to us in the beginning.  I had lied to him though and eventually he couldn't cope with that.  I'm sorry for every time he laid a hand on you and for all the bad times we went through.  I should've been a stronger mother for you.  I'm trying to be strong for you now by putting every last ounce of energy I've got into creating an inheritance for you.

I hope in time, somehow, you can look at the decisions I've made, at the danger your father faced, and you will understand what I was trying to do for you.  I just hope you can forgive me as you've been denied the chance to know him like I did.

I know it's going to be hard to believe when you read this but please know that after all that we've been through together I'm finally telling you the truth.

I met your father in Los Angles only a few months before I became pregnant with you.  Back then I was called Justine Brown.  His name was Tupac Amaru Shakur.

Unconditional love,

Jay Rodriguez'

Nia stuffed the letter back in the envelope and shoved it into her handbag.  She left the bank hurriedly, barely stopping to tell the clerk the box was no longer required.  She got in her car and drove.  At first she didn't think about where she was driving, she just needed to drive.

Could her father really be Tupac Shakur, Nia thought.  Her sensible side made her question every detail of an idea that seemed impossible.  Of course she had no proof but what reason did she have to doubt her mother?  Incredible as it was, the picture fitted.

Nia thought about it further, trying to understand her mother's motives for moving away and not telling her all this time.  Growing up as the daughter of the greatest rapper of all time would have been crazy.  After his murder it must have torn her mother apart trying to decide whether to tell her or not.  Images flooded her mind of her mother sitting on the sofa late at night listening to Tupac and Nia realized his death had already broken her mother's heart and she had undoubtedly tried to stop the same thing happening over again to her.  But knowing she was going to die from cancer had forced her hand in a fashion, forcing Nia to discover like this.

Nia pulled the car over suddenly and beat her fists hard on the wheel.  Heavy tears began to run down her cheeks.  She was angry at herself for thinking about it all without allowing herself to feel the emotions that anyone in her position should be feeling.

Having a real father, knowing him, calling him Papi and being able to run into his arms was what she had been longing for all her life.  It was what she had looked for in men all her life but none of them could ever substitute for her real father.  None of them could give her what she needed.  Tupac was dead, murdered, and Nia realized she would never have the chance to know her real father.  What's more, she didn't even know who to hate for snatching him away.  His murder, like so many others, was unsolved.

It was getting dark when Nia parked up her car.  She'd been driving most of the day just to try and clear her head.  Her journey had taken her almost all the way down to the Keys before she stopped and finally turned back.  She'd needed to escape.

Nia had finally wiped away her tears but not because she'd resolved her feelings, she just couldn't cry anymore.  She knew it would be a long time before her feelings ever reached any sort of resolution.

It seemed to her that fate had different plans in mind than those which she had been trying to forge for herself.  Moments of calm in Nia's life never lasted long before fate thrust destiny upon her.  Nia couldn't believe how many twists and turns there had been.  Everyone she loved was gone and she was left feeling so alone.

Nia sat for a few moments as the car's engine cooled and she tried to grasp at anything that resembled a plan.  All the forward momentum she'd built up with her recent successes was quickly dissipating.  Nia was unable to focus, consumed by the news her mother had left her.

Nia's cell phone showed several missed calls from Marcus and she remembered the awful position she'd put Gabriella in that morning.

Nia locked up her car and by coincidence bumped into Gabriella and Marcus when she entered her office.

Gabriella stood, clearly conscious her boss had entered the room and that she was sitting in her chair.  Nia couldn't help but notice Gabriella was still made up from the video shoot and that she looked absolutely stunning.

"You good?" Gabriella asked Nia.

"Family stuff," Nia replied, trying to shrug it off but she was unable to stop her eyes immediately welling up.  Gabriella hugged her, knowing by default Nia must have had a tough day because she actually had no family.  Gabriella suspected it might have been to do with Leon, her feelings for him were still there.  Nia fought back her tears and turned to Marcus.

"Everything go okay today?"

"We handled it," Marcus said, smiling and glancing over to Gabriella.

"Good job I've got you guys," Nia said, squeezing Marcus' shoulder.  "I'll see you both in the morning."  Nia turned and made a line for her apartment.

When she reached her apartment she didn't know what to do with herself.  She couldn't sleep, not with her thoughts running rampant.  She hit the Hennessey hard and thought even harder about this pivotal point in her life.  She was trying to embark on a music career and yet the past didn't want to let her go.  She couldn't really blame her mother, all she'd ever wanted to do was protect her.  But first there had been the revelation that Hugo wasn't her father, ripping her roots from Cuba.  And then, as soon as she was beginning to feel like she might have found them again, she had discovered her father was Tupac Shakur.

Nia had always felt drawn towards rap music and enjoyed it more than anything she could think of.  When she was in the studio and spat her lyrics it felt as if a bright light inside her was shining.  But that was no guarantee that what her mother had written was true.  Nia wasn't even sure she wanted to believe it.

Nia read her mother's note again for what must have been the hundredth time, the words now feeling so familiar that she was staring at it as a whole rather than reading individual words.

Could she really be the daughter of Tupac Shakur, Nia wondered.  If it was true it explained more than what her mother had said in the note.  Nia knew her mother had always been a fan of Tupac but she now understood the familiar way her mother had always listened to his music and referred to him in conversation.  At times her mother had seemed so blissful as she listened to his music and Nia wondered just how much more there was to it.

Nia remembered clearly one particular occasion where her mother was listening to 'Can you get away' after one of the big fights with Hugo.  Tupac rapped about a woman trapped in an abusive relationship.  Nia wondered whether her mother had been wishing all along she'd made different choices.

Nia thought about what it meant for her too.  It seemed that she had always been destined to love hip-hop and she'd always felt Tupac's lyrics had spoken to her.  His words leapt out at her and his lyrics soothed her pain like a father might comfort a daughter.  His voice had the ability to capture her attention like someone calling out her name.  The feeling of a unique connection to him was undeniable but the burning question in Nia's mind was whether what her mother had written could really be true.

She had no way of knowing the answer.  Without thinking she stuck on a Tupac CD to help her think.  It seemed more than coincidence to her that the track which started playing was 'Letter 2 My Unborn Child'.

If all this were true, Nia wondered for a moment whether Tupac might have even known about her before he died.  It still wrenched at her emotions that she may have finally found out who her father was but she'd never have the chance to meet him.

Nia threw back another shot and listened to the track as if he was speaking directly to her.

"To my unborn child in case I don't make it...

Just remember Daddy loves you...

Dear Lord can you hear me?

Tell me what to say to my unborn seed in case I pass away...

...and I'm sorry for not being there

Just know your Daddy was a soldier

Me against the world, bless the boys and all my little girls...

This letter goes out to born seeds that I might not get to see 'cause of this lifestyle

Just know your daddy loved you

Got nothing but love for you

And all I wanted was for you to have a better life than I did

'Cause I was out here on a 24 hour, 365 grind

When you get to be my age, you'll understand...

Take care, run wild, be smart

Follow the rules of the game...

Be an individual, Work hard, study

Get your mind straight, trust nobody"

The words spoke to Nia like never before and she needed something stronger than the half bottle of Hennessey.  She pulled out one of her drawers and detached the sealed packet taped to the underside.  It was a half-ounce bag of weed, something she'd not touched for a while.  Nia picked up a few other things and left her apartment with only one thing on her mind.

# TWENTY

The short night had been warm and humid aboard the yacht and Nia had slept restlessly despite how much she craved a full night's sleep.

The nightmare had visited her again in vivid detail.  It was always the same voice that spoke to her asking her if she was afraid to die.  Nia was petrified and in the nightmare she felt the presence of death even more so than she had under a hail of gunfire only hours before.  Why she had the same nightmare over and over she didn't understand.  She hated how it made death feel so imminent and unavoidable.

When the gun fired, in each nightmare, Nia felt the rounds hit her and she woke with a start.  Sweating and with a sharp pain in her ribs, she always took a moment to figure out where she was and that it was, in fact, only phantom pain lingering from the nightmare.  But it had the unsettling effect each time of pulling her fears through to her reality.  Each time it was harder to shake it off.

Sleep had lasted only a couple of hours and it was time to relieve Lloyd on watch.  Nia stretched her muscles which ached from the fear and adrenaline fuelled demands that had been put on them as they had escaped.  She redressed in her combat pants and threw her Kevlar vest back on over a fresh t-shirt.

In the small en-suite she splashed cold water on her face and examined herself in the mirror.  Nia almost didn't recognize the young face staring back at her.  She felt weary and so heavily burdened by what she knew.  She dropped her head and splashed some more water on her face.

So far she'd only told Lloyd half of it.  If she'd had enough time to think about it she'd have said it bothered her that she was sidestepping her youth to stand up and do something that someone else should've been doing.  But fate had impressed upon her a task which she couldn't ignore.  Destiny had selected her for the task.

Nia looked at herself once more, deep into her own eyes, and summoned a strength that also seemed to have been passed on to her by fate.  She knew she could do this and she was determined to learn from the lessons of the past.  What was it he'd said?

 Be smart, follow the rules of the game, get your mind straight and trust nobody.

 Nia saw Lloyd physically relax as she climbed the steps onto the flying bridge.  In a way, the position she'd put him in had been unfair.  He was a documentary film maker and television personality.  What they had been through would have left even a war correspondent shaken.  Added to that, there was a personal history between them, which Nia realized was still very fresh for Lloyd.  It had been hard for her to forgive him for what he'd done with his documentary but deep down she knew he'd been played.  Nia had learnt that there were sinister forces at work and wouldn't have been surprised if they were connected to what had so suddenly twisted Lloyd's documentary around on her.

Nia was fighting a battle within herself about trust.  Even though her natural disposition was to be trusting, it didn't come so easy to her anymore.  She was still learning how dangerous it was to trust in even the smallest amounts.  She couldn't afford to make the same mistakes that had gotten other people killed.

The words trust nobody had been rattling around in her mind a lot lately and that was why she and Marcus had gone in hard the previous day.  She couldn't have taken the risk that Lloyd had been played again.  She wanted to trust him and with every moment that passed she was getting a greater sense of the man that he really was.  Okay, so he was scared but they just thrust all this upon him.  Nia could see, though, that he was dedicated to helping her expose the truth and that meant a lot to her.

Nia smiled at Lloyd and handed him a coffee.  "I'm not sure if you wanted one but..."

"Coffee would be great actually.  I'm not as tired as I thought.  Must be the long hours at the studio, kind of gets you used to this sort of thing."  Lloyd smiled at the disconnect between what he meant and what he'd said, and the fact that he'd just traded Nia a mug of coffee for a handgun.

"Film making usually this cut throat?" Nia joked and they both laughed, easing the tension for a moment.  It didn't last long.

Darkness was receding quickly and they both sat there in silence watching the stars disappear one by one and the horizon begin to brighten.  The coffee brought back a degree of civility to the situation and had they not been on the run it would have been a pleasant morning.

Without really thinking about it, and staring at the ocean water, Nia started to tell Lloyd about how she'd found the note from her mother at the bank.  Lloyd reached over to his bag and switched on the camera.  The light was just enough to capture the emotion on Nia's face but most importantly the sound was clear, Lloyd didn't want to miss a single thing she said.

Lloyd couldn't believe it.  Nia's mother had claimed that Nia was the daughter of the greatest rapper of all time, a man thought to have left only his work as his legacy.  His life had been cut short by his murder at the age of only twenty-five.  To think that he'd had a daughter all this time was incredible.

"To be honest," Nia said, "I'm not sure that she had it all worked out.  She wanted to protect me, not because of Tupac, Mama loved him.  But she was very intuitive and maybe she could see the tragedy his life was going to play out.  Somehow, maybe she thought she was protecting me from that.

"She made mistakes of course like all mothers.  Disappearing to Cuba was probably a little too far to go but I guess she thought that no matter where she was in the US someone would eventually find her or recognize her.  The plans must have changed when she met Hugo, conceivably I could have been his child.  I certainly thought so for a long time."

"Do you hold it against her?" Lloyd asked tentatively.

"As hard as life was in Cuba, I don't.  And for everything that we went through back in Miami I don't either.  She was trying to do good in a situation that had gone from bad to worse.  I guess Hugo came to realize I wasn't his and things between them unraveled from there.  I can't feel bad because I've lived a better live than most young black kids in America.

"What I regret though is that Mama turned inward.  She was so set on protecting me and setting up a legacy for me that she did it at the expense of her health.  I'd give up in a heartbeat all the success I've had if only I could have her back."  Nia pinched the bridge of her nose to hold back a tear.

"From what you've said I know that searching for a father figure had been a big part of your life.  How did it feel when you found out that Tupac was possibly or probably your father?"

"Well exactly, I wasn't one hundred percent certain at that point because all I had was note from my mother and coincidences of my own talents and interests to support the possibility.  I'm sure there are many girls out there searching for a father figure, who've been brought up on a diet of his music and could say the same things I could – that I wanted so bad to know who my father was that I'd have almost believed anything.

"But somehow deep inside I knew there was more to this than my own hunger to believe.  And that's the worst part about it, the more I was willing to believe that he was my father the more I had to face the fact that I never knew him and never could.  Someone had murdered my father and taken from me the man I'd been looking for all my life.  That's when I felt every single emotion possible in the rawest way I could.  My emotions were so heavy I could've just collapsed in to a black hole.  That's why I snatched up my stash of weed and had to bust out of there."

Lloyd was riveted but couldn't help himself yawning.  When Nia saw him she stopped.

"You need to crash."

"Honestly, I'm good," Lloyd countered.  Nia smiled.

"I have a feeling we're gonna have a long day ahead of us so go pick a cabin and hit the sack.  I'll wake you in a few hours," Nia said.  Lloyd smiled, he knew an order from this woman when he heard one and he disappeared below.

Nia sat for a moment, the silence only interrupted by the soft sound of the ocean.  The sun was breaking the horizon and, had she been able to empty her mind, she could have let the ocean's waves rock her back to sleep.  But her thoughts were far from sleep.  She had the day's plans to iron out in her mind.

Strip cleaning her weapons helped her focus and it wasn't long before she'd cleaned her way through both M4s.  Their earlier fire fight hadn't dirtied up the weapons much at all but you never could be sure when the smallest bit of dirt or grit might jam the weapon at a crucial moment.  Assessing their situation she saw that dirt was the least of their worries.  They'd spent a lot of ammunition.  A quick count revealed that they had two magazines each for the M4s, a total of 120 rounds.  It sounded like a lot but they'd already used more than that and Nia was certain it wouldn't be long before they put their weapons to use again.  The good news was that they had a full complement of magazines for the P228s.

Nia's mind turned to the plans for the day as she set about cleaning the pistols.  There were several things she needed to accomplish.  The priority was securing the information that was on the hard drive.  With that gone she would have nothing and everything she'd done so far would have been in vain.  The contact who was going to help her secure the information was presently on a flight bound for Miami international and they were set to meet later that evening as soon as he arrived.

In the meantime, they had to survive to be able make it to the meeting, which might prove to be difficult since she imagined the whole of Miami was swarming with people who wanted to take her down.

The news was portraying her as the lynchpin in an international drug trafficking operation and the police were acting readily on whatever information had been given to them.  There were also other security forces, mainly federal that would be after her too, either because of the drug issue or because they knew the truth.  Elements of the Feds knew the truth and that was how this had all got started but the simple fact was that the most dangerous people she had to deal with were the ones that weren't predictable.

They flashed various federal badges but weren't really part of any federal agency.  They sat above them, behind them and, most dangerously, within them.  They were covert, with an agenda to extinguish her because of who she was, what she represented and now, most especially, because of what she knew.

Nia made no attempt to hide her fear that everything could go terribly wrong and tomorrow's news might be that Miami's own rapper-drug dealer had been caught or more likely killed in the attempts to apprehend her.  But this was about more than just her.  It wasn't only that what Nia knew could change the history of America and the lives of so many people, she also had another life to think of.

Nia felt the chain around her neck and then her hand slid further down to just below her belly button.  She closed her eyes for a brief moment as she pictured the tiny life only just beginning to grow inside her.  Nia had a choice about the risks she took with her own life but an unborn child didn't.  Nia had to decide for it.  That's what being a mother was all about but these weren't the usual decisions.  Right now Nia knew that the only way out of this mess was to keep moving forward despite the danger.  It was a big risk but to do anything else would eventually mean certain death.

It wasn't long before she heard sounds that told her Marcus was awake.  She'd been tempted to wake him, knowing they needed to get moving but Nia also knew that he needed to rest so he could be on top form today.  He'd been invaluable in all that had happened.  He'd gone above and beyond anything she'd ever asked him to do.  He'd once or twice joked that it wasn't much different to the Marines, she was the young rookie officer with a mission and he was the sergeant who had to tactically tie up the operation and make it all work.  He'd had to walk plenty of junior officers through operations before.  His years of experience had been at the sharp end and he'd taught Nia a lot.

The truth was they were teaching each other a lot as they went.  Nia had the street knowledge and Marcus the years of tactical experience.  But they were up against an adversary that had a nation's whole arsenal it its disposal.  It was a sour truth because they were fighting for the very same nation, or at least what it was supposed to be – the values and principles of the constitution, that they both believed in.

Nia told herself that if they made it through this she had to remember to tell Marcus how grateful she was for his help.  But for now a clean weapon would have to do.  She slid the magazine back into the P228 just as Marcus stepped up onto the flying bridge.

"Plan of attack?" Nia asked.

"We can't head back in this, we'll be picked up in no time by Coast Guard or Harbor Patrol.  Our best option is to head north for now and put some distance between us and Miami."

"You think North is the way to go?"

"Well, we've come a distance anyway but yeah I'd say so ma'am.  Anyone who buys into the drug connection like they're selling it, and knows we got this yacht, will think we've made a dash for Cuba.  We head far enough north and find the first busy place to put in.  Hopefully the daytime traffic will allow us to blend in as we sail and a busy enough harbor will give us the same cover."

"I'd prefer it if we could get our contact to come up to meet us but we've no way to contact him even if we could get him to change his demands for a busy public place.  We're stuck with the location downtown."

"In his shoes that's exactly what I'd want.  No need to risk getting the information if you can get someone else to deliver it on a plate.  They know we're motivated and we've got to do this to get out alive anyway."

"We?  It should've been me alone.  I'm sorry I dragged you into this Marcus."

"I'm glad to be here."  He paused.  "People need to know."

"What can I do?"

"We'll be a few hours sailing north before we put in so we should change.  Anyone who sees us dressed like this would find it suspicious.  I found some uniform for myself and I'll be piloting the yacht.  You and Lloyd should try to find something that makes you look like you own this baby.  And if you find anything that resembles a breakfast in that galley I'd be very grateful."

Breakfast consisted of a few cereal bars each and some strong coffee.  They'd been underway for just under an hour.  Lloyd had woken, washed up and had joined Nia to the rear of the yacht where they sat like rich owners with Marcus dutifully piloting them north.

Marcus also had one eye on the weather because a front was moving in.  Hurricane Jessica had bounced around the Caribbean and was due to make land fall over Miami, albeit downgraded to a strong tropical depression.  Marcus expected the weather to get nasty over the next few hours.

Despite Nia's relaxed appearance in a bikini and Lloyd in his swim shorts, they kept the Kevlar and M4s stowed only a short distance away in case they were made.  Nia used the time they had to continue her discussion with Lloyd.

# TWENTY-ONE

The studio was just across the hall from Nia's apartment.  She entered the main studio and spotted a producer and sound engineer she knew.

"Can you pack up and clear out?" Nia asked, but it was plain enough it wasn't a question.

"We're booked in for the next two hours."

"Pack it up and go."  Nia didn't want to argue with the producer.  "I'll refund you and find you more time, whatever you want."  Nia began motioning them out.  The producer looked pissed but keyed a few commands on the mixer and then grabbed his laptop.  She followed them to the door and locked it.

Maybe in the supreme silence of the acoustically shielded studio she would be able to find peace to think.  Nia rolled herself a blunt and took a long hit.  She choked back the smoke and let it do its thing.  It felt good and she sank deeply in the producer's chair.  Hit after hit she felt better and more relaxed.  She had missed the bliss that now enveloped her.

Nia had barely finished the blunt before she heard someone try the handle of the main door.

"Nia, open up!"  It was Marcus.  She walked slowly to the door, feeling the buzz from the blunt in every step.  She didn't want to argue with Marcus.

"Just leave me.  I wanna be alone for a while."

"Just wanna know you're okay."

"Tell Gabriella she's in charge."

"But..."

"Tell her Marcus.  And give me some space.  Get all studio sessions cancelled until further notice."

Nia slapped her hand on the door and walked away.  She couldn't hide out in the studio forever but for now it meant she didn't have to face the world and that was what she needed.  She recalled an interview with Tupac where he'd said studio time was the best therapy.  Nia also remembered him saying he'd completed a whole album by recording three songs a day.

If he could then so could she, Nia told herself.  Her anger about not definitively knowing whether or not he was her father was pushing her to test herself.  Not that anything she was doing could really give her the results she needed.

Nia prepped a mic and set the mixing board while 'Krazy' from Tupac's 'The Don Killuminati The 7 Day Theory' album played in the background.  A glass of Hennessey warmed her throat and Nia bumped her head to the beat.  It was smooth and sounded even better now she was high.  It played right through to the next track 'White Man's World'.  Tupac performed the track with such passion that it ignited a fire within her.  Staring through the window into the vocal booth Nia imagined him there like she'd seen countless times in on-line video clips.

Towards the end of the track he dedicated it to 'my mother fuckin' teachers, Mutulu Shakur, Geronimo Pratt, Mumia Abu Jamal, Sekou Odinga, all the real O.G.s, we out...'  His words came with fiery passion and you could hear him throw down his head phones as he finished.

Nia was charged with the same energy and she seized up the headphones in the booth.  Cued up was an instrumental version of 'Breathin' from the first disc of Tupac's 'Until The End Of Time' album.  The masculine beat brought her anger boiling to the surface and she set the mic on fire.  Alone in the studio, there was no one to react to her skill, razor sharp rhymes and fluidity of expression.

Nia had no pen or paper and was running on pure emotion.  She'd been holding it in for too many years and now she was free to finally discover her true self.  Her rap was forceful like an uncompromising revolutionary uprising.  The four minute four second track was set to repeat and Nia just kept going.  The beat was pumping into her headphones like fuel to her fire.  Her words hit the mic and with awesome lossless audio quality they were recorded acappella to one of the studio's immense hard drives.

Nia didn't know how long she lasted but it was long enough that her ears had begun to feel the pinch from the tight fitting headphones.  She paused only to wet her mouth with more Hennessey and to switch to a fresh track.  She kept on freestyling to one instrumental after another, repeating the process until she could barely stand.  By the time Nia crashed on the studio's couch she was both drunk and exhausted.

Sleep was short and when she woke the next day it was with a single focus.  This time though she put some planning into her lyrics and scribbled her way through half a legal pad.  She resisted Marcus's calls to let him in and continued on through the day and late into the night once more.  She didn't want to interrupt what she'd begun and the studio was designed to accommodate marathon sessions.  It had a supply of drinks, snacks and personal facilities.  Nothing could stop Nia's drive and Tupac's words about three songs a day echoed through her mind.

It wasn't that Nia specifically had it in mind to compile an album but she was producing more than enough material.  It wasn't until halfway through the third day that she reached burnout point.  Her voice was raw and her bloodshot eyes were in need of proper rest.

Nia splashed water on her face and wondered whether she could say studio time was in fact the best therapy there was.  What had been on her mind was the validity of the claim that Tupac was her father.  That wasn't resolved but one thing was and that was Nia's certainty over what she was destined to be.

Daughter of Tupac or not she was born to be a rapper and there was no going back on that now.  She was sure a producer could have a field day making an album with everything she had laid down.

There was one other thing that Nia had got out of the session and that was a single-minded determination to have her question answered definitively as to whether or not Tupac was her father.  Only a DNA test could give her that answer and Nia had begun to fix a plan in her mind to do just that.

"We have to keep this discrete," Nia said to Marcus.  "If it's positive this is gonna explode and I'd rather keep this between me and her at the moment."  She chose her words carefully.  She wanted present company to know as little as possible about what they were planning.

"I understand," Marcus replied, watching the tattoo artist working on Nia's back.  It had been two weeks since her breakthrough studio session and already she had a couple of producers hyped about the vocals she'd laid down.  They were busy compiling tracks for her to review and where necessary she'd go back and redo the master vocals.

Nia had decided to get a tattoo symbolic of the breakthrough.  Whether or not a DNA test confirmed Tupac as her father she recognized the significance of his influence on her.  Her studio session had made her realize that fate might have tested her but she always found a way to break through and pass the tests.

One constant in her life through all the turmoil had been the voice of Tupac.  Same DNA or not, he had been a father to her.  His words and advice had guided her through many of the situations she'd found herself in.  And the times Nia had been upset and feeling alone, his words had held her and told her what she needed to hear.  Whether she'd meant to or not she'd often turned to him in times of stress.  Hearing him vent so many of the same frustrations had soothed her anger countless times.

Nia was pleased to pay tribute to him with a tattoo that symbolized all of this.  The rose that grew from concrete was so symbolic of Tupac.  Nia had busted through the concrete and was growing like never before.  The tattoo was to run the length of her back, rising from the concrete on her lower back to the blooming rose head on the nape of her neck.

The tattoo artist had shown her some beautiful full sized sketches and was now about halfway through.  Nia looked forward to seeing it finished and how it would look with various different combinations of open back dresses or simply with her hair up just showing the rose head.

"I'll make some arrangements for travel then.  What're you thinking, road trip?  It keeps it low key."

"Sounds good as long as we can get that new ride I've been looking at."

"No arguments from me there ma'am.  A little retail therapy and a break will be good for you."

"True that," Nia said, smiling in between the bursts of pain from the tattoo needle.  "Give me a couple of weeks to set things up."

# TWENTY-TWO

It was a long drive, just under seven hundred miles, from Miami to Atlanta.  Nia and Marcus had decided to break it up with an overnight stop in Jacksonville.  They'd taken the I-95 three hundred and fifty-two miles to Jacksonville.  The route had taken them all the way up the east coast of Florida through some beautiful scenery but had also given them the time to talk over how Nia was going to approach the situation with Afeni Shakur.

It wasn't going to be easy.  It had been hard enough to set up a meeting between Nia and Afeni but eventually it had been arranged when a sizable donation to the Tupac Amaru Shakur Foundation was mentioned.  TASF was set up by Afeni in 1997 to help provide quality arts training to kids and was based out of Stone Mountain, just twenty miles outside of Atlanta.

The plan was for Nia to present what evidence she had that led her to think Tupac might be her father and then hope Afeni would agree to a DNA test.  But the more Nia thought about it, and there had been plenty of time for that, the more she realized she didn't have anything concrete to present to Afeni.  From an outside perspective it seemed like nothing more than an interesting story with a few coincidences.  Nia wondered how many other people over the years had claimed they were the children of Tupac.  Maybe Afeni had been through all this before.  That's why Nia knew it was so important to meet Afeni face-to-face.

Nia imagined the nightmare it could have been had she tried to get a DNA test through a bunch of lawyers.  That would have made it seem like she was after a part of his estate and she terribly wanted to avoid that.  Nia only wanted to know her true family roots, not alienate them with worries that she was trying to feed off Tupac's legacy.  Afeni had fiercely defended her son's legacy since his death and Nia was aware this was a sensitive area.

The second morning of the trip Nia and Marcus slept late and enjoyed a mid-morning breakfast in the Presidential Suite at the Hyatt in Jacksonville.  They'd cover the remaining three hundred and forty-eight miles and go direct to their late afternoon meeting.  Breakfast was a silent affair as Nia thought over how she would put things to Afeni.  It was a lot to think about.  She couldn't just come straight out with it and ask for a DNA sample to test.  Nia had to somehow arrive at that conversation without shocking Afeni.  Her greatest fear was that Afeni would point blank refuse and ask her to leave.

Nia and Marcus climbed into the brand new Hummer.  So far it had given them a great ride and was comfortable beyond belief.  Nia had driven part of the way the previous day and had then switched with Marcus.  In the passenger seat she'd spent her time rereading 'Evolution of a Revolutionary', Jasmine Guy's biography of Afeni Shakur.  With Marcus taking the first part of the day's drive she continued her reading and it pleased her to see how much they had in common.  But, Nia thought, wasn't that the story of so many black people from the ghetto?  The experience of poverty, broken families, death and drugs?

Nia was inspired by the strength Afeni had shown since the death of her son and the way she'd applied herself to securing a permanent legacy for him.  Although, she was aware Afeni had experienced her fair share of critics.

It made her wonder how Afeni might react to a positive test result.  Would she become a living legacy, Nia wondered.  And what did that really mean?  She wondered how the millions of Tupac fans around the world would react.  Tupac had been stolen from them and his family by his horrible murder in 1996 and Nia was reluctant that they may look to her to fill the void.  Even just thinking about it made her feel a weight she didn't know if she could ever carry.

After Nia finished reading the book she swapped with Marcus and drove the last hour to Stone Mountain.  Driving west on the three lane Memorial Drive Nia followed the commands of the satellite navigation system and turned off the road at 5616 Memorial Drive.  She circled round the parking lot and pulled into an empty space overlooking the road.  They both stepped out and stretched their stiff muscles and joints.

Nia was keen to present herself as a smart and intelligent businesswoman so she'd dressed in an Armani pants suit with her hair up.  She took the jacket from its hanger in the back of the Hummer, slid it over her shoulders and fastened the buttons at the front.

It was a pleasant day but not too warm for the jacket.  Nia took her handbag containing the letter from her mother and locked the vehicle.  She walked with Marcus across the parking lot.  He had smartened up a little too but he always looked sharp anyway.  Whether it was because of what he wore or the way is eyes were perpetually alert was anyone's guess.

The Centre for the Arts building loomed large in front of Nia just like the possibility that she was the daughter of Tupac.  The building's black form rose up out of the ground behind the parking lot.  Nia entered the reception with Marcus following passively behind.  It was unimaginable that the celebrity which she had courted back home in Miami could have spread so far north but Marcus was there to protect her all the same.

"Nia Rodriguez to see Afeni Shakur," Nia announced herself at the reception.

"Mrs. Shakur has asked that you be shown to the Peace Garden.  She is in another meeting at the moment and will come out to you as soon as the meeting concludes."

They were nearly a half hour early so that was absolutely understandable and Nia had been very interested in touring the peace garden.  She followed a guide out to the garden where they were left to wander.

The main attraction to the garden was the bronze statue of Tupac that stood on a plinth set in the center of a fountain.  The fountain pool itself was shaped like a gothic cross similar to the tattoo Tupac had on his back.

Nia looked up at the statue.  It was a good likeness so far as she could judge.  Of course she'd only seen photos of him but she did think it had a strange effect of making him look older than twenty-five, the age he was when he died.  The bronze face looked maybe ten to fifteen years older and weary.  The inscription on the plinth read 'I'm not saying I'm gonna change the world but I guarantee that I will spark the brain that will change the world.'

It was as close as Nia was ever going to get to the man himself and it moved her.  He'd died prematurely, all his future potential snatched from him and the world robbed of his influence.  Nia turned her attention to the plaques surrounding the rear of the fountain.  It was principally a collection of his poetry.  Nia read through his poem 'In the Event of my Demise' and was chilled by its prophetic message.  Nia was stirred by the way he had stared death in the face, knew it was coming and didn't blink.  His poem 'If I Fail' was a testimony to his resilience and she related to the lines 'No father-no money no-chance and no guide / I only follow the voice inside.'  Nia turned to the next plaque containing his poem 'The Rose That Grew From Concrete'.  Reading this Nia's hand rose up and she ran her fingers over the lines of the rose on the back of her neck.

"It's very beautiful."  Nia turned upon hearing the voice of Afeni.  For a moment she was lost for words.

"It is peaceful," Nia replied.

"Your tattoo I mean."  Nia touched the back of her neck again and smiled.

"It's a tribute to your son and the effect he's had on my life.  It's a pleasure to meet you Mrs..."

"Afeni, please call me Afeni.  And you are Miss Rodriguez."

"Nia."

It wasn't what she'd imagined their first words would be.  Nia had been a little caught off guard having been so deep in thought as she read Tupac's poetry but nevertheless Afeni made a very pleasant first impression.  Nia got a sense that she was very switched on.  She'd expected it but she was still a little sharper than she'd expected.  Nia felt Afeni's eyes appraising her.

Afeni began telling her about the condition the plot of land had been in before they built the center and some of the key moments in its construction.  Nia listened intently as they walked back to the center.  She was slightly in awe of the woman who was possibly her grandmother.

Inside, Afeni gave Nia a tour of the facilities and spoke about the work they were trying to do with 'Pac's kids'.  Afeni strongly believed in the impact her son's work could have and how it could encourage the development of talent in young people.  It made Nia wonder how Afeni would react if she found out that Tupac actually had a kid, a daughter.  Nia thought about bringing it up each time Afeni mentioned 'Pac's kids' but couldn't find the right moment.

One corridor in the center had a series of framed photos of Tupac that Nia hadn't seen before and she paused to look at them.  Nia intensely looked over the photos in silence and Afeni stood beside her looking with equal intensity.  Nia's emotions briefly got the better of her and a tear welled up in her eye and ran down her cheek.  Afeni saw it.

"You know he's still with us," Afeni said, taking Nia's hand.  Nia looked across at Afeni who was smiling as she looked at a photo of her son.  "Every day when someone listens to his music, reads one of his poems or watches one of his films they keep him alive."  Afeni moved her hand to Nia's shoulder reassuringly.  "I'm so glad you're here to help with the work we are doing."  For a moment Nia felt Afeni had seen right through her and knew who she might be.

"That's why I'm here," Nia repeated.  "I want to ensure Tupac's legacy lives on through the kids."

"Come on, let's find somewhere to sit and talk."

Afeni led Nia to a reception room which had comfortable chairs and some privacy.  Marcus closed the doors and waited outside.

"I understand your career is beginning to take off."

"The track I just featured on has done well and I'm trying to get my first album together but it's complicated.  Where I've come from to what I'm doing now is such a big leap.  When my mama died I didn't have anyone, didn't know my father.  The only thing I had was what the streets had taught me and the family business.  Against all odds I kept that afloat and thankfully it's very prosperous now.  But the reason why I got the tattoo was because throughout my life Tupac was there for me."

Now was the time to tell Afeni why she was really there but suddenly Nia couldn't bring herself to do it.  Afeni had been too kind.  Nia wanted so desperately to know the truth but felt she couldn't ask, scared it could all blow up in her face.  To find out Tupac was her father but be rejected by his family, her family, would be the worst thing that could happen to her.  But for now, she was talking to Afeni and could almost imagine she was part of the family.  Bringing up the subject of a DNA test would be a betrayal, she felt.

Instead Nia handed Afeni the donation check that had secured their meeting and for an instant she realized the pleasantness of Afeni could have been purely to secure the money.  But that was quickly shattered.

"Thank you," Afeni said, putting the check in her pocket without looking at the amount.  "What are your plans this evening?"

"We've got a long drive back to Miami so we'll be stopping off in Jacksonville overnight."

"Oh child you can't make that journey so late."

"We'll be fine, Marcus is the best driver."

"How about you come to my place for dinner and stay the night, the both of you.  I've got more than enough room and you can make the journey back starting out in the morning.  I just wouldn't feel right sending you on your way like this.  And we can talk some more over dinner."

It was an invitation Nia couldn't resist.

Afeni's house was a short drive away, conveniently located near the TASF and Amaru operations.  It was a large suburban house and Nia knew already from her conversations with Afeni that it was a focal point for the extended family.  Although tonight was an exception and Afeni had said that they would be missing the presence of the family tonight.

Afeni had told her about the big family gatherings which included so many more people than just blood relations.  That was the thing about the Shakur family, it was connected by so much more than blood.  Many family relations were forged in the history of the struggle like Tupac's step-father Mutulu Shakur and his aunt Assata Shakur, who had both once been on the FBI's most wanted list.

There were also those who had been in the Panthers and those who had made music with Tupac.  But there wasn't anyone at Afeni's tonight which was a shame, Nia thought, because she would have loved to have met any of the family but particularly Tupac's sister Sekyiwa and her sons, potentially her aunt and cousins.

Nia and Afeni cooked together, something that Nia had never done with her mother.  But Nia didn't let feelings of regret overshadow how much this already felt like family.

Dinner was pleasant.  Nia and Afeni talked a lot about Afeni's past experiences but there was much to be said about the future.  It was clear that Afeni was very positive towards the younger generation coming up and making a mark for themselves in music and other creative pursuits.  Nia felt Afeni had a lot of love for her and a real appreciation of the career she was forging.  They had much in common.  Nia was doing a lot to showcase new and upcoming artists from the Miami area and Afeni was doing the same with kids from across the country.

Dinner turned into a few drinks and more conversation and then it was time for Afeni to show Nia and Marcus to their rooms.  After Afeni had retired to bed Marcus knocked lightly on Nia's door.  Nia opened it.

"What happened to the plan?" Marcus asked quietly after shutting the door.

"Couldn't find the right time at the Centre and then she asked if I wanted to stay over before we travel back.  I thought I might get a better opportunity to ask."

"And?"

"The more we talk the harder it is.  I can't just drop this on her, especially while there is still a possibility I might not be her granddaughter.  I know the whole point of coming up here was to tell her and get her to agree to a DNA test but I feel like I need to know for sure before I say anything.  Now that I've got to know her I don't want to do anything to ruin this.  Even if it turns out we've got no blood connection what we've talked about today means something.  If I handle this wrong all that is messed up."

"So what do you want to do?"

"There's only one thing I can do.  I have to get something with her DNA on it and then we get it tested."

The morning came quickly and Nia stepped out of the shower to the smell of grits, bacon, eggs and toast.  Nia and Marcus ate a hearty breakfast with Afeni.  Nia remembered the times when her mother had prepared her such a breakfast.

"We'll clear up for you," Nia said to Afeni.

"Thanks child," Afeni replied.  She drank the rest of her coffee and stubbed out her Newport cigarette before disappearing to shower and change.

Marcus searched the kitchen quickly for some saran wrap and tore off a piece.  He used it to pick up several of the butts in Afeni's ash tray.

"Now we're set," Marcus said, placing the package in his pocket.

Saying goodbye to Afeni was a little tough on Nia but she focused on the fact that soon she'd know whether Afeni was her grandmother and Tupac her father.  Nia and Afeni hugged and Afeni spoke to her in their embrace.

"You've got great potential but remember to keep your head up even if it feels like it is against all odds.  I have a feeling we'll see each other again soon.  You must come back to work with Pac's kids."

"I will for sure," Nia said, genuinely intending to, whatever the result of the DNA test might be.

# TWENTY-THREE

The fine tuning of Nia's album was almost complete but she was back in the studio to lay one last vocal track to supplement the main vocal she'd recorded weeks earlier.  In the studio were the usual crew but Nia also had a young film maker trailing her, John Lloyd.  He looked to be fresh out of college, white, rich and out of his depth in the world of hip-hop.  But he was smart and she could see he was learning quickly, just like she had.

Nia wasn't the main focus of his film but he'd quickly learnt that with her club, studio and own career taking off she was a focal point for new hip-hop in Miami.  At first when he'd pointed it out Nia hadn't really understood but as she came to thinking about it she saw more clearly just how successful she'd become on several fronts.  And this film would be good for business, Nia thought.  What she hadn't admitted to herself was that he was charming and she liked the way she seemed to let her guard down around him.

Nia stepped out the booth.  "Killed it right?" Nia asked the producer.

"You know it!"

"That it?  We good?"

"Yeah, I'll hit you up with a master mix later."  The producer stood and they hugged.

"Later," Nia replied.

As she turned for the door the film camera was in her face.  She was used to it by now and it just faded into the background.  She wasn't self-conscious with the camera around and didn't have anything to worry about.  Nia so rarely smoked weed now anyway that she could easily keep it off camera and the rest of her past was well behind her.  Everything she was into now was entirely legit but there were enough myths spread by other people about her past to make her an interesting character to film.

It was only because she'd been able to make a break from Leon that she'd been able to keep on the straight and narrow.  Nia knew who you ran with could make or break you.  She'd found her escape route from the street life at just the right time.  So many others never got the chance and she was frustrated that Leon hadn't come with her when he'd had the chance.  Leon was smart and organized but it hadn't gone down like that.  She knew things would have been so different if he had.

Back in her office Nia hit the stack of paperwork on her desk.  Much of it was routine and just needed her signature for authorization.  She knew it was about time she got a professional in to manage while she explored her music career but she liked how the job kept her involved.  Nia didn't want to become one of those people who didn't even know the doorman's name or whether the girl serving her drinks had kids or not.  Nia was a dedicated people person.

"This arrived for you by courier."  Marcus passed the envelope to Nia.  She looked it over without opening it.

"Is this the..."

"Yes, ma'am," Marcus cut her off.  His eyes revealed to her he was thinking the exact same thing.  The camera crew were set up right behind him and filming her.

"Thanks."  Marcus turned and left.

Nia sat for a moment.  Inside the envelope was the answer that would determine a large part of her life.  No matter how hard she tried she couldn't affect the outcome.  That left her feeling powerless.  Tupac either was or wasn't her father.  She would either know her father when she opened the envelope or would be back at square one not knowing who he was.

"Can I get a minute?" Nia said looking up at Lloyd.

"Come on people."  He shuffled out the camera and soundman with a little disappointment.  He could see that the envelope clearly meant something to her.  With a little more experience he might have found a way to stick around and find out why.

Nia watched the door close and turned her attention back to the envelope.  She picked up her letter opener and slid the blade under one edge of the flap.

She paused.  There was no going back.  She was either a part of the Shakur family or not.

Nia couldn't do it.

She threw down the letter opener and crushed the envelope in her hand.  After searching for her father for so long it should have been easy, she thought.  But it wasn't.  She stuffed the envelope in her back pocket and left her office.  She just needed to get out of there.

On the way out she nearly knocked Lloyd down.  In that brief moment he saw something new in her eyes that interested him.  He started to follow her and waved off his crew.  He caught up with her at the end of the corridor.

"Hey, you okay?"

"I thought I asked you for a minute?" Nia replied sharply.  Lloyd gestured around.

"No crew."  He could see she was upset.  His smile and natural charm was already beginning to ease her mood.  "Can I walk you wherever it is you are going in such a hurry?"

"Just needed to get out of here.  Gets like a pressure cooker in here sometimes."

"You hungry?"

"I could eat."

"Let me take you to dinner."

Evading the paparazzi in Lloyd's convertible was fun.  Somehow Nia had avoided being recognized all evening until they left the restaurant.  Marcus was going to kill her for going out without him but it felt good to be free.  She already had a bunch of missed calls but didn't care.  The night air blew through her hair and as they sped through the city it felt good.

Eventually they lost the paparazzi and Lloyd circled around for a while before parking up by the beach front.  "Walk with me on the beach?"

Nia took off her heels and carried them in one hand as they walked a while.  The sand felt good between her toes and for a while she was able to forget the pressure of what was waiting for her.  The sound of the waves relaxed her and when Lloyd took her hand she didn't resist.  He was sweet, charming and good looking.

The evening ended at her door with a kiss.

In the days that followed they tried to keep things professional but everyone noticed how there came a point each day when they both disappeared.  It was a frustration for Marcus who took it particularly hard that his ability to do his job was being compromised by Lloyd.

Nia didn't really see herself with a white guy.  Her first love had truly been Leon and it was hard to imagine being with someone so different.  Lloyd was fun and couldn't have been any more different to Leon.  What was good with Lloyd was that Nia didn't feel she had to watch her back.  Having escaped the street life she needed a man who could give her that.  Nia still found herself wishing Leon had listened to her and got out too.

# TWENTY-FOUR

Lloyd shifted uncomfortably in his seat on the rear deck of the yacht.

"And it was all going great to be honest.  My album was coming together.  You were finishing the editing on your film and we were spending most evenings together.  You remember how much fun it was together?"

"I do."

"But that only lasted until..."

"Nia, I'm sorry," Lloyd cut her off.  "I truly am.  I was foolish, ambitious, and didn't think about you."

"You and I went down like a lead balloon when you edited me and everyone I know so that almost everything we said was out of context."

"Let's not go over all this again.  Please just know I'm sorry."

"I don't think we were made to last anyway.  It was fun but we're two very different people."

"Really?  I thought we had something."  There was a moment of awkwardness between them.  Nia had known this was coming.

"We're both from totally different worlds.  But if we make it through this you can count yourself as a good friend."

Lloyd came to the realization that he had totally struck out and half of him wanted to just get out of there but he couldn't.

"You want to know what happened after all that blew up, including my album sales?"

Lloyd couldn't say anything.  He just felt like an idiot.  He just wanted to finish what they'd started the previous evening.  Nia had asked for his help and he owed her that, wherever the story took them.  He owed it to her because, despite what had happened between them, she had given him his chance to set things straight.

# TWENTY-FIVE

It had been a six month whirlwind ride and Nia had seen her album ride to the top of the billboard.  She'd done one music video after another and hit almost every talk show as a result of the film by Lloyd.  For those who wanted to listen to her, Nia countered the misleading documentary but she could do little to balance the public view of hip-hop which had for years gathered a bad reputation.

What Nia struggled to get people to understand was that hip-hop was not the cause of all the problems associated with it.  There were problems much wider than hip-hop and it wasn't hip-hop that had created them, it had only given a form of expression to the people who'd been affected by the problems.  Different types of music held up different mirrors to the world.  Hip-hop was a reflection of the street in its raw and dirty form.  That meant drugs, violence, prostitution and murder.

People could find ways to ignore the reality of the street but when the expression of the struggle was loud, colorful and growing in popularity it was increasingly uncomfortable to ignore.

The result of six months arguing her case on talk shows and showcasing her album, left Nia knowing who she really was.  The critics had hailed her as the voice of the next generation and her album as a ghetto political message with clear musical throw backs to 90s hip-hop.  Both black and Latino youth were looking to her and Nia soon felt that she was in the head seat and was ready to lead a new wave of hip-hop.

Eventually, Nia was able to face what she'd put off for six months.  Whatever the DNA test showed she was confident it wouldn't change her now.  She knew who she was.

Nia took the letter out from inside the envelope and unfolded it slowly.  Despite her self-confidence she still felt a moment of trepidation.  Her eyes scanned the page and quickly found the result.

Positive.

Nia knew it.

Tupac was her father.  Her mother had been telling the truth.

Nia read the results over and over.  No matter how much she had believed her mother and how much she had wanted to know, the answer was still incomprehensible to her.  Or more precisely, what it meant was incomprehensible to her.

Nia was confident it wouldn't change her but until she'd truly digested what it meant she couldn't tell anyone, not even Afeni.  The only thing Nia knew was that she needed to get studio time booked in to help her get her head around it.  This time around Nia didn't hit the studio so raw and wild.  She went in looking for answers to questions that she really could ask now she knew who her father was.

"Who was my father?  Who shot you?  And are you really gone?"  Nia spoke the questions aloud every time she drew a blank as she tried to jot her ideas down on the legal pad she carried everywhere.  The last question had initially started out as an idea focusing on his legacy, TASF and how she fitted into that but in considering the question Nia found herself examining the 'alive' theories.

Could it be that Tupac was still alive?  The theories didn't seem much more than conspiracies but they were thoroughly interwoven with almost any reference to Tupac and his death.  Nia quickly understood their attraction.  Anyone who had a connection to Tupac wanted to believe that he'd escaped an untimely death.  It was hard to accept that he was gone and for Nia even harder because she'd never met her father.

Nia's brief examination of the internet revealed there were many fans claiming to have proof that Tupac was alive but among all the so called proof there was no smoking gun.  Top of the list of reasons why people believed he was still alive was the assertion that he'd somehow been 'reborn' or 'resurrected' as Makaveli.  Theories pointed to the fact that the scholar Niccolo Machiavelli had presented some underhanded ways to defeat your enemies, even faking one's death, and Tupac had studied his books.

This in itself wasn't proof or motive.  It was, instead, just a coincidence of Tupac reinventing himself around about the same time as he got murdered.  Nia saw how so many things around the time of his death fed the rumors, such as the cover of 'The Don Killuminati The 7 Day Theory' which showed him being crucified.  This 'legend' continued to be used in numerous ways after his death, most prevalently with the titling of the film and album 'Resurrection'.  But no matter how interesting this made his story it didn't prove anything.

Of course so much was made of the so called '7 Day Theory' which fans claimed somehow guaranteed his return within prescribed timescales.  Despite the number of references to the number seven fans could find in Tupac's music and life it seemed that the date for his return was constantly revised when he never appeared and the theory adjusted to suit.  It didn't prove anything.

Nor did the prolific amount of albums released after his death.  All that work was just proof of how hard Tupac had worked in the studio before his death.  Even the spooky last track on the second disc of the 'Better Dayz' album didn't prove anything other than Tupac's uncanny ability to see the potential for such recordings in the event of his death.  The same was true of the last music video he ever recorded, 'I ain't mad at cha', where his character gets killed.

Nia knew it was too easy to not deal with her feelings and believe that there might be some chance he was still alive.

The most credible theory Nia could find surrounded the discrepancies on the coroner's report as published by Cathy Scott  The social security number wasn't registered in the death index and nor did various searches of the index reveal Tupac registered as deceased.  Various theories on the internet suggested that this wasn't even Tupac's social security number because it had been issued in California rather than New York where he was born.

The report also had incorrect information about Tupac's height and weight.  Nia read that the coroner had later said 'I did not know him personally and if it wasn't Tupac Shakur, I don't know who it was.'  On this particular theory Nia went on to read how Troy Farrell was listed as assisting with the removal of the body from the hospital and that there was an anatomy director at the Medical Education and Research Institute of Nevada with the same name.  Supposedly, he had the knowledge and access to enable Tupac's death to have been faked and his body removed and substituted for another.

Even if Nia could overlook the various assumptions in this theory it was still hard to believe there was much more to the theories than a hardcore group of fans that were unable to accept that he was gone.

After getting almost half way through the recording and production of her second album Nia had come to accept that there was nothing else she could do but accept that her father was gone.  No matter how much she wanted it Nia couldn't bring him back, not even for a day so she could get to know him as her father rather than the hip-hop legend she'd grown up listening to.

It had been a long day for Nia and when she hit the shower her body was glad of it.  She'd spent all day recording a music video for one of the tracks on her first album which was scheduled for single release.  The shoot had meant six different changes and as many adjustments to hair and make-up as could be achieved in a single day.  But it wasn't that which had exhausted her so much.  Nia had spent the best part of six hours dancing in uncomfortable heels.  Her feet were sore but she also knew now that her aerobic fitness wasn't what it should be.  Lately she'd been so busy she'd missed a few training sessions with Marcus and she decided to commit herself to fixing that.

Finished, Nia killed the shower and dried herself.  With her towel wrapped around herself she picked out some clothes to wear for the evening.  She didn't have anything planned other than finishing up paperwork for the club and then catching an early night.  Having decided to pick out some comfy clothes she began to search for her favorite pair of comfortable old jeans.

Nia eventually found them stuffed at the back of a drawer she'd set aside for relegated clothes.  As she pulled them out she found something else that had been relegated to that drawer.  It was the gift Leon had given her for her birthday, what now seemed a lifetime ago.  Nia remembered how things had been left with him the evening before he'd dropped off the gift at the club.  She remembered the passionate kiss they'd shared.  Leon had said he loved her and she'd felt the same even if she hadn't been able to say it.

Leon occupied such a large part of her heart that she'd not had a serious relationship since.  Leon had done so much for her, saving her from being raped, teaching her how to survive on the streets and refinancing H3.  For that she felt gratitude but there was so much more than that to her feelings for him.  It was hard for her to untangle her feelings from everything they had been through and Nia knew she'd probably only have ever understood them if he'd done the one thing she'd asked him to.  She'd escaped the streets but knew it was different for him.

Leon had found it hard enough adjusting to society coming back from Iraq and leaving the Rangers.  But with the rape and murder of his sister Nia sensed that he felt he had something to prove on the streets.  Nia saw that life as only having two possible outcomes.

Jail or death.

Nia could understand though how Leon was tortured by his sister's murder.  Someone had killed her own father and she wanted so bad to have five minutes alone with whomever they were.  She knew what she'd do to them.  Leon must have felt the same.

Nia put the gift on top of her bedside table while she dressed.  She thought about just throwing it in the trash but she couldn't do that.  Even after all the bad things that had happened with Leon and the fact that their lives were incompatible they shared too much history to just throw a gift away.

Nia pulled her top down over her jeans and started adjusting her hair.  The thing was, now she'd come across the gift that she'd forgotten about, she couldn't put it back in the drawer.  Her curiosity had been sparked and romantic recollections of the past had her wanting to open it to satisfy her curiosity.

Nia's fingers prized back the faded wrapping paper to reveal a solid hardwood jewelry box.  She lifted the hinged lid.  Inside was a pair of military identity tags.  Nia lifted them out, the chain draped over her hand.  She read the words stamped into them.  They were Leon's.  She'd never seen him wear them before though.

Inside the top of the box's lid was a small card with a note written on it.

'Once I belonged to the Rangers.  After that I felt I didn't belong anywhere or to anyone.  You changed that.  I realize now that you're right and I need to change.  I hope one day I might belong to you.'

Traffic was light as Marcus drove Nia down to the southern tip of South Beach.  Nia was chastising herself as they drove for not having kept in touch with Leon.  It seemed that much had happened since they'd last spoken.  Marcus had told her the one or two things he knew when she'd come to him to ask that he accompany her to see Leon.  Marcus had thought Nia had known what Leon had been doing and so he hadn't brought it up.  Marcus apologized again.

"It's okay Marcus.  It's not your job to keep me informed."  The Marine in him disagreed somewhat, knowing that on the battlefield operational intelligence could make or break a mission.  He reminded himself his role as bodyguard wasn't exactly the same but even so he should have kept Nia up to date with what he knew.

They reached the southern end of Washington Avenue and turned left on to Pointe Drive.  Portofino Tower on their right was where they were headed and just over a hundred meters later they turned left into the drive.  It wound its way up a slight slope under cover of palm trees.  Marcus pulled to a stop and stepped out, handing the keys to a valet parking attendant.  Marcus took the ticket and put it in his pocket.  Nia's door was quickly opened by another attendant and she exited the passenger side of the vehicle.

Despite the late hour the doorman was alert and smiled as he greeted them.  "Good evening Miss Rodriguez."  Nia was surprised that he knew her name but her rising celebrity was getting her more and more recognition every day.  Marcus hung back a step or two behind Nia as she crossed the lobby.  He scanned for any sort of threat or rushing fans.

"I'm an old friend of Mr. Brown and would very much appreciate it if you could see if he's available," Nia asked at the main desk.

"Of course."  She didn't get a chance to give her name before a phone call was made.  It seemed she was well known.  "Please allow my colleague to seat you in the lounge and Mr. Brown will be with you very shortly."

The lounge was a bar with a comfortable and very sophisticated edge to it.  Nia was seated and ordered a drink.  Marcus was nearby but had stepped fully into his role as protector.  Although Nia didn't see where he was she was sure he was close enough.  That meant she could relax while she waited for Leon.  It had been strange to refer to him as Mr. Brown, sure that the guests and the staff didn't know of his street history.  Apparently though, Leon had taken her advice seriously enough to go legit.

Nia looked around.  He must have spent a fortune to buy a controlling share of Portofino Tower.  She had heard that the financial crisis had hit the property market hard and the once affluent residential towers were diversifying by taking a share of the high end tourist trade.  Nia didn't have a clue how much it must have cost but her lowest estimate put it at more money than she had ever thought Leon had available.  Maybe he'd not bought it legitimately or it was a front for continuing street trade, although she wasn't sure how that would work.  Money laundering maybe.  But that didn't seem to fit with the note he'd left alongside the gift.  That had seemed sincere.  It was the reason she was here.  She wanted to talk to him and see if he was for real.  If he was then she'd have to work out what that meant.  She didn't have to wait for long.

At first she didn't recognize him.  He entered the lounge speaking with another younger man.  They laughed and parted ways.  It was only when Leon was halfway across the room and heading in her direction that Nia saw past the expensive business suit, fade haircut and clean shave.  She'd loved his dreads.  He looked so different without them, even more handsome than before, she thought.

Leon reached her table and she stood to greet him.  For a second it seemed like it might be awkward but that fell away, quickly revealing smiles from both of them.  They both could tell so much had happened since they had last seen each other.  They hugged briefly and mutually before they sat down at the table.

"You look good," Nia noted, with more emphasis on the word good than she had intended to reveal.

"And you look fantastic," Leon complimented back.

"Nah, I'm quite rough and ready right now."  Nia looked down at the casual clothes she'd thrown on for her intended night of relaxation.  "But when I came across this I had to come right over and see you."  She took the box containing the tags from her bag.  "I only opened it tonight and hadn't realized until now that you'd taken me so seriously."

"You were right, I had to change.  Not just for you but for me too.  You had the sense to know that the street life could only be a temporary thing and you showed me you had to get out when you were up 'cause just like in Vegas in the end the house always wins."

"Tell me though, is all this for real?  Totally legit?  How'd you get out?"  They were all fair questions and Leon might not have been able to trust anyone else with the real answer.  He did trust Nia though, they went too far back and he'd tested her loyalty once before.  He couldn't imagine she had turned up now only to try to bring him down.  He leant forward a little and spoke freely for some time.

"It's hard to think you made it out and with so much to put into all this," Nia responded.

"It was complicated but like I said, promoting the right combination of people below me, combined with holding enough information on those above me, I was able to just step away and no one dared touch me."

"Why here?"

"The price was right.  I needed my own little fortress to live in.  I have lots of space and almost everything I could need here."  Their eyes met across the table for a lingering moment.  "The day I put down the money for this I went totally legit.  Turned a page in my life and I'm working to try to fix a lot of shit that I've done.  I've got a couple of programs that are just taking off.  One is a program for drug addicts and the other is the training program for staff here."

"What do you mean?" Nia asked.

"I take on a lot of ex-cons and people looking to step up to a real job from the streets."

"And that works?  You not getting ripped off?"

"You gotta take the right people with the right motivations, maybe they got a wife or kids, or maybe they just really want to pay the mortgage and make it to the next month.  They start in the low risk jobs and on the basis of merit people are working their way up.  I might be the owner of this business but I got some really smart managers and the success really pays off for the staff at all levels because everyone has a stake in the business.  Shares and bonuses reward them for their own successes.  With diversification this place has been steadily turning a profit from a point when more than half of the building was empty.  There were a lot of foreclosures."

"So I guess what you wrote in this note really was the truth then?"  Nia tapped the top of the box.

"May I?"  Leon gestured for the box and Nia slid it over to him.  He opened it.  "The tags?"

"Here."  Nia touched her hand to her chest.  She was proud to wear his tags especially now she'd seen the change he'd made.

It was more than she had hoped for.  He wasn't just putting his business sense to legitimate use, he was trying to make a difference.

Leon read the note inside the box he'd written what seemed like ages ago.  He'd come to the realization that he had to change, not just because he wanted to be with Nia but because he realized, like her, he needed to to survive.  He'd realized that the life he was living couldn't go on and that even now it might catch up with him.  He'd made many mistakes and crossed many people.  He couldn't put it all right or take it all back but he was damn sure he'd do what he could to help one group of people that needed it and deserved it.

"You hungry?" Leon asked.

"I could murder an excellent steak."  Nia was hungry after having expended so much energy at the video shoot.

Marcus was watching from across the room.  He was nervous about what Nia might be getting herself back into.  His eyes scanned the room one more time.  Nia and Leon got up from their table and Marcus moved, ready to escort them.  He met with them at the door to the lounge.

"I'm having dinner with Leon.  Take a break," Nia told him.  Leon waved to one of his employees.

"Marcus, you've been good to Nia for as long as I can remember.  Dinner, massage, whatever you need, it's taken care of.  Phil here will see to it that you're taken care of."  Leon was keen to warm the relationship with Marcus which had always been a little off and not just because of the normal competitive rivalry that existed between Marines and Rangers.

"Sure, as long as you're happy for me to stand down ma'am."

"I'll call if I need you."

Dinner was excellent and Nia was pleased to catch up with Leon.  Almost all of the things which had ended their friendship were simply gone because of the changes he'd made.  It put her more at ease with him than she'd ever been.  He was still the same man she'd fallen in love with, handsome, caring and he understood her.  But that now came without the fear that he might disappear from her life because he was dead or in jail.

In so many ways it felt like the clock had been wound back to the times when their relationship was at its best but this was actually better.  The evening even reminded her of that first evening in the hotel in Cuba.  As they sat opposite each other flirting across the table Nia didn't think of the bad times she'd had in between.  Nia thought about how she had wanted him then and how she wanted him now.  She was sure he felt the same way.

"So does this place have a great view of Miami or what?"  Nia's hand slid across the table and rested on Leon's.

The elevator took less than two minutes to reach Leon's penthouse apartment but they used every second.  Leon pressed his body against Nia's with a desire that had multiplied over time and she pressed her lips against his with an inferno of passion that was equally overdue.  Nia's hand clasped the back of his neck and as she rose on her tiptoes she pulled him in closer.  Leon's arms wrapped around her tightly as if he might lose her all over again.  His hands quickly began to explore her body and Nia welcomed it.  She liked the feel of his strong arms and his manly scent.

The elevator pinged when it reached the penthouse on the forty-fourth floor.  Nia had already begun stripping Leon's shirt off  and was doing so in such haste that some of the buttons just popped off and scattered across the solid wood floor.  It bothered neither of them.  There was no time to switch on the lights and as the light from the elevator faded both of them felt a heightened sense of touch.  Without interrupting their kissing Leon led Nia through to the master bedroom.

Panoramic windows revealed the beautifully lit skyline of Miami at night but it was nothing more than a backdrop to them.  Nia was beyond wanting to see the view.  Their clothes dropped to the floor together and her heart raced as Leon unfastened the clasp on her bra.  Her fingers ran over his muscular chest and down his rippling abs.  His body was so fine and she wanted to give herself to him completely.

They fell onto the soft sheets together.  His hands explored and caressed her in places she'd only dreamed of and in ways he'd only fanaticized about.  Nia pushed him down on his back and as he looked up at her she was silhouetted against the panoramic view.  Her skin was warm and soft to his touch and Leon was firmly aroused by her curvaceous body.

Leon was every bit the man, and more, that Nia had expected.  Even with the air conditioning cooling the apartment she was quickly hot as she worked her body on him.  Nia didn't know how long it lasted because it simultaneously felt like it passed in a flash and stretched out into an eternity.

The sweat ran down her back as she arched it in ecstasy.  Nia whipped her head back and clawed her fingernails into Leon's chest, moaning loudly.  She'd never felt pleasure like it before.  Leon's hands were firmly wrapped around her hips and steadied her before she collapsed down and rested her head on his chest.  She could hear his heart racing and they caught their breath together.

Minutes passed and it felt so good to finally be in his arms.  It was better than she'd ever imagined.  Her eyes were closed in bliss as she enjoyed his soft caress.  It was better than any high she had ever experienced

"I love you."  The words came warm and sweet to her ears.

"I love you too," Nia replied.  "I always have."

As she drifted off to sleep, Nia was sure her life would have Leon in it again.

# TWENTY-SIX

Nia felt she could barely keep pace with life.  After long days shooting music videos she would make music in the studio long into the night.  She'd transferred much of the day to day management of the club over to Gabriella, who had the talent for it.  People still confused the two of them and after a while it seemed more hassle than it was worth for Gabriella to keep setting them straight.  Soon she became comfortable in the job and the occasions when Nia would ask her to literally stand in for her.

For Nia, it was hard to let go completely of her business.  H3 was at its peak and needed a fulltime manager.  Gabriella could do that, giving Nia the opportunity to reach her full potential in the music business.

Nia was back in training with Marcus and the daily runs were topping five miles at a steady pace.  Nia had signed up for the Miami Marathon and was determined to get a good time.

In the few months that had passed Nia had seen Leon only a couple of times a week.  It was less than she'd expected after the incredible first night they spent together and the several that had followed.  They were both so busy but Nia also knew she was purposely taking it slow because the relationship meant so much to her.  It had to develop again slowly within the framework of the new lives they were both living.  Nia had been there and done the naive crush before.  Back then she would have thrown herself into the relationship without truly knowing who she was or what she wanted.  Now Nia was taking her time and not losing who she was or where she was going.  Leon loved and respected her all the more for it.

So on rare evenings with no commitments, she didn't automatically go to Leon.  Tonight Nia was pouring over her laptop and the internet forums she'd started visiting when she'd first found out Tupac was her father.  She'd still not been able to work up the courage to talk to Afeni or even to tell Marcus that she'd read the test results.  As crazy as it seemed, it hadn't even crossed her mind to tell Leon.

The focus of Nia's reading in the forums had slowly shifted away from theories about Tupac still being alive to the many theories on who had killed him and why.  The more she read the more questions she had.  The official case was cold and had been for years.  Even fresh speculation was rare and only provided the occasional moment of excited interest.  So much of what Nia read was a recycled regurgitation of a hundred other posts on as many forums.

Nia began to wonder whether she was just torturing herself with it all and was about to close her laptop but stopped when she got an instant message on the forum's chat function.  The screen name 'Ghost' flashed at the bottom of her screen.  She clicked on it and the message popped up.

"I have what you're looking for."  Nia was sick of the spam bots that kept promising her hot girls in her area but this one looked different.  She'd play along for a few minutes.

"What am I looking for?" Nia replied, expecting an automated response directing her to a live webcam showing a half-naked girl stripping.  Nothing happened.  Bored, she closed the website and began to close her media player in preparation for shutting her laptop down.  As the media player disappeared from her screen a box popped up.  She had never seen it before but mild panic shot through her as she registered the name Ghost on the title bar of the box.

Virus, Trojan, worm and a number of other computer security threats flashed through her mind.  Had her response to Ghost on the forum triggered an infection of her computer somehow, she wondered?

When her moment of panic passed Nia saw the box appeared on the face of it quite benign, the title bar reading 'Ghost Secure 256 bit AES Encrypted Chat'.  Under the title bar was an empty box with a blinking cursor.  Then text appeared "Ghost:  I know who your real father is."

Nia recoiled from her laptop.  How could anyone know? How could anyone even know she'd been searching?  This wasn't a virus and she needed to know who it was.

"Who the hell are you?"

"I'm sorry to be so direct but I had to get your attention.  In this chat window we can talk securely."

"I don't know who you are and why I'd have any reason to talk with you."

"Your father was Tupac Shakur and I have information you need."

"How would you know that even if it were true and what information could you possibly have that I would want?"

"Fair questions.  I represent a small but dedicated group of Tupac hacktivists.  Our secondary goal has been to find any existing heir to Tupac's legacy.  We do that via a variety of methods but central to it is the hacking of various business and governmental resources.  We matched your recent DNA test results with our own sample."

"Your own sample?  And how did you trace me, the test was confidential – no names mentioned?"  Nia couldn't believe it.

"We have a reliable Shakur sample.  We matched the sample in your test to another on CODIS and back traced you that way."

"The DEA sample?"

"Yeah."

"That wasn't a real arrest they shouldn't have turned in any DNA."

"Well they did but you're right, we didn't find any arrest report or information as to why the sample had been taken."

"Okay, I'm listening.  You said finding me was your secondary objective?"

"Yes."

"What's your primary objective?"

"Our primary objective has always been to uncover the truth about who murdered your father.  When we found you we saw that you were also searching."

"So where do I come in?  You want some sort of help?"

"Yes and no.  We have fragments of information on who murdered your father and why but not the full picture.  From what we do have I can tell you that you might be in danger.  It is likely that the same people who murdered your father don't want you around either."

"What?  Why?"

"It's not clear but if we could get our hands on the complete set of information then all the facts will be known.  Until then be very careful and assume that at any time your father's killers could track you down just like we did."

"When will you have the complete picture?"  Nia didn't believe her safety was under threat but wanted to know what Ghost was talking about.

"It's not a question of when, rather a question of if we'll have it.  The information fragments we've uncovered have come from a database on a secure government network.  We were able to break into the network but only to get fractions of a few files."

"A government network?"

"It looks like the government knows who murdered your father.  The only way to read the files is to physically break them out."

"Surely wherever they are the government has them well protected?" Nia asked.  "And has them locked up for a reason?"

"The reason isn't clear.  It's possible they were somehow involved but that's speculation and you're right, they are hard to get to.  We're working on a solution to get the files electronically transferred to a much less secure location."

"And then you break them out?"

"I'm sorry but we're hackers.  We're not capable or qualified for that.  I wish we were."

Nia paused for thought.  It was so much to take in all at once.  Hackers dedicated to Tupac's legacy had tracked her down like a needle in a thousand haystacks and had also gained limited access to information that was supposed to reveal who killed her father and why.  The full details of which could only be revealed if the files could be physically retrieved, which could only happen if they could be moved to a less secure location.

What Nia was struggling to understand was why this information would be on government servers.  What did the government possibly have to do with her father's death?  She'd read conspiracy theories online but they were only theories, no one had any proof.  It seemed crazy and Nia wondered whether she was crazy for believing any of it could be true.

"Get the files moved, preferably somewhere local, and notify me when it's done.  I'll get them out."

Nia slept on the information before speaking to Marcus about it during a drive back from a guest appearance on a local radio station.  She was a little more clear headed about it and was glad to have told someone else that Tupac Shakur was her father.  In the light of day the idea that the government had something to do with his murder seemed highly unlikely and even more unlikely that there was a record of it.  They both agreed to wait and see if Ghost contacted Nia again.  Neither of them knew how long it would be until they knew anything more.

Preparation for the Miami marathon had meant many weeks of running distances Nia had never thought she was capable of doing.  Her muscles had ached more than ever and she'd dealt with several blisters but slowly she'd conditioned her body and her mind to push beyond her comfort zone.  Her confidence was high after these longer runs but she was still nervous because she'd never done the full twenty-six miles or even run competitively.

Packed in tightly among the crowd of competitors waiting to cross the start line Nia kept her body moving to stay lose.  Marcus was beside her.  Both were running in support of the Miami Children's Hospital Foundation and wore running vests that showed this.

The pack of runners began to move slowly across the start line.  With several thousand people trying to get moving at once it wasn't until a few seconds after crossing the start line that Nia could break into a proper run.  Within a minute she was running a more steady pace, exhilarated by the primal feel to the experience of running with so many other people.  Nia knew she had to avoid getting carried away with too quick a pace because of the adrenaline or she risked exhausting herself far too early.  It was like a stampeding herd and she also had to concentrate fully on not tripping over herself or the other runners.

Clyde Roberts knew how important his target was and not just because he was only ever called upon to eliminate high level threats.  He'd received the usual forty-eight hours notice to complete his recon and set up the kill.  It was more than enough and he had congratulated himself on the ingeniousness of his plan.

From his perch atop one of Downtown Miami's many tall buildings he looked out east towards Miami Beach.  It wasn't like the movies, the twenty-nine inch barrel of his M107 .50 caliber rifle didn't hang over the edge of the building for passers-by below to spot.  He was too good to make such a rookie mistake.  Roberts was comfortably positioned back from the edge with most of the weight of the rifle supported by its bipod.  He was glad of the partial shade from the building's air conditioning unit because in his prone position he was already beginning to heat up in the late morning sun.  A cap kept the sun out of his eyes but beads of sweat trickled down the side of his face and it irritated him as did the uncomfortable radio earpiece.

Looking through his scope Roberts watched the first few runners emerging from under the arches of the toll booth on Venetian Causeway which stretched across the water from Miami Beach to Downtown Miami.  The runners were already several miles into the race but he could see that the race leaders remained energized.  The effective range of the .50 cal was far beyond the distance at which he was looking but he'd selected the powerful weapon because of its ability to inflict massive damage.  It was challenging to hit a moving target at range but with the .50 cal so long as he hit the main mass of the target's torso he was almost guaranteed a kill.  The .50 cal was known for its ability to pierce armor plating and would literally rip a person in two.

Marcus had settled into a steady pace, his initial energy giving way to a relaxed rhythm that would see him through the 26 mile course.  He'd done distances like this before but it had been entirely different.  This was a clean 26 miles.  The last time he'd done a comparable distance he'd been a lot younger and it had taken a lot longer.  He'd walked much of it with a heavy pack and then the final parts of it had been taken in small bounds under enemy fire.  He'd yet to decide whether this would be easier.  He was sure that he'd keep pace with Nia despite her youthful advantage and lack of comparable muscle bulk.  He was far from the picture of a skinny distance runner.

The pack of runners was thinning slightly as they crossed from Belle Isle Park to the Venetian Islands along the Venetian Causeway.  The causeway was two and a half miles long, linking Downtown Miami with South Beach.

Marcus wiped the sweat from his forehead in a futile attempt to stop it running in his eyes.  He'd hoped for a rain shower but none had materialized yet and the weather was being true to the forecast of sunny skies.  It made the heat intense and both he and Nia were glad of the shade from trees and buildings when they could get it.  But on the causeway there was little escape.  Along the route there was opportunity to get water and energy drinks supplied by the race sponsors but the best thing was when spectators offered to cool them off with a water pistol or garden hose.

Shade briefly came and went as they passed under the arches of the toll booths going into the last six hundred yards of the causeway.  The skyline of Downtown Miami was now fully visible and Marcus looked ahead to the slight rise approaching the drawbridge.  There were no hills to encounter which was a blessing and they had already crossed the tallest bridge, a gentle nine meters elevation, in the first quarter mile.

Marcus had taken to running behind Nia, letting her dictate the pace.  It also made it easier for him to scan for threats as she was able to lead the way through the pack of runners.  His eyes scanned over the spectators who, dressed in the traditional orange, cheered the runners on.  He also spotted the race marshals in their identifying attire, clutching radios, and saw aid stations with paramedics on standby.  There was nothing that gave him forewarning of the threat he and Nia were rapidly approaching.

His ear piece had alerted him in time for Roberts to pick up his target as she emerged from the shade of the arches over the toll booths.  He'd sighted his rifle to a range that would take the half inch caliber round about a second to cover, taking into account his own elevation and the arc his round would cut through the air.  When his target reached the right distance he'd take his shot.  Any further away and it became much more complicated to account for a moving target.  One second of bullet travel time was already enough.

He was pleased to see that the bodyguard was running so close behind.  There was a chance he'd kill them both.  He slowed his breathing as his training had taught him.  His heart rate was already slowed due to his physical fitness and the mental relaxation exercises he'd done while laying in wait.  He had to shoot in between heartbeats as even the slight movement inside his chest could throw his aim enough to miss his target completely at this distance.

That could not happen.

Roberts' mental focus and slow heartbeat didn't reveal his excitement at completing this job.  He'd been groomed for such a kill.  In the archives of his employer he'd studied the operation that had killed his target's father.  It had been a legendary operation in so many ways and he had crafted his similarly.  He saw the benefit of executing the operation today.  It was pre-emptive.  The world didn't yet know who she was and he knew it had to stay that way.  That was the one criticism he had of the operation that had killed her father, it had come too late, allowing him to die as a martyr.  Roberts would have much preferred to have seen him die in something unobtrusive like a car crash.  But the one good thing about martyrs, he thought, is that they are all dead.  So she would also be soon.

Additionally, Roberts knew he had to cover his own tracks after this kill today.  He had it all set.  He'd take out his target out and then rapid fire the remaining nine rounds from his magazine into the pack of runners before anyone could pinpoint the direction of his fire.  It would appear indiscriminate and then he'd leave someone else to take the fall.

As he followed his target he could hear the whimpering of the pathetic Muslim six feet away.  He was wearing a suicide vest and was currently bound so he couldn't interfere with the operation.  Roberts would leave him on the roof with the rifle while he made his getaway and then trigger the suicide vest from a safe distance.  The man's family would be aghast at what had happened, claiming that he had never displayed any radical tendencies.  Roberts had seen to it that when the police spoke to members of the congregation at his mosque a few would express they had always had concerns but never anything that they'd thought specific enough to report to the authorities.

Roberts smiled at the genius of his plan which would achieve his objective and also strengthen anti-Islamic feelings when the country learned of the terrorist attack on peaceful Miamian marathon runners.

His finger gently took up the first pressure on the trigger and he trained his sight pattern on his target even more tightly.  Through the magnified scope he could clearly see her and he locked on to the central mass of her torso.  Time appeared to stretch out as he waited for exactly the right moment and his target appeared to run in slow motion.  She moved up and down in the sight picture with each stride and he admired the athleticism of her body.

Slowly he drew in a final breath and then relaxed his chest letting half of it out slowly.  He felt his heart beat and then he squeezed off the final action on the trigger.

The recoil blasted the rifle into his shoulder and the shockwave threw up dust all around him but Roberts didn't notice.  He was keenly focusing through his scope.

Marcus didn't have any chance of hearing it coming.  He was scanning the spectators and then followed Nia who had moved quickly into an opening in the pack to their left.  It had been at precisely the right moment.  A runner to Marcus' right exploded in a flash of red and was thrown backwards, slamming into other runners and then the ground.

Marcus' senses came to life.  He not only saw the impact of the round but had heard the snap sound as it hit.  Almost immediately afterwards, he heard the crack from the weapon which had fired it.  The delay was caused by the fact that the bullet travelled so fast it could arrive before the sound of the explosion in the rifle that had propelled it.

Blood spatter covered the right-hand side of Marcus' body but he was unconcerned with this.  His training and experience was kicking in and without consciously thinking about it he compiled a threat assessment in his mind in as little time as there had been between the snap and crack.

Screams were erupting around him and Nia turned her head.  He grabbed her running top at the shoulder and urged her on faster.

"Sprint!" Marcus shouted.

Suddenly there were more snapping sounds all around them.  Screams quickly drowned out everything else as they witnessed two people cut in half and one man's leg entirely severed from his body.

Neither Marcus nor Nia had the option to feel tired from the distance they had covered in the race so far and their legs came alive.  Marcus knew that speed and direction were two factors that made it particularly difficult to hit a target so he pulled Nia in a zigzag motion through the runners, now also fleeing rather than competing.  Hysterical panic was sweeping the causeway.  He could only assume Nia was the target because the first shot had been so close and he couldn't see any other noteworthy targets.  He had to assume the follow up rounds were intended for her since the first one had missed.

Roberts squeezed off additional rounds trying to hit his target.  If he'd had time he'd have cursed himself for not making the first shot as he was now struggling to pin down an evading target.

Marcus was counting out the shots.  With the damage that was being inflicted it had to be a .50 cal and his bets were on the M107 with a ten round mag.  Marcus knew the weapon took a ten round mag but wondered for less than a split whether this guy was smart enough to have had one in the chamber too.  They would have to chance it, he thought.

He counted the tenth round strike a target to their left as they were again sprayed with blood and tissue from a body whose head exploded like a water melon.

"Come on!" Marcus ordered Nia as he ran her towards the edge of the causeway.  People were already throwing themselves off into the water and if they stayed any longer they would have been a much clearer target.  Marcus had waited until the point of a reload in the hope it would help them escape the sights of their attacker.

As they jumped the barrier at a sprint Marcus was as relieved as was possible in a situation like this that they'd been attacked here and not the nine meter high bridge in the first quarter mile.  But it was still quite a drop and they hit the water hard.  Once they resurfaced Marcus directed Nia to swim as fast as she could under the causeway.  It was the only cover from fire.  But that was dangerous enough because more and more people were jumping off above them.

It was mayhem.  Hundreds of runners were jumping and runners further back in the course were running straight into the carnage.  Runners jumped on top of others already in the water and more were trampled before they even had a chance.  Screams filled the air all around them and some turned to gurgles as people drowned in panic.  People were pulling each other down just to try to stay afloat.

Nia and Marcus clung to the supporting structure under the causeway and even though the shooting had stopped Marcus remained alert for a secondary ambush.  It was what he would have done.  None came and soon they heard sirens.  Soon after that boats arrived to pull people out of the water.  Marcus was hesitant to move from under the water because there was no way to tell that the threat was over.

Suddenly more screams erupted.

"What's happened?" Marcus called to one of the rescuers in a boat.

"It's an explosion.  One of the buildings downtown."

Marcus inched out and he could see a fireball rising upwards from the top of a building.

"Come on, time to go."

Out of the water Marcus quickly led Nia to cover and away from the busses the police were directing people to.  It was a massive operation to clear the area and try to round up the witnesses.  He didn't like the buses, obvious secondary targets.  He also didn't like knocking a kid of his scooter, stealing it and making away with Nia on the back but there was little choice.  It was hard going weaving through the thousands of runners backed up on the causeway and they nearly toppled off the scooter several times before they eventually made it to open streets.

Roberts cursed himself for failing.  The news media would soon confirm who was dead but before that his contacts in law enforcement would let him know.  There was no time to waste waiting to hear what he was already sure of.  He had to assume his target had escaped and so he would now focus all his efforts on tracking her down.  He made some quick phone calls and set up a surveillance operation.  He was already forming another plan to take down his target.

Nia held tight to Marcus as they sped north for several miles before crossing the water back into North Miami.  Marcus pulled the scooter into the parking lot of the North Miami Shopping Centre and they dismounted.

"Those shots were for me, right?"  Nia had been too shocked by the carnage to comprehend what had happened until now.

"I think so ma'am."

"Fuck," Nia exclaimed.  "Ghost said I might be in danger but this, all those people..."

"Come on, we got to keep moving," Marcus said, already sensing she felt responsible.

Marcus took Nia by the hand and they walked away from the scooter which stood with its key still in the ignition.  Marcus hoped it wouldn't be long before it was taken, hampering any attempts to track them, since that kid had probably reported it.

They walked for a half mile to distance themselves from where they'd abandoned the scooter and then Marcus flagged down a cab.

Neither of them had any money on them.  They were still dressed in their running gear but when the cab pulled up at the address Marcus had given to the driver he quickly ran inside and then returned with some cash to pay the driver.  The cab pulled away and Marcus led Nia up the path to the front door of the small single floor house.

"Is this your place?" Nia asked, realizing she had never been to Marcus' home.

"No, but we should be safe here."

Marcus locked the front door behind them.  Nia looked around.  It was a very basic looking place and barely looked lived in.  There were no photos or pictures on the walls but she was glad to see that in the kitchen the fridge was stocked.  She tossed a bottled water to Marcus and they stood in silence as they poured the drinks down their throats.  Their bodies needed the fluid after the dehydration of the race and what had followed.

"What do we do now?" Nia asked.

"I'm working on that.  As soon as I've changed I'm going to go pick up a few things and I'll be back soon.  You go shower and change too.  There are some clothes in the bedroom.  Just don't answer the door to anyone while I'm gone."

"Okay."

The shower freshened up her skin, washing away the combination of sweat, salt water and dirt.  It did nothing to clear the images from her mind of rounds that were meant for her cutting down the runners all around her.

With a towel wrapped around her Nia found her way from the bathroom to the bedroom.  She pulled open several drawers looking for clothes.  Marcus had clearly planned this place to be some sort of a safe house.  In the drawers she found bundles of cash, boxes of ammunition and in the closet stood a couple of M4 rifles.  On hangers were several body armor vests.  Along with all that she also found herself some clothes.

Marcus had more attention to detail than any other man she knew.  Not only had he provided a selection of clothes in her size but he'd taken the time to wash the new clothes smell out of them.  Nia felt much better pulling on fresh and comfortable clothes even if it seemed a little weird that Marcus had picked them out for her.  Against the background of the day's events it paled in comparison and she was now certain Ghost had been right.  Her life was under threat.  It was this that occupied her mind as she flipped on the news and watched reports of the carnage.  The whole of Miami was in shock and interviews with bloodied runners played over and over.

Nia was furious, not only that she'd nearly been killed but that whoever had tried to do it had done so at the expense of so many other lives.  There was a depth to what Ghost had told her and right now she was desperate to get back in touch.  Revealing who murdered her father might be the only solution to stopping the threat to her life, Nia began to realize.

It wasn't until light had begun to fade that Marcus returned and if Nia hadn't known him so well she might have started to think he wasn't coming back at all.

"Sorry I took so long ma'am.  They were still working on the Hummer."  Marcus had insisted it get a custom armor job after he'd heard about the possible threat to her life.  It was something he'd always planned on doing as Nia's fame increased but now he was glad he'd gone ahead with it early.  It had been due for pick up in two days but he'd managed to get a rush on the finishing touches.

"I saw the cash and other stuff you have tucked away in the bedroom."  Nia's tone was appreciative.

"I set this place up a while ago as a go to refuge.  I kitted it out with a few extra essentials after you told me Tupac was your father.  I had a dozen reasons in my mind for it but not specifically what happened today.  I don't know what information Ghost has about your father's murder but the simple fact that he was your father and you're following in his footsteps puts you at risk in my mind."

"What about the club?  The staff?"

"We can't go back there right now.  No one knows where you are and I've got word to Gabriella to go to Leon's and keep her head down.  Last thing we want is her getting killed because someone has mistaken her for you."

"Shit this situation sucks!"

"Way I see it we've got two options.  First is running and hiding but there's no telling if or when this threat will pass.  Second is the strong offense but we just don't know who or what we're up against.  We have enough cash to get you to another state, maybe even another county, and to find some place quiet to start over.  A few fake IDs under a different name, a new national security number and you'll be able to start a new life."

"But I leave all of this behind?  Friends, the club and my music?"  Nia already knew the answer.  "I don't want that.  I don't know if I could live without it.  Especially since I know now there is a chance I could find out who murdered my father.  I wanna do that and put an end to all this."  Her tone was surprisingly defiant under the circumstances.

"Then we need to make a move on the files Ghost mentioned."

Nia and Marcus waited as night-time properly set in and refueled with a hot meal.  It wasn't the best but in the present situation both their minds were on more grave matters than the quality of their food.  The most important thing was it ended their hunger and gave them fuel to think.

Soon they were cruising in the Hummer in relative safety.  Marcus had already switched the plates with a pair from a set of clones and disabled the on-board satellite tracking system, which was supposed to be used in the event the vehicle was stolen.  Nia sat in the passenger seat operating her lap top.  As they cruised she piggy backed on and off any open Wi-Fi networks she could detect, public or otherwise.  She was surprised by how many people didn't set a password.  When they found one they circled around, only using it for a few minutes.

Nia had no idea how to get hold of Ghost but hoped he would see her post in the same public forum where he'd initiated contact before.  While they waited she checked the news.  It was alive with details of the day's events and information was beginning to emerge suggesting that it had been the work of a lone gunman who had subsequently blown himself up.  He was suspected of being an Islamic extremist.

"You think?" Nia said, looking across at Marcus.

"Doubt it.  That first shot was definitely for you.  I'm not buying that story.  The media and police probably don't realize it yet but they've bought into false leads.  Back in the day I saw how black ops worked, just like that.  Someone here is covering their trail."

Before Nia could carry on the conversation with Marcus she received an instant message from Ghost.

"It's him," Nia said to Marcus.

The same as before she was directed to a link and within seconds her laptop was taken over by a secure 256 bit encryption.

"I've been looking for you," Ghost said.  "Was worried they might have got to you when I saw the news today."

"I'm good," Nia replied.  "You moved those files yet?"

"It's not quite that simple."

"What do you mean?"

"We've studied the system and if we move them you'll only have a window of a couple of minutes to extract them before the safeguards on the system pull them back and lock them down.  Once that happens we won't be able to get to them again."

"So what do you have in mind?"

"I'm sending over details of the data storage unit where we can move them to.  From what I can tell it's the least physically secure facility in your area."  Nia accepted a data transfer request.

"Take a look at these will you?" Nia asked Marcus.  He pulled the Hummer over to the side of the street and looked across at the laptop.  Ghost was remote accessing Nia's laptop, opening the files and running through the main points on them.  His instant messages popped up at the bottom of the screen detailing what had been learnt about the facility's weaknesses.

Marcus read and reviewed the documents, pleased to see that Ghost claimed to be able to not only transfer the files but also disable the alarm and camera systems remotely.  At night there was no staff presence, security or otherwise and that would make things much easier.

"Can you be ready to disable the security systems at 0300 hours the day after tomorrow?" Marcus typed on the keyboard before hitting enter.

"Will ten minutes be enough time before we transfer the files?" Ghost replied.  Marcus reviewed the plans to the data storage facility once more.

"Ten minutes is good."

"Anything else?"

"When we have the files what then?" Nia asked, taking the laptop back from Marcus who pulled the Hummer back into traffic.

"Depends on what is on the files but chances are you're going to want to leak them and you'll need help with that.  You can't just upload them to the net or take them to the media.  Whoever is responsible for whatever is on those files will be able to blackout the news and kill off your uploaded files before you get anywhere with them."

"Then how do we do this?"

"I have a contact at Wikileaks.  They have the capacity to leak something that's potentially as big as this.  I'll arrange a meeting.  Might be a few days because he'll want to take physical possession of the files and he'll have to come from Europe.  Can't transfer the files electronically or there is a chance they'll be intercepted and corrupted.  I'll contact him straight away."

"Okay."

"Name a public place for the meet and I'll leave a message for you on the forum with a date and time."

Nia gave Ghost the address of the Portofino Tower building and Ghost terminated the secure connection shortly afterwards.

Nia couldn't believe what was happening.  Events were unfolding at such speed and in a direction she had yet to fully understand.  It seemed that wherever direction her life was taking she would only really understand her destiny when she saw what was contained in the files.  Who was responsible for her father's murder?  Why was the government somehow involved and how could she possibly stop whoever was trying to kill her?

Back at the house Marcus studied the intel package Ghost had put together for them on the facility housing the servers where the files would be transferred to.  The information looked good and if he'd had his old team the job would have been a walk in the park.  But there was only him and Nia and she'd expressly said she didn't want anyone else involved.  Even if Nia was up to assisting him that still left them without anyone to watch the perimeter in case their break-in was discovered.

It would be a break-in he told himself, knowing that he would be breaking the law.  It went against all he stood for but if there was a chance that the attack earlier that day had anything to do with the government he had to know.  He'd fought for his country and seen many close friends die.  The thought that the government might somehow have been involved in the murder of Nia's father and this attack on her was unacceptable to him.  Marcus knew Nia and he saw absolutely no reason at all to justify killing her.

Marcus finalized the plan in his mind and ran through it with Nia.  It was his area of expertise so she could only trust that it would work.  Next they loaded up the Hummer with all the kit Marcus had in the house.  It was late and it was better to be loading rifles, pistols and ammunition into the Hummer while the neighborhood was sleeping.  They also loaded some food, extra clothes and the cash.

The drive north to the target took a few hours.  Once they were within five miles Marcus pulled off the road and they checked in at a motel.  Neither of them had slept for twenty-two hours and they were exhausted.

The usual conversation was subdued as they both inwardly contemplated the situation they were in.  They had less than twenty-four hours before they would seize the files that would determine their next move.  Before Marcus fell asleep he watched Nia drift off and begin to dream.  As the sun began to rise and cast a chink of light through the blinds his mind remained alert, listening and waiting for any sound that might indicate a threat.  His pistol lay on the bedside table ready to eliminate any threat at his command.

# TWENTY-SEVEN

With every breath Nia was in agony.  The right-hand side of her ribcage was on fire.  She struggled to take a full breath and was feeling lightheaded.  She reached her hand to the pain in her rips and felt wetness on her fingertips.  In the darkness she could just make out her hand and the dark blood that covered her fingers.  She didn't understand what was happening.  Nia coughed and blood spewed from her mouth.  She could taste it.  She started to choke and felt like she was drowning as the blood filled her lungs.

Nia woke from the nightmare feeling nauseous.  She rushed to the bathroom and vomited in the toilet.  After several minutes the feeling stabilized.  She didn't feel great but could cope without vomiting again.  She had to open up the windows to get some fresh air into the room.  It wasn't that it was hot but the smell of the room seemed so potent to her.

Marcus returned from picking up some breakfast for the both of them.  They'd need it after having only slept for a few hours.

"You okay?" Marcus asked Nia after seeing her sitting on the edge of the bed looking fragile.

"I think I'm pregnant."

Marcus quickly put the food on the table and knelt down beside Nia.  He caressed her shoulder.

"You okay?  You sure?"  He didn't know what else to say.

"I think so."

"Then we've got to reconsider what we're about to do."

"No, if I am pregnant that is all the more reason to fight this.  I can't imagine living a life on the run with a baby.  My Mama already tried that."

"If you're able to eat you should.  That can help with the sickness.  You'll also need the strength for today and tonight."

"Okay."

Nia hadn't been able to keep her breakfast down but she didn't let it stop her preparing for what Marcus was now referring to as an operation.  The do not disturb sign was hung on the door to the motel room and Marcus proceeded to run Nia through the use of the SIG P228 and the M4.  Nia learnt quickly and the training she'd received from Leon years before had given her a big head start.

Over and over Marcus ran her through drills for both weapons until he was confident in her proficiency.  That was the easy part.  He had to put faith in Nia's marksmanship because they couldn't do any practice firing.  Marcus didn't plan on a shootout and would have preferred that they'd both been better prepared but this was how operations often went down.  He knew that from experience.

The hard part for Nia was learning how to move tactically.  When she'd worked with Leon it hadn't been like that.  They used to just walk up in a place and let it be known that they were strapped.  Marcus got her moving more like a Marine than the average street hood.  He showed her how to work as a team as they moved, each covering a preset arc of fire.  Using the small motel room as mock training ground Marcus set up various scenarios that taught Nia how to move tactically.  From the bathroom to the main room and back again they moved, imagining threats from different angles and how to move and put down suppressive fire.  And when Nia started to get it he made it harder telling her that her weapon had jammed, forcing her to switch to her backup.

After six hours of practice Marcus ran Nia through several more hours of operation specific practice until she knew it inside out like he did.  Light had faded outside by the time they had finished and Nia could feel the pressure building as the operation neared.  She'd never sat any big exams at school but imagined this was what it was like, lots of preparation and then that quiet period just before where you know that if you don't have it down it's too late to do anything about it.

Marcus had picked three o'clock in the morning because his training told him that this was when people were the least reactive, although they didn't intend to come across anyone.  There weren't any guards stationed on site according to the intel from Ghost and the surrounding area wasn't residential so the risk of alerting anyone was low.  The key to the operation was Ghost disabling the cameras and alarms.

Marcus checked his watch.  It read 03:00 but he waited a minute just to be sure that Ghost had had time to pull the plug on the security systems.  When a minute had passed Marcus and Nia moved out of the shadows dressed in tactical gear towards the service gate at the rear of the property.  Nia covered her arcs of fire just like he'd taught her.

At the gate Marcus quickly cut through the lock with a pair of bolt cutters.  He tossed them aside.  He wasn't worried about fingerprints because both of them were wearing gloves.  The door to the building didn't yield so quickly.  Marcus used an auto pick on the lock but it took longer than he'd expected.  They only had minutes to find the right hard disk.

It took only seconds to find the server room and then both Marcus and Nia began searching the serial numbers.  Both had memorized the one they needed, the one Ghost had told them he would transfer the files to.  At first it seemed hopeless as there were so many, hundreds or maybe even thousands.  There was a pattern, however, and once Nia had spotted this they quickly honed in on the right one.

They couldn't possibly know whether the files were on it yet but they had to trust that Ghost had done his job.  Nia looked at Marcus and he nodded at her.  She pulled it out and watched the power lights go off as it disconnected.

Exiting should have been simple but as they proceeded down the corridor to the exit a security guard stepped into the doorway, blocking their exit.  Nia saw him reach for his weapon and without thinking she fired off three rounds.  The adrenaline of the moment made her fire just off target.  She hadn't fired a weapon in a long time and the shots went above the guard's head.  The guard was so frightened by the shots and how loud it was in the narrow corridor that he stumbled backwards over the door step and lost his balance.

Marcus had already gone into a crouch, with Nia doing the same shortly afterwards but there was no threat of return fire.  Marcus watched the guard's handgun slip from his grip as he fell and then it clattered across the floor inside.  Nia and Marcus rushed forward to take advantage of the guard's fall.  Nia had fired instinctually but neither of them wanted to shoot it out with a man who probably had a wife and kids at home waiting for him.  He was just unlucky that his usual rounds of the various properties he looked after had brought him here at the same time as them.

Marcus flipped the guard over on his face and pulled out his wallet.  He took out the guard's license and read the address out.  He also saw that the man did indeed have a wife and a son.  They looked cute in the photo.

"Raise the alarm and we'll pay your family a visit.  Understand?"

"Yes."

Just around the corner they got back into the Hummer and drove away.

"Shit,"  Nia said, "I thought I'd killed the guy."

"That was some wild fire ma'am."

"I know, kinda surprised me.  Really good move pulling the guy's wallet by the way."

"I hated that, just didn't want him to raise the alarm too soon."

Marcus drove a while to make sure that they'd not been tailed and as soon as he was sure they were clear he drove them back to the motel.  Once back in the motel's relative safety Nia connected the hard drive to her laptop.  It had a modest encryption but the application she'd downloaded from Ghost defeated it in the time it took her and Marcus to get out of their gear.

At first there was too much information for Nia to get her head around but as she read more and more it began to make sense.  It was hard to read on when she understood the full extent of what they had uncovered.  It was bigger than who killed her father and who was after her now.  The information they had in their possession was enough to shake the American Government and the American Dream to the ground.

"Break it down for me," Marcus asked.

"You heard of COINTELPRO?"

"The FBI's counter intelligence program?"

"Started in fifty-seven and allegedly concluded in seventy-one.  Well, this here says it never really concluded."

"Okay, but people have known about COINTELPRO for a while now," Marcus responded.

"True, but think about this, COINTELPRO was set up to maintain the country's existing social and political order through covert and illegal practices.  That we know.  COINTELPRO was responsible for the assassination of people like Fred Hampton the spokesperson of the Black Panther Party.  That we know.  But there's is a list here of who else they assassinated and it's dated right up to the late nineties."

"My God," Marcus exclaimed as he read down the document.  It read like a who's who of opposition to conservative American politics for the last seventy years.  Names jumped out at him immediately, the Kennedys, Malcolm X, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and more recently Tupac Shakur and Christopher Wallace.

"This shows that not only has it not stopped but that it is more widespread than anyone had ever imagined.  Take a look at this document, it's a communication that shows this wasn't limited to the FBI and police but that multiple other agencies were involved.  Small units at each but almost every agency is on here."  Nia looked at Marcus in disbelief and he looked back at her in the same way.

"Maybe there is someone coordinating an overall strategy and I doubt it is coming from the Office of the President if these people assassinated JFK.  Maybe there is another body using the apparatus of the state to its own ends.  Have a look see if there is anything about that in there."

"It's not clear, there is enough here to keep us reading for months.  Ghost was right about Wikileaks being best poised to execute a leak of this magnitude."

"What about your father's murder?"

"I'm looking now."

It took Nia a few minutes to pull together the files relating to her father.  She was shocked again at what she read.

Hip-hop had been identified as a subversive culture predominantly among black Americans.  Tupac Shakur had been identified as an acute threat to American society due to his overt political messages and the depth of his family roots in Black Power movements.  His desire to coordinate a reform process for criminals through the THUG LIFE movement was a significant threat.  The report indicated a smear campaign was required to discredit him and if possible the wider hip-hop culture.

Nia opened the next summary update report.  This detailed that false charges filed against him for sexual assault, had proceeded well to begin with.  However, it was feared that he was becoming suspicious, especially after receiving advice from former Black Panthers who were familiar with COINTELPRO tactics.

The report detailed that a decision was made to escalate the operation and in ninety-four he was wounded in a shooting.  The goal had been to wound rather than kill as the second phase was to drive a wedge into hip-hop between Tupac and Christopher Wallace by sowing rumors that Christopher Wallace had wanted and ordered Tupac dead because he wouldn't join Bad Boy records.  The report noted in the past this divide and conquer tactic had been particularly effective in breaking up the Black Panther Party.  The East Coast West Coast war in hip-hop then followed, bringing division and a violent image to hip-hop.

One other follow up report was available and it listed Operation Machiavelli, Tupac's assassination as successful.  It had been required because it hadn't been anticipated how much a force hip-hop could still be even if it was divided and discredited.  A footnote referenced the assassination of Christopher Wallace as a precautionary measure should he fill the vacuum left by Tupac.  It also made the recommendation that further targets for assassination be identified on an on-going basis to ensure hip-hop remained castrated.  When Nia read the rest of the footnote it sent a chill down her spine.

It listed Tupac as having unfortunately gained martyr status amongst black Americans.  It was troublesome that he'd reinvented himself as Makaveli right about the time of his death and kept releasing albums.  The level of planning and forethought he'd put into maintaining a presence after his death was frustrating because it was galvanizing his martyr status.  However, this only proved that it had been a wise decision to act.  There was little further action that could be taken so a standby operation was formed within the general operations against hip-hop to safeguard the future should a real or perceived heir to Tupac arise.  It was called Operation Machiavelli's Prince.

"Shit, that's me, Makaveli's Prince," Nia said, aghast at the realization.

Her life was at risk because these people had discovered Tupac was her father.  They must have activated Operation Machiavelli's Prince thinking she would have enough popular support to revive the political and cultural influence of Tupac.  Nia doubted that was possible but what was possible didn't matter.  The only thing that mattered was what these crazy people thought and who they wanted to kill in an attempt to preserve their idea of American society.

Nia had never felt herself to be particularly political but reading the files had definitely made her aware she was diametrically opposed to the views and values within them.

Nia read other reports and came across another of interest.

"Here!" Nia exclaimed.

"What does it say?" Marcus asked.

"When the FBI started COINTELPRO it had questionable aims but the report here says that white extremists, which had also been a focus for fifteen percent of COINTELPRO's resources, achieved a counter infiltration.  That's how they did it.  A lot of these people, FBI, CIA, all thought they were working legitimately but these white extremists wormed their way in through the back door and got fingers in all the pies.  These aren't bed sheet wearing Klan types, these are white extremists of the rich and powerful type.  They weren't just in the FBI.

"That's why when COINTELPRO was uncovered and supposedly stopped these people were able to carry on.  COINTELPRO was just part of a larger entity and sacrificed to preserve 'The Order of White American Patriots' and all the infiltrating it had done.  There are a lot of references to a one hundred year struggle and the revolution that will follow.  This has got to be made public."

The adrenaline from the operation was wearing off and both Nia and Marcus were exhausted.  There was too much to read in one sitting and eventually Nia had to crash.

Marcus watched over her for a while as he struggled to believe all that they'd read.  The whole apparatus of the country had been used to kill innocent people just like Nia because they held different views.  It made him angry.  This just wasn't the American way and the fact that the institutions that were supposed to protect the people had been turned against them was unacceptable to him.  As a Marine he'd sworn an oath to defend the constitution against all enemies, foreign and domestic.  The way he saw it, these people were a domestic enemy of the constitution.  Once a Marine always a Marine.

Marcus relaxed into the motel room's armchair and continued to watch over Nia, P228 in hand.  He thought about the day ahead and how much time they had to kill before they'd be able to hand the files off to the man from Wikileaks.  Marcus worried that the gravity of the files would be lost in a relatively faceless release from Wikileaks and true justice might not be served.  He'd seen it happen before.

He could see how this had affected Nia and realized her story could personalize the release of the files.  People knew her face and for Nia to be able to tell how this was still going on today, years after COINTELPRO was supposed to have stopped, would deliver this horrible truth to the youth of America whose future was being corrupted.  It was a long drive back to Miami and he'd propose his idea to Nia on the return journey.  She had a contact in the media that owed her a debt and could probably pull off what he was thinking.  Marcus didn't like the guy personally because of what he'd done to Nia in the past but he was thinking beyond that now.

Clyde Roberts listened to his mission update.  It had suddenly gone ultra-critical and he was directed to eliminate the target immediately at any cost, by any means.  There was potential for release of sensitive information unless Nia Rodriguez was killed along with the destruction or recovery of a stolen hard drive.  This job was getting messy and he didn't like it.

# TWENTY-EIGHT

It was late afternoon when Marcus hotwired a pickup truck and was glad it happened quickly enough that no one had seen him.  He returned to the out of the way jetty where he'd left Nia and Lloyd on the yacht.

The low pressure system had closed in and they transferred everything to the pickup in pouring rain.  Nia and Lloyd squeezed themselves into the cab alongside Marcus who drove.

"Find somewhere less off the beaten track and we'll drop JR," Nia said to Marcus.

"Drop me?" Lloyd queried.

"You have the whole story now.  We hit you up at your place, you know the rest and here we are now.  We're going to get the hard drive to the Wikileaks contact and I'll tell him to give you immediate access to it for the completion of your film."

"Nia I can't just leave you now.  I need to follow this story to the end."  His words unintentionally sounded grave.

"It's going to be dangerous as hell," Marcus said, briefly turning his head to Lloyd.

"In for a penny,' Lloyd said flippantly, the look on his face betraying what he really thought.

"After what's gone down, particularly last night, the whole of Miami law enforcement will be out for us.  And whoever attacked us last night will be there too, probably coordinating the whole thing," Marcus warned Nia.

"I know but we have to make the meet," Nia replied.

"It'll be like walking into a trap.  We're gonna need help."

Nia knew Marcus was right, she'd been thinking the same thing and had been trying to formulate a plan that would get them there.

"Pull round the back of this place here."  Nia had spotted a tattoo parlor as they'd driven into a more populated area.

Marcus drove the pickup down a side street and out of sight down the rear access road.  The pickup's tires splashed through the rapidly expanding puddles.

Nia discussed her plans with Marcus and he agreed it was as good a place as any to wait.

Minutes later Nia saw Marcus emerge from the back of the tattoo parlor and wave them over.  Nia and Lloyd quickly ferried the weapons and body armor in through the back of the building.  She made a quick call on the owner's phone and turned back to Lloyd.

"I've explained some of the situation to Leon and he is coming up to meet us with some old friends who are going to help us get back into Miami and make the meet."

"Why doesn't your contact just come up to us?  Or, someone else could just take the hard drive to him," Lloyd said.

"Like I said before, he specified a public place.  At the time Portofino Tower seemed a safe bet and he's expecting me to deliver the drive.  He won't make himself known until he sees me."

Nia turned to the owner of the tattoo parlor, an aging tattooist who from the look of his own tattoos had probably learnt his skills in prison.  The tattoo parlor of a black ex-con wouldn't be many people's idea of a safe house but right now those things, and the bundle of cash Marcus had given him to close up shop, made Nia feel a lot safer than she had in a long time.

"I wanna get tattooed up real quick."

"I'm on your dime so whatever you want."

"I wanna get 'Outlaw', right here."  Nia pointed to her neck.

Leon arrived just over an hour after Nia's tattoo had been completed.  He entered the building and Nia ran to him.  They wrapped arms around each other briefly before Leon pulled back to look at the dressing on Nia's neck.

"What happened?  You okay?"

"It's a tattoo.  I'm good."

For twenty minutes Nia ran Leon through the briefest account of events that had brought her to this point.  There was a point when Nia feared Leon was looking at her like he didn't know her.

"I'm still me," Nia said looking at Leon for acceptance.

"I know you are," Leon said, wrapping his arms around her again.  "You're still my lil' woman but what you've discovered will change lives.  And no matter what you think there'll be a lot of people looking to you for leadership."

Leon turned to Marcus and extended his hand.

"We're in this one together brother," Leon said to Marcus.  Brother and sister was the way that all Marines referred to their comrades and one word did so much to align the relationship which had for so long been a problem.  "What's the plan?"

"You bring that support?" Marcus asked.

"Enough and more will join us on route back to Miami.  I got them waiting at a staging point and the word is out."

"Let's join up with them and I'll fill you in on the plan on the way."

When they pulled into one of the uppermost levels of the multi-story parking lot Nia was surprised to see just how many people Leon had turned out to help them.  There was at least twenty vehicles and each had several people hanging around them.  Everyone gravitated towards Nia's pickup as it pulled to a stop.  They were there for their former street commander, Leon.  They respected him that much even now he was out of the game.  It was clear that had he stayed in the Rangers he'd have made a great leader.

Leon stepped out of the vehicle with Nia, Marcus and Lloyd.  Leon stepped up on to the running board of the pickup and looked out across the crowd of about fifty.  They were a mix of current and former street hoods.

"You're here because I asked you to be but in a moment that'll change.  When you hear what Nia has to say you'll want to be here more than ever.  This is a turning point in history and you can be a part of it, you can make it happen.  What Nia has to say we've only ever heard rumored and whispered about by conspiracy theorists and crackpot revolutionaries.  But I'm here to tell you it's the truth and we're about rip that truth wide open for the world to see.  Don't let history say that the street never gave back and it wasn't prepared to risk it all when it really mattered."

Leon stepped down and for a moment Nia was hesitant to speak to so many people but something inside her told her that now was the time where what she did really mattered.  Nia was destined to change the world that they knew.  She stepped up to speak and started boldly.

"My father was murdered because he dared to change things.  There are many things that divide us in this county and even in this city but I know almost everyone here is a supporter of my father.  That was what made him such a threat that they had to murder him.  They had to silence him.  My father was Tupac Shakur."

The crowd stared at Nia and then at each other.  Nia had a hint of Tupac in her looks and more than just a flavor of him in her music.  It was enough to open their minds to the possibility that what she was saying was true.

"In the last week the same people have tried multiple times to kill me because I'm his daughter and I also know the truth.  There is a group embedded into almost every part of the government that is doing everything it can to hold black people down.  If they could get their way they'd make us all slaves again.  That hasn't happened because brave people have stood up to the oppression but it has cost them their lives.  Almost every single one of them has been assassinated.  You might ask how I know this.  I have the proof, right here on this disk."

Nia thrust her hand in the air, reminiscent of the Black Power salute, and in it she clutched the hard drive containing the damning files.  The response couldn't have been more coordinated.  Fists punched the air in unison.

"I have to get this disk to the Portofino Tower building tonight to get the proof out.  It won't be easy because every cop and federal agent is looking for me.  They want to silence me, silence you and the cry for true freedom and equality from all black people in this country.  I won't let them.  I'll fight to the end for you, for me, for everyone and especially for the freedom of the child in my belly."

This was received by more fists pumping.  Nia looked across at Leon and smiled.  Her eyes told him as clearly as her words that he was going to be a father.  She continued with her voice raised even louder.

"Now I wanna be real with you.  People will die.  It's not the way I want it but through years of oppression we've been forced into this corner and this fight.  And in this moment we have the chance to stand up and fight our way out for freedom.  Tomorrow some of you may not be here but I call on you now to ride on our enemies.  Be the last ones left, my closest road dogs and ensure the truth is the last mother fucker breathin'.  Come hell or high water I'm an Outlaw 'til this is over."

Nia ripped off the dressing covering the tattoo on her neck to reveal the fresh ink that spelled Outlaw.  It was the tattoo worn by Tupac's closest followers, the Outlawz.

The crowd were whipped into a frenzy by this.  They were more than ready to believe she was Tupac's daughter and the way her speech echoed his words aroused fiery passion inside them.  It was almost as if Tupac was reaching out to them through her.

"Death before dishonor is the call as we take the war to the city.  We're going all out.  Let me be your General of war, Makaveli's Prince.  Players are you with me?"

Unanimous cries of support bounced around the crowd and shirts were raised enough to reveal a host of weapons tucked in waistbands.  Chants of 'Makaveli's Prince' tore through the crowd.

Marcus and Leon moved with ruthless efficiency, appointing lieutenants and dividing the group into teams.  The few extra radios that were in the back of the pickup were issued and provisional tasks were given to each team.

The journey underway, Nia sat in the back of the pickup's twin cab.  Rain battered the roof and windshield.  She'd just met the driver and two other passengers for the first time.  They were about her age and just as bright as her.  They all should have finished school and gone to university but the reality of the American Dream wasn't like that.  Nia was the only one who had come close to it but, despite the money and the fame, it felt like a nightmare because of what she knew to be true.

Leon and Marcus were in two other vehicles, one in front of her and one behind.  It felt strange not to have Marcus at her side but he'd assured her it was the best way to protect her.  She'd reminded him it wasn't about her, it was about the files on the hard drive.  Marcus had reminded her in return that the contact from Wikileaks was only going to make himself known to her so she was equally important.  Nia ordered him to drag her dead body into Portofino Tower if necessary to hand over the files.  He admitted she had the guts of some of the most hardened Marines he'd served with.

To begin with the journey was quiet.  Nia had a lot on her mind but wasn't sure whether the others were quiet because of her presence or the chat Leon had with them before they had left.  Probably both, she thought.  It was an emotional time for everyone.  She'd hugged Leon before they set off and both of them knew it might be the last time they ever held each other.  Leon hadn't said it but Nia knew his instinct was to just take her and his unborn child away from all of this.  There had been a brief time when she'd had the same flight instinct and had been so tempted to have had Marcus help her disappear but despite all the danger and risk she knew staying and fighting was the right thing to do.

The vehicles continued to speed towards Miami through the wind and the rain.

At one time Leon would have taken the lead in whatever they were doing but Nia realized that something had shifted.  She'd grown through all her experiences and now she was in the head seat with him backing her up.

"I just wanna say I'm straight up down for you," Money said.  He was the driver and briefly looked at Nia over his shoulder.  He was a tall skinny guy, with a Snoop Dogg physique.  Nia eventually learnt his name had come about because when he first got into the game he was never on top of his payments.  People would see him and demand 'Money'.

"Same right here."

"And here."

The feeling was unanimous, Nia could count on these guys.  The other two, J-Sweet and Judge, had more meat on them than Money.  J-Sweet was a looker.  That was where 'sweet' came from.  Judge's name actually was Judge but people often incorrectly thought he'd picked up a nickname because he knew a lot of the legal terminology.  He'd picked that up during a childhood in and out of the system.  He had been from foster care to juvenile detention and then had a stint in state penitentiary.

"You know what you're doing means a lot to us?" Money said, looking in the rear-view mirror.  "We only got so far with Martin Luther King, Malcolm X and the Panthers, and now I know why.  It is about time the fight was taken to the people who have kept this country unfair.  You got a baby commin' and me and my girlfriend are tryin'.  I want our kids to grow up in a country where life really is fair."

It was beginning to sink in with Nia that these weren't just people she was putting at risk, they had lives to live, families they loved and had to support.  But Money was right, the next generation deserved a fair chance and oppression had to be eradicated to make the American Dream actually worth something.

"We gotta be sharp, focused and smart to get this done and get out alive," Nia said.  "It means a lot to me that you're all down but I don't want anyone doing anything stupid and getting themselves killed.  Me and this hard drive have a big fat target painted on our asses so people are gonna come for us.  If we gonna do this then let's do it right and make sure we do get to see our kids grow up."

Light was starting to fade by the time they reached the edge of Miami but the sky had darkened mostly because of the foul weather.  Despite the rain the air was as hot and humid as it always was.  A short while before Nia could tell word was spreading rapidly about what was going down.  Phone calls and text messages were coming in thick and fast.  Miami streets wanted to be a part of this and it wasn't long after reaching Miami that they had a steady stream of additions to their motorcade.

"Ranger, Marine.  Come in, over," the radio cracked.

"Go ahead Marine.  Over."

"This additional support is going to bog us down unless we use it to our advantage.  Can you get them to support the snap roadblocks with the advance team?  Over."

"Copy that Marine.  I'm on it.  Over."

Without warning a siren came to life, the piercing sound sending a chill down Nia's spine.  This was really happening.  The Miami Dade Police car pulled onto the road and accelerated trying to catch them.  The pickup had been doing the limit but Money put his foot down hard and the police car continued to accelerate.

The radio crackled, "Contact."

Nia felt helpless, looking over her shoulder as one of the vehicles behind them in the convoy side swiped the police car.  Both vehicles crashed into parked vehicles at the side of the road and quickly disappeared behind them.  Without a doubt their location and direction had been radioed in.  It was only a matter of time before the whole of Miami's law enforcement community descended upon them, mistakenly thinking they were in line to take down a major drug trafficker.

Traffic on the street began to clear after they crossed the water to Bal Harbour Islands just north of Miami Beach and a stone's throw from Lloyd's house on Indian Creek.  A lot of people were staying home because of the storm.

The plan was to use the series of large islands that stretched down to Portofino Tower as a natural defense by blocking the routes to them from the mainland.  Then there would only be the police already in Miami Beach to deal with.

It wasn't until they reached the heart of Miami Beach that sporadic small arms fire could be heard.  Nia couldn't see the road blocks off to her right but knew they were there and she could imagine the chaos.  Traffic would be backed up across the causeways and she hoped the general panic of fleeing people would prove to be enough to hold off the cops.

The radio had been crackling with orders for some time now but half a mile from Portofino Tower she could hear Marcus rearranging the teams to bring a shell of cover around the South Pointe area.  One team was already holding off traffic on the MacArthur Causeway and the others were now coming south to take position on State Highway A1A from where they would continue moving south and cover any threats from the north.

The pickup suddenly swerved, hopped the curb and crashed partway through the front entrance of the China Grill restaurant.

"Cops!" yelled Money as he scrabbled around to unfasten his seat belt.  He'd had to swerve suddenly to avoid hitting the lead car.  The pickup had struck a parking meter and a palm tree when it mounted the curb.  The engine was giving off steam and Money's attempts to restart had failed.

Gun fire was close.  Leon's vehicle in front had come head on with a police vehicle that had turned into the oncoming traffic.  It stood between them and Portofino Tower.

Everyone exited the vehicle.  Nia checked herself over, knowing she was going to have real bad whiplash the next day.  She had a full magazine and she raised her M4 into her shoulder.

"Follow me," Nia called as she kicked out partially shattered glass from the restaurant window and made her way into the street.  Immediately they took cover behind wrecked vehicles as bullets zipped overhead.

"Ranger, Makaveli's Prince, our vehicle is dead.  We're coming to support you and then we're getting the hell out of here," Nia reported.

"Negative, stay where you are, we're holding this position.  Marine, get your team up to cover their advance."

"Ranger, Marine.  Moving up on foot, our vehicle is also down."

The last half mile was going to have to be done on foot.  If they could make it past the cops it wasn't far.  Portofino Tower was lit up in the distance against the darkening skyline.

Money, Judge and J-Sweet moved closely with Nia.  Leon had instructed them to do so if they had to leave the vehicle but it wasn't just because of his instructions they did it.  They really were committed to protecting Nia and the hard drive because they wanted justice to finally be done.  They moved from cover to cover in tight formation.  Traffic in all directions had stopped on the intersection and it made for good cover.

Quickly, Marcus' team appeared and moved up the median to provide suppressive fire so Nia could continue to move south on the sidewalk opposite where the cops were now hunkered down.  Two of Leon's team were dead so Leon and his remaining man began to extract and moved back around the suppressive fire from Marcus' team.  They were soon joined up with Nia and began to move ahead.

They moved quickly and made sure the route was safe ahead of Nia's team.  The heavy rain reduced visibility and this concealed their advance slightly.  Marcus and his team withdrew and followed up the rear, ensuring cover was provided should the cops try to follow.  More gunfire and the screeching of tires could be heard in the distance to the north.  There wasn't long to get to Portofino Tower.

At the corner of Washington and 3rd Nia continued running at a fast pace but was aware of how vulnerable they were as the space around the intersection opened up.  It was a matter of speed now and Nia realized this was what she'd been training for whether she knew it or not.  Each stride splashed up the water accumulating on the street.  Three or four more blocks to go and she'd be there.  Nia's lungs sucked at the air.  Portofino Tower stretched up into the sky seeming so much closer than it was.  Nia could feel how close an end to all this was.  All she had to do was get the hard drive to the contact from Wikileaks.

At Washington and 1st Nia could taste the lactic acid.  The sudden exertion after so much time in the pickup, the Kevlar vest and the weight of her M4 all had her wanting to drop.  She could tell the others were also struggling but no one was saying anything.  They just kept up and kept looking at Nia for the inspiration to do so.

Nia heard shouts ahead calling for pedestrians to get out of the way.  They must have had their heads in the sand because it seemed most people had cleared the streets, including many of the vehicles.  Nia had a sense that people were peering out through windows wondering what drama was being played out on their streets.

At South Pointe Drive they were all but there.  The radio came alive with shouts that the causeway couldn't be held.  Cops were minutes away and Nia could feel them bearing down on her.  She pushed her body harder and sweat poured off her head, mixing with the rain running down her neck.

Nia cut right and made for the gated stairs that led up to the entrance of Portofino Tower.  Marcus was holding the gate for her and as she slowed to take the steps she could hear the weapons fire from Leon's team only seconds behind.  Lloyd was with them and she prayed they would both make it.

Their footsteps thundered into the lobby, nearly slipping in their wet boots, and for a second Nia feared the street battle had scared off the Wikileaks contact.  Nia looked around at a dozen faces for recognition.  Her eyes fell on a face she immediately recognized.  It was Gabriella.  She stood and so did the white man in his forties next to her.  Nia realized her mistake.  After all the times she had got Gabriella to cover for her she'd totally failed to think of it this time.

Nia approached him and ripped open the Velcro fastener holding the hard drive.  Thankfully the rain had not reached it.

"Can I trust you to do the right thing with this?"  Nia held out the drive.

"You have no choice," His accent was British.  "You're late and I need to get the hell out of here."  He took it and slipped it into his bag.  His gaze lingered on Nia for a second and then he was gone.  Something about his cool calm confidence told her that he knew exactly what he was doing.

Leon and Lloyd burst into the lobby.

"They're right across the street," Leon called out.  "We've got to evacuate the building.  It's the only way we'll have a chance to get away."

The attendant on the desk had taken the cue from Leon and sounded the building's fire alarm.  Within seconds people began to fill the lobby.

"All teams, this is Ranger.  Mission complete, you did a great job.  Now breakaway."

"Come on Nia it's time to go."  Marcus ushered her through the crowd.  Leon, Gabriella and Lloyd followed close behind.  Lloyd still had camera in his hand trying to capture everything.

Outside it quickly became clear they weren't going to slip through undetected.  As many people as there were flooding out on to the street there seemed to be almost as many police.  There were also a couple of FBI units already pulling up.  Someone had coordinated them quickly and each person was being checked.  Anyone who vaguely looked like Nia, young, black and female, was pulled to one side and asked for ID.  Even the rain and the onset of the evening's darkness couldn't hide them from such close inspection.

Marcus turned and pushed back inside against the flow of people.

"We're in the shit now," Leon said out loud.

"We go up," Marcus countered.  "It will buy us some time at least.  Maybe enough to work out a plan to get us out of here."

"If we can't escape then you know they'll kill us," Nia said.

The elevator was big enough to take them all, including Money and Judge who had insisted on staying on to protect Nia.  It sped them up to the top floor and from there Leon made a call to his head of security who he knew would still be coordinating the evacuation.  He was a man Leon could trust and one who had risen through his program from the streets.

"Take the elevators off-line and find a way to keep them that way."

It would buy them a while and would tire out whoever was going to have to come all the way up the stairs.  The stairs were comparatively more defendable and Leon knew this.  But in truth he knew they were on the edge of being screwed.  They were going to kill Nia and with her his unborn child.  Panic was gripping him.

"Pains me to say it but I could really do with a plan and some orders," Leon said to Marcus, hoping to draw on his comrade's greater combat experience.

"Right, I want you three to cover the three stairwells.  Leon where's the securest area of this floor with an access to the roof?"

"Recording studio," Leon replied.  Nia looked at him.  It was the first she'd heard of a recording studio on the floor.  "Had it fitted as a surprise for you, after all you always disappear to go record.  I figured you'd want somewhere you could do a little work when you come stay over with me."

It sounded ridiculous in their current predicament but it was all about the sentiment.

"Thanks."  Nia hugged Leon and then he left with Money and Judge.

"Stay off the radio unless you're compromised.  As soon as that happens bug out back to the recording studio."

Nia found the studio with Lloyd and Gabriella.  As soon as Marcus had them settled by the mixing desk he set about making a call.  He had barely got into the conversation before the phone lines were disconnected.  Cell signal was down too.

"Now all we can do is wait and hope," Marcus said.

Nia disagreed.

"How about you take a seat at the desk and you can run me a quick session."

"What?" Gabriella replied in disbelief at Nia wanting to record while they were imminently going to be attacked by police and FBI who thought Nia was a prolific drugs trafficker.

"If I'm gonna die then I'm gonna go out spitting the truth on all this."

Nia stepped up in front of the mic and slipped on a headset.  Nia knew this could be her last ever chance to lay down a rap.  In the silence of the booth, headset on and in darkness, after Marcus and dimmed the lights for concealment, Nia sensed a finality about what she was doing.  She didn't have anything prepared but the last forty-eight hours was buzzing around in her head and providing her with more than enough energy to hit the mic.

"I've cued up the tunes, just hit play," Nia said to Gabriella through the mic.  In the darkness she could only see shapes on the other side of the glass.  Music began to play through the headset and she let the beat course through her veins, washing away the weariness that she felt.

# TWENTY-NINE

Clyde Roberts had flashed his agency credentials and had immediately started giving orders.  He wasn't taking over the operation but he'd made it clear to everyone that his own orders came right from the top.  He loved the fact that what he was about to finally orchestrate was far from what President Obama would ever want but then not even Obama knew the truth.  And Obama wouldn't last long when the revolution came.  He wouldn't be the first president to be killed for failing to represent the real Americans.

With Portofino Tower surrounded, locked down and communications disabled the nigger wasn't going anywhere and anyone with her was also going to be dead soon.  He knew he had to do this one up close himself.  So far it had been fuck up after fuck up and he had to end it now.

He left the command post under the guise of going in to negotiate a peaceful surrender.  He had comms to the command post and would keep them informed as he went.  Of course the point would come where he'd update them to say he'd had to take decisive action that had resulted in the killing of Nia Rodriguez and her criminal associates.

Money didn't even see it coming.  The silenced round hit him in the face at the precise moment he looked over the rail and down into the stairwell.  His body jerked and fell over the rail.  It fell for some time before hitting another rail and then it span wildly, splattering blood from his open head wound all the way down to the ground.  He'd been dead before his feet were over the rail at the top.

The music was moving Nia almost to the point of laying down a rap but something was blocking her flow.  It wasn't surprising given the circumstances but to Nia something didn't feel right.

The sound faded from her headset as the track ended and it was then that she caught a sound which had been amplified through her headset.  Suddenly she knew where she was but it was too late to warn them.

Flashes of light ripped through her vision and she saw glimpses of the horrific chaos the other side of the glass.  Nia reached for her holstered P228 pistol as fast as she could but time seemed to stand still along with her own movements.

The door to the booth opened a crack.  Her had gripped the pistol.

"Are you afraid to die?  Or do you wanna live forever?" came Tupac's voice over her headset.  The opening words to 'Only Fear of Death'.

Light shone in through the crack in the door and Nia saw the silhouette of a raised pistol at the same time as hers was still sliding out of its holster.

Tupac had been there all along warning her about this very moment.

"Tell me, what's wrong Nia?" her father urged her over the headset.

In the slow motion of the situation she knew very well what was wrong.  She was a fraction of a second behind the pistol that was bearing down on her.

The pistol fired and she fired in return.  Her shot went wild, her aim off target as her torso twisted under the impact of a 9mm round.  It knocked her off balance and helped her to avoid a second one that followed shortly after.

Before Nia hit the ground another shot was fired from the doorway but this time into the back of her attacker's head.  He dropped to the floor dead.  Leon stood in the door way.

"Are you good?" Leon called out to Nia.

"Yeah," Nia answered back feeling a sudden sharp pain in her side and a shortness of breath.  "Check on the others."

Nia struggled to her feet.  She reached her hand to her side.  The bullet had gone in through the side of her vest.  Her hand came away from the right side of her ribs and it was covered in blood.

In the other room she found Marcus on the floor.  Leon had taken over from Lloyd and was putting compression on Marcus' neck.  Marcus was bleeding profusely.  To his left Gabriella was slumped back on the sofa, the life in her eyes gone.  Blood covered the front of her shirt.

"Fuck!" Nia cried out.

Lloyd handed Leon some bandages from a first aid kit he'd found.  Leon used them to compress the wound.  It helped but the possibility of saving Marcus was remote because this was an arterial bleed.  Marcus knew it too and he used his last few seconds to help them.

"I spoke to an old Marine friend of mine.  Flies chopper tours of Miami.  He's gonna radio in for extraction."

"When?" Leon asked.

"He said he was coming as soon as."  Marcus' words came with gargles of blood.

"You're coming with us brother."

"I won't make it.  You go and I'll stay here with Gabriella."  He glanced at her lifeless body.  "They'll see us both and think she is Nia, at least long enough to buy you some time.  I'll do what I can to hold them off."

"Sempa Fi brother."  He lifted Marcus up onto the sofa.  Although it seemed callous Marcus was right.  More police were probably on the way and even a little diversion might buy them enough time until the chopper arrived.

Nia packed out her wound as much as she could and almost ripped off Lloyd's head for still holding the camera at this point but she could see in fact that he was just petrified.  He was holding it more for comfort than anything else.

Leon led the way up onto the roof, pausing for a second to check for police snipers on top of any of the buildings close by.  It was a miracle there weren't any but knew they would be arriving any second.  He just hoped their ride out of there arrived first because they had no moves left.

The roof had a couple of private roof gardens but no helipad.  Leon was frantically trying to work out how they were going to board the helicopter in preparation for its arrival.  He needed to secure a way for them to get up onto the outer wall that ran round the edge of the building because unfortunately the building had three columns on top that made it impossible for the helicopter to get in close to land.  It would have to hover and they would jump across from the wall.

Nia lay on the ground and Lloyd knelt beside her putting pressure on her wound.  His other hand still aimlessly held the camera.  Nia was drawing shallow breaths and although he knew nothing of medicine guessed she had at least one collapsed lung.

Nia's radio crackled into life and a weathered voice announced their extraction was thirty seconds out.  They were to be ready for a hot touch and go.

The thunderous sound of the helicopter rotors appeared overhead and Lloyd leaped across the gap, safely landing himself through the open door of the helicopter.  He turned and readied himself to help Nia.  Nia's jump was weak but Lloyd reached out into the pouring rain and grabbed her vest to pull her in.  Leon was right behind her.

"Go go go!" Leon shouted and before he'd finished the engine roared.  They all felt the climb and the helicopter moved off southward.  Leon hoped their escape was sufficiently concealed from the ground by the sheer volume of driving rain that was now pouring down.  Leon knew this chopper pilot must have had some serious skill to pick them up like that and in this weather.

Leon pulled on a headset and knelt down at Nia's side.  Lloyd pulled the door shut to block out the rain and the sound of the wind.

"You can get us to a hospital right?" Leon called to the pilot over the intercom, really seeing for the first time how bad Nia was shot up.

"Sure, your friend said you had some contacts south of here that can open up airspace for us?"

Nia lay struggling for breath.  She could feel it affecting her consciousness.  It was like slowly drowning.  She was distraught about Gabriella and Marcus and everyone else who had died to get them and the information out.  She was now relying on Lloyd's film, in partnership with Wikileaks, to get the message out to the people.

As her consciousness began to slip further away she tried to focus on rhymes to keep herself awake.

"My breathing's gone shallow, I can hardly draw my breath

Blood on my lips, I'm about to reach my death

So now I got to spit the raw truth like a flame

Exposing those who've tried to kill me 'cos they know my real name

Outlaw 'til the day I die

Makaveli in my blood, feel my war cry..."

Nia couldn't hold out any longer and her vision faded to blackness as she thought about the baby inside her.

# THIRTY

The men around the table looked tired.  A meeting had been called again to discuss progress on the retrieval of the hard drive which contained the missing files.  Successive meetings over several weeks had been the same, nothing to report, and this one was no different.  Power had changed hands within the group due to a number of operational failings but they all knew much more than that was needed to ensure their group's continued survival.

It seemed only a matter of time before huge swathes of the files on the hard drive became public.  They had their best technical people trying to trace it before that happened.  If even a hint of the information showed up on the web they would be ready to shut it down and make it like the server had just fallen into a black hole.

What they did know was that the body recovered from Portofino Tower wasn't that of Miss Rodriguez, as initially reported.  They let the police continue under that false belief in the hope that wherever she was it would make her feel more secure.  Eventually she'd slip, maybe only drop her guard for a moment, and then they would find her.

Rumors had already begun to spread on the street that Nia was the daughter of Tupac.  A fact denied by the police but trust in them on the street didn't run deep.

The fact that the police did claim the body was Nia's rather than Gabriella's was a convenient mistake for the men around the table as it publically put the issue to bed.  They'd wanted her dead from the very beginning because they feared how young black people might feel empowered by her links to Tupac.  And while it appeared that way, the street didn't have a leader, they only had the posthumous release of her second album.

Rather poetic, some of them thought, that her life should reflect her father's in so many ways.  Although, they reminded themselves, that wasn't actually her body and they hadn't found hers yet.

Those facts, and the preceding failures, had instigated the leadership change.  That in turn had delivered the group a new direction.  A strong counteroffensive was required to restore the upper hand.  They needed to get ahead of the trend, beat any impending leak and hunt down Nia Rodriguez.

Opportunities were capitalized on and plans were put in motion to accelerate the coming revolution.
