The Cartel Deluxe Edition, Part 2

by Ashley

  Zyir’s goons were scattered throughout the crowd, including Fly Boogie, who was trying to stay low key in the back row. He had a Tech tucked inside of his tuxedo jacket. His black shades did little to hide his identity, but at that point he didn’t care. He was just ready to get the party started. On top of the people in the audience, Zyir had shooters pretending to be waiters.

  Little did Monroe know, he had walked into a big booby trap. Monroe walked up to the front of the crowd and stood next to the preacher, who held a Bible in his left hand. The wedding was scheduled to start in five minutes. Everyone was just waiting on the bride to show up . . . but Zyir had a different plan for that particular day.

  Zyir also sat in the back, hoping not to get noticed before he gave the signal for hell to break loose. He wanted Monroe and his crew dead. Zyir had just put a major chess move on Monroe, and with Carter’s blessing it was about to go down.

  Zyir looked across the room and nodded at Fly Boogie. That was all Fly Boogie needed to let the pandemonium begin. He stood up and whipped out the Tech that he had concealed. He instantly pointed to the whole front row and let it off, hitting four of Monroe’s goons with one sweep, Fly Boogie was getting busy.

  Just as planned, Zyir’s other shooters pulled out their guns and began hitting anybody who didn’t come in with them. The sounds of thundering blast and bullets whizzing filled the air, and the place went into a complete frenzy.

  Monroe ducked down and immediately looked for Estes. However, it was pointless, because Zyir had locked him in the restroom, not wanting to bring any more pain to Breeze’s heart. He opted not to kill the grandfather, but everyone else was fair game. He came there on that day for blood, and he was not taking any shorts.

  Zyir immediately began to let off shots at Monroe, trying to take his head off. Monroe, never slipping, reached and grabbed the small-caliber gun from the inside pocket of his tux and began to bust back as he took cover.

  The massacre had begun as the bodies began to drop and bleed. Zyir’s crew and Monroe’s were trading bullets, and it was a complete war zone.

  Throughout all of the chaos, Monroe and Zyir were busting shots at each other, trying to kill one another. In the meantime, bodies were dropping like flies. The pastor even caught a stray bullet to the abdomen as the two sides went all out against each other.

  The shootout went on for seven minutes straight as the killers tried to kill the killers. The gunfire gradually thinned out, and only two guns were being shot—Monroe’s and Zyir’s. They traded bullets with each other, neither of them hitting anything. Zyir used the corner of the outhouse as a shield, while Monroe ducked behind the stage and used that as his fort. They were trying to take each other’s heads off.

  Zyir looked around and saw all of the dead bodies. Some of his soldiers were dead, and some of Monroe’s were too. He saw Fly Boogie hiding behind a tree with his gun close to his chest. Zyir looked over and they made eye contact. Fly Boogie signaled that he had no more bullets, and Zyir nodded his head and signaled for him to stay put.

  Zyir looked at his gun, which was jammed back, and realized that he had run out of bullets. He was a sitting duck at that point, and it would be damn near impossible for him to escape without someone covering him. Zyir, out of pure adrenaline, stepped out in the open with his arms out.

  “Monroe!” he yelled. “Bring yo’ bitch ass out right now!” Zyir was now in the middle of the floor, stepping in between all of the dead bodies. Just as he figured, Monroe popped up with his gun drawn. He knew that Monroe’s ego wouldn’t let him stay hidden behind the stage.

  Zyir racked his gun back and made it seem as if he had more ammunition, but he was taking his chances bluffing. Monroe and Zyir slowly walked toward each other, meeting in the middle of the floor. They both had their guns pointed at each other, both of them out of bullets while trying to bluff the other. As they both looked down the barrel of a gun, so much hatred was in their hearts as they stared intensely at the man who stood before them.

  “You come in here on my wedding day trying to kill me?” Monroe asked through his clenched teeth. He was burning with anger toward Zyir for having the audacity.

  “Yeah, and I’m not done yet,” Zyir said smoothly as he gripped his gun tightly and returned the screw-face toward Monroe.

  Just as Monroe was about to respond, they had guests walk through the door. Leena, his son, and Breeze walked in and witnessed the bloodbath that was supposed to be a joyful day.

  “Oh my God,” Leena said as she placed her hand over her mouth. Leena quickly grabbed little Monroe and rushed him back out, not wanting him to see the gory sight.

  Breeze was frozen in terror as she stopped in her tracks. It reminded her of her father’s funeral. It was a complete massacre. Breeze then focused her attention on the two men at the center of the floor, both with guns drawn on each other.

  “Zyir! Monroe! No! Stop right now!” Breeze yelled as she stormed toward the two. “Put the guns down now. Please, I’m begging the two of you! Look at all of this. Look what you two have done,” she said as her voice began to crack. She was pleading with all of her heart.

  Monroe was the first to look away, and when he saw Breeze crying, it hurt him deeply. She fell to her knees and folded her hands in a praying position.

  “Please stop, you two. Please! I have lost everything and everyone. I can’t take it anymore. I can’t!” she said as the tears began to flow down freely and in abundance.

  Zyir briefly took his eyes off of Monroe and looked at his wife crying. It broke his heart to see his wife in so much agony. His heart softened temporarily, and he looked back at Monroe, who was in the same spot.

  “I’ll see you again,” Zyir whispered in a low tone that only Monroe would be able to hear.

  “Indeed, bitch-ass nigga,” Monroe responded with a smile.

  With that, Monroe fled the scene. Zyir watched him leave and then lowered his gun. He immediately went over to Breeze, who was completely broken down, sobbing. Zyir walked over to her and tried to console her. He helped her to her feet, and she immediately hauled off and slapped him.

  “How could you!” she yelled. Zyir stumbled to the ground and fell on one knee. Breeze knew that she wasn’t that powerful, so she looked closer and saw a bloodstain forming in Zyir’s abdominal area. He had caught a bullet from the crossfire, and due to adrenaline, never noticed it. “Zyir!’ she yelled as he grimaced and held his stomach in pain.

  * * *

  Miamor sat across the table from Murder, frustrated with her plastic fork and butter knife. She tried to cut the steak that Murder had prepared for her, but the utensils broke for the second time. “Can you at least cut the fucking steak up for me since I can’t have a knife?” she asked as she looked at Murder with hateful eyes and resentment. Murder shook his head in disbelief and reluctantly got up and walked over to Miamor. He cut her steak into pieces for her and quickly returned to his seat.

  “There you go, eat up,” he encouraged as he slid a piece of steak into his mouth.

  “You could have given me the knife. I can cut my own steak,” Miamor said as she shook her head and took a bite of her food.

  Murder chuckled and shook his head. “Really? You think I would give you a knife right now? If it were any other chick . . . maybe. But you can make a knife a deadly weapon. I’m not letting that growing belly over there fool me. You’re not some weak pregnant chick, li’l mama. I know how you get down, Miamor. Remember, I taught you,” Murder said, killing any thought of Miamor doing any slick stuff that she was conjuring up in her mind.

  Abruptly, Miamor doubled over in pain, grabbing her stomach. Murder smiled and ignored her, knowing that she was trying to be deceiving. But when she yelled out in pain and knocked her plate to the floor, causing it to shatter, he grew concerned.

  Miamor fell to her knees while cupping her baby in agony. Murder looked at her face and saw that she began to sweat profusely, and at that point, he knew that she wasn’t faking but being sin
cere. Murder instantly got up and went over to Miamor’s aid. Although he was holding her against her will, he wanted nothing but the best for her. He couldn’t stand to see her hurt.

  She was on her hands and knees, grimacing in pain as she breathed heavily. Murder then dropped to his knees and removed her hair from in front of her face.

  “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” he asked as a look of concern was plastered all over his face.

  Miamor was sweating and drool was sliding out of her mouth as she attempted to look in Murder’s eyes.

  “Are you okay?” he asked again as he put his hand on her back. He never saw it coming. Miamor had grabbed a sharp piece of the shattered plate, and with all her might, she jammed the sharp end into Murder’s neck.

  She let off a roar as she plunged it as deep and hard as she could. Murder instantly grabbed his neck with both hands, and blood began to leak from his mouth. He gagged, not being able to breathe, as his eyes got as big as two golf balls.

  Miamor scurried away from him as he reached for her, almost as if he was saying, “help me.” She stood to her feet and quickly grabbed the keys that were on his belt buckle. Murder was dying slowly, and Miamor had tears well up in her eyes as she snatched the keys from him and ran to the door.

  Murder repeatedly gasped for breath as he slowly crawled over to Miamor as she tried to figure out which key went to each lock. The piece of glass lodged in his throat blocked his airway, and he began to slip in and out of consciousness.

  Miamor finally got the locks unlocked and exited the house and ran for dear life, all while Murder was choking on his own blood. Just before he reached his last breath, he mumbled four words. It was four words that he meant with all of his heart. “I love you, Miamor.”

  Chapter 23

  “If the shoe was on the other foot, I’d be in the basement morgue.”

  —Zyir

  Things seemed to move in slow motion as Breeze sat with her face in her palms, bent over in worry as blue scrubs rushed in numerous directions around her. She hated everything about the hospital. Its sterile scent made her stomach turn, the pale white walls were numbingly disgusting. She had seen one too many hospitals, laid in one too many electric beds, met one too many nurses. If she never stepped foot inside another hospital again she could die a happy woman.

  She had been sitting for hours, waiting impatiently as her foot did a tap dance against the tiled floor. A mixture of anger and concern brewed inside of her chest. There had been so much blood. Zyir had been in so much pain. God, please be with him. If something happens to him, I’ll die. . . .

  “Are you the young woman that came in with Zyir Rich?”

  Her prayers were interrupted by a young black girl with a fresh doobie wrap and a friendly smile. Breeze looked up.

  “Yes, I’m his wife . . . Breeze,” she said quickly, eagerly. Her desperation was apparent. “Is he okay? Is he out of surgery? Please tell me something. I’ve been sitting here for hours. No one will tell me anything.”

  “I’m Nurse Jackie,” the girl responded. “Zyir is out of surgery, and the doctors did a wonderful job. They removed the bullet and repaired most of the damage. He will need to stay here for about a week, but he is very lucky.”

  Breeze placed a hand over her chest and breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Can I see him?” she asked.

  Before she received an answer, sirens rang out and a group of nurses and doctors rushed to the ER doors.

  “Jackie, get over here. We’ve got one coming in!” one of the doctors yelled to the young girl standing before Breeze.

  “I’m sorry. I’ve got to go. Someone will come for you when you can see him,” the girl yelled as she ran across the room.

  Breeze walked toward the commotion as she watched the girl jump into the action. The doctors and nurses transferred a body from the back of an ambulance onto a gurney and wheeled it quickly past Breeze.

  “This woman is in pre-term labor and the baby’s heartbeat is weakening. We’ve got to get this baby out of her now!” a doctor yelled.

  Breeze looked at the face on the gurney and her mouth fell open in shock. She chased after the group of doctors and nurses. “Wait!” she yelled.

  “Please, ma’am, someone will be out to inform you about your husband,” Nurse Jackie said urgently.

  “But wait! I know her! She’s my—”

  Before Breeze could finish her sentence, they had wheeled their patient into a restricted area, leaving Breeze standing in the hallway distraught. She stormed out of the hospital and into the parking lot, where she pulled out her phone.

  “Please answer, please answer,” she mumbled as she dialed Carter’s number.

  “Hello?”

  As soon as she heard his voice, she began to cry. “Carter! You have to come home. Everything is out of control. Money shot Zyir. There was a big shootout. We need you here. I found . . .” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I found Miamor.”

  * * *

  Carter boarded his jet with urgency as he nodded a greeting to the pilot. “Let’s get her in the air as soon as possible. I need to get back to Miami immediately,” Carter instructed.

  “I think they might slow things down,” the pilot responded. Carter turned to him in confusion, and the pilot pointed to the red and blue lights that were racing toward Carter’s jet. The unmarked black vehicles were filled with federal agents, and Carter’s worst fear had come to fruition.

  Visiting Polo had been a mistake. There was no doubt in his mind that Polo had kept his promise by not speaking about The Cartel to the Feds, but just by showing up at his door, he knew that he was now on the radar of the government. Carter had been down this road before. He wasn’t trying to catch another case, especially a fed case.

  “Start the engine,” Carter said as he stepped off of the plane.

  One agent approached him, yelling over the whir of the plane’s propellers. “Carter Jones!” he shouted as he flashed his badge. “Agent Cooper. I can’t let you get on this plane.”

  “Considering that your cuffs aren’t out and your men don’t have their guns drawn I’d say that you don’t have a warrant,” Carter said calmly as he tucked his hands in his designer slacks and stood shoulders squared in front of the agent. “Now I’m going to get on this plane and fly back to Miami, and you will forget that you ever saw my face, if you know what’s good for you. Do your homework, Agent Cooper. You can’t beat me.” Carter patted the agent on the shoulder as if to say, “Better luck next time.” He then turned and ascended the steps to his jet without ever letting the pig mu’fuckas below him see him sweat.

  * * *

  Carter could face a thousand-man army, stare down the Feds, or take on any other kingpin without batting an eye, but when it came to seeing Miamor, he couldn’t handle it. He walked into the dark hospital room and saw her resting peacefully. He didn’t understand exactly what had occurred, but he was grateful to see her nonetheless.

  He looked at her flattened abdomen and knew that she had told the truth in her letter. She had aborted the baby, his baby, and he had to bite his inner jaw to contain his sadness. Why couldn’t she just be the woman he expected her to be? What was it that made her so cold, so disloyal when it came to him? And despite all of this, why couldn’t he ever let her go? He couldn’t get her out of his system. Whenever she beckoned, he came running to her rescue, no matter what kind of hurt she had put on his heart. Carter couldn’t figure out why his heart wanted her so badly.

  Nurse Jackie walked into the room.

  “She’s strong,” Nurse Jackie said.

  Carter nodded his head. “She is,” he agreed with a sarcastic scoff.

  “You must be the child’s father? He’s in the nursery. He’s small and very fragile, but he’s strong, too. Not many babies survive being born three months early, but he’s a fighter. Would you like to see him?” the nurse asked.

  Carter looked at her as if she were speaking French. He looked back at Miamor and then to t
he nurse. “She had the baby?”

  “Yes, she had him a few hours ago. That’s why she’s so exhausted. She’s probably on Mars right now because of all the pain medication she’s on, but she’ll wake up when she’s good and rested. She did good today. She almost lost your son, and she cussed the doctors out every step of the way, until she heard his screams,” Nurse Jackie said.

  Carter leaned over and kissed Miamor’s forehead then whispered in her ear, “Thank you.”

  “Come on, I’ll take you to see him,” the nurse offered.

  Carter followed the nurse to the neonatal intensive care unit where the premature babies were taken care of, and as soon as he rounded the corner he saw Breeze. She sat in a rocking chair, holding his son, singing softly in his ear.

  Carter could barely keep his composure. He fought tears of joy as he approached his sister. Breeze looked up and smiled. She put a finger up over her lips to request silence.

  “Congratulations, Carter, I’d like you to meet your baby boy,” Breeze said as she handed the tiny bundle of joy to his father.

  The connection that Carter felt when he held his son caused his heart to swell. “He’s so small,” Carter said.

  “He’ll grow big and strong. We’ll have to keep him here for a while—”

  “No, he’s coming home. I’ll hire the best doctors and nursing staff to be with him around the clock if I have to, but when his mother leaves the hospital, so will he,” Carter said with authority. He looked down at his trooper with all the love and happiness in the world. He had never felt so complete. The little dude was a true blend of his parents; he was the perfection that resulted from all of their imperfection. Out of all the bad that they had done in their lives, he was the one right that fixed them all.

  “Daddy loves you, man,” Carter said with sincerity.

  The nurse took him and placed him back in the incubator, handling him with the gentlest of care.

  “This will keep him away from things that can harm him. He’s very delicate, and his lungs still have to mature. We’ll keep him hooked up to machines that will help him breathe and monitor his heart rhythms until we’re sure that he can function without them,” the nurse explained.