The Cartel Deluxe Edition, Part 2

by Ashley

  Before she knew it the entire bottle of wine was empty and she had cried so many tears that her eyes burned. She hated being so weak, it didn’t suit her. She walked upstairs, bumping the walls along the way from her drunken state. She wasn’t for this sulking shit. Her emotions were getting the best of her and she didn’t like it. She located her Chanel bag and pulled out her pistol. She was glad that the memorial had gone peacefully but the pop off queen in her needed a release. She found Breeze sniffling quietly on her living room sofa.

  “You’re still awake?” Miamor asked.

  “Can’t sleep,” Breeze responded with a shrug. The evidence of her loss was written all over her face.

  “Come on,” Miamor said. She went into the hall closet and pulled down a case that held a 9 mm inside. She passed it to Breeze.

  “What are you doing?” Breeze asked, confused.

  “Showing you the perfect stress reliever. Follow me,” she answered. Miamor led Breeze out of the back of the house and out into the vast yard.

  “Where the hell are we going?” Breeze asked.

  “Whenever I feel overwhelmed I come out here,” Miamor said. The amount of land that they had was unbelievable. Huge lots weren’t common in Miami, but Miamor had acres. Carter had wanted a large yard and a big house to raise his family in but today it hurt to even breathe the air inside. When they were far enough away from the house Miamor stopped walking and pointed to a ledge that held bottles on top.

  “Pulling a trigger is a stress reliever for me,” she admitted.

  “Figures,” Breeze shot back with a smirk. “Let’s go ahead and test your theory.” Breeze aimed.

  BOOM!

  She hit nothing.

  Miamor chuckled. “We need to work on your aim. I thought Zyir taught you how to shoot.”

  “Not in the middle of the night,” Breeze said. “Give me a break. You’re drunk. You probably can’t do any better.”

  Miamor aimed.

  BOOM!

  The glass broke as Miamor hit her mark effortlessly.

  Breeze threw up her hands incredulously causing Miamor to laugh out loud. Her laughter turned into cries as Breeze’s eyes watered. The two women embraced, leaning on each other. They were sisters, not by blood but by street law and at this moment all they had was each other.

  Chapter 2

  “D.E.A is all over us. The workers are snitching, they have photos, and evidence . . .”

  —Breeze

  Four Weeks Later

  Miamor sat in her son’s nursery as she swayed gently in the wooden rocker. Her emotions were all over the place. Here she was holding the newborn child of the man that she was supposed to spend the rest of her days with, yet he was gone. It seemed as if they had just reunited. They hadn’t had enough time together before Carter was taken away. “A plane crash,” she whispered still in disbelief. She was still getting used to being a mother. Her body, her emotions, her view on the world . . . it had all changed the moment she gave birth. She had prepared herself for her life to alter drastically, but not in this way. She would never get used to raising her child alone. All she wanted was forever with Carter but it seemed that forever was elusive. Miamor wanted to break down, but everything seemed to land on her shoulders. With the absence of the male heads of The Cartel, the empire was in need of leadership. Breeze had come up around the game, but she had never been a player in it. She was a pampered princess. All she knew was the money and the reputation that she got from being affiliated. She knew nothing of the stripes that it took to lead an army of street niggas. Then there was Leena. A pretty face who had stood on the arms of made men for years. She had been around, but Miamor was almost sure that she was just like the average hustler’s wife, she knew no details. Leena wasn’t street, but could still prove valuable because she was sharp, and she seemed to be loyal. Still, she lacked the raw courage that it took to run things. In an organization as infamous as The Cartel, there couldn’t be weakness. Miamor was used to running with a pack of thoroughbreds. Leena and Breeze were a far cry from The Murder Mamas. Miamor had trusted them with her life, she wasn’t sure if Breeze and Leena could compare.

  The doorbell rang causing Miamor’s body to tense. Her son was so in tune with her body that he erupted with cries simultaneously. “Shh!!” she whispered as she stood to her feet, her maternal instincts to protect kicking in. “Shh, its okay.” She ran into the panic room that was attached to the nursery and put in a code quickly, her hands shaking violently. Miamor was normally so rational, so meticulous, but having another life to look out for besides her own made her emotional. Just the ring of a doorbell scared her. Normally the security cameras would have announced the identity of whoever was ringing her bell, but the Feds had disarmed all of her cameras when they had hit her with the warrant. The streets knew that Carter was gone. There was no telling who would come to her door trying to usurp her kingdom. Miamor was on edge. She placed her baby in the bassinet inside of the panic room and then rushed to the safe. With her hands free she calmed herself slightly as she punched in the combination. She grabbed the loaded .357 out of the safe and rushed out, locking her crying child securely inside. It was two o’clock in the morning. Nothing good could possibly come to her at that hour and whoever was at the door was about to feel her wrath. Miamor rushed to the door and pulled it open swiftly, ready to pop off, her gun aimed, arm steady.

  “Whoa!! Whoa!”

  Miamor popped off, shooting past the kid’s ear only missing his head by an inch.

  “Who the fuck are you?” she asked.

  The kid grimaced as his mouth fell open from the deafening ringing in his ear. “Whoa ma, chill out. Fuck! You gon’ blow my fucking eardrum! Who are you? Femme Nikita or some shit! You busting at niggas,” the guy responded with his hands still raised to show he had come in peace.

  “You’ve got five seconds to tell me who you are and why you at my doorstep in the middle of the night,” she demanded, voice cold, finger wrapped securely around the trigger.

  “I’m a friend. My name is Fly Boogie. I was with Zyir the day that he ran from the Feds. I distracted the cops so that Zyir could go meet Carter and Monroe. I swear on everything I’m a friend. I ran one of the trap spots,” Fly Boogie said. The words flew from his mouth so quickly that Miamor knew they had to be true. He was fearful of his life. He wanted to give her no reason to pull the trigger. “Can I put my hands down now?”

  Miamor eyed him suspiciously and then grabbed his collar and put him against the brick wall. Her pistol kissed the back of his skull. She felt his waistline for a gun. He wasn’t carrying. “I don’t got shit on me. I just got out of county. They locked me up for the high-speed chase I took them on the day it all went down. Look, I know it’s late and I shouldn’t have come but I came straight here as soon as they let a nigga go. I received this post card in prison. Your address was the return address but there was no message written on it. I know the game. Seems like I was supposed to deliver this to you.”

  Miamor lowered her gun and Fly Boogie lowered his hands while breathing a sigh of relief. She snatched the post card out of his hand. She knew that he was right; this was no incident. She hadn’t sent the post card and there was only one other person who could have. He’s alive, she thought. She looked down at it and saw a Desert Oasis printed on the front of it. Her hand shot to her mouth, covering it in disbelief. Are they in Saudi Arabia? Could this be for real? she thought as she read the wording on the front. Her worry transformed to relief as the ball of tension that her body had become melted. She looked up at Fly Boogie, unable to stop the tears from glistening in her eyes. “Thank you,” she said.

  “Thank you for not blowing my brains out,” he replied with a sense of humor before walking off of the porch. Miamor closed the door, locking it securely behind him. She rushed upstairs, heart pounding, eyes clouding with tears of uncertainty. Oh my God please let him be alive. Let this postcard mean what I think it does, she thought as hope flared in her chest. She rushed up t
he stairs to retrieve her son and then picked up her phone to call Breeze. She paced back and forth, child in one hand, as she held the cell to her ear.

  “Miamor?” the rasp in Breeze’s voice cracked in the late night hour and she cleared her throat.

  “I can’t speak to you over the phone. Call Leena. Come now. It’s important,” Miamor said. She hung up the phone before she could receive protest. She wouldn’t have taken no for an answer. She was used to leading and if Leena and Breeze wanted the legacy of the Cartel to continue they had to get used to following.

  Within the hour Breeze and Leena arrived with little Monroe in tow. Miamor took the sleeping toddler from Leena’s arms. “I’ll put him upstairs in my bed,” she whispered. After ensuring that he was comfortable she joined the ladies in the kitchen. The smell of mocha thickened the air as Breeze grinded fresh coffee beans. “We’ll need it,” Breeze said when Miamor entered the room. “Seems like it’s going to be a long night.”

  Leena leaned over the island that sat in the middle of the room. She folded her hands atop of the counter as she looked up at Miamor anxiously. “What’s going on Miamor?”

  Miamor pulled the post card out of the pocket of her Ralph Lauren plaid pajama pants. She slid it across the counter.

  Leena picked it up and turned it over, surveying the front and back. Frowning in confusion she said, “You made me pull my son out of his bed at two in the morning to look at a postcard. What we doing? Taking a vacation?”

  Breeze crossed the room and took the postcard out of Leena’s hands. “Saudi Arabia,” she read. Her brow furrowed.

  “A li’l nigga named Fly Boogie dropped it off here,” Miamor started . . .

  Breeze nodded. “I’ve heard Zyir mention the name before . . .”

  Miamor continued, “He said it was sent to him anonymously. I think Carter is in Saudi Arabia with Monroe . . . and Zyir.”

  The entire room seemed to freeze as Leena and Breeze looked up at her, eyes wide, mouths open in shock from the possibility.

  Leena shook her head in denial. “They found a plane in the middle of the ocean Miamor,” she whispered. “They couldn’t have survived a plane crash.”

  “What if they were never on it? They didn’t recover any bodies,” Breeze said hopefully.

  “I know Carter. He’s reaching out to me. This postcard says nothing but says so much all at the same time. It isn’t flashy, it isn’t loud . . . it isn’t anything that can be traced, but its enough. It’s a whisper that only I can hear. I think Carter is alive. They all are but they can’t come back here, unless that case goes away.”

  Exasperated Breeze flopped down on one of the bar stools that lined the kitchen island. “D.E.A is all over us. The workers are snitching, they have photos, and evidence . . .”

  “The case is strong,” Leena finished. “If their return depends on that we’ll never see them again.”

  “The case has to go away,” Miamor said.

  “And then what?” Leena asked. “I’m so tired of this life. This isn’t how I envisioned my life. Even if this case goes away and they get to come back . . . it is only a matter of time before something else tears this family apart. I don’t know about the two of you, but I’ve had enough of the drug business. We have money. We have respect. It’s time to move on from this.”

  Breeze was quiet as she pondered Leena’s words. The Cartel had been her life for as long as she could remember. She had been born into it. Continuing the legacy allowed her father to live on, even in death, but was it worth it? By honoring their father, their family was diminishing before Breeze’s very eyes. The streets would eventually make the Diamond clan extinct. She’s right, it’s time for a change, Breeze thought.

  “The guys aren’t here to guide our footsteps ladies. It’s time that we made the decisions that we think are best for this family. It is time to take The Cartel legit. I don’t want to lose any more loved ones. I want to live without worry and as long as we’re in the drug business that will never happen.”

  The three women sat in silence, each haunted by their own thoughts. The ache in their hearts from their missing partners resonated within them.

  Miamor looked around at their fractured group. They needed their men back.

  “I’ll make this case disappear, one way or another. After we bring the men home we’ll talk about getting out of the game . . . for good.”

  Chapter 3

  “Day or night, I’m available to you.”

  —Yasmine

  Nothing had ever been so foreign to Zyir. He was Flint bred and Miami crowned. He preferred to stay where the native tongue was one that he understood. Call it closed minded, but Zyir just called it smart. He was a young man who liked to be aware of everything moving around him. As soon as he stepped off of the private jet an uneasiness settled into his bones. It was instinctive for him to reach out to Breeze. He missed her. The fact that they had been at odds ate away at him the entire flight. He knew that she was suffering because he could feel her strife. He was across the globe and was still emotionally connected to his shorty. She was his rib, he just wished that he could tell her that everything was going to be okay. Stone faced, he emerged from the plane and the first thing he saw was men carrying assault rifles lined up in front of two luxury SUV’s. They were dressed in traditional, long flowing cloaks made of the most beautiful fabrics. Their heads were wrapped as well, only revealing their menacing facial expressions.

  “They don’t look too friendly fam,” Zyir whispered to Monroe as they made their way down the stairs.

  “You strapped?” Monroe asked.

  “You know it,” Zyir replied.

  They were ready to go out guns blazing. It wasn’t like them to tread lightly, but they followed Carter’s lead. He was the captain of this ship and as long as he appeared comfortable they would remain that way too. Should he even show the slightest wrinkle of concern on his face, they would get it started. They were clearly outnumbered but Monroe’s marksman aim evened the playing field a bit.

  The door to one of the SUV’s was opened and a distinguished man with a full beard exited. He wore gold garb and held out his arms in receipt of his guests. “Welcome to Saudi Arabia,” he said in perfect English. He stepped forward and met the men halfway, showing good faith. He walked right up to Carter. “You must be Carter,” he said as he held out his hand. “You’re the spitting image of your father. He and I had some good times in America as young men. Before the wives and the children.” The man paused and inhaled long and deep as he reveled in the fond memories. “To be young and rich again,” he said. Carter gave him a firm handshake.

  “You must be Mr. Baraka,” Carter replied. Polo had made the connection so Carter knew that they were in safe hands. “This is my brother Monroe and my good friend Zyir. Thank you for extending the invitation.”

  “A son of Carter Diamond is a son of mine. I owed your father my life. He was a good man. I was very saddened to learn of his death,” Baraka stated.

  “As were we,” Carter replied, keeping it short. “Thank you.”

  “Shall we?” Baraka said, extending his arm toward their awaiting vehicles. “Monroe and Zyir can ride in the first truck while I discuss specifics with you on the way to the resort.”

  “Resort?” Monroe questioned.

  “Yes. I own Saudi Arabia’s largest resort and casino. Five star. I have a penthouse set up for each of you,” Baraka revealed. “It will be most comfortable.”

  Monroe nodded and headed for the truck as Carter climbed inside with Baraka.

  The scenery outside of his window was mesmerizing. He was in a desert Oasis. It was so hot outside that he could see the heat waves creating a hazy view on the other side of the glass. The tan sand dunes around him made him feel out of place. This was unfamiliar territory but it was also a safe haven. He was out of reach of all of his enemies, legit and otherwise. He felt the tension dissipate from his chest. Fear of capture had been real until this very moment, but now that he h
ad touched Saudi soil he realized exactly why Polo had suggested this place. He was worlds away. The air didn’t even smell the same on this side of the planet and despite the fact that he missed Miamor and his son, he welcomed the change.