The Cartel 7--Illuminati--Roundtable of Bosses

by Ashley

  * * *

  “I’ve never seen anything like this in all my years,” the young scientist said as he held up the test tube and shook the milky contents around. Anari looked on as she crossed her arms in front of her. She listened closely as the scientist stood there in disbelief. “This substance has a melting point substantially higher than that of the purest form of cocaine documented here in the U.S. Cocaine melts at about 208 degrees Fahrenheit. This Rebe, once in powder form, is at about 230. You, my friend, have a monster.”

  “Okay, talk so I can fucking understand you,” Anari said as she tried to get a better understanding.

  “Basically, you have the rawest shit that this country has ever seen. This can get stepped on five times and still have the same potency as the highest grade of drug on the streets,” the scientist said, stripping away all of the scientific terms and getting straight to the point.

  Anari smiled and saw dollar signs. She was about to set up shop in different suburbs across the nation and retire at the top of her game. By the time the feds got a whiff of what she was doing, she would be retired. The plan was coming together nicely.

  Carter sat in his car and watched closely as he had been doing every day for a week straight. There was no sign of Breeze or the kids. He continued to call but he always got the same result: voice mail. He didn’t know where to start. He was lost and his faith was slipping away.

  He felt the burner phone buzz in his lap and looked down, seeing that it was the private investigator that Anari had plugged him with. He hired him to help him find his family and make sense of it all. He looked at the phone screen and it simply read,

  Meet me at same spot. I have an update for you.

  Carter responded back immediately, texting,

  On way.

  He quickly started up the car and headed toward the small coffee shop just outside Dade County. Carter set up the place as a meeting spot, because it had no cameras and had relatively low traffic. Anari had connected him with one of the most respected P.I.’s in the country. He was a brown bag customer, meaning his services only were to be paid in paper bags, no trace. Carter loved that business model, seeing that it fit his circumstances perfectly.

  He headed onto the freeway and rolled down the window to feel some of that fresh Miami air. It had been a long time since he had been in his old stomping grounds and he had to feel that salty, humid air as he zoomed down the interstate. He took a deep breath and inhaled as he enjoyed the scenery and tall palm trees that hovered over the highway.

  I beat this highway up, Carter thought to himself with a smirk as he thought about the Cartel days and how much weight he used to move up and down the interstate. He thought back to the first day that he stepped foot in Miami and that was to see the father he had never known. He met his father at his funeral and that image always stuck with him. It was the day that changed his life forever and he found out that he had brothers and a sister. It was the day he was thrust into a position he wasn’t ready for. Although Carter didn’t truly know if that day changed his life for better or worse, he understood that it started a roller-coaster ride that he couldn’t have imagined.

  A tear dropped down his cheek as he thought about the life he had created for himself. He had never imagined that he would have made millions and owned casinos in Vegas. He also never imagined being on the FBI’s Most Wanted list or going to war with some of the most powerful men in the country. It was all surreal to him. He wiped away the tear and looked down at his phone, which was buzzing. It was from a blocked number and he quickly picked it up.

  “Hello,” he said with optimism that it would be Breeze. He longed to find her so he could reunite with his only son. Every moment away from him broke his heart and he knew how it felt to not have your father around while growing up. It pained him, but he knew that he was continuing the cycle that he’d vowed to break.

  “Yo, we got one,” Anari said calmly as she hinted about what the scientist had explained to her. Carter closed his eyes in disappointment. Anari wasn’t the voice he wanted to hear.

  “Oh, yeah,” he said as he gathered his composure.

  “Yeah, it’s so potent, we can moonwalk all over this mu’fucka,” she said with the utmost confidence.

  “Sounds like we on to something then,” Carter said as he turned the wheel to get off on his exit.

  “No doubt. But dig this. I think we need to expand and see if some of my old friends want in. I have some heavy hitters out in the Dominican Republic. I can see this being worldwide, rather than just here. I really think I should set up a meeting. You game?” she asked as she walked into her condominium, undressing herself. Although Anari was in her forties, her body was still toned. She talked business as she locked eyes with her husband who was waiting for her naked with an erection in his hand. She hadn’t had any dick in weeks and had instructed him to get ready right before she got on the phone.

  “I’m game, set it up,” Carter confirmed just before he closed his phone and pulled into the small coffee shop just off the freeway.

  Anari, on the other hand, ended the call but started her ride on the dick of Von, her husband. She kissed him passionately and whispered how much she loved him in between the wet sloppy kisses. He gripped her buttocks and squeezed them as he slowly guided her up and down on his shaft. Not even thirty seconds into the lovemaking session, Anari exploded all over his pole and her body quivered from the orgasm and tingling throughout her body. She smiled and stopped grinding and rested her head on his shoulder.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said.

  “You ain’t shit,” he said while smiling.

  “I know,” she said as they both burst into laughter. Years of marriage had made them best friends and they were both glad that she was back home.

  * * *

  “So your nephew seems to have gotten himself into a bit of trouble,” the private investigator said as he slid the court documents across the table, detailing the assault that Mo was charged with.

  “Damn,” Carter said as he picked up the paper and studied it.

  “They have him locked up in juvie as of now and it doesn’t seem like he’s getting out anytime soon. He is declared a ward of the state,” the man explained. The P.I. reached into his briefcase and pulled out another court document with a picture clipped to its right corner. It was a small photo of Breeze’s mug shot.

  “What the fuck is this?” Carter asked as he felt like an apple was in his throat when he tried to swallow.

  “She was picked up for tax evasion. She’s in a federal prison serving her time now,” he explained as he pointed out her charges on the paper. Carter’s head dropped as he felt despair, thinking about where his baby boy was.

  “What about my boy? What about C.J.?” Carter asked as he looked at the man sitting across from him in desperation.

  “That’s the thing. Nobody can locate him. He is listed as a runaway,” the man explained.

  “Wait. What? A runaway?” Carter said as he tried his best to take in all the information.

  “Yes. The last known place of residency was with a woman that worked for the state as a social worker.” He then reached into the bag and pulled out a piece of paper. “Here is her last known address, number, and address of her workplace. This should be a good place to start,” he said as he got up and extended his hand. “I hope this helped.”

  “Yeah…” Carter said halfheartedly as he tried to wrap his mind around what was going on. He shook the man’s hand and reached into his pockets to pull out the money wrapped in a brown paper bag, but the man quickly signaled for him to stop.

  “No worries. Anari has taken care of me already. Good day, sir,” he said just before he walked away and out of the café, leaving Carter there with a table full of papers.

  Carter had to think wisely before he approached the lady, knowing that she was a government employee. However, he was on a mission to find his son and even if he had to be on the run with him, so be it. But first … he had a t
rip to the Dominican Republic to take. He had to get his ducks in a row so he could knock them down. First, establish a money flow, get his son, and approach the DA with the threat of blackmail. He decided to use his trip to the Dominican as his planning period and on their return, he would go hard and get his family back once and for all.

  CHAPTER 11

  C.J. was silent as he sat in the back of the tinted Mercedes next to Estes as they were driven through the streets of Santo Domingo. As C.J. looked outside his window he saw the poverty that had taken hold of the people who lived there. Not everyone lived like Estes and C.J. wondered how Estes had gotten rich while the rest of the people in his native country seemed to be starving. A tense knot settled in his stomach and his chest ached from the anxiety of what was waiting for him ahead. He wasn’t afraid of the fight to come, but the possibility of losing and getting further on Estes’s bad side worried him. There was money on the line and C.J. didn’t want to disappoint.

  He stayed silent for the entire drive and when they pulled up to an old tobacco factory he was surprised at how big it was. He had pictured a small fight with small fuss, just some old men who had too much money who had created a small ring. This was the size of an arena. The building had closed long ago yet the scent of tobacco leaves still filled the air. Its broken windows and rusting exterior made the place a perfect location to conduct dirty business.

  “I used to come here as a boy. My papa threw me in this ring when I was ten years old. Whether I won or lost, I built character over the years I fought here,” Estes reminisced.

  C.J. didn’t respond as the car rolled to a stop. He stepped out and looked up at the tall building. Intimidation filled him, but he tried hard not to show it. He followed Estes inside, stomach queasy and legs shaky.

  It looked like a coliseum inside. The middle of the factory had been barricaded off, forming an arena. Men stood on the outside of the barricade boisterously cheering as two young boys went to war on the inside. C.J. felt sick to his stomach as he watched the boys tear each other apart. This wasn’t the type of fighting C.J. had in mind. There were no gloves, no referee, no rules, just savagery.

  “You’re up next,” Estes said. The words rolled off his tongue so casually that C.J. looked at him in shock.

  “Put your game face on, kid. You go out there looking like you want to run home to your mommy and you’re going to be swallowing your teeth,” Estes said. He bent down and stared C.J. straight in the eye. “You aren’t ever in that pit with anybody that’s better than you. You don’t fear any man. Your enemy bleeds just like you bleed. That feeling in your heart, making you feel like you want to run, your opponent feels that too. That’s not fear, that’s fuel. You use that,” Estes said. C.J. nodded and gritted his teeth as Estes pushed him into the pit.

  Two men carried the losing boy out of the pit as the winner walked off. C.J.’s eyes widened as they carried the loser right by him. The kid moaned, barely conscious, his face bloodied to the point of unrecognition.

  C.J. looked up as a Dominican boy stepped into the pit. He was taller than C.J. and about twenty pounds heavier. The look in his eyes held no fear. A loud bell rang and the boy charged at C.J., who dodged the first punch and then the second, only frustrating his opponent. C.J. was swift.

  “Stop running!” a voice shouted from the crowd. The whoops and hollers only seemed to incite the kid. His fists might not have been connecting but the wind that came behind them was so strong that C.J. could almost feel the knockout coming. C.J. was just a boy but he wasn’t a fool. If he squared up with this boy he would lose. The kid had a size advantage over C.J., but C.J. had stamina. The kid couldn’t land a punch on C.J. if he tried and with every swing his frustrations grew. It only made the boy exert more energy trying to land one knockout.

  When C.J. found his opening, he threw a punch, connecting with the kid’s face. Dodging the kid’s counter, he faded him again, landing one to the boy’s eye once again. C.J. wasn’t technical with his attack, but he had sparred with Mo enough times to know how to handle an older kid. He had taken losses fighting Mo to prepare him to give one out when he was tested by an outsider.

  The crowd erupted in surprise. C.J. was the underdog. It was his first fight and everyone expected him to lose. Grown men had big money on his opponent but C.J. wasn’t proving to be an easy win.

  C.J.’s adrenaline had turned him into a beast and he was executing each punch with precision, completely frustrating the boy. It was obvious he couldn’t outswing C.J. but when he delivered a blinding head butt, C.J. was stunned as he stumbled backward. Blood leaked from his nose as a ringing filled his ears. C.J. bent over and the kid followed up with a knee to C.J.’s face.

  “Get up!” Estes shouted. C.J. was dazed and the blood in his eyes stopped him from seeing well. He scrambled backward but the kid was coming at him too fast. The boy lifted his foot but C.J. rolled out of his path, barely avoiding the kid’s wrath. He struggled to his feet, squinting his eyes as he wiped the blood away with the back of his hand. The kid swung, and C.J. dodged left and came back with a hook to the jaw that buckled the boy’s legs. C.J. kept attacking because he knew if he stopped, the boy would get the best of him. He didn’t want to give this kid any opportunity to strike back. C.J. kept waiting to hear some type of bell that signified the end, but no one stopped the fight. The kid fell to his knees and C.J. punched him. His fists were so sore that with each strike it felt like his knuckles would break. C.J. stopped when he heard the kid yell, “I’m done.”

  “You’re not done!” a man in the crowd shouted as he jumped into the pit. He rushed over to the kid and pulled the boy to his feet, only for the kid to fall back to his knees. C.J. stood, unsurely, his hands up, ready.

  The kid wasn’t tapping back into the fight, however. The man pushed the boy down onto the ground in disappointment and C.J. finally relaxed as the crowd erupted at the unexpected defeat. C.J. backpedaled, not wanting to take his eyes off the kid. He retreated to Estes, who stood with a proud smirk.

  He placed a firm hand on C.J.’s shoulder and they walked through the unruly crowd of men.

  It was a blood sport. It was a fight to the finish and C.J. had proven more than anything else that he had heart.

  * * *

  Estes chuckled to himself as C.J. tore into the meal that his personal chef had made for him. He had certainly earned the dinner.

  “Are you sure you don’t want anything else? I tell you my chef can make you anything in the world and you choose a burger and fries?” Estes was amused by C.J.’s humility. It was honorable and rare.

  C.J. chewed sloppily and didn’t respond. He had worked up quite an appetite. Estes was surprisingly proud of C.J. The kid wasn’t his blood but he was something special. His grandson Mecca had been a beast, Monroe had been sharp as nails, but they had their faults as well. C.J. seemed to possess an inner monster that he brought out when needed, but he had self-control too. He was smart and most important he possessed a level head that allowed him to assess a situation before reacting. If Mecca and Monroe had been anything like him, they both would still be alive, Estes thought. If my Sammie had been more like him … Estes stopped the thought. He didn’t want to let his thoughts lead him down that path.

  Nevertheless, he was impressed with C.J. He was young and had no one, yet somehow each time he fell, he landed on his feet. His resilience was remarkable and the young boy intrigued Estes. The way C.J. fought, fearlessly, Estes knew he could make a lot of money by putting C.J. in the pit each week. With a bit of training, C.J. would be unbeatable.

  “I underestimated you when you first arrived, C.J.,” Estes admitted. “This is your home now. You have access to anything here. The room that you walked in before … it belonged to my son. He died a long time ago. That is the only place in the house that I ask you to stay away from. Other than that, you have free rein at the place. You have a gift with your hands, C.J. You’re young and your instincts are good. I would like to put you back in the pit. You
stand to make a lot of money. You can shape your own life, C.J. Every fight you win, I will put money away for you, in an account that belongs to you. You’ll have the best trainers, the best diet. I can turn you into a machine if you let me,” Estes said. “What do you say?”

  C.J. nodded. Working out his anger in the pit had felt good. After the fear had dissolved, he felt liberated. Every punch he threw was about more than just winning. Since he was five years old he had felt vulnerable. From the day Baraka had taken him from his family, C.J. felt powerless and displaced as if he would never truly be safe anywhere, not even with his family. In the pit, he felt in control. With every blow his hands delivered he released a bit of the hurt he felt inside. He didn’t need to speak about his emotions, he could just fight through them.

  “Okay,” C.J. agreed. Estes went to the freezer and retrieved a bag of frozen vegetables. He tossed them to C.J.

  “For your hands,” Estes said. “Get some rest. You went into the pit unprepared today and you still came out victorious. In the morning, you’ll train.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Just wash your body as fast as possible and get out of here, Breeze thought as she stood outside the running stream of water, staring at the disgusting shower stall. The stained tile made her think it had never been cleaned and the fact that she had nothing to cover her feet made her cringe. Still, she stepped inside, knowing that her options were limited. She gasped in surprise at the coldness that hit her skin. Apparently, warm water is a luxury too, she thought. She held the tiny piece of bar soap in her hand that they had given her upon her arrival and tried her best to create a foamy lather. It wasn’t much. In fact, the cheap soap didn’t lather at all, but it was all she had so she didn’t complain. Breeze wet her hair, letting the water rinse through it. She wished that she could rinse her worry away, but anxiety held her captive and there was no escaping it.