The Cartel Deluxe Edition

by Ashley

  The life of a federal witness was not what he anticipated. He was forced to go into hiding until the end of the trial, and the detachment he felt knowing that he had turned on his former best friend ate at him. He was set to testify in court in two weeks, but the closer the date came, the more he wanted to change his story. He knew that things could never go back to the way they used to be, but he had come up from the gutter with Carter, and he knew that if the shoe was on the other foot, Carter would have never betrayed him.

  Ostracized from everyone he loved and knew, Ace was living a lonely existence. At least in prison he would still have his family. If he had lived by the code of the streets and stayed true to the game, he would have been able to hold his head up high. He was a man, and no one had forced him to play the game the way he had. In his heart, he knew that he had no honor, and that he was causing the demise of another black man. He wanted to recant the statements that he had made to the feds, but he knew it was too late.

  Even if he took everything back, the hood would know that he had flipped on Carter, and they would never forget. The streets had no love for snitches, and he was already a marked man. His only option was to testify and then disappear in the witness protection program. It was his only way to start over and begin a new life.

  When we started in the game, neither of us ever thought it would turn out like this, he thought solemnly as he reminisced over his early days hustling with Young Carter.

  A knock at the door interrupted his reverie as one of the federal agents entered the room. They were his protection, the only barrier between him and the ruthless team of killers that he was sure Carter had ordered to find him. Ace was sure that Mecca was among the wolves coming for his head. Ace only hoped that they never found him. This was how he would live the remainder of his days, looking over his shoulder every second of every hour as the paranoia ate away at his existence.

  “Here’s your food,” the agent stated as he wheeled in a silver covered platter.

  “Thanks,” Ace stated as he sat down to eat his meal alone. Halfway through his meal, he grasped his throat in horror as he felt his airway become constricted. He attempted to yell out in distress as his eyes widened and he struggled to breathe. He stood frantically, knocking the table on its side as he flailed around the room, gasping for air. Sweat poured from his brow as his insides burned.

  The federal agents burst into the room to find their key witness on the ground. His bloodshot eyes pleaded for them to call for help.

  “Call a bus!” one of the agents shouted as he bent over to check Ace’s pulse. He looked at the food on the floor and concluded. “Secure the cooking staff downstairs. It’s the food! He’s been poisoned!”

  Ace felt himself slipping in and out of consciousness as the agents rushed into action around him. The paramedics finally arrived on the scene and lifted his convulsing body onto a gurney.

  “Please . . . help,” Ace managed to squeeze out.

  “We are going to take care of you, sir,” the paramedic stated. “Try to focus on me. Stay with me. You’re going to be okay.”

  Ace focused on the sound of the paramedic’s voice as he was loaded into the back of the ambulance. The man’s words reassured him, but he knew that this would only be the first attempt of many on his life. The Cartel had failed this time—fortunately for him, the federal agents had gotten him help in just the nick of time—but they would not always be around to protect him, and now that his location was known, Ace was more fearful than ever before.

  The ambulance sped recklessly through traffic as it rushed him to the hospital. Ace closed his eyes to conserve his energy. It wasn’t until he felt the electric bolts pulsing through his body that he realized something was wrong.

  “Aghhh!” He yelled as the paramedics shocked him. The voltage was up so high that the hair on his bare chest smoked. “Fuck is going on?”

  Before he realized what was happening, he watched the Mexican man place a gun in the center of his forehead. He did not recognize the men, and the look of confusion was apparent on his face. The ambulance stopped moving, and the back doors were snatched open. He looked up and into the face of the devil—Mecca Diamond. Next to him stood a stoic Zyir.

  Felipe’s soldiers removed their paramedic disguises and hopped out as Mecca and Zyir climbed in.

  Ace attempted to sit up, but was laid back down by the butt of Zyir’s gun as it cracked the bridge of his nose.

  “Zy, man . . . come on. We’re family. I swear I won’t say shit, fam. You don’t have to do this,” Ace begged as he reached out his hand toward Zyir.

  Mecca scoffed in disgust. “This ol’ pussy-ass nigga. Where the fuck Carter get this mu’fucka from?” he asked as he aimed his .357 and blew a hole through Ace’s pleading hand.

  “Aghh! Fuck!” Ace yelled in excruciating pain as blood spewed from his wound. He held his injured hand.

  Ace knew that there would be no reasoning with Mecca, so he hoped that Zyir would show him sympathy. “Zyir, we came in this together.”

  “And you going out alone, my nigga,” Zyir stated coldly. His loyalty was to Carter. Any love that he had for Ace had dissipated when Ace turned snitch. Zyir figured that if Ace was willing to turn Carter in, it would only be a matter of time before his own name turned up on a federal affidavit.

  Tired of the “remember the times” love song that Ace was singing, Mecca emptied his clip into Ace, silencing him forever. Zyir then walked around to the driver’s seat and put the vehicle in drive. He and Mecca stood as they watched the ambulance roll through the highway rails and plunge down into the mountainous valleys below.

  They turned around and shook hands with Felipe’s men. Their connection with the Garza Cartel was already proving to be valuable. It was Felipe who had located Ace, and because of him, at that very moment, the federal judge presiding over Carter’s case was being paid off handsomely. Without Ace, the feds’ case would be too weak to convict, and when Carter’s lawyer requested a dismissal, the judge would oblige.

  Chapter Nine

  “Yeah, I know you’re a Diamond, Mecca. Me and

  everybody else in Miami knows!”

  —Leena

  Making the trip to Mexico the second time was bittersweet for Zyir. He was eager to begin their business relationship with the Garza Cartel, but he was upset by the fact that he missed Carter’s last day in trial. He would soon have his freedom, and Zyir wanted to be there to congratulate him when he walked out of the prison walls. He knew that his task in Mexico was more important, however. Carter had groomed him well, and he knew that above all else, the money was always first priority. They could celebrate later. Today, Zyir had three tons of cocaine to pick up. Nobody dealt in quantities that large, and with that much access to the product, it was only a matter of time before they were the largest drug cartel in the nation. Miami was only the beginning.

  When Zyir pulled up to the Garza estate this time, there was no hesitation. He had already established a level of trust with Felipe, and was granted access with ease. He was greeted by Felipe, who stood waiting with open arms.

  “Zyir, my friend,” Felipe said as the two men embraced briefly. “I have something to show you.”

  Zyir followed Felipe around to the back of the estate, until they came upon two Mack trucks.

  Felipe pulled up the back of one of the semi-trucks, and his eyes widened as he took in the beautiful sight before him: rows and rows of neatly packed kilos. There were so many bricks that they gave off a sparkle. Zyir had never seen so much work in his life, and the sight made his hands itch, because he knew that soon a lot of money was going to flow.

  “There are three tons between the two trucks. I have the entire first shift of border patrol on payroll. You and your people will be able to drive straight through without being stopped,” Felipe stated.

  Zyir quickly added up the total worth of the cocaine in his head. Three tons equaled three thousand bricks. They would easily go for twenty-five a pop, and even a
fter splitting the take with Felipe, The Cartel stood to profit almost $40 million. It was a big payday for everyone, and as long as everything went flawlessly, there were many more lucrative deals to come in the future.

  “Cat got your tongue, Zyir?”

  Zyir turned around and saw Illiana standing behind him. Her tanned skin glowed flawlessly, and she hid her mysterious eyes behind large Dior sunglasses. Her voluptuous body was displayed in the designer two-piece bikini and matching cover-up she wore. Every part of her appeared perfect as Zyir took a quick glance, admiring her top to bottom, taking in everything from her pedicured feet to the seductress red stain on her lips. “Illiana,” he acknowledged. He kissed her cheek quickly before turning his attention back to the task at hand.

  Felipe put his arm around Zyir. The gesture was too friendly for Zyir, and he had to bite his tongue quickly so that he did not react. He had never let another man “son” him in his life, and although he was young in age, he was wise in years, something that Felipe would learn in time.

  “I am aware of The Cartel’s recent financial troubles, so I am willing to extend these kilos on consignment. However, this is too large of an order for me to just entrust them to you. I’d like to send one of my people to Miami with you to watch over my investment,” Felipe stated.

  “That won’t be a problem,” Zyir replied. “We fully understand your position, and Carter extends his assurance that this partnership will be beneficial for all involved.”

  “I’ll have to meet this Carter. My brother Garza speaks highly of him. After his legal affairs are handled, I would like to invite the two of you back down here. No business . . . just a meeting among men. I’ll have to show the two of you a good time.”

  “I’ll be sure to extend the invitation,” Zyir answered. “Who will you be sending to Miami?”

  “Illiana,” Felipe replied.

  Zyir stopped walking mid-stride, as if he had heard Felipe wrong. “Illiana?”

  “She will not get in your way. She will simply be my eyes and ears. I hope that you will put her up temporarily,” Felipe suggested.

  Zyir looked back at the seductive Illiana. He knew that her presence would only mean trouble.

  “Of course,” he said as he turned back to Felipe. Illiana would be a beautiful distraction, and he would have to stay focused on his hustle to make sure that things remained professional between them.

  * * *

  Carter sat reserved behind the defense table, completely confident as he sat poised and attentive. It had not been a good day for the defense. After losing their key witness, they were grasping at straws to keep the case alive. Carter’s defense was all over it. Beckham was definitely earning his keep as he demolished the federal prosecutor, making Carter look like he was a saint, while discrediting the federal agency that had made his arrest.

  “Your Honor, it is clear that without the key witness, the federal prosecutor has no leg to stand on,” Beckham stated.

  “No, Your Honor, the only thing that is clear is the obvious witness tampering involved in this case. My witness was murdered in cold blood.”

  “The witness was in protective custody and was rushed to the hospital because of food poisoning,” Beckham shot back. “It is on the official State of Pennsylvania police report that the ambulance transporting the witness lost control and crashed. That is how the witness died. My client, who was hundreds of miles away and locked in a prison cell, could not have orchestrated such events!”

  “And the bullet holes in his body were just there for decoration!” the D.A. shouted sarcastically. “Your Honor, you can not let this man—this gangster—make a mockery of the law.” The prosecutor stood to argue more, but was interrupted by the impatient banging of the judge’s gavel.

  “Does the State have any other evidence to present besides the witness?” the judge asked.

  “No, Your Honor, but—”

  “I move for immediate dismissal of the case.” Beckham was a shark. He did not even give his adversary a chance to finish his sentence.

  All the while, Carter sat back unscathed as he watched the amusing charade go down. It did not matter how much protesting the prosecutor did; he was getting off. The amount of money that the Garza Cartel had put up to make it happen ensured it, and as the judge looked his way, they shared a knowing glance.

  “Motion for immediate dismissal granted,” the judge announced. The courtroom erupted in mayhem as Carter shook his attorney’s hand.

  Before Carter could celebrate too much, the prosecutor stood. “Your Honor, the defendant has a new charge pending. He was involved in a prison brawl that resulted in the injury of one of his fellow inmates. We ask that he be held on this new charge that we will be actively pursuing.” Carter’s eyes burned holes through the white man as the judge approved the request. The government was doing everything in its power to keep him locked up.

  Before Carter could even express his displeasure, Beckham leaned into his ear. “Don’t worry about it. That is just the desperate measures of a persistent D.A. You just made them look bad. Not many people are able to beat a federal conviction. They are pulling tricks out of their bag to delay your release from prison. I’ll make sure that the technicalities are taken care of immediately. You will be out by this evening,” Beckham assured.

  “Ensure that I am,” Carter instructed as he allowed the bailiff to escort him away. He told himself that it was the last time he would ever be placed in handcuffs. Prison was not for him. Although he had gained a valuable new connection behind the wall, he had also had a piece of his soul taken from him, and he would die first before he ever allowed anyone to drag him back to hell.

  * * *

  Mecca sat patiently on Estes’ block as he monitored his home. Since he discovered that Leena was alive, she had been on his mind constantly. He was the last person that she wanted to see, but he only needed a moment of her time. She was the only person who could supply him with the answers to the questions he sought.

  Her fear of him was evident, and it disturbed Mecca that a woman he had once loved was so terrified of him. Although his anger was still fresh, he had convinced himself that enough was enough. Murder was not the way to solve this problem.

  Mecca was tired of killing. He resented his position as the bad seed of his family. Even he had to admit that his aggression and disregard for life had pushed him to the edge. It was one thing to murder because you had to, but Mecca actually enjoyed it. He looked forward to the powerful feeling that taking a life gave him, but it had become a problem when he had begun hurting those that he loved. His ruthless nature was once his best quality when he knew how to control it, but he had taken it too far. Now all he was seeking was redemption.

  He had been stalking Estes’ house for hours, patiently waiting for his chance to get Leena alone. Finally she emerged, and Mecca admired her closely as she secured his nephew in the backseat of one of Estes’ luxury vehicles. He was curious about her relationship with his grandfather, and as she pulled away from the villa, he followed, keeping a comfortable distance so that she would not detect him.

  He noticed that Estes had one of his men following Leena as well. It would not be easy for him to get her alone. As she moved in and out of the boutiques on Collins Avenue, Mecca kept a close eye. He was just waiting for the right opportunity to make his move. Estes’ men were well trained, and there would be no getting to Leena undetected. The only way for Mecca to approach her would be to go through her protection.

  He watched as Leena stopped at a small eatery. He knew that her brief lunch would buy him some time. He parked a block away and then went to the nearest pay phone. He usually hated the police, but today they would aid him in distracting Leena’s bodyguard.

  He placed a 911 call, giving the police the license plate number to the bodyguard’s car, and accusing him of harassing shoppers. Knowing that they were in a prestigious part of town, he knew that the cops would respond almost immediately.

  As soon as he saw t
he squad car flash its lights on the bodyguard, Mecca slipped into the store. Spotting Leena at a quaint table in the back, Mecca approached her.

  It was as if her body sensed Mecca’s presence. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and her breath caught in her throat before she even knew he was there. Warning bells went off in her head, and when Leena looked up from her menu, she froze like a deer in headlights. Because of Mecca, she was that tuned in with danger. Mecca’s presence made her body tense in trepidation.

  “I’m not here to hurt you,” Mecca stated peacefully as he stopped where he stood. “I just want to talk to you, that’s all.”

  Leena looked around for her bodyguard, and when she did not see him, she immediately began to gather her things. The small caliber handgun she carried in her child’s diaper bag gave her a small peace of mind, but she knew that her shot could not match Mecca’s. If he wanted to kill her, he would. She had seen how he got down with her own eyes. She picked up her son. She knew that Mecca would not pop off on her in the crowded eatery. He didn’t like witnesses.

  As he watched her scramble with her things, his heart broke. At one time, he really had loved her, and he knew that only he was responsible for the fear that she felt toward him.

  “Leena, you have my word,” Mecca said sincerely. He peered outside of the café window and noticed that the guard was still being harassed by the cop. “Can we go somewhere? Leena, give me at least that.”

  Leena wanted to tell him no, but she would only be avoiding the inevitable. Mecca was persistent, and his arrogance did not allow for people to turn him down. If she told him no today, he would only come back tomorrow and the day after, until she eventually said yes.

  “Lift your shirt,” Leena stated, her tone serious.

  Mecca lifted his shirt discreetly as he stepped close to Leena, so that the other patrons in the bistro could not see what was going on. She removed his pistol and pressed it against his back. If they were going to talk, it was going to be on her terms. “Walk to the back,” she instructed nervously, baby in one hand and gun in the other.