by Ashley
The Cartel was back and better than ever. They had learned from their mistakes, and this time what they were building was untouchable. The only thing that could tear down their empire was self-destruction.
Chapter Eleven
“Young Zyir is simply a protégé of yours. You both are men of little patience, always eager to get to the dinero.”
—Felipe
Carter pulled up to Felipe’s estate. He had moved through the bricks and it was re-up time. Carter made hustling look easy. Most men wouldn’t know how to handle one brick, and within a month, he had burned through three thousand. Now he was back in Mexico to pay the piper.
He was eager to meet his connect face to face for the first time. He no longer needed Zyir to play middleman. Now that he was free, he could handle his own affairs.
He was unimpressed by the opulence around him as he entered Felipe Garza’s estate. If anything, the flashiness of the place turned him off. It was obvious that Felipe was living the lavish life, and Carter only hoped that his new connect was smart enough to ensure his longevity. If Felipe’s spotlight was too bright, then others would surely be watching. The estate was beautiful, but it was excessive and massive, too much for any one man.
Carter hoped that linking up with this new connect did not prove to be a costly mistake. He took a deep breath to calm himself before he exited the car. His recent stay in prison had caused him to be increasingly aware of every move he made. He viewed the streets as a chess game, and he wanted nothing more than to win.
“Carter Jones, my brother Josiah Garza speaks highly of you. It is good to finally meet with you,” Felipe greeted, extending his hand as the two men shook.
“Likewise. I know this visit is unexpected. We were not scheduled to meet for another three months, but I like to move quickly . . . efficiently,” Carter stated.
“I understand. I was under the impression that we would meet once you were done with the entire package. It does me no good to receive my money in pieces. I’d like the entire forty million back at one time,” Felipe replied.
Before he responded, he walked over to the limo and knocked on the window. The driver emerged and popped the trunk where duffel bag after duffel bag filled the interior.
“Like I said, I move quickly. That’s the entire forty with an extra five for you as repayment for the work you put in concerning my case,” Carter stated. “You can have your men unload it. The first deal proved to be very lucrative. Let us waste no time in doing it again.”
Although it was Carter who was the guest, he took charge as if he were on home turf. He held out his arm and motioned for Felipe to walk with him. He could see the displeasure in Felipe’s eyes. The Mexican drug lord was used to other men following his lead, but it was clear that Carter Jones had no intentions of playing the back. He was a boss, and conducted himself as such.
Felipe had taken a keen interest in Zyir. He had liked the young fellow because he had displayed the proper etiquette in dealing with someone superior to him. Carter, however, had put a different taste in his mouth. In his presence, Felipe felt inadequate, and it was then that he realized that all of the things he had heard about The Cartel was true. He was staring into the eyes of their leader, a man even greater than himself. Carter had experienced a minor setback when he had fallen under a federal microscope, but now that things were back on track, he had the potential to overthrow any empire. Felipe knew that this was not the intention of Carter, but his demeanor indicated that it was always a possibility. Felipe would have to be careful with how much power he helped The Cartel re-attain.
“Now I see that young Zyir is simply a protégé of yours. You both are men of little patience, always eager to get to the dinero,” Felipe stated. “Let us get to know each other as men first, and then we will discuss our arrangement. I own a few brothels and gentlemen’s establishments that I’m sure you will enjoy.”
Carter nodded and obliged with a discreet smirk because he knew that Felipe was trying to feel him out. He had sent Zyir to Mexico with specific instructions to go with the flow, because he did not know what he was getting his li’l man into. He, on the other hand, was there to establish boundaries and to ensure that both parties understood each other clearly. He wasn’t there to party and bullshit, but this would give him a perfect opportunity to turn the tables and learn more about the Garza Cartel’s operation.
* * *
Murder discreetly picked the lock to Miamor’s old condo, the same place where Carter had recently taken residence, and slipped inside. The place still held Miamor’s scent, and Carter had removed none of her old belongings, which made memories of his li’l mama come rushing back to Murder. It was as if she still lived there and could walk through the door at any moment.
Being so close to The Cartel was eating him alive. He was in the same city and had barely made a move on them yet. He didn’t want to make the same mistakes that had cost Miamor her life. He wanted to study them from afar first, before moving in. Without a doubt, he knew that Mecca had been the one to end Miamor’s life, but that did not relieve the blame from Carter’s shoulders so easily. He wanted revenge on them all. Carter was the leader, and above all else, he had chosen to wife Miamor. He should have ensured her protection.
What type of nigga lets his chick be murdered in cold blood? Murder thought.
Murder would have never let anything happen to Miamor. She had been the only woman he had ever loved. He remembered how infectious her personality was, how easy it was to become consumed in her beauty, how he would have done anything for her. He concluded that any man who truly loved Miamor could have never let this happen.
Miamor was the type of woman that you kept shielded from the world because she could not be replaced. She had been a rare find, an unspoiled soul with a ruthless talent for killing. There was not another soul like hers in existence, and now that she was gone, Murder saw nothing but black. There was no white in his world, no silver lining around his dark cloud. She had been the best part of him, and even from afar and through the isolation of the prison walls, he had loved her. She wasn’t simply the type of chick who would blow through your money and whisper sweet nothings in your ear. She was the type to blow a hole through a nigga and hit his safe right next to her man if need be. She was loyal.
Before Murder had ever gotten a chance to truly build a life with her, Carter had come along, snatching her heart from underneath him.
Murder moved quickly through the condominium. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was looking for. He simply needed to know more, and with Carter out of town on business, this was the perfect opportunity for him to search for answers. He came across a photo of Miamor and Carter. The happy snapshot featured the couple vacationing on a beach. Jealousy burned through him as he placed the picture face down on the mantle.
Just as he was about to make his exit, he noticed a book that stuck out slightly from the collection on the bookshelf. He walked over to it and pulled it gently. As he suspected, a trap door opened, and Murder slipped inside. It looked like an army’s arsenal closet. For a man of Murder’s profession, it was like being a kid in a candy store as he admired all of the flawless guns. He knew the room had not been meant for anyone’s eyes but Miamor’s. It was where she kept all of the details of the jobs she accepted, and tacked to the wall was a huge picture of Mecca Diamond with a red circle around it.
As he stared at the extensive research that Miamor had done on the Diamond family, he was amazed. She had been so detailed, so precise. She had indeed become the best at what she did. Even Murder did not realize what she was capable of. She even had monitors that showed the inside of her own home, so that when she was inside of the room, she would know exactly who was inside her place and what room they were located in.
He froze when he heard the lock to the front door turn. Luckily, Murder had made his way through the condo in the dark, and his identity was hidden behind the ski mask he wore. He turned off his flashlight and pulled the trap door close
d as he watched the monitor to see who was coming inside. His temple throbbed when he saw Mecca Diamond enter.
Mecca had noticed that Carter had been throwing him shade lately, and he had a feeling that it had something to do with Miamor. He wanted to know how much Carter actually knew. It would give him a better idea of how to play the situation. He left the lights off as he moved through the place.
As Murder watched Mecca disappear through the monitors, he crept out quietly, .45 in his hand. Killing Mecca would be sweet for him, and as he stood in the middle of the living room, he contemplated his options. The Murder Mamas had advised him to play his cards right. If he hit Mecca tonight, it would throw a red flag to the rest of the members of The Cartel. There would be a contract out for Mecca’s murderer almost immediately, and with everybody on edge, it would make it even harder for Murder to get to Carter.
He silently headed for the door and was about to leave when an overwhelming hatred for Mecca overcame him. His murder game clicked on, and he turned on his heel and headed toward the bedroom.
Fuck hitting these niggas all at once. Another opportunity like this ain’t gonna present itself, Murder thought as he preyed on Mecca, letting his gun lead the way down the pitch black hallway.
Mecca used the tiny flashlight as his only illumination as he went through Carter’s possessions. When he found the small 14 karat gold cross that his father had given him, he froze. He hadn’t seen it since the day he killed Miamor. He had beaten her so mercilessly that it had fallen from his neck. The fact that Carter now had it meant that Carter had been to Mecca’s torture house. He had seen the tools that had been used to torture Miamor.
He knows, Mecca thought. He had hoped that it would not have to come to this. He had witnessed firsthand how much Carter cared for Miamor, and this would surely put them at odds.
He just couldn’t let the bitch go. That’s why he’s been looking at me sideways. Fuck! Mecca thought. He knew what had to be done, but was no longer sure if he could do it. He did not want to murder another brother. He was trying to become a better man, and it was no longer in him to take the life of someone he loved.
As Mecca thought over his dilemma, an eerie feeling suddenly came over him. He was a breed of mankind that had not been reproduced yet, and he instantly knew that someone was behind him. He could almost smell the gunpowder from the weapon that was pointed at the back of his head.
Mecca bucked back violently. “Aghh!” He screamed as he pushed back with all his might, throwing Murder off balance as Mecca rammed him into the wall.
A fight between the two men was useless. They were both too skilled to get the best of the other. Every blow Mecca threw, Murder blocked, and each time Murder wrapped his finger around the trigger, Mecca averted his aim. Their battle was like a synchronized dance as they attacked each other with full force, each becoming increasingly frustrated because neither could gain the upper hand.
“Who the fuck sent you?” Mecca barked. He was not sure who was gunning for him now. It could easily be Estes, but with this new revelation, it could be Carter as well.
Murder finally managed to get his finger around the trigger, and he fired relentlessly as he wrestled with Mecca for control of the gun. Sparks erupted from the barrel of the gun like a fireworks display on the Fourth of July.
Murder’s skinny build failed him in a fistfight. He would shoot the shit out of a nigga before he ever sparred with him, but Mecca, on the other hand, was good with his hands. Mecca’s well-built, solid frame allowed him to finally overpower Murder, causing the gun to go flying across the room.
Murder knew that Mecca was strapped, and went for the only exit in the room, the bedroom balcony. He ran full force, breaking through the glass, and disappeared before Mecca could get off a shot. Mecca was far from a rookie, however. It was the same exact escape that he had used to get away from Estes’ goons, and his hollow point bullets could swim. He knew to aim straight for the pool below.
He reached out and rushed to lean over the balcony, only to find the pool undisturbed below.
“Fucking nigga ain’t Superman. Where the fuck did he—” Mecca stated in confusion, but before he could even finish his sentence, Murder’s gun emerged from the balcony below. Without hesitation, he fired, hitting Mecca in the face.
Murder was grateful that he always carried a weapon on his ankle as he ran through the empty condo and out the front door, where he skirted off into the night.
* * *
The music in the club blared loudly as Carter sat back in the booth while a beautiful Mexican girl danced in front of him. His eyes graced the delicate curves of her body as she put on the best performance he had ever seen. Seeing her before him made him feel empty inside. Outwardly, no one would be able to tell that he was in turmoil, but in the privacy of his heart, he was broken from losing Miamor.
I should have been there for her. I could have stopped Mecca if she had just come to me. How did I not know what was going on right underneath my nose? A part of Carter felt like he did not even know Miamor. She had lived a lifestyle so closely linked to his that it was scary. His logic told him that he had been a target of hers along with the rest of The Cartel, but he could never bring himself to believe that she would ever bring him harm. The love that they had built was too deep, and although so many things she had told him had been lies, he knew that her feelings for him had been truth. He was in a daze as he thought of her, placing her face on the dancer in front of him.
“They don’t make tits like these in Miami, eh?” Felipe asked, interrupting Carter’s thoughts. “This is pure bred Mexicana pussy,” he bragged as he tipped generously and sipped at his glass of cognac.
Carter chuckled as he raised his glass to acknowledge the beauty that surrounded him in the club.
“This is the business that you need to get into. The drug money is good, but this is where it’s at,” Felipe stated surely.
“Prostitution?” Carter said doubtfully.
Felipe shook his head and smiled coyly while pointing at Carter. “No, my friend. That’s where you’re wrong.” He pointed to the girls around the club. “This right here, this is just one entity. Trafficking, that’s what I’m into. I buy and sell girls. I put them to work in clubs, brothels, on the street. Sex is man’s biggest addiction, Carter. I supply that demand, and it makes me filthy rich. Let me show you something.”
Carter stood and followed Felipe through the club as he explained his operation. “This club is one of many of my establishments. I own every property on this street, and each one serves its purpose.” Felipe led Carter out the front door and then pointed to the house next door. “That house right there is the brothel, and the one next to it is an auction house.”
“An auction house, as in slave auctions,” Carter stated condescendingly.
“Modern day slavery, if that is what you would like to call it. Human trafficking is big business. It is happening all over the world. I buy my girls from all over and I put them to work. Pump ’em up on heroin and they’ll do anything I say.”
“How do you keep them from running away?” Carter asked as they stepped into the brothel house.
“Where are they going to go? They have no one, no family. They come from many different places. Some from Africa, some from Asia, the Caribbean . . . you name it. All they have is me and the addiction that holds them hostage,” Felipe replied.
The house was littered with drug paraphernalia. Dirty needles lay out on tables, and the smell of sex filled the air. Carter was almost too disgusted to continue the tour. He could only imagine the type of clientele that frequented the spot. Brothel was just a friendly name for a whorehouse, in his opinion, and he knew that this would never be a type of venture he would be interested in taking. He didn’t believe in exploitation, and as Carter looked around the house he knew that the women trapped there were simply waiting to die.
“The money never touches the girls’ hands. The men pay the madame on the way in,” Felipe stated.
>
He expected Carter to be impressed, but his creased brow revealed his contempt. His moral compass allowed him to do many things. He had killed, robbed, and deceived, but to kill a person’s soul and force them into prostitution was beyond Carter’s ability. His moral compass would not allow him to ever become that lost.
“I know what you’re thinking. You think I’m running a trashy establishment here,” Felipe stated. “I only buy the best girls. Let me show you the grade-A pussy I’m selling here.”
He led Carter up the stairs to one of the closed bedroom doors. Before Felipe opened it, he said, “All you need is a few like this one in here, and men will come from everywhere to sample her. She is my big moneymaker.”
He opened the door, and when Carter stepped in, his heart broke in half. The sight before him almost brought him to his knees. It was as if he were seeing a ghost.
She’s supposed to be dead. How long has she been here?
As the girl lifted her head, her eyes met Carter’s. It had been a long time since they had seen one another. It was a reunion that neither of them ever thought would come. Before him was Breeze Diamond, on her knees in front of a john. She was so high out of her mind that she did not believe what was appearing before her very eyes. She had imagined her family too many times to get her hopes up. She was so high that she thought Carter was simply another customer waiting to be serviced. She shed a single tear as she lowered her head back into the man’s crotch and went back to work.
* * *
Zyir sat back on his plush king-sized bed as he and Illiana counted the money he had just collected from the streets. The first flip had been good, and everybody was eating again. In fact, the streets had never seen a cocaine epidemic like the one that The Cartel was pushing. It was a new day, and although internal tensions were at an all-time high, everybody was putting their differences aside, because they all saw the bigger picture. It was time to move on and let past beefs die. The Cartel was in a stage of rebuilding, and money was always the common denominator that put everyone on the same page.
