by Ashley
He reached out and gripped the post of the king-sized bed. Miamor rushed to his side. “Carter,” she said with a sigh. “Please just lay down. I’ll call Monroe. I’ll get him over here so you can two can figure it out.”
Carter gripped the back of her neck and placed his forehead on hers. “On my life, I’m going to fix this.”
“I know,” she replied. “I know.” She helped him back onto the bed. “Let me get you some tea. It’ll relax you until Monroe arrives.”
She slyly palmed the Vicodin in her hand before easing out of the room. Miamor couldn’t let Carter intervene. It would do no good for him to take a stand against Baraka. She had to turn herself over to him. It was the only way to guarantee C.J.’s safety. She quickly made him a cup of hot tea and took three pills out of the bottle. She ground them up fine and then mixed them into Carter’s drink. It was enough to knock him out for hours. He drank it without question. It wasn’t long before he began to feel his head cloud.
“What did you do, ma?” he asked as she sat on the edge of the bed.
“What I had to,” she replied. “I’m not letting you jump into another war over me. I love you, Carter. Good-bye, handsome.” She leaned down and kissed his lips one last time. She didn’t even look back as she made her exit because she knew if she did, she would never walk away. This is the right thing to do, she told herself. It’s the only way to make this right. When she made it to her car, Miamor picked up her phone and called Baraka. As soon as he answered, she said, “I don’t need any more time. I’m ready to meet today. I need your word. If I give myself up, you’ll let Leena and the boys go.”
Baraka simply responded, “Meet me where you buried my daughter. One hour.”
* * *
Miamor took her time heading out to the desert. Baraka would wait. His need for revenge would make him stay there until she arrived. She sat on the side of the highway, splitting a dutch. She rolled down her window and emptied the contents, then pulled out a Baggie to empty the Kush weed inside. It had been a habit she had given up when she had her son, but in this moment she gave herself a pass. Thank God for Aries, she thought, chuckling slightly at the fact that she was smoking the small stash her friend had left in her car.
She rolled up like an expert, as if she had never stopped. She sat and smoked patiently, silently, as she watched the minutes of the clock run down. Thirty-six minutes, she thought. It was the amount of time she had left on this Earth. Her life of tyranny had come down to this. She had left bodies on top of bodies in her wake. She wasn’t naïve. She knew that this day would come. She was surprised it hadn’t come sooner. She wasn’t a good person. She didn’t deserve to grow old. She knew exactly what sins she had committed to deserve this fate. That’s why she took her time and savored the blunt. She was stalling. When she had finished her smoke, she flicked it out of the car and sped off down the highway route, headed to the middle of nowhere.
She saw the headlights coming up in her rearview and they were coming at her fast. She frowned as the car passed her. It swerved in front of her, forcing her to hit her brakes to avoid a collision. The windows were tinted, and Miamor couldn’t see inside, but she was sure it was one of Baraka’s goons. She reached for the pistol that sat in her passenger seat, but then halted. She would go willingly. It was instinct for her to fight, but this time she had to concede defeat. The doors of the vehicle popped open, and two masked men hopped out. She opened her door and stepped out. She kept her hands by her side, palms out, so they could see she wasn’t carrying a gun. “What is this?” she asked.
The two men rushed her, and she immediately noticed their hands. They weren’t Baraka’s men. They were black. “Did Monroe send you?” She instantly began to regret getting out of the car without her gun.
They said nothing and approached her with guns drawn. “Why would he do this? Do you know what’s at stake?!” she shouted. One of the men grabbed her, and she snatched away from him. “No! Don’t do this!” she said as he grabbed her waist. Why is Monroe stopping me? Why would he do this? she thought as she kicked and screamed as she was pulled toward their car. Miamor fought with all of her might to break free, but when they slipped a rag over her mouth, she knew it was useless. The familiar smell of chloroform overwhelmed her, and within seconds everything around her faded to black.
* * *
The sun shined brightly through Monroe’s window, awakening him before he had the chance to recover from the bottle of cognac he had consumed the night before. He didn’t even want to turn toward the window. He squeezed his eyes closed, pulling the cover over his head as he groaned. Drowning his sorrows away had brought him no relief. The only thing that would make this right was Miamor’s sacrifice. Monroe had already decided he was handing Miamor over to Baraka, whether Carter agreed or not. This was bigger than a woman. This was about family. Miamor was affiliated by association; she didn’t have Diamond blood flowing through her veins. That fact alone made her expendable. He knew he would be at odds with Carter for years to come over the decision that had been made without him, but Monroe didn’t care. His only concern at that moment in time was his wife, nephew, and son. Monroe knew it would take some time for Carter to accept this. He only hoped Carter could see that this was the only way to put an end to things. He grabbed his phone and called Carter, but when he didn’t receive an answer, he decided this was a conversation best had in person. Monroe stood and quickly dressed before heading out. When he made it to his car he noticed his trunk was slightly ajar. He frowned as he approached it. “What the fuck?” he mumbled. When he pulled it open, the sight before him ripped him apart.
“Leena, no baby, no,” he cried as he looked at her bloody, naked body. Her eyes were still open as she stared off into space. There were burn marks all over her, her hand was missing, and her face was swollen to the point where it was unrecognizable. If it had not been for her wedding ring, he might have doubted her identity. “No!” Monroe sobbed as he pulled her from the trunk. He fell to the ground with her in his arms. Blood was everywhere. “Somebody help me! Please!” he shouted. He had never been so wounded—even when his parents had died or Mecca had been murdered. This was a different emotion. This was the woman he loved. She would have never been a part of this life if it had not been for him. She was a victim of circumstance; another tragic love story. He was devastated. It felt like his heart was made of glass and had been shattered into a thousand pieces. He knew that the only thing Leena had done wrong in her life was to love him. A gangster and a good girl were never a wise mix. The dead body in his arms was evidence of that. He had known that she wanted him out of the game. If he had just heeded the signs Leena had given him, she would still be alive. This felt like his fault. Somebody had to feel his wrath. There would be hell to pay for this loss. He would drop a body for every tear that slid down his face.
CHAPTER 4
Miamor awoke to the distinct smell of him. She recognized it instantly. It was ingrained in her memory. She knew his scent. She knew him and as she realized she was in his clutches, it all began to make sense. He was the only person in the world who could catch her slipping. He had taught her the game, and the student never surpassed the teacher. Murder. He was her first love, but love was a tricky emotion. When handled correctly it was a beautiful thing, but where matters of the heart were concerned it could quickly spiral out of control. Murder’s love for her had become an obsession. She didn’t know if he loved her or if he just wanted to say that she belonged to him. Between them, things were always so complicated. It was a constant cycle of cat and mouse and once again he had caught up to her. Her head was cloudy. She had been chloroformed, and it would take some time to shake the haze that incapacitated her. She wasn’t at her best. She couldn’t fight him. Not now, and if she was being honest with herself, not ever. He was better than her at killing; probably the only person whose heart was colder than hers since Mecca Diamond. She sat up, weakly, hanging her head as she leaned against the headboard of the bed. Her m
ovements were limited and she gritted her teeth as she yanked at the handcuffs that bound one of her wrists to the bed frame.
“I thought I killed you,” she said maliciously as she leaned against the headboard in defeat.
“I thought you did, too,” Murder replied as he puffed on the Kush-filled blunt. “You did a nigga cold, Miamor,” he continued as he moved from the chair across the room to the bed. He sat directly next to her and stroked her hair. “You look like you need this more than I do.” He held the blunt up to her mouth, and Miamor closed her eyes as she took it between her lips. She inhaled and then blew it out slowly.
“What have you done, Murder?” she asked as a tear rolled down her face. “Do you know what the fuck you have done?!” Her voice raised to a holler as she stared at him, enraged.
“I saved your fucking life, Miamor! That’s what I did! I’mma always choose you! That pussy ass nigga Carter was just going to hand you over if I didn’t step in!” Murder shouted.
“There is no saving me, Murder! When will you get that through your fucking obsessed head? I don’t need saving!” she screamed. She broke into sobs as she thought of the repercussions of Murder’s interference. Her thoughts of his interference wrecked her. “I killed the daughter of a very powerful man. I’m a dead woman walking regardless. He took our son, Murder! He was going to give him back if I gave myself up. He was going to give him back—” She tilted her head back, hitting it against the wood as she cried. “All you had to do was let me do that. He’s dead, thanks to you. They’re going to kill my baby.” She whispered the last words … not wanting to hear them.
“I didn’t know, Miamor. The nigga Fly didn’t say anything about a kid,” Murder stated.
Miamor sniffed as she stared at him in disbelief. The narrow slits of her eyes were like daggers as anger pulsed through her. “Fly Boogie? He was a part of this? He’s working with you?” she asked. She had trusted Fly. She had leaned on him for support and friendship. “Why? Why can’t you ever just let go of me, Murder?”
“Because you’re mine,” he replied. “You might not remember how much we meant to each other. Carter might have you blinded by this Cartel bullshit, but I remember, Mia.” He leaned his face into her as he tried to kiss her, but she turned her face defiantly.
“I don’t remember,” she whispered as her lip trembled at the thought of her child.
“You remember,” he insisted as he kissed her cheek sensually, then her ear, and her neck. He was intoxicated by her scent, and she cringed at his touch. “You remember me busting that pussy open, you remember me putting my tongue on it. I can still hear you calling my name, Miamor, begging me for it. I know you ain’t forget that. You said it was mine. I got locked up and left you out here, to survive on your own. I know you’re pissed about that. You latched on to another nigga so that these streets didn’t eat you alive. I get it, but it’s time we got back to what we used to be. Before you switched up.” He pulled back and mushed her head hard. “You hear me?”
Miamor gritted her teeth to stop herself from getting slick at the mouth. She didn’t know what Murder was capable of. Not anymore. The last time they had faced off she was pregnant and defenseless. She had seen a side of him that was so psychotic, she knew he wasn’t above killing her. He would rather see her buried six feet deep than back in Carter’s arms. She would have to play this carefully. A knock at the door caused Murder to rise off the bed and she sighed in relief. She didn’t fear Murder. She didn’t fear anyone, but she did fear for the fate of her son. He was just a kid. He wasn’t supposed to pay for her sins.
Murder snatched open the door to the bedroom, and Fly Boogie walked inside. In his hands he carried brown paper bags of food. He looked at Miamor. She looked away. “Miamor,” he said.
Miamor didn’t respond. Confusion plagued her as a million things ran through her mind. What is he doing here? How does he know Murder? she thought.
“Did I tell you to talk to her?” Murder asked. “Don’t overstep, young.” It was a subtle warning.
“What, nigga?” Fly Boogie asked, challenging him.
Miamor realized Fly Boogie was in over his head. He had no idea what a man like Murder was capable of. She needed him to tread lightly, so she spoke up. “Baraka has C.J.,” she told him. “The longer I’m here, the worse things will get. He’s probably killing him right now.”
Fly Boogie cleared his throat as he looked at her sympathetically. “You’ve been out for a couple days, Miamor. It’s too late, ma. Baraka killed Leena and the kids,” Fly informed her. “The memorial is today.”
It was like she had been slapped in the face by his words. They stunned her as her heart immediately felt hollow. It was like all the love that she had collected in her life had drained out of her in that moment. It hurt. Like nothing she had ever felt before; her soul burned like the fires of hell were scorching her. “No,” she said as she shook her head in denial. “No!” she screamed. “He’s my blood. My only son. You have to let me go. I can’t … be … here.” She spoke passionately, pleadingly, desperately as she pulled at the handcuff. “No—oo.” She sounded wounded, as if she were being tortured slowly. What they didn’t know was this was her worst fear. This was a nightmare. Neither man had ever seen her so distraught.
Murder rushed over to her side. “Miamor, stop,” he said. She was pulling at the handcuffs with such force that he thought she would break her wrists. The entire bed shook as she lost control.
“I’m going to fucking murder this motherfucka!” she shouted. She snapped. Like a shark out for blood, her instincts clicked on. “Get these fucking handcuffs off of me.” She sneered. Her resolve was so strong that he could see the malice in her stare. “This isn’t about Carter, Murder. This ain’t about me and you. It’s about my seed. If you keep me here, I will never forgive you. I will never love you. I will never see you the same again. You won’t want me because you won’t be able to trust me. You won’t be able to close your eyes around me. I swear to God. I will kill you if you keep me here. My son’s funeral is today! I have to be there! I have to see him! His mother has to be there,” she pleaded.
“Look what they did to you, Mia. Look how vulnerable they made you. You wouldn’t be like this if you had stayed with me. I would have protected you,” Murder stated.
“I know…” she cried. “I know. I remember. I remember you as the man who would do anything for me, so be that guy right now. Do this.…”
Against his better judgment, he dug in his pocket to retrieve the key to the cuffs. He released her and then gripped her face tightly. “Don’t play me, Miamor. You know what happens when I have to come find you. You do what you have to do with your kid, but you know where home is. Don’t make me come snatch your pretty ass out of that casino.”
She nodded and scrambled from the bed before he changed his mind. “Take her back,” Murder said to Fly Boogie.
“And my money?” he asked.
“I’ll get your money, nigga. You think she’s in any state to get to the casino account right now? I’mma pay you. For now, make sure she comes back,” Murder insisted.
Miamor and Fly Boogie walked in silence out of the hotel suite. It wasn’t until they were in the elevator that Miamor spoke. “What did you do?!” she shouted as she pushed him hard in the chest. She was livid, and although she was the more deadly of the two when she was armed, unstrapped she had no wins against his strength. He pinned her against the wall, pressing the weight of his body against hers.
“Calm down, ma,” he said as he stopped the elevator.
“How could you work with him? How do you even know him? How could you do this?” she cried. She was hysterical at the thought of her child. How had he died? Had Baraka been cruel? Had he tortured her son the way she had tortured Yasmine? “This is all my fault. My baby boy. Nooo,” she said, coming undone as her knees buckled. “He needed me!”
“Shhh,” Fly Boogie soothed her as he held her up, steadying her while placing his forehead against hers
. “Look at me, Miamor.”
“I can’t … I just can’t.” Her heart ached so badly.
“I didn’t know. I didn’t know about the kidnapping. I had love for Leena and for your son … for Money’s son, too. You know I wouldn’t have made that type of move had I known what was up. But giving yourself up was the wrong play, ma. Men like Baraka don’t hand out pardons. He lost his daughter. Your blood ain’t enough. He wants Carter to feel the loss of his legacy. He would have killed your son whether he had you or not. I wasn’t about to sit on the sidelines and let anything happen to you. It ain’t in me,” Fly Boogie said. His face was so close to hers that when she spoke, their lips touched.
“Why are you here with Murder?” Miamor asked.
“Shit is complicated,” Fly Boogie said.
“Uncomplicate it,” she shot back.
Fly Boogie swept a hand over his face. “I met Murder years ago in Miami. He paid me to infiltrate The Cartel,” he admitted. He left out the part about knocking off Carter. “I got sucked in. I got close to Carter and then Carter went away and I got close to you. I left Miami and said, ‘Fuck Murder.’ I didn’t look back. He showed up here a few days ago. I helped him snatch you.”
Miamor shook her head in disgust. “So all this time you were just his bitch? You were his spy? His flunky? Reporting my every move to him? What was the endgame? Huh, Fly? Were you going to kill me? Or was bringing me back to him the plan the entire time?” she asked.
“Hell no, I wasn’t going to kill you, ma!” Fly Boogie defended himself. “I wanted you for myself. I started feeling you. You know that. The shit between me and you got heavy. I would have never—”
“Yeah whatever,” she said, cutting him off. “I just need to go back. I need Carter,” she whispered.
“It always goes back to him,” Fly Boogie scoffed as he stepped back. “You literally have niggas waiting in line for you, ma. Niggas that will go to war for you … and you keep crawling back to the one who fucked you over. You’re worth more than that, but whatever, ma. It’s your world.”
