by Ashley
“Look, Money, I know what you’re going to say … me and Fly … it just…” She searched for the right words. “Happened.”
Monroe surprised her when he replied, “I understand. Carter might kill him, but he’s good with me.”
“I haven’t spoken to Carter in three years. Fly came back for me. Carter didn’t,” she said, her voice cracking in sadness.
Monroe noticed, but didn’t say anything. He knew that this strong woman always did have a weakness for his oldest brother. “Does he know? About C.J.?”
“No,” she whispered. “I don’t know how to find him.”
“Yeah, well, that makes two of us,” Monroe admitted. “I haven’t spoken to Carter, either. I talk to Breeze often. She keeps me connected with Zyir, but Carter doesn’t want to be found.”
“Well, I have to let him know about this,” she said. “C.J. needs him. He’s been asking for him. I have to find him.”
“You was married to the nigga,” Monroe said. “You know him, inside and out. He let you get in more than any of us. You loved him once.…”
“Once?” she scoffed. “I will love your brother until the air leaves my lungs. I’m with Fly, but it’s because Carter left me alone.”
“I’m saying … that bond … that love … if anybody can find Carter, it’s you. You know how he thinks. You know his patterns, his habits, his wishes. You’ll find him. I can tell you’re guarded. You’ve built up a wall around that subject out of respect for your new nigga. You’re going to have to tear that mu’fucka down, though, so you can feel that shit again. That’s the only way you’re going to locate him.”
Miamor nodded.
“And me and you…” he said, pointing between the two of them. “We’re good. We’re family. Thank you for taking care of my son.”
CHAPTER 11
Carter stood overlooking the snow-covered woods. The land was covered in so much white that it almost sparkled. What would have normally been a pitch-black night was illuminated by the abundance of snow. It was peaceful. It was a beautiful escape from the evil ways of men, and he never planned to leave. Despite his tranquil surroundings, Carter was haunted. He was tired, emotionally drained, and so full of sadness that it poured out of his eyes. He couldn’t stop his soul from revealing his anguish. Any time anyone looked him in the eyes, they could see that he was tormented by memories of the past.
He heard the footsteps behind him and he automatically tensed. He knew who it was. He knew that she meant him no harm, but still, he reacted. He would live the remainder of his life looking over his shoulder, unfortunately. “Why are you awake?” he asked, without turning around.
“I should be asking you that,” Sam said as she walked up behind him, caressing his broad, tense shoulders. “The pills aren’t working?”
“A man shouldn’t have to take sleeping pills to rest at night,” Carter replied.
She leaned her head against his strong back and sighed deeply as her arms wrapped around his waist. He was grateful for her. Her presence alone made the seclusion bearable.
“Come on,” she said as she walked over to the set of leather chairs that sat adjacent to the fireplace. A notepad was already in place on the small decorative table that separated them. Carter took his seat as she picked up the pen and pad. “Tell me about it.”
This was why she was invaluable to him. Sure, she kept his bed warm at night, she cooked for him and kept up the chalet as well, but it was this … the therapy sessions … that soothed him.
“When I close my eyes at night, I see my son. I see my brother Mecca. I see my father’s face,” Carter stated in a low, serious tone. “The guilt…” He paused and cleared his throat to stop himself from choking up.
“Why do you feel guilty?” Sam asked as she crossed her legs, wrinkles creasing her forehead as she observed him.
“Because of the woman I chose,” he said. Sam tensed. Carter’s eyes glistened with pools of emotion, but he quickly blinked them away.
“You never talk about her,” Sam said. “It’s okay for you to talk to me about your son’s mother.”
Carter shook his head. He gripped the armrests of the couch so tightly that his fingertips turned white. Although he tried every day, he couldn’t forget Miamor. “I can’t,” he said. He stood and went to the bar to pour himself a glass of cognac. He quickly downed a shot before refilling it.
“You shouldn’t drink. It only worsens the depression, Carter. I pulled you from a really dark place. I don’t want you to go back there,” Sam said.
“It numbs the pain,” Carter admitted.
“What did she do to you?” Sam asked, pressing him to talk about things he swore he would never mention. “Why are you so damaged? What could one woman do?”
“She was Helen of Troy,” Carter stated. He smirked at the thought of her.
“You went to war for her,” Sam replied, a bit envious. “Was she worth it?”
Carter remembered the passion that he felt when he had been with Miamor. He remembered the intensity of their love. Just the thought of their bond made his heart rate increase, but with every good memory there came a bad one. “What I lost because of her … nah, she wasn’t worth that,” Carter stated, finishing his drink.
Sam put down her pen. “When a man finds and loses the love of his life, it’s hard for any woman after that to measure up,” she whispered.
Carter heard the sentiment in her voice. “Come here,” he beckoned. She did as she was told. He pulled her onto his lap as they both watched the burning fire. “I don’t want anything close to what I used to have,” he assured her. “I’m content here with you.”
“I don’t want to make you content, Carter,” she admitted. “I just want to make you happy.” She turned around, straddling him. She was careful not to hurt him. The silk folds of her womanhood were exposed under the button-down shirt she had slept in. His hands caressed her skin as he quickly found her clit, massaging it slowly with his thumb. Her hips began to work as her eyes fluttered and her mouth fell open slightly. He enjoyed seeing her in ecstasy. His desire grew as she reached down, releasing him before she slid down on him. She sucked him in and the feeling of her, the grip she had on him, caused all the tension to leave his body. He cupped her breasts and kissed them gently as she rode him. Her rhythm was slow, his pace was intense, and together their passion filled up the room. Sam leaned back and braced her hands on his thighs while rolling her hips in pleasure. She was caught up … in a rapture with this marvelous man. She knew it, as did he. “Oh God, I love you,” she moaned.
Carter tensed, and in the blink of an eye, his mood changed. “Wait,” he whispered as he grabbed her waist and lifted her off of him.
“What’s wrong?” she gasped as she placed a hand over her heart, breathless.
“I haven’t been fair to you,” Carter said. “I can’t give you what you want from me, Sam.”
“I don’t want anything, Carter. There is no expectation,” she said. “I’m a big girl.”
“I don’t have any love to give,” Carter said. “I can appreciate you. I can enjoy you, but I can’t love you, Sam.”
“I know,” she whispered as she cupped his face. “That doesn’t stop me from loving you. I hate the woman who wounded you so much. I don’t need you to love me, but I won’t lie about my feelings for you. I just want you to open up to me. You can trust me with anything. Why do you think I’m here? In the middle of nowhere? You’re paying me well, but it isn’t about the money. I had family and friends. I’m up here, with you, cut off from the world, and I have never felt more alive. So no, you don’t have to love me; just don’t shut me out. Don’t ask me to go away, and don’t hold back.”
Carter wished that things could be different. She was good for him. She was a good woman … the type any man would love to make his wife. He was just so guarded. He couldn’t afford to be vulnerable, not again. After losing his son and exiling Miamor from his life, he didn’t think he deserved to feel joy. So instead o
f allowing himself to connect fully with Sam, he put up guards, blocking her from ever getting too close. They were together in an unconventional way. They talked, the sex was good, and the chemistry was magnetic, but he was no good for her. He knew what kind of karma he had sown. When it came back around, he didn’t want to pull Sam into his mess. She could only get hurt being with him. She was too legitimate for him. She didn’t know about the wars he had fought, the people he had killed, or the drugs he had sold. She didn’t know the kingpin. She knew what he pretended to be now, the simple, secluded persona that he had made up. She had no idea how real things could get in his world.
“Carter, look at me,” Sam whispered. Their eyes met. “You’re everything to me. Just let me in.” She kissed him, and his reluctance melted away as he swept her under him and laid her gently on the bearskin rug.
“Be careful, Carter,” she said, concerned. He was fragile. After being shot, he wasn’t quite the same. With only one good lung, he moved slower and his pain was not only emotional, or mental, but physical as well. He was broken, but pleasing a woman would always be his expertise. Sam didn’t know him outside of Colorado. All she saw was the secluded part of him … the man who chopped firewood and played chess against himself. She didn’t know his gangster. He was all G, and he handled her body as such. He silenced her worries with a kiss as he entered her, rocking her body. The only sounds that could be heard were the crackling fire and her cries as she called his name over and over again.
* * *
Carter awoke as the rising sun began to sneak past his curtains. They had fallen asleep on the floor, her head resting on his chest. He slid from underneath her, being careful not to awaken her. A chill had settled over the house. The fire had burned out, and the heat alone wasn’t enough to battle against the negative-degree temperatures outside. He slipped into his clothes, head spinning from the night before. He pulled on his coat, grabbed his gloves, and stepped into his boots before heading outside. The winter air was biting cold, but he didn’t mind. He had grown used to it. He inhaled deeply and then grabbed the ax that sat next to the porch. Never in a million years had he predicted this would be his life, but this was the only place where he could go that didn’t remind him of his former life. This had become his refuge.
He headed into the backyard and collected some wood from his stockpile. He then took it to the chopping block and began to break them down. He swung hard, overexerting himself probably, but he didn’t care. Since he was no longer in the business of running empires, this was the only way he knew to let off steam. There was no one to punish for the death of his seed. There was no vengeance to be had because he knew that if he even broached the subject, he would be killing himself. Baraka was too powerful a man to wage war against, so he held his rage inside and took it out on the wood every chance he got. By the time he was done, he had worked up a full-body sweat. He picked up an armful of logs and headed back into the house. The piercing scream that cut through the air stopped him midstep. Instinctively he dropped the firewood and headed to one of the guns he had strategically placed around the property. His paranoia never allowed him to be too far away from a pistol, and in three years he hadn’t had to use one. It seemed his past had caught up to him. He walked up the back stairs and eased through the back door. He saw Sam, curled up, covering herself with one of the bear rugs as she stared intensely at someone. “Who are you? What do you want?” Sam asked.
Carter rounded the corner with his hand around the trigger, but his heart dropped when he saw who had invaded his home.
“Miamor,” he whispered in shock. He didn’t know what he felt. Hatred, relief, love, confusion … it all plagued him as he squinted in disbelief.
“Hi, Carter,” she said. “I haven’t met your little friend here. Why don’t you introduce us?” Her tone was sarcastic … angry, even. Despite the fact that they were no more, she was still sick to her stomach at the thought of him being intimate with another woman.
“Go upstairs,” Carter said to Sam without looking at her. He kept his eyes trained on Miamor.
“Carter, who is this?” Sam asked.
“Yeah, Carter, who am I?” Miamor challenged.
“Go upstairs, Sam. Now,” Carter repeated, his voice stern.
“No, please stay. I think I deserve to meet the bitch that’s fucking my husband,” Miamor stated.
“Your husband?” Sam asked in shock. “This is your wife?” Sam gasped.
“In the flesh,” Miamor replied. She put the gun she had been pointing at the girl away, tucking it away in her Birkin. “I take it he didn’t tell you that I murdered the last bitch I caught him cheating with.”
“That’s enough, Miamor,” Carter said with authority. Miamor shot him a look that could kill, but she didn’t say another word as Carter helped Sam from the floor and whispered something in her ear. Sam rushed out of the room, leaving them to their reunion. It had been three years and neither of them had ever made their split official. By law, they were still man and wife.
Carter placed his gun on the counter and stared at her. “Why are you here, ma?” he asked. “Do you know what the sight of you does to me? I was starting to forget how much I resented you until I saw your face.”
His words stung, and she cringed as tears accumulated in her eyes. Carter Jones was her man. He was her husband. He had been her everything. He’s still so fucking handsome, she thought as she took a deep breath to stop her nostalgia. He was different. She could see that he had changed. His beard had grown out fully, and worry had aged his features before his time. He looked tired, burdened, and her heart ached just from his presence. All she really wanted to do was fall into his arms, but she couldn’t. He didn’t want her. His love had turned to hate for her. She had taken him through too much. Besides, she had moved on. With Fly, none of the bullshit lingered in the air. Fly loved her, and although it didn’t feel the same as when Carter had loved her, it was love all the same.
“I hate that you have her here. A part of me was hoping to find that you hadn’t moved on,” she admitted. “I wanted to kill her when she answered the front door. I wanted to put a bullet through her head.”
“Don’t speak about her. This is my life now,” Carter stated solemnly.
“I never thought you would have a life without me in it. I thought we were soul mates,” Miamor said, her lip trembling. She placed her fingers in the corners of her eyes so that her makeup didn’t run down her face as the tears emerged. She sniffed, slightly emotional.
“We were,” Carter whispered. “But I can’t be with you, Miamor. You’re reckless. The memories of our baby … they haunt me every day.”
“I have to tell you something, Carter,” Miamor said. “It’s about our son.” She pulled out her phone and held it out to him, showing him a picture of C.J. “He’s alive, Carter.”
The news hit him like a ton of bricks, momentarily stunning him as his brow furrowed. He saw her lips moving, but everything after “he’s alive,” he couldn’t fathom. He gripped the edge of the nearby table and bent over it as if pain had spread through his body. Carter was normally so in control, so composed, but when he looked up at her, tears filled his gaze. “How?” he asked. “This is a dream. I’m dreaming right now,” he whispered.
“No, it’s true. It’s real, Carter,” Miamor confirmed. “He’s alive. Baraka didn’t kill him. None of the kids. Monroe’s son is okay, too.”
Overwhelmed, Carter sat and planted his face in his hands as he cried. He tried his hardest to stifle his feelings and dam his emotions, but it all poured out of him. All of the hurt, the anger, the regret was flooding into his hands as he sobbed. He had never cried like this, not even as a young boy. Not even when he lost his mother or his father or his brother. Not even when he thought he had lost Miamor. She walked over to him and placed her hands on the back of his head as he buried his face into her stomach, pulling her close.
Seeing him this weak moved her. God, this is such a good man, she thought. She w
as mad at herself—livid, in fact—for messing everything up between them. Now it was too late. Now it was awkward. Forced. Her actions had reduced them to two people with two different lives who shared a child. This isn’t how it is supposed to be. We were supposed to love each other forever. Her thoughts were filled with sadness, but she was still grateful. Their son was safe, and that was all that mattered.
Carter grunted, slightly embarrassed as he regained composure. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he shook his head. All the nights he had thought of taking his life to rejoin his son when his son had never left him. “I should have gone after Baraka,” Carter said. “I should have seen his body with my own eyes before disappearing.”
“You didn’t know,” Miamor said. “Neither did I.”
Carter stood to his feet, squaring his shoulders. “How did you get him back? I know Baraka didn’t just give him to you.”
Miamor sighed. This was the hard part. This was the part where she would have to tell him that she was with Fly.
“Baraka is dead,” Miamor revealed. “Fly Boogie killed him and brought our son to me.”
Carter’s nostrils flared. “Fly Boogie? How the fuck that little nigga get to Baraka? And how you know so much about it? You with that little nigga?”
Miamor lowered her eyes and then took a deep breath as she replied, “Yes.”
Carter’s jaw clenched as he stared at her. He said nothing, but she could see the disdain and hurt in his expression.
“I—” she started to explain, but he interrupted her.
“Where is my son?” he demanded.
“In Miami, with Monroe. I only left him so that I could come speak to you,” she replied. “Come get you.”
Sam cleared her throat, announcing her presence. “Is everything okay, Carter?” she asked timidly.
Carter sensed her fear. Miamor had a way of intimidating most men, so he sympathized with Sam. “It’s fine.” He turned to Miamor. “I’ll be in Miami by this evening.”
