by Ashley
Just as he was about to say something to his wife to reassure her of their safety, a loud barrage of knocks sounded, startling them both. Milo quickly told his wife to wake up the girls and all go into the same room. He reached for his gun that was in his waist band and held it up. He watched her whisk the girls into the safe room with a worried look on her face. He placed his finger to his mouth, signaling her to keep quiet. He feared the worst and couldn’t imagine who was knocking at his door at that time of night. His mind instantly went to Carter Diamond and an inevitable retaliation. His adrenaline began to pump, and he went into protector mode. He looked at the small-caliber pistol in his hand and decided to grab something bigger. He rushed into his bedroom and dropped to the ground, lying flat on his stomach. He reached under the bed and pulled out an AK-47 assault rifle. As he stood, he cocked it, prepping it to be ready for any action warranted.
He hurried out of the bedroom and glanced at his wife, who was huddled in a corner with the girls in the safe room. They were all confused and trying to understand what was going on as their mother whispered to them, instructing them to be quiet. He crept down the stairs while the knocking was still going rampant, making their girls shriek in terror with each loud thud. Milo got to the first floor and stood in front of the door. The urgent knocking continued. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as he approached the door. He was prepared to blow away whoever was on the other side.
Quickly unlocking the door, Milo pulled it open and pointed the assault rifle at the man standing in his doorway. It was Matee.
“What de fuck are y’u doing here!” Milo asked as he lowered his gun and exhaled harshly, trying to calm himself. He tossed his rifle onto the couch and rested his hands on his hips while shaking his head in irritation.
“We hit dem at court! That’s de only way!” Matee yelled as he brushed past his brother and entered the home.
Milo looked at his brother as if he were crazy, shaking his head in disbelief that his brother would come to his home and disrupt his family time. “What the fuck are you talking about? We can’t do that! You’re going to get yourself killed.” His dismay then turned into disgust as he noticed the redness in Matee’s eyes, immediately knowing his brother had been doing blow, his drug of choice. Milo never partook in drugs himself; he only was interested in making money from them. He hated that his brother had this bad habit and it broke his heart every time he saw Matee high. Their undocumented immigrant parents had worked so hard to build a life for them, but the streets had consumed Matee, and eventually Milo too. They were probably rolling over in their graves because of what their sons had become.
“Matee…” Milo said, shaking his head.
“Matee,” Matee repeated, mocking his brother’s “proper” voice. He hated the fact Milo could turn his accent on and off and he couldn’t.
In Matee’s mind, Milo was ashamed of their roots and thought he was better than him. However, that wasn’t the case. Milo just understood that to be successful in this country, he had to adapt to American customs and ways. Therefore, he’d tried extremely hard in school and worked on his English feverishly until he’d learned to hide his accent completely. Also, while Milo’s locs were neat and well kept, his brother’s were dyed and unruly. Milo and Matee were as opposite as could be but bonded by blood.
Milo glowered at his brother as Matee sniffled and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “You need to stay off that shit! You come knocking at the door in the middle of the night, like a madman. You’re out of control!”
“Well, me had to get mind off t’ings, y’u know? I have to kill Carter. I want him dead! No more waiting. Not doing it y’u way anymore! I make the rules now!”
Matee began to pace the room, obviously bothered by something. He mumbled things under his breath.
Milo was confused, trying to make out what he was saying. “Lower your fucking voice.” Milo kept his own voice quiet as he glanced at the stairs, hoping his family couldn’t hear his brother’s rant.
“Fuck dat!” Matee said, fire in his eyes as he charged toward Milo. They were now face-to-face, staring at each other. “We had dat muddafucker and y’u let em go!”
“You pointed the gun at a little girl. You’re fucking insane. I couldn’t let you do it.”
“Fuck dem! Dey had no remorse when dey shot Tata,” he said, referring to their niece. The sound of her name made both of their hearts flutter. Grief caused both of their eyes to water, reminding them they’d had to bury a little Haitian girl at the hands of the Cartel. “We hit ’em at de’ courthouse,” Matee repeated firmly and confidently. Matee was hell-bent on killing Carter and the only place where he knew for sure to catch him was at his trial.
“You know this is never going to end, right? We hit someone from their side and then what? I’m not burying another child! I can’t do this anymore. I have a family to protect and this is getting too crazy. I’m out!” Milo said, fed up with the life. He wanted out of the drug game and all the murder and malice that came with it. He had four little girls and for the first time, he was going to put them first, not his brother. He could see the devil in Matee’s eyes, and he knew what came with that chaos.
Matee squinted his eyes and leaned his head to the side while staring directly into his older brother’s soul. “Out?”
“Yes, I’m done. This stops today. I’m out! If you go to that courthouse, you’re going to get killed. Whoever you take with you is going to die as well. Either that or get lifetime sentences. You’re leading your own people into a fire you aren’t going to be able to pull them out of. You can’t go on federal property and execute a hit. It just can’t happen!”
“It’s happening,” Matee said, not budging whatsoever.
“You’re fucking crazy,” Milo said as he threw his hands up, not understanding the thought process of his brother. He knew at that moment Matee was on the brink of insanity, willing to lose his own life just to take Carter Diamond’s.
“I can’t do this anymore,” Milo said as he turned around and walked to his door. He opened it and stepped aside, giving Matee a clear pathway to exit his home. Milo had tears in his eyes because this could very well be the last time he would see his brother.
Matee saw the pain in his brother’s eyes and he instantly grew disappointed, knowing his brother was waving his white flag like a coward.
“Kapon,” Matee said, which was the worst thing you could call a man in Haiti. It meant “coward” or “without merit.” Any other time, Milo would have taken offense, but in that moment, the word didn’t matter to him. If being a coward meant keeping his family out of harm’s way, that would be a badge he would wear proudly and without any reservation.
Matee slowly walked past his brother with disdain and heavy disappointment in his eyes. He stepped out of the house and looked onto the street where a line of trucks was parked back to back. Three Haitian men leaned on the lead vehicle, all with guns in their hands. The others were standing around casually talking and not paying too much attention. Some had been there all day watching Milo’s house; the others had pulled up with Matee.
“You’re no longer one of us, kapon!” Matee yelled, a mean grimace plastered all over his face. He had the eye of the tiger and he wouldn’t stop until Carter Diamond’s blood was on his hands.
As he approached the door, one of the henchmen opened it for him, allowing Matee to smoothly slide in. They all stared at Milo as he stood there looking on. He was their boss, too, but Matee was their leader. Matee was in the streets and he led by pulling, not pushing. He was a street general and a king. For the soldiers, the choice to follow him was a no-brainer.
Settling in the back seat, Matee rolled down the window so all the goons could hear him loud and clear. “He’s not with us anymore. Move out!”
Everyone paused, not fully understanding what Matee was saying. Matee noticed the hesitation and opened the door. He stood, half his body out of the car, and looked around at his crew. “I said move de f
uck out!”
Just like clockwork, everyone began to move. Matee reached into his top pocket and pulled out a small glass vial that contained pure cocaine. He popped it open and put it into his right nostril. He took a deep sniff, shooting the drug into his system.
They all were disappointed to know Milo had tucked his tail in the middle of a war. Without saying anything, Milo knew he had been exiled for his decision not to ride. All attention was on the upcoming court day; that was where it would all end for the Cartel.
Milo closed the door and locked it. He was now alone and considered an outsider within the organization. He no longer had the armor of his mob and would have to be his girls’ sole protector. Understanding the Cartel’s reach, he immediately began to reassess his newfound situation. He grabbed the rifle from the couch and went upstairs to put it away. When he entered his bedroom, he put the weapon away in the closet and entered his girls’ room where his wife had them all in one bed. His oldest daughter, Sutton, and his wife were the only ones awake. His wife rocked the youngest, Ashton, in her arms as she slept peacefully. Milo wished his wife had that same peaceful expression rather than the grimace of worry she wore. He noticed the same look on his daughter’s face too. Then, looking closer, Milo saw tears in Sutton’s eyes as she hugged her mother tightly. He knew they’d overheard Matee’s yelling.
He dropped his head in shame at the fear in their eyes, but it also confirmed he had made the right decision. At that moment, he vowed he would never touch a drug again. He was out of the street game for good.
He took a deep breath and leaned against the doorway and locked eyes with Sutton.
“Are we going to get shot, Daddy?” she asked as she began to fully understand the life her father led.
“No, sweetheart. I promise. We are going far, far away from here,” he said with conviction. He then looked over at his wife and spoke. “Pack up all that you can fit in a bag. We are leaving.”
His wife began to do as she was told with no retort or pushback. Milo then walked into the bathroom and stood in front of the sink’s mirror. He rested his hands on the sink and began to stare at his own reflection. He was tired of the fast life and wanted a change. A big one. He reached into the sink’s drawer and grabbed his clippers. He proceeded to shave his head, gradually exposing the skin on his head, which he hadn’t seen since he was a little boy. As odd as it seemed, it felt like the weight of the world fell off with each loc as it hit the bathroom’s floor. Allegiance to his Haitian mob had blinded him to his true self. Milo wasn’t just a thug whose calling was a life of drug dealing. He was much more complex, and he began to see himself clearer as he shaved himself. With hair trimmings scattered on his face, shoulders, and chest, Milo continued to stand there staring at himself. He was above what he was doing, and he vowed from that point forward that he would use his mind to achieve his goals, not for murder and drugs.
In the wee hours of the morning, he packed up his family and all the money he had stashed from his drug empire and headed west. He, his wife, and his four little girls drove across interstate lines and they would never return. Milo had purchased a modest investment home in Houston, Texas, that he’d kept secret. He figured that would be a good haven to take his family to until he figured out his next move.
It was the end of one story and the beginning of another.
Within the next few weeks, a historic street war would ensue back home in Miami. Carter Diamond would be killed at his trial and many lives would be lost because of that. Miami remained a bloodbath for years and Milo never looked back. He hadn’t known it then, but that night would be the last time he would ever see Matee alive. He always felt bad, but he never regretted his decision because he knew he likely would have met his demise as well. He’d decided to leave for his girls and he would do it the same way again. He had seen the devil in his brother’s eyes and he knew it would eventually consume him. The necessary evil called murder associated with that life was too heavy on his soul. He didn’t want to succumb to the devil’s pie. However, he never foresaw that the devil comes in many forms, even when one thought he wasn’t present. The biggest trick the devil ever played was convincing the world that he didn’t exist. The devil had a way of forming himself in the thing one loved the most. In Milo’s case, that was money.
CHAPTER 1
PRESENT DAY
Milo sat in a federal penitentiary thinking about the night he and his family had left Miami for good. His facial hair was now salt and peppered because of the gray that had grown in over the years. His build was slightly slimmer than it usually was. Crow’s feet had formed just between his temple and eyes on each side, showing his mature age.
He waited patiently for his visitor. It had been years since the last visit, so he was excited for today. The guest list said his visitor’s name was Dana Cook, but that wasn’t the case. He watched a beautiful young lady approach the opposite side of the glass. Before she sat, she looked at him and her face lit up. The sight of her brought warmth to his heart and a smile to his face. She took a seat and picked up the phone that allowed them to talk through the glass. He did so as well.
“Hey, baby girl,” he said. It was his daughter Ashton. She had to sign in with an assumed name because of her felony conviction. Felons weren’t allowed to visit other inmates in federal prison, so she had to do what she had to do to see her father. She hadn’t seen him since they were arrested together years back.
“Hi, Daddy,” she said as tears began to form in her eyes. She was so glad to see her hero. He had aged over the past few years, but his eyes never changed. She had been anticipating today for years and exhaled deeply now that she was there. The tension that had built up in her chest instantly eased. Her stint in Miami had been so life changing and dramatic. Now, she just needed her father. Seeing him did wonders for her soul; and at that moment, she realized how vital he was in her life. She didn’t know exactly what to say to him, considering she was the reason he was in prison in the first place. The day that had changed everything flashed before her eyes yet again, a point in time that replayed in her mind constantly.
* * *
The tension was thick and steadily growing by the second. The young woman’s anxiety was building inside of her chest, creating uncomfortable, sporadic flutters. Sweat beads formed in her palms as she stared at the clock on the coffee shop’s wall. It was the top of the morning and the city’s early risers moved around the downtown district of Dallas, Texas. This spot was strategically chosen because there was no camera inside and the entrance was outside the scope of the surrounding businesses’ cameras too. The shop was half full. A few baristas worked hastily behind the counter as they scrambled to make espressos and lattes for the line of customers. The chatter was constant throughout the shop and everyone seemed to be in their own world as they got their morning fix of caffeine.
Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
Tock.
It seemed like the clock’s hand ticked a tad bit slower than what she was used to, like time was moving at a snail’s pace. She was ready for this meeting to be over. She looked down at her foot that nervously tapped the ground inside of her red stiletto heel. Although she was a wreck on the inside, her facial expression was that of a calm businesswoman. Her navy-blue Versace pantsuit was the perfect fit and her hair was neatly pulled back with her baby hair resting on her edges. Her nonprescription glasses sat on the bridge of her nose as she tried her best to look as nonthreatening as possible. Ashton LaCroix was her name and she was having the most interesting eighteenth birthday one could imagine.
She looked at the older man who sat across the room reading a newspaper. He had deep, dark skin and his neat salt-and-pepper beard revealed his maturity. He lowered the newspaper slightly and his eyes peered just over the top of it. He locked eyes with Ashton and showed no facial expression. He then slowly nodded, offering her calm. As always, it seemed to work almost immediately. Ash’s heart rate began to slow as she closed her e
yes, took a deep breath, and exhaled.
The older man winked, doubling the feeling of stillness only he could have provided. The man, who was thirty years her senior, was none other than Milo LaCroix, her father. He also was the mastermind behind this blackmailing scheme.
As the clock struck high noon, a fifty-odd-year-old man walked in. He was tall, slim, and had a head of white hair that was balding near the crown of his skull. His pale white skin and oversized glasses matched the description of every other financial broker in town. His frame didn’t seem to have an ounce of muscle on it; he was as intimidating as a fluffy white kitten.
He seemed to be in over his head and a fish out of water. As a partner and top broker at the biggest brokerage in Texas, he always was in a position of power and privilege. However, now he was putty in the hands of unknown con artists. He had never been threatened with blackmail before and Ashton knew he had too much at stake to risk not paying. He had to give in to their terms.
His eyes quickly scanned the room, his jittery hands holding a small leather briefcase. His uneasiness was written all over his face as he spotted Ashton, who sat in the corner of the coffee shop. Ashton gently touched the red rose brooch that was on the lapel of her jacket. The man slowly approached her and took a seat across the table from her. He looked at the young African American woman and a wave of disgust came over his face.
“Why are you doing this to me, you slimy bitch? You have no idea who I am and who you’re fucking with!” he harshly whispered as he stared a hole through her. He had rage in his eyes, along with worry.
“Oh my, Mr. London,” Ashton said as she smirked and gently touched her chest again. It seemed as if all the tension left her body once she spoke. “This is not personal. It’s just business. Moving right along…” Ashton reached down into her briefcase at her feet and pulled out a large envelope. She sat it on the table and folded her hands on top.
