by Ashley
She listened as the coroner worked, listening to music and humming carefree while she froze inside her hiding spot. She didn’t know how long she would make it without giving herself away. Suddenly the entire refrigerator illuminated and Miamor gasped as one of the metal slabs slid out. Miamor looked left, then right, and her eyes widened in horror as she realized how many dead bodies surrounded her. Some of them hadn’t even been processed yet. Open gunshot wounds and lifeless eyes were all around. Her hands trembled as she cupped her mouth and she quickly snapped her eyes closed. It felt like she was lying in her own coffin, and if she didn’t calm herself she would explode. Her anxiety built as tears of frustration overwhelmed her.
Stay quiet . . . just stay quiet, she urged herself.
The clang of the drawer closing caused her heart to drop into her stomach. This had to be punishment for the murder count she had racked up. Now death was outnumbering her, and she felt as if she was going to lose it.
Miamor was tortured for four hours as she waited for the coroner’s shift to end. When she finally heard the coroner leave for the night, her limbs were so frozen that her body was numb. Miamor pushed her feet against the wall in front of her, causing the drawer to burst open. Her blue lips trembled and her teeth chattered as she climbed down.
Miamor stumbled toward the counter and leaned against it for support as she shivered uncontrollably. Her entire body tensed when she heard the door to the morgue clatter open. Like a deer in headlights she turned around. A middle-aged woman in a white lab coat stared back at her, stunned.
“Hey! What are you doing down here? This area is—”
Miamor doubled over and groaned in pain, clenching her abdomen, interrupting the woman’s line of questioning.
“Oh goodness! Are you okay?” the woman asked as she crossed the room to come to Miamor’s aid. It was the biggest mistake she could have made. Miamor slid the ten-inch scalpel from the pocket of her stolen scrubs and using all of her strength, she arose and wrapped her arm around the woman’s neck.
“If you move or scream, I’ll slit your throat from ear to ear. You got me?” she asked.
The woman was scared shitless and nodded her head in compliance.
“Now, who else are you expecting to come down here?” Miamor asked. The woman was paralyzed in horror, and Miamor pricked her skin with the blade, causing a small trail of blood to begin to flow.
“Please don’t hurt me,” the woman pleaded.
“Then answer my question,” Miamor said. She was so weak that the woman could have easily overpowered her, but she kept her voice steady, deadly, and strong, hoping that the woman didn’t test her.
“No one. I’m the third shift coroner. I work alone,” she replied. “Are you going to kill me?”
“If you do what I say, you’ll be fine,” Miamor said truthfully.
Miamor’s mind spun as Mecca’s threats clouded her judgment. He’d told her to disappear. Miamor knew that she had no choice but to run—run and never look back. The only problem was the two bad bitches she was leaving behind. Aries and Robyn would never stop looking for her. As long as they thought she was alive, then their loyalty would keep them searching for her. I’ve got to die, she thought.
“Sit on your hands in the corner,” she ordered. The woman did as she was told as Miamor walked over to the wall of the dead. She began pulling out the drawers, one by one, until she came across one that suited her—a black girl who was too young to be lying lifeless before her. The tag on her toe read JANE DOE.
Damn, Miamor thought.
“I need her hands,” Miamor choked out. Not even she believed what she was about to do. Mecca was pushing her to the brink of insanity. Her fear and desperation forced her to take drastic measures.
“What?” the woman responded.
“I need you to cut off her fucking hands,” Miamor snapped, this time more stern.
The woman rose to her feet and meandered toward the surgical saw. She just wanted to leave the situation alive. Avoiding eye contact with Miamor she did as she was instructed, shaking the entire time. After she was done, she put them in a plastic zip bag and handed them to Miamor.
“Please, I’ve done what you’ve asked. I have a family . . .”
Miamor walked over to grab the woman’s leather briefcase. She emptied its contents onto the floor until she found the woman’s wallet and keys. She grabbed her driver’s license and read the woman’s address aloud.
“Fifty-four seventy-one Brookgate Court, Miami, Florida.”
The woman’s eyes bulged.
“You have no idea who I am or what I look like. You were too fearful to look me in the face. You don’t know anything. You can’t remember anything. Those are the answers to your questions when the police ask. You understand?” she asked.
The woman nodded.
Miamor pulled out an empty drawer.
“Get in,” she said.
The woman’s eyes widened, horrified as she began to cry. But she didn’t protest as she climbed on top of the slab. Miamor removed the woman’s shoes and then closed the drawer.
Miamor fell backward, letting her back rest against the wall as she breathed erratically and closed her eyes. Yes, she was a killer, but she was on some other shit at the moment. Not even she had the stomach for what she was doing. She grabbed the woman’s bag and stuffed the hands inside, then stuffed her feet into the coroner’s shoes.
She knew she couldn’t rest. She had to keep it moving. By now, the entire hospital knew that she was missing. Surely they would be looking for her. Miamor urged her legs to work as she stumbled from counter to counter, knocking over instruments and paperwork as she crossed the room. Finally she made it to the door and slowly ascended the steps. When she finally made it to the top, she was winded and sweating profusely, the scrubs clinging to her wet body. Nothing had ever been so hard to accomplish in her life, and her injuries screamed for her to stop, but she was like a shark. The minute she stopped moving she would die. The EXIT sign that hung above the door was so close yet torturously still so far away.
Everything in her wanted to call for help, needed Young Carter to use his position and power to get her out of this mess, but she couldn’t. Calling him would be signing her own death certificate, because with Carter came Mecca. The blood bond they shared made her obsolete.
Miamor half walked, half stumbled as she headed to the door. Her head was down, but her eyes stayed up, scanning the room. No one noticed her as she slipped through the double doors and out into the dark night. As soon as her feet hit concrete she ran, falling repeatedly because she was barely able to stand up.
Miamor willed herself to run faster, but the more steps she took the more hopeless her escape became. She hit the ground, her feet unable to withstand much more. She scooted her back against a parked car and gripped the scalpel in her pocket. She fished inside the bag until she located the woman’s keys then hit the alarm button.
HONK! HONK! HONK!
Flashing lights and a loud car horn sounded off as Miamor looked around until she located the car. A brand-new silver CLK called her name as she brought herself to her feet and rushed to the car. Miamor started the ignition and pulled off into the night as tears finally ran down her face. She sobbed so hard that she could barely see while making her escape.
Miamor stumbled inside of her apartment and quickly rushed to her safe. She pulled out the money that she had saved up. $250,000 to be exact. She then removed two 9 mm pistols. She stuffed the cash and one of the weapons into a duffel bag, putting the other gun into one of her handbags for easy access. Miamor showered quickly and threw on more comfortable clothes before grabbing her bag and kissing her life good-bye.
Miamor wiped down the stolen car, then got into her own as she put her new life together in her head. She checked into a seedy motel and gave into the pain and exhaustion that crippled her.
Miamor jumped out of her sleep and grabbed the gun from underneath her pillow all in one action, pointing
it straight ahead of her. She breathed heavily as she looked around, paranoid as the drapes blew from the small breeze that came through the open window. “I have to get out of here,” she said. The sleep had done nothing to heal her ailing body, but it had given her enough time to clear her mind. She grabbed her car keys and headed out to her last stop.
The sound of bells opening announced her presence as Miamor entered the tattoo shop. Tattoo art drawings covered the walls, and she looked around impressed, knowing that she had found the perfect man for the job. The hum of the tattoo gun resounded loudly in the shop as Miamor made her way toward the back.
“Hello!” she called out.
The buzz of the tattoo gun ceased and a white boy with spiked hair and a fully art-covered torso appeared out of the back.
“What can I do for you?” he asked.
“How much for a tattoo?” she inquired.
“Depends on what you get. You got anything in mind?” he asked.
“Two words. No color. Just black. Small font,” she replied.
“That’d be about seventy-five dollars,” he said.
Miamor nodded to the back where she saw a young girl lying on her stomach, waiting for him to return. “If you clear the shop, I’ll pay $7500,” she offered.
The tattoo artist chuckled slightly and began to turn away from her. “What kinda bullshit you on, sweetheart?” he said dismissively. She pulled out a knot of money and tossed it to him, instantly piquing his interest. He thumbed through the bills, finding all Benjamin Franklin faces staring back at him. “Give me five minutes.”
Miamor smirked and waited until the shop was empty before she proceeded.
“So what you want tattooed?” he asked.
Miamor pulled out the clear bag and tossed it to him. “These.”
The man jumped back, letting the hands hit the floor as he knocked all of the tattoo guns on the floor. “Holy shit!” he cursed. “Where’d you get those from? Are you insane?”
Miamor calmly sat down. “Lower your voice. Rule number one: don’t ask me any questions. Rule number two: you’ve got an hour to get it done,” she said. “Now are you in or out? Because if not, I’ll be taking my $7500 to the next mu’fucka.”
The man weighed his options in his head: his morality or the wad of money he gripped in his hand. As tightly as he was holding it, he knew that he wasn’t passing up the opportunity. He’d have to do a hundred tattoos to make that kind of dough.
“I’ll do it.”
He picked up the bag with his thumb and index finger, feeling his stomach turn. “This is some freaky shit,” the tattoo artist stammered as he wiped the sweat from his forehead.
“Stop bitching and just do it,” Miamor stated. “I need you to emulate this perfectly. Same font and everything.” Miamor held out her own wrists to show the white boy her own artwork: MURDER MAMAS
The tattoo artist went to work, copying the tattoo perfectly, and when he was done he sat back in admiration.
“Think it’s a perfect match,” he said.
Miamor looked and nodded in approval. The man turned to bag the hands.
BOOM!
Miamor sent a bullet through the back of his skull. She hated to do it, but he didn’t seem like the type to keep quiet, and she couldn’t risk anyone knowing she was alive.
She grabbed the hands and put them in the prepackaged box then dropped them at the nearest shipping store on her route out of town. The next day Aries and Robyn would receive “her hands” on the doorstep of their Los Angeles home. Once they did, there would be no one else to come looking for her. She would be dead to the world, dead to her old life, and she could heed Mecca’s warning to forget that a girl named Miamor ever existed. It was time for her to start a new life.
Chapter 7
“I’ve never murked anybody that didn’t deserve it.”
—Miamor
Miamor jumped out of her sleep, panting and gasping for air. She covered her racing heart with her hand and closed her eyes until her pulse slowed. The nightmares of her past stopped her from moving forward. Every night she dreamt of how she had escaped Mecca’s clutches, but it seemed as though he still had her mind imprisoned in fear. She arose from the bed and wrapped her body in the sheets as she left the room in search of Carter. Miamor was being given a second chance at life. All she had to do was let go of the past, but it was easier said than done.
The sound of a crackling fire drew her toward Carter’s study. She stepped inside and was immediately taken aback by the beautiful room. His home was so massive that she had not yet explored it all. In fact, their reunion had been contained to the bedroom. They couldn’t get enough of one another, and this was the first time she had taken notice of her new surroundings. The walls consisted of bookshelves that went from the floor to the top of the twenty-five-foot ceilings, the lighting was low, and the mahogany furniture was antique. A king’s throne sat behind his desk, and it was so fitting because Carter truly was royalty. A leather sofa sat off to the right, directly in front of the glowing fire that Carter stared right into.
“It’s late. What are you doing up?” he asked. His back was toward her and he never looked her way, but he felt her presence as soon as she entered the room.
“I can’t sleep,” Miamor replied as she shifted uncomfortably. She didn’t know if she should sit or stand, stay or leave. Things between her and Carter were still quite tense. They were getting reacquainted all over again, and this time she held no secrets. He knew all of her, and she was sure that there were parts of her that he didn’t approve of.
“Join the club, ma,” Carter stated. “I haven’t gotten a wink since you came back. It’s hard to rest around someone like you.” Carter never fully let his guard down around Miamor. The trust in their relationship was fragile and in need of repair. He knew that rebuilding their foundation would take time.
His words knocked the wind out of her as she realized that he thought the worst of her. “I would never hurt you, Carter. I’ve never murked anybody that didn’t deserve it. I’m not a monster, and the niggas I’ve come at always saw it coming,” she said, slightly offended. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come here,” she said, speaking more to herself than at him.
She shook her head, feeling foolish for ever believing that he could accept her past.
“Miamor.” Carter’s voice echoed against the walls and halted her steps. “Come over here, ma.”
Her feet moved obediently. This man was the only person on earth who could make her do anything. It was as if he had her under a spell. She wanted to follow his lead. Wherever he may take her, she wanted to be the woman behind him. She would obey any rule just to keep him. A born leader, Miamor had always been hard to tame, but with Carter she found herself wanting to submit. She needed him to have faith in her—faith that she could change.
She walked over to the couch that he sat on and kneeled in front of him as she raised her eyes to match his intense gaze.
Carter cupped her face in his hands. “I apologize, ma. I want you here. There’s just a lot going on right now. My brother Monroe is back,” Carter said.
Miamor’s eyes widened in shock. She had seen Monroe’s body lying cold and stiff in a casket years ago. “From the dead?” she gasped.
Carter smirked and let out a chuckle. “Seems that way, yes. It’s a long story, but now that he’s returned things will be complicated. I have a lot on my mind, but I don’t mean to take it out on you.”
“And what about us? Your family will never accept me. They won’t forgive me for the things I’ve done,” Miamor said.
“The only person’s acceptance that you need to worry about is mine. Nobody else matters. No harm will come your way, no old scores will be settled. You get a pass because of me. Niggas ain’t got to like it, but they will respect it. For now no one even needs to know that you’re here. I have to think of a way to introduce you back into their lives without causing more conflict. Until then I need you to lay low, be unseen. You think y
ou can handle that?”
Miamor nodded her head and replied, “Yes.” Everything about Carter was intoxicating to Miamor. The way that he stuck up for her warmed her heart. She stood to her feet and dropped the sheet that covered her naked body. The amber hue from the fireplace provided the only light in the room and outlined the silhouette of her body.
His hands found her hips and he pulled her closer to him. His mouth was perfectly aligned with her womanhood, and he didn’t hesitate to explore it. His warm, thick tongue opened her southern lips as he licked her gently. Circling her clit while French kissing her lips, he feasted on Miamor’s sweet honey pot.
“Ohh,” she moaned as she massaged the back of his head while falling victim to his head game. Her legs weakened as Carter took her love button between his teeth. Gently he bit down and Miamor lost her mind. “What are you doing to me?” she asked as she began to quiver in ecstasy. Carter inserted one finger, then two, then three inside of her. Miamor’s body was so responsive to his touch that she rode his hand, squeezing her vaginal muscles around his fingers as he tickled her insides and palmed her clit. Carter curved his fingers, hitting her G-spot.
“Wait. Ooh no, wait, Carter,” she whispered. The pressure was building inside of her and she felt as if she would pee on herself. It felt so good that she didn’t want to stop it. Her pussy lips were so swollen that it looked as if he had beat it up, and her clit throbbed for attention.
“Put your mouth on me, baby,” she whispered. Carter’s fingers worked her over as he simultaneously kissed her clit, and that was all she wrote. Miamor screamed as her love came down. Warmth came over her as her head fell back in sheer bliss.
Carter licked her gently as he looked up at her with sincere eyes. He was hypnotizing her with his slow rhythm, and she felt obliged to return the favor. She pushed his forehead back, depriving herself of his vicious head game, and he sat back on the leather couch. At lightning speed she had his manhood in her hands, stroking his length and tracing the veins that throbbed in his shaft.