The Cartel Deluxe Edition, Part 2

by Ashley

  Carter’s dick was perfectly thick and long, but most importantly he knew how to use it. He pulled her down onto his lap and filled her walls. Miamor worked her hips and relaxed her muscles, allowing him total access to her body.

  His body was so tense and she rode him into relaxation. She felt the stress leaving him with every move she put on him. His fingers dug into her hips as he lifted then lowered her onto his girth. Their rhythm was slow, sensual, and he pulled her taut nipple into his mouth. Bolts of electric pleasure shot up her spine, and Miamor picked up her pace, grinding into him with passion.

  He palmed her voluptuous behind, spreading her cheeks in an effort to go deeper. He flipped her over, wanting to take control as he rocked into her. Carter was knocking the bottom out of her pussy, pushing her to the threshold between pleasure and pain. He slow-stroked her, exploring parts of her body that she didn’t even know existed.

  Her nails staked her claim as she clawed at his back. She opened her eyes as she took in all of him. Every muscle in his toned physique flexed as he handled her body. His brown complexion glistened in sweat as his face contorted in pleasure. Carter Jones was a work of art. The man was a masterpiece. He kissed her lips, and the feeling of his tongue dancing in her mouth, the taste of her sweet mouth took him over the edge. His lovemaking quickened and he went deeper, and deeper, and deeper.

  “Ohh shit, ma,” he bellowed, his voice a masculine grunt.

  “Cum inside me, Carter,” she whispered as tears came to her eyes.

  He stopped briefly, panting, as he looked in her eyes.

  She nodded her head. “Put a baby in me, Carter,” she confirmed. Carter placed his forehead against hers and looked her in the eyes as he pumped inside of her until he spilled his seed inside of her womb.

  “I love you, ma,” Carter said. “I don’t want to, but I do. A lesser man would never admit that to you, but I don’t want there to be any indiscretions between us. Our home has to be strong. I have too much to lose to allow anarchy into my world.”

  “I will love you until our end, Carter,” Miamor replied before falling asleep in his arms.

  Chapter 8

  “We just trying to get money and stay off the radar.”

  —Young Carter

  Money definitely was not going to waste any time. He wanted to get acclimated to the new regime quickly. Monroe longed to take over the streets of Miami once again. He wanted to take back the throne and then retire at the top like his father was supposed to do. Also, to cope with his losses he would have to stay busy. He wanted to get into the swing of things and build the empire that had fallen during his extended slumber. Therefore, Carter set up a meeting with the head soldiers of their crew, along with Zyir, to meet and reintroduce Monroe to the streets and the “new look” Cartel.

  The rendezvous was at an empty warehouse that Zyir had been leasing. It was where they kept the coke and guns hidden. The steel doors and concrete floors gave the place a cold feel. Steel gates separated portions of the facility, and the only sound was the loud buzzing from the light. A single card table sat square in the middle of the floor, with a single beam of light shining directly down on it.

  The mechanical door rose and in came Carter’s black Range Rover, followed by a black tinted SUV driven by Zyir. Zyir had his soldiers with him, and they were about six deep. All of them were under twenty-one, but all of them were also live wires and would do anything at Zyir’s command. They were all excited and also nervous about meeting the notorious Monroe “Money” Diamond. They all grew up admiring him and when he “died” it only made his legacy grow. While Mecca had the streets in fear when he was alive, Monroe had the love. He had swagger, a gentle kindness, and the muscle that made for a great gangster. But those days were gone, and they would soon find out that Monroe wasn’t the same as he once was.

  Everyone got out of the cars and gathered around the table, waiting for Money to arrive. Zyir and Carter slapped hands, and Carter nodded at the young soldiers as they formed a circle.

  “Where is ya man?” Zyir asked as he checked his watch, referring to Money.

  “I told him ten. He should be pulling up any minute now,” Carter said as he glanced at his wrist and checked his watch.

  “Well, he’s late,” Zyir said, not really liking the idea of adding someone to their crew. However, out of respect for Young Carter he would not raise any sand.

  “I’ve been here. I’m never late, homeboy,” Money said as he stepped out of the shadows, startling all of them. They all reached for their guns and froze when they realized it was Money. He walked over to the table and joined the men. He and Carter embraced, and Monroe looked around the table and was disgusted. Back in his day, young niggas couldn’t even be in his presence. They hadn’t lived enough or experienced enough in life to be at a table with a boss in his eyes, so he immediately was turned off by the situation. His body language told it all as he mugged each of the youngsters as Carter began to talk.

  “I want to introduce you to the crew. This is Bo, Fly Boogie, and Damon. And of course you know Zyir. This is who holds everything down,” Carter stated. Fly Boogie, a skinny kid with a knack for fashion, was the first to speak.

  “Yo, it’s a pleasure to meet you, big homie. You’re like a legend in Miami,” he said as he extended his open hand to greet Money. Money looked down at Fly Boogie’s hand with a blank expression on his face. He then looked at Carter in disbelief and chuckled.

  “Let’s get this meeting started,” Money said as he totally ignored Fly Boogie as if he wasn’t even there.

  Zyir looked at Carter and shook his head discreetly. Zyir didn’t like the fact that Money dismissed his man, but he opted to stay quiet.

  “Okay, this is how it is. We have a sweet connect in Brazil on the coke. He goes by the name of Buttons. We get it catered to us for an extra twenty percent. He brings it over to the port of Miami and we get it fresh off of the boat. We run through about one hundred joints a month,” Carter said as he began to slowly walk around the table as he explained the workings of their business.

  “I take care of the distribution, and once it gets off the boat, I take it straight to the streets. We have about twenty trap houses around the city, and we work out of them. We have friends down at the police department to keep us in the know on any investigations or random raids. It’s pretty simple,” Zyir explained as he rubbed his hands together while helping Carter explain.

  “That’s right. It is very simple. I was thinking you can play the back and let Zyir handle the day to day since we got a smooth operation going on. Maybe try to look for some sources to clean up the money so we can transition, feel me?” Carter said, now looking directly at Money.

  “Play the back?” Monroe repeated as he looked at Carter as if he was crazy. He didn’t like the sound of Carter’s plan. He was ready to jump headfirst into the game and take over all that was lost. The “new” Cartel couldn’t hold a candle to what Monroe had left behind. “You only have twenty houses in all of Miami? When did we downgrade to running trap houses, huh? My father started this thing of ours, and it wasn’t meant to move fifty bricks a month. We did that in a day!”

  “Calm down, homie. We—” Zyir said, trying to ease the building tension that was forming.

  “And who the fuck are you?” Monroe asked, interrupting Zyir. He wasn’t trying to talk to anyone except his brother. He was tired of beating around the bush. He was the boss and he wanted to make it known.

  Immediately Zyir’s goons put their hands on their waists, ready to bust. At that point they didn’t care who Monroe was. He was disrespecting their boss and they were ready to get busy. All of their eyes were on Zyir, and if Zyir would have given the slightest indication for them to react, Money would have been Swiss cheese.

  “Just give me the green light,” Fly Boogie whispered to Zyir without moving his lips. Money smirked at Fly Boogie’s comment and slid his hand to his waist where his gun rested.

  “Everyone calm down!” Carte
r demanded as Zyir and Money stared at each other tensely, both of them clenching their jaws tightly. Carter continued, “Money, you have been gone a long time. I’m not trying to box you out. I just want you to ease into this. It’s not how it was five years ago. Feds are on us, and with all the murders from the last war, it made us hot. We just trying to stay low, get money, and stay off the radar. It’s a new day, bruh.”

  “You sound crazy right now. Instead of having ten cops on payroll, you should pay the chief of police. Everybody has a price! That means you only have to deal with one person rather than ten. Also, why aren’t we wholesaling? Who runs trap houses? We move weight! Back in my day, little niggas like this couldn’t even be in my presence. But now, you bringing them to the table?” Monroe ranted, pointing out every flaw he saw in Carter’s system.

  Carter, wanting to be diplomatic, kept his cool and knew that he had to take control before it got out of hand. “I need everyone to leave now. Money, let’s talk,” Carter said as he stepped to the side, giving Zyir and his crew a clear path to the truck they pulled up in. No one moved until Zyir nodded his head and then just like that, they headed to their cars. Zyir followed close behind and stopped just as he walked past Carter.

  “You good?” Zyir asked, not knowing whether he should leave Carter alone with Money.

  “Yeah, I’m good. I’ll call you later,” Carter confirmed and put one hand on Zyir’s shoulder. Zyir shot a look at Money, and they exchanged menacing stares as he walked away. Carter tapped Monroe on the chest to try to break the tension between the two of them. “Let’s talk.”

  “Seem like there is nothing to talk about. You have everything figured out I see,” Monroe said sarcastically and released a small smirk. Carter shook his head at Monroe’s answer and put his hands together as he thought about Monroe’s viewpoint.

  “Listen, I know what it seemed like, but it’s the way it’s going to be. Just give it a couple of weeks and feel everything out before you jump in,” Carter said, trying to be as diplomatic as possible.

  “Feel things out? I was moving weight when you were back in Michigan small timing. Remember that, my nigga! But you know what; I’m going to play the back. You right,” Monroe said, easing off of his hostility. He knew at that moment that it was a line drawn in the sand, and he understood what side he stood on. He kicked himself for expressing his frustrations and knew that the old him would have never let anyone know what he was thinking. I am a little rusty I see, he thought as he looked at Carter, trying to read his mind.

  Carter clenched his jaws at Monroe’s remark, but didn’t show any emotion. If that had been anyone else, Carter would have rocked him to sleep just off of GP. Nevertheless, the calculating boss just released a small smile and put his hand on Monroe’s shoulder. “Listen, I meet the connect in a couple days. To show you that I’m not trying to box you out . . . I want to introduce you to him,” Carter suggested.

  “That’s what I’m talking about. Let’s get to the money,” Money said calmly as he rubbed both of his hands together.

  Carter noticed something strange about Monroe. His mannerisms weren’t like he remembered. Everything about Monroe reminded Carter of Mecca. Carter chalked it up to guilt playing with his own mind, but he knew Monroe wasn’t quite the same as he remembered. It was as if Mecca’s soul had flown into Monroe.

  Carter quickly shook off the notion and began to break down the logistics to his brother and caught him up on what was going on in the streets. In addition to breaking down the product and flooding the streets, they were heavy in wholesale. The Cartel was getting all the money from the bottom up, and he hoped that Monroe could see that they had a good thing going. However, in the back of his mind Carter knew it could all go bad if Monroe ever found out that he killed Mecca. Only time would tell how it would unravel, but until then . . .

  * * *

  The private jet landed on the airstrip in Brazil. Inside were the pilot, Carter, Monroe, and Zyir. They were landing there to meet their coke connect, Buttons, a tall, fair-skinned Brazilian who specialized in the coke business. Carter had met him a year back while being there for Breeze’s wedding.

  As the plane doors lifted up Monroe’s heart began to rapidly beat. It was something that only a hustler could relate to. The rush and allure of getting to the money was like an adrenaline rush for a street nigga, and Monroe’s burning flame for the streets had been dormant for years. It had just been relit. He was ready to put his staple in the game. He was still very young and had the world ahead of him. He looked over at Zyir, who remained quiet the entire flight, and knew that he would eventually be a problem.

  The Brazilian setup was beautiful. Gorgeous women with bronze skin were everywhere, and the land itself was stunning. The narrow streets and tall brick buildings had their own personality, and Monroe was amazed as he took in the sight. They all sat in the back of a Jeep that Buttons had sent for them as they maneuvered through the bumpy roads, on their way to Buttons’ cocaine sanctum.

  “Here it is,” Carter said as they approached the massive brick warehouse. The place was surrounded by steel gates, and vicious pit bulls ran freely within them. Monroe looked at the top of the building and saw young gunmen with assault rifles and binoculars. None of the gunmen looked to be a day over eighteen, but all had menacing stares and an eagerness to prove to their boss that they were loyal and worthy to move up in the ranks.

  “Buttons is a different type of nigga. Fair warning,” Carter said as they approached the gate.

  Two armed goons were standing at the gate. When they pulled in, the goons immediately began to look inside the car with AK-47s in their hands. Once they saw that the coast was clear, they waved the driver in. Just like that, they were granted access to the biggest drug distribution and manufacturing business in Brazil. Rio was mostly known for its beautiful women and sexual escapades, yet the black market there was just as lucrative and successful. Just as the sexual fantasies that attracted lusting men, the pure cocaine and cheap prices drove in the drug bosses.

  As the Jeep made its way through the property, the men looked at the property and how well it was secured. Buttons had shooters literally everywhere on his property. Monroe instantly knew that they were dealing with a made guy.

  They pulled up to the single building that was in the rear of the property. They pulled up to the steel garage door and the driver blew the horn twice. Seconds later the door rose and exposed the factory-like assembly line where the coke was being cut, measured, and packaged for distribution.

  Buttons stood at the top tier that overlooked the whole operation. He stood six foot three inches and had the stature of a model. His long, curly hair was pulled back tightly into a ponytail as he slowly paced back and forth, overseeing his operation. He smoked a cigar and took his time as he deeply inhaled, letting the Cuban smoke dance on his lungs. Buttons was the kingpin of Rio and had a long history with the sale of cocaine. He had political connections and was literally untouchable inside of his country. He took a liking to Carter because of his business savvy and consistency.

  Carter led the pack as they walked on to the floor and in between the long tables full of coke. Everyone seemed to be focused on their particular job and not on Carter and his crew. Buttons stopped pacing and looked down at Carter.

  “Carter! Glad you could make it,” he said with open arms and a smile. Buttons made his way down the stairs followed closely by a young Brazilian gunman.

  “Buttons. Thanks for having us,” Carter said as he walked toward Buttons and shook hands with him. Carter then turned around and looked at Zyir and Money. “Of course, you remember Zyir,” Carter said. Buttons nodded his head at Zyir, acknowledging him. Carter turned to Monroe and nodded toward him. “This is my brother, Monroe.”

  “Monroe. How are you? I am Buttons,” he said with a heavy accent.

  “I’m good,” Monroe said as he stepped forward and extended his hand to Buttons. Buttons shook his hand and was impressed with Monroe’s demeanor and f
earlessness. While Zyir usually played the back, Monroe wanted to make his presence known; Buttons sensed this.

  The rendezvous was about an hour, and Carter discussed a bigger shipment with Buttons, and Monroe listened closely and analyzed their business relationship. For what Carter was getting them for, Monroe used to get them for half that price when he was over The Cartel. Monroe’s mind immediately began to churn, thinking about a master plan. He saw a lot of holes in their operations and wondered why Carter was copping from a Brazilian connect who was obviously taxing him. Little did Monroe know, Estes had retired from the drug game and didn’t give his connections to Young Carter. Estes didn’t believe in connecting people who weren’t blood. So the connects ended when Mecca died. Monroe already began to make plans to return to see Buttons, but the next time Monroe would come alone. He would be coming to sell and not to buy cocaine.

  As they wrapped up the meeting with handshakes, Monroe made sure he looked Button in the eyes and said, “I’ll see you soon. Very soon.” Carter didn’t realize it, but he had just introduced Buttons to his competition.

  Hours later they were back on the jet, and Carter looked over at Monroe, who seemed to be in deep thought, staring out of the window while resting his index finger on his temple.

  “I just brought you to the table. I introduced you to the connect. Hopefully you understand now that I want you to play the back only temporarily,” Carter said as he poured himself a glass of cognac, Louis XIII to be exact.

  “No doubt. I understand now. Let’s get it,” Monroe said, but his eyes didn’t match his words. He was thinking about how he was about to box both of them out and take over the streets once again. “I am the son of Carter Diamond. Miami is mine,” he said as he sat back comfortably and closed his eyes with a small grin.