The Cartel Deluxe Edition

by Ashley

  Desperation and adrenaline filled her as she put her back against the wall and crept to the next room. She opened the door and frantically scanned for a phone. “Thank you, God!” she cried as she rushed toward it. Moving too quickly, she fell. “Aghh!” she accidentally cried out as her leg hit the floor. She covered her mouth to stop herself from making too much noise. Tears flooded her face as she reached for the phone. The dial tone she heard was like music to her ears. Her fingers trembled as she tried to dial out, causing her to call the wrong number, 810. Shit! What is his number? Her mind was so frantic that she could barely recall the correct sequence, 1-810-625-1816.

  She could hear footsteps coming down the hallway, and she cradled the phone for dear life. Please answer! Come on, please pick up!

  Ring! Ring!

  Answer! she begged as the footsteps drew closer.

  Please, I need you . . .

  * * *

  Ring! Ring!

  Zyir bobbed his head to the Rick Ross that was blaring from his speakers, when he felt his cell phone vibrate on his hip. He was on his way back from Opa-locka, and he had a quarter million dollars in his trunk and rode with a pistol in his lap for extra security. He turned down the stereo and looked at the unknown call coming in on his BlackBerry. “Yo?” he answered.

  All he heard was crying in the phone, and he started to end the call thinking that someone had the wrong number.

  “Zy . . . Zyir!” the shaky voice said.

  He recognized her voice instantly. Emotions came rushing over him. “Breeze?” he whispered in disbelief as his heart sank into his stomach.

  * * *

  Breeze was so hysterical when she heard him answer the phone that she couldn’t get her words together. Every time she tried to speak, only sobs came out.

  “Breeze, talk to me, ma! Calm down! Where are you? You’ve got to tell me where you are!” she heard him yell.

  Just the sound of his voice caused her to fall apart. “Zyir!” she whispered frantically. “Zyir, please . . .” were the only words she was able to get out before the footsteps were at the door. She hurried and pushed the telephone underneath the bed, but didn’t disconnect the call.

  The door opened, and a confused doctor rushed inside. “What are chu doing in here? Chu should still be in recovery,” she said.

  “Please, Zyir . . . I have to talk to Zyir!” Breeze pleaded with the doctor, but she was quickly silenced when she heard Ma’tee demanding to see her. The heavy impact from his boots echoed against the hospital floor, announcing his presence. “Don’t let him take me!” Breeze cried as she looked the doctor in her eyes.

  The doctor could see the frightened look on Breeze’s face, and she instantly knew that something was not right.

  When Ma’tee appeared in the doorway, the doctor looked from Breeze to Ma’tee.

  “Is everything okay back here?” he asked.

  His voice was eerie and threatening. Breeze’s fear of him was so great that she felt like she was having a heart attack. She couldn’t stop herself from crying. Zyir was so close. She had heard his voice. I just needed a few more minutes to tell him where I am, she thought as she sobbed.

  “Everything is fine,” the doctor answered nervously. She helped Breeze into the bed and lifted her leg. “She is in a lot of pain, and I haven’t administered her any pain medications yet. This type of pain will make a grown man cry. It is not unusual.”

  “Me need to get her back home. She can recover there,” Ma’tee asserted. His tone did not leave room for protest, and he came into the room and sat next to Breeze who trembled timidly from his presence. Ma’tee examined her closely, intimidating her.

  The doctor could sense tension in the air. She rubbed Breeze’s shoulders. “The anesthesia has she temperature low,” the doctor said, covering for Breeze.

  Breeze wasn’t shaking because she was cold. She was angry. She was terrified. She was praying that Zyir had not hung up his phone and that he could somehow save her.

  The doctor looked Breeze directly in the eyes and said, “Everything will be fine. “I’m going to get discharge papers for you to sign, young lady. Me will be right back,” she said.

  The doctor disappeared, and Ma’tee sat down directly on the bed with her. The smell of him nauseated her and made her skin crawl. He didn’t say a word to her, but instead stared at her intensely, trying to determine whether or not she had told anyone anything.

  Breeze closed her eyes and thought of Zyir. She recalled his face in her mind, and forced herself to calm down.

  The doctor reentered the room. “Oh, please sir. You can wait in the hallway while she dresses. Me will help she, and then get chu de medicine she needs. She will be fine,” the doctor said.

  Ma’tee reluctantly left the room, but he made sure to watch through the peephole at the top of the door.

  The doctor handed Breeze a clipboard. Her hands shook, because something told her that this young girl was in grave danger. She knew who Ma’tee was. Everyone in Haiti knew who he was and what he was capable of. The doctor did not want to get involved out of fear of being hurt herself.

  Breeze cried as she took the pen. She wrote her first and last name on the clipboard, and then jotted a quick note.

  Please help me! Call this number,

  1-810-625-1816. Tell him I am alive.

  I’m trapped somewhere in the mountains.

  Please!

  Breeze dressed slowly, and then Ma’tee whisked her away from the doctor’s office and back up to captivity.

  Chapter Seven

  The Cartel

  “Breeze!” Zyir screamed into the phone as he strained to hear the conversation on the other end of the line. He could barely hear what was going on, but he knew that it was her. He felt it in his gut. She had only said his name, but she was the only person who had the ability to say it so sweetly. “Breeze! Pick up the phone!” he yelled. Tears came to his eyes when the call was disconnected. His heart was beating so rapidly that he had to pull the car over. He hit his steering wheel in frustration. She had called him. He didn’t know where she was or why it had taken her so long to reach out to him, but she was alive, and he had to find her. He picked up his phone and speed-dialed Young Carter.

  “Zy, how that money looking out in—” Carter started to speak, but Zyir interrupted him.

  “She’s alive, fam! Breeze is alive, man!” Zyir stated, getting choked up. After months of her death haunting him, his faith was restored. Breeze had been the only chick who had been able to steal Zyir’s focus away from his hustle. He had nightmares about her death every night. He felt responsible for what had happened to her, but now he was sure that she was out there somewhere, and out of all the people she could have called, she chose him.

  His statement took Carter by surprise. “Zyir, fam, Breeze is . . .”

  “Carter, she called me! She called my fucking phone! She’s alive! I’m on my way to you!” he screamed urgently.

  “I’m not at home. I’m leaving my barber now. We don’t need to meet at the house. Feds are crawling all over the place. Meet me at Mecca’s money house. I’ll give him a call,” Carter answered.

  Zyir’s stomach was hollow as he raced toward Liberty City where Mecca stashed the drugs and money that he distributed and collected from the Lib City hustlers. He beat both Mecca and Carter there. He scoped the entire block, removed the money he was transporting, and with the duffel bag in one hand and his pistol in the other, he entered the home. He quickly opened the safe and stuffed the money inside. Carter’s rule was to count the cash before putting it away, but Zyir’s head was all over the place. He didn’t give a fuck about anything or anyone but Breeze.

  He paced the living room floor, trying to play back the pieces of conversation he had heard on the phone. “Where is she?” he mumbled to himself. “Think. What did you hear?” he said over and over.

  Zyir was driving himself crazy. He was so deep in thought that he didn’t even hear Carter come in. Mecca walked in d
irectly behind Carter and they watched as Zyir talked to himself. Carter noticed the worried look on Zyir’s face. He had seen Zyir sell crack to his own mother and not bat an eye. He knew his li’l nigga through and through. The look of concern that Zyir held was the same one that Carter felt inside for Miamor. It was then that he knew Zyir’s love for Breeze ran deeper than anyone knew.

  “Zyir,” Carter called out, startling him.

  “Fuck is up with you, fam?” Mecca asked.

  “Breeze . . . she’s still alive,” Zyir stated.

  A look of anger flickered in Mecca’s eyes, and he pointed his finger sternly toward Zyir. “Don’t speak her name, nigga. You didn’t even know her like that. After eight months, you talking about she’s alive!” Mecca said, becoming emotional over his baby sister.

  “Fuck you! Bitch-ass nigga!” Zyir yelled back. He didn’t give a fuck. He knew Mecca was a killer, but Zyir had been taught to only fear a nigga who didn’t bleed. “I just told you your sister is alive! Whether you want to believe it or not, she’s out there, and I’m gon’ find her!”

  Mecca’s hands automatically rested on his waistline for easy access to his burner, but he had to remember that Zyir was family now. That fact alone kept Zyir breathing after disrespecting Mecca, but he was skeptical, and his doubt showed on his face. “She’s been gone eight months,” Mecca stated sadly.

  “She called me!” Zyir yelled.

  “She called you?” Mecca answered. “How the fuck you know it ain’t one of these lurking-ass mu’fuckas trying to throw you off and set you up? Huh? Why the fuck would she call you?”

  Carter watched the exchange back and forth as he attempted to figure out where Zyir’s logic was coming from. Zyir had never given him a reason to doubt him before, and he was slowly beginning to recall all the time that Zyir and Breeze had spent together.

  “It wasn’t nobody else. I know her voice, mu’fucka. She called me. She was crying and she said my name. I’m her man, and she needs me! I have to find her, and I’ll murk any nigga who tries to stop me!” Zyir said through clenched teeth as he looked Mecca directly in the eyes. Zyir was an emotional wreck. Breeze was still alive, he would put his life on it, and he was willing to go against a thousand armies to get her back. She had been out there alone and vulnerable for eight months, while The Cartel had buried her and moved on.

  Seeing Zyir’s conviction brought tears to Mecca’s eyes, which he quickly brushed away as he felt his anger rise. He wanted to shoot Zyir’s ass in the foot for fucking around with his little sister in the first place, but he was glad that she had chose a nigga who was built right, one who was willing to go to the ends of the earth because of a phone call. Breeze had chosen a li’l nigga who Mecca thought their father would have approved of. Mecca nodded his head and looked at Carter, who sat there calmly, grinding his jaw, a clear indication that he was angry.

  “We buried her. We counted her out, and she’s been out there all this time,” Zyir said.

  “What did you hear?” Carter asked.

  “It was muffled, but it sounded like she was talking to a doctor,” Zyir replied.

  “Check the hospitals . . . every hospital in the state if you have to,” Carter instructed to Zyir. “Mecca, you too, but stay out of Florida. Estes is still on your ass. He’s lying low, but that don’t mean he’s gone. You check hospitals in Georgia and Alabama, and even go as far as Mississippi if nothing shakes. If she’s out there, we won’t stop until we bring her home. If anyone hears anything, let me be the first to know.”

  Mecca left in search of his baby sister. It had been a long time since he’d prayed, but for this, he closed his eyes and asked God for help. When he was gone Carter turned to Zyir.

  “Why did she call you?” Carter asked. He already knew the answer, but he wanted to see if Zyir would keep it one hundred with him.

  Zyir rubbed the top of his head, his eyebrows raised in distress. “I was fucking with her, fam,” Zyir admitted.

  Carter stood sternly. “And the day she was taken?” Carter asked.

  “She was with me,” Zyir admitted.

  Carter nodded his head.

  Zyir could see the fire blazing in his demeanor, but out of respect, he held his tongue.

  Carter began to walk out of the house and stopped at the doorway. “Find her,” he said simply, then left Zyir to his thoughts.

  Zyir searched high and low, visiting hospitals, spending every minute of his day looking for Breeze. He doubted that she was still in the city. He couldn’t imagine her being so close for this long without word getting back to The Cartel. He started in the surrounding cities. From Palm Beach to Tampa to Orlando and Ft. Lauderdale, he drove for hours, fighting fatigue on a desperate mission to find her. He had a list of over 100 hospitals in Florida. He called some to see if they had any patients who fit Breeze’s description. If there was even a possibility that a patient could be her, then Zyir hit the highway.

  After ten hours of disappointments, he had exhausted every hospital on the list, except for the local Miami institutions. He decided to visit Baptist Hospital first.

  A tight knot filled his stomach as he whipped his Lexus through the city streets. He was tired, but he couldn’t call it a night. He didn’t have time to sleep. The thought of Breeze suffering somewhere would not allow him to stop his hunt. He had heard the fear in her voice. Wherever she was, she was in danger and she was defenseless. Every time he closed his eyes, he imagined the terror she may be going through.

  Little did he know, he could not fathom what she was being forced to endure. Her fate was worse than death. Her torture was unimaginable.

  Zyir pulled into the emergency room parking lot and jumped out. He walked into the hospital. Doubt and apprehension ate away at him as he approached the nurse’s station.

  “Can I help you, sir?” a young black girl asked without looking up from the paperwork in front of her.

  “I’m looking for a girl who may have been treated here. Her name is Breeze Diamond,” Zyir stated.

  At the mention of the last name “Diamond”, the girl looked up. Her eyes scanned Zyir from head to toe. She instantly knew he was a part of The Cartel. Everything about Zyir screamed power, and his swagger made her wet instantly. The young nurse had never had the pleasure of being this close to one of The Cartel’s members. She had only heard about their prestige because their reputation rang loudly in every ’hood in Florida. The last name Diamond was associated with money in the city of Miami, but it was an exclusive club, and not everyone had access to them. Today must be my lucky day, she thought as she ogled him from head to toe. She put the tip of a pen in her mouth seductively, obviously vying for his attention.

  Zyir’s patience was non-existent at this point. He was immune to her flirtation. “Look, bitch, I don’t got time for all that extra shit. Type in the name and see if she’s here,” he said crudely without ever raising his voice.

  An embarrassed expression appeared on the girl’s face as she turned toward the computer. “Breeze Diamond,” the girl repeated as she typed the name. She shook her head. “She wasn’t treated here. There is no record of a Diamond being admitted.”

  Zyir massaged his jaw line and hit the desk in frustration, causing the girl to jump. His red eyes were filled with worry. “Look, I need to find her. She’s young, light skinned, long curly hair . . . she has a small mole on the side of her neck and a scar on her collarbone. She may not be here under her name. I just need you to check to see if there’s anybody here that fits her description. Please!” Zyir said desperately. “It’s important!”

  The nurse could sense his agony and nodded her head. “Okay. You can have a seat. I’ll check.”

  Zyir sat down with his head in his hands. Minutes passed, but it felt like time was frozen still.

  “Sir?” the nurse called to him.

  He rushed over to the desk.

  “We have a Jane Doe here. She came in a few months ago with no ID, and no one has been here to claim her yet.
You can take a look to see if it’s who you’re looking for,” the nurse stated with sympathy.

  “Thank you, ma,” Zyir stated as he followed her to the elevator and down a long hallway. Zyir breathed deeply. Please, let this be her! he said in his mind.

  The nurse stopped in front of a room. “I just want to warn you, she’s in pretty bad shape. There are injuries to her face and body,” the nurse warned.

  Zyir wiped his nose and nodded his head to prepare himself for what he was about to see. The nurse opened the door. The room was dark, and the sound of machines beeping was all that could be heard. He stepped closer to the bed, and when the lights turned on, he gasped in shock.

  “Is this her?” the nurse asked.

  Zyir was at a loss for words as he stared at the woman before him. She was barely recognizable. She looked as if she was hanging onto her life by a thread. He shook his head and backpedaled out of the room. “No, it’s not her,” he said. He rushed out of the hospital and immediately dialed Carter’s number. It was two o’clock in the morning, but it was a phone call that could not wait.

  “Hello?” Carter answered groggily.

  “Fam, it’s me,” Zyir said.

  “Did you find her?” Carter asked.

  “Carter, I found your girl. I found Miamor!”

  * * *

  Carter entered the hospital with an entourage of twenty men behind him. Members of The Cartel guarded all entrance and exit points of the building, shutting it down. No one was allowed to enter or exit the premises. Zyir and a select few of Carter’s most efficient workers followed him up to the fifth floor where Miamor was located. The same nurse who had assisted Zyir jumped up from her post when she saw the men enter the building. “Excuse me. It’s past visiting hours. There are too many of you. You all can’t just roam through the hospital,” she protested. Carter brushed past her, never even acknowledging her. Zyir put his fingers to his lips and told her, “Sit back down and do your job.” He slipped her a stack of money and kept his stride alongside young Carter. “Text Mecca, and tell him to get here quickly,” Carter ordered. His Mauri alligator’s echoed against the tile floor. His black Armani sweater, white collar shirt and black tie gave him a distinguished look. As he stepped onto the elevator, he was silent, eerily silent, and Zyir knew that once Carter saw Miamor’s condition, the entire city of Miami would rain bullets. Zyir hadn’t prepared Carter for what he was about to see. He did not want to be the messenger that delivered the bad news. He thought it would be best if Carter saw it for himself. He led Carter to Miamor’s room and stopped at the door. The five men who had come up with them dispersed themselves throughout the fifth floor. Zyir posted up outside of the door. “I think you need to go in alone, fam,” Zyir said.