The Cartel Deluxe Edition

by Ashley

  The door opened, and Breeze rushed out only to be stopped by one of Ms. Beth’s workers.

  “What are you doing? Let me go. I just want to see where we are,” Breeze shouted as she struggled against the man.

  It wasn’t until she felt the hard sting of his hand that her instincts told her something was horribly wrong. Now that her high had worn off, she was able to process the situation in a new light. She did not know what was going on, but now that they were back in the U.S., she wanted off of that boat. “Where’s Ms. Beth? I need to speak to her!” she yelled persistently as she was pushed back beneath the deck. “She said I could make a call.”

  At that moment, the metal door opened and Ms. Beth walked down with five men following behind her.

  “Ms. Beth!” Breeze shouted as she pushed past the man apprehending her. “Where are we? I felt the boat dock. You said I could call my family,” she reminded desperately, but as Breeze spoke, she noticed that the disposition of the friendly woman she had met in Haiti had changed. Her eyes were cold and revealed sinister intentions as she stared unflinchingly back at Breeze.

  Her father always told her she could see the character of a person by looking in their eyes, and as Breeze studied Ms. Beth, she finally saw the devil that dwelled inside of her. Her brow furrowed in confusion.

  “You said you would help me get home!” Breeze shouted as she watched Ms. Beth’s staff filter through the room and begin to blast heroin into the other girls’ arms.

  Breeze backed away from Ms. Beth as she looked down at her own arms. Non-stop needles had been put into her veins for the past forty-eight hours, and foolishly, Breeze had allowed them to do it.

  “What have you been giving me?” she screamed hysterically. “Why are you doing this?” Breeze demanded.

  “Restrain her,” Ms. Beth said calmly to one of her workers.

  “You bitch!” Breeze yelled as she charged Ms. Beth. She smacked fire from Ms. Beth before she was finally subdued, and she screamed like a mad woman as she watched the woman who she thought would be her savior approaching her with the needle.

  “No! Please . . . I just want to go home. You have no idea what I’ve been through,” Breeze reasoned.

  Ms. Beth ignored the pleas and jammed the needle painfully deep into Breeze’s vein.

  “Aghh!” Breeze cried out as blood trickled from her arm. She could feel the tension leave her body as a tear of defeat slipped from her eyes.

  “What are you doing to me? What have you been giving me?” Breeze whispered as the orgasmic high once again came over her.

  Ms. Beth looked cruelly back at her and smirked before replying, “Heroin. By the time I’m done with you, you will be nothing but a junkie whore.”

  Breeze’s soul cried out silently as she felt herself going into a nod. The last thing she heard was Ms. Beth’s voice.

  “Shoot her up twice. She’s going to be a handful. The faster we get her hooked the better. She’ll learn to go with the flow one way or another.”

  Chapter Five

  “Everything is easier if you

  forget about your past.”

  —Liberty

  It was pitch black when Breeze finally came to, but she could hear the cries and groans of the other girls around her. The air was so thick that she could barely breathe, and her stomach rumbled violently as the urge to defecate overwhelmed her. She could smell the stench of bodily waste around her, and she gagged from the horrendous odor. She was sick partly from the stench and partly from her body craving its new best friend, heroin.

  Breeze did not know how long she had been out, but she knew that Ms. Beth was transporting her somewhere. As she reached out her hands, she felt the steel walls. The bumpy road beneath her let her know that she was in the back of an industrial truck. The wails of the young women around her told her that she had been there for a while.

  Her situation had just gone from bad to worse. She took deep breaths to stop herself from panicking, but it was no use. Breaking down was the only thing left for her to do. I should have never trusted her, Breeze thought as she withdrew into herself, curling up with her knees to her chest. She cried so hard that her chest hurt, and each time she gulped in air, she felt like she was suffocating. Unable to hold it in any longer, she threw up all over herself.

  “It’s easier if you breathe out of your mouth,” she heard a girl beside her say. “It won’t smell as bad if you take it in through your mouth. Bring your face low near the seams of the wall. There’s a little bit of fresh air down here. I have a small blanket you can breathe into.”

  Breeze huddled down near the girl and took a small piece of the fabric into her hands as she breathed into it. The girl’s technique did not provide much relief, but it was better than nothing, and Breeze was grateful for it.

  “Thanks,” Breeze whispered.

  “You’re welcome. I’m Liberty,” the girl stated.

  “Breeze,” she replied. No other words needed to spoken to establish a friendship. They took a liking to each other because they both realized that they were one and the same. Their fates were not their own, and their lives no longer theirs to live. As they clung to the blanket, they wrapped their arms around one another and prayed together. Neither of them knew what lay in store for them, but they were both terrified of the possibilities.

  “How long have we been in this truck?” Breeze asked.

  “I’ve seen the light come and go two times. Two full days have passed,” Liberty replied, referring to the tiny bit of sunshine that crept through the crevice in the wall.

  “Where are they taking us?” Breeze asked frightfully.

  “They are taking us to Murderville,” Liberty replied solemnly. “I am not new here. I’ve been there before, and it is worse than death.”

  Breeze did not respond, but her thoughts ran wild. She had seen the name MURDERVILLE scribbled in graffiti on Ms. Beth’s boat, and now she hated herself for allowing the white woman to sell her a dream. She had been to a place that felt worse than death when she had been with Ma’tee, and now thanks to her naivety she was on her way right back to hell.

  After seeing the sun rise and set one more day, Breeze felt the truck finally stop moving. Hungry and soiled, she peeled herself off of the floor when the back door was lifted. She felt like cattle marching to slaughter as she was herded off of the truck. They were placed in a line side by side, and because she had no one else to turn to, Breeze grabbed Liberty’s hand tightly. They barely knew one another, but at that moment, a new friend was better than facing the unknown alone.

  “Take off all your clothing,” a black man stated as he walked up and down the rows of girls. Breeze was reluctant, but everyone around her obediently began to disrobe.

  “Undress,” Liberty whispered urgently.

  “What?” Breeze exclaimed. “No.”

  “Everything is easier if you forget about your past. Your place is here now. Just do as they say,” Liberty warned.

  Feeling as if she could not sink any lower, Breeze pulled off her clothes. The life and times of being a Diamond heir, her father’s princess, were so far removed that it almost felt like she had never lived it. She could not believe that her life had come to this. Her father had kept her closely for most of her life. He had protected her and guarded her, but instead of helping her, his overprotection hindered her. It had made her vulnerable, and that vulnerability had led her to this place.

  She was nothing like her brothers. She was weak. As she stood in the line, tears flowed freely down her dirty face, and she helplessly watched as the man grabbed a high-pressure hose and aimed it at her line. She closed her eyes as she was blasted with cold water like an animal. Through it all, she cried. Liberty held her hand while the little bit of Breeze Diamond that was left was washed away.

  “Hold out your arms,” the man stated when he finally put the hose down. Breeze already knew what that meant, and although her mind told her to protest, her body urged her to give in. It had been three full day
s since Ms. Beth had injected her with her last fix, and already her body was hooked. It craved the drug against Breeze’s will, and instead of fighting it, Breeze gave up. If she was going to have to live like this, she may as well be numb to the pain.

  * * *

  Breeze clung to Liberty as if her life depended on it. Day in and day out they kept each other sane, until one fateful afternoon, Ms. Beth came to the camp where they were being kept. Whenever she came around, an eerie aura swept over the girls. She was the one who had manipulated most of them into coming to Murderville in the first place, so everyone feared her. She was the perfect example of the blue-eyed, blonde-haired devil, and Breeze hated her.

  As the girls stood to their feet and waited for Ms. Beth to deliver their daily fix, the room was silent. It had not taken long for Breeze to become a full-blown addict, and her eyes widened in anticipation as she watched each girl get their turn before her.

  As Ms. Beth administered the deadly drug, she separated the girls into two different groups. Some of the girls would be taken and groomed for wealthy buyers, but the unfortunate young women would stay in Murderville and work in the brothels. They would be contracted out for private parties and have their bodies sold to those who could afford it. The girls in this group would be common whores, and once they were used up to the point of no return, they would be executed and replaced. This was the group Ms. Beth put Breeze in, while Liberty was one of the lucky ones. She was taken away to be groomed for a high-priced auction.

  With no one left to depend on but herself, Breeze submitted to the world of drugs and sex. She was taken to a house with ten other girls and dressed up in sexy garments. She was so high that everything was a blur as the madame of the brothel put makeup on her face and sprayed perfume all over her body.

  Lazily, Breeze lay sprawled across the satin sheets as her first client entered the room. Just looking at her, no one would have ever pegged her for a junkie. The only thing that gave her away were the track marks underneath the sheer fabric of the negligee.

  The man that lingered over her lusted over Breeze’s beautiful appearance. Under no other circumstance would he ever be able to be with a woman of her beauty.

  Breeze was so out of it that all she could do was lie there as the man had his way with her. It was something that she had gotten used to. She had never chosen to give herself away to any man. She didn’t know what it was like to feel a man’s gentle touch. Her womanhood was always taken away, and she was never in a position to say no.

  Chapter Six

  “Forever Miamor would sleep

  with the fishes.”

  —Unknown

  Murder arrived in Miami on a commercial flight with hatred in his heart. He soaked up all of the information from the Murder Mamas about The Cartel and Miamor’s worst enemy, Mecca. With a thirst for revenge and pictures of the entire Diamond family, he was ready to find what was left of Miamor and get at The Cartel. Murder’s hands never stopped shaking throughout the whole flight, not because of nervousness or fear, but because of the itch to get at whoever had brought pain to Miamor.

  Murder demanded that Robyn and Aries stay in L.A., so that he could work the way he did best—alone, strategically, and uninterrupted. They all hoped desperately that Murder would find Miamor alive, but deep in all of their hearts, they knew what was to be found.

  Murder got his bags and headed to the curb to catch a cab. He was headed to the exact address that was left inside the box with Miamor’s severed hand. Murder’s heart hurt every time he thought about the pain and agony that Mecca had brought upon his favorite girl, Miamor. He carefully studied the picture that Robyn and Aries had given him of the heads of The Cartel. He could pick Mecca’s face out of a sea of people. Although Murder had never seen Mecca face to face, he knew his every facial feature, and it was a face that would be etched in his mind forever.

  Every time Murder thought about Miamor’s angelic smile, he had to fight back tears while wishing she was in his arms. It was a love that was unexplainable. Although Miamor looked at Murder as a big brother, Murder looked at Miamor as much more. He knew that she was the love of his life, and he would never be able to win her over, because deep in his heart, he knew she was dead.

  He pulled out a picture of Mecca that Miamor had taken while she was preparing to hit him, and he studied it once more. Murder’s hands began to shake as he clenched his teeth so tightly that it seemed as if he would chip a tooth. Just as a driver pulled up on him, he stuck the photo in his inner jacket pocket and caught a cab to his hotel.

  * * *

  Mecca cruised through the Miami streets unable to focus on the road because he kept checking his rearview mirror. He suspected that the tinted minivan was following him for the past few blocks. “What the hell?” Mecca whispered as he glanced in the mirror again and saw that the van had made the same right turn that he did. Mecca, tired of playing the game of cat and mouse, reached under his seat to retrieve his automatic handgun. He smoothly placed it on his lap as he approached the upcoming yellow traffic light.

  “Niggas trying to catch me slipping? Not today,” he stated as he eased up to the light and made a complete stop. The van pulled up behind him, and that was when Mecca clicked on. His street instincts took over, and he acted on impulse. He threw the car into park and quickly hopped out of the car, gun in hand.

  “Why the fuck are you following me?” Mecca yelled. He had his gun gripped tightly, holding it like a professional marksmen, almost like a cop would do. Mecca quickly crept up to the car, not giving the driver time to make a move. When Mecca got a glimpse of the driver, he instantly felt silly.

  A pregnant, blonde white woman was the only person in the car. She quickly threw both of her hands up and froze in utter terror as a pool of tears filled her eyes. She tried to scream, but Mecca was in her grill so quickly that she had no time to let out a sound. He waved the gun in her face through the open driver’s side window.

  Mecca saw the terrified look in the woman’s face and instantly felt guilty. He knew that his nerves were making him reckless, and he made stupid choices when he was reckless. It was something that he was trying to change. His paranoia eased up. Everybody’s not out to get you, Mecca thought as he regretted assaulting the soccer mom.

  “Sorry, ma,” Mecca said as he lowered his gun and took a deep breath. “You can go. I thought you were someone else,” Mecca explained as he tried to give the woman a slight grin to ease the tension.

  The woman still had her hands up and remained fearful as she stared into the eyes of a killer.

  Mecca dropped his head and shook it from side to side as he lightly chuckled to himself. I’m bugging the fuck out, spazzing on pregnant women and shit, he thought to himself as he turned to head back to his car.

  He began to think about the shadow of Estes that loomed over him. He knew that he would never be at peace until the beef with Estes was settled. He had to go to Estes and ask for his forgiveness. If he didn’t, Mecca would always have to look over his shoulders, wondering when one of his grandfather’s henchmen would kill him for what he had done to his twin brother.

  Just as Mecca took the second step, he heard a familiar noise, which was that of a gun jamming. He quickly swung around and fired a bullet straight through the woman’s neck. Mecca had underestimated Estes. He had killers on his team from all over, and the woman who he had thought was so innocent was really there to murder him.

  She dropped the chrome .45 as her hands instinctively grabbed her neck. Blood gushed out of the hole like a faucet.

  Mecca quickly stepped closer and let off another round, that time catching her in the forehead. Her head jerked back and she stared into space. Dead on impact.

  Enraged, he lifted her shirt to reveal her bulging belly, only to find a pillow stuffed underneath. Estes was pulling out all the stops in the hunt for Mecca’s head.

  Mecca breathed hard as he held the gun tightly. He looked down and saw the gun in her lap. He knew that Estes’ hire
d guns rarely missed, and if her gun had not jammed, he would be a dead man. Mecca gave her another shot to the chest for good measure as his temper flared from the rage he felt.

  He was tired of running. He couldn’t beef out with Estes. His grandfather’s reach was too far, and Mecca knew that eventually he would lose. He paused, staring at her, knowing that he had almost been caught slipping.

  “This shit has got to stop!” he yelled in frustration as he tucked his gun in his waistline and ran to his car, leaving the woman slumped in her seat.

  Mecca sped off, filling the air with the sound of screeching tires. He knew exactly what he had to do in order to end the madness.

  * * *

  Murder stood at the front desk as he checked into the five-star hotel in Ft. Lauderdale. He wanted to observe from afar, and decided to stay in a suburban hotel instead of directly in the city, so that he could remain low key.

  “Do I have a package waiting for me?” Murder asked as he gave the desk clerk a smile.

  “Um, I don’t know. Let me check,” the young blonde said as she returned the smile to Murder. The desk clerk looked behind the counter and smiled as she saw the FedEx box addressed to the occupant of room 403, which was Murder’s suite.

  “Here we go, sir. It was dropped off this morning for a . . . Mr. M,” she said as she glanced oddly at the box.

  “Yeah, that’s me. Thanks,” he said as he slid his room key off the counter and grabbed the box. He headed for the elevators and hurried up to his suite.

  Moments later, Murder ripped open the neatly packed box, retrieving two chrome 9 mm guns that Aries had sent to him. He loaded the clips and pulled out the piece of paper that had the address on it. He immediately placed the twin millies on his hip and headed out the door.

  An hour later, a cab pulled outside of the brick house that sat on a small hill. Murder tipped the cabbie and watched as he left. Murder then looked at the house and took a deep breath. Murder began to second-guess his plan, and wondered if he was walking into a setup. He pulled out his guns and approached the house, going all out.