The Cartel Deluxe Edition

by Ashley

  “I murdered my brother out of rage, out of jealousy, and then I lied to my entire family to cover my tracks. It feels like I’ve been lying ever since. I murdered my older brother’s girlfriend, and I look him in the face every day, watching the hurt in his eyes. I pretend like I don’t know why it’s there, when in actuality I caused it. When he asks about her, I plant seeds in his head to make him think she left town, when I know I left her in a basement in pieces.

  “The sick part about it is that I enjoyed it. I know only God has the power to judge, but I was that bitch’s judge, jury, and executioner. She took too much away from me to let her live.

  “My father would be ashamed of me. He put family above all else, and all of his sons were built just like him—except for me. Money was a good nigga, Father.” Mecca choked up and stopped speaking momentarily to get himself together. “He was my other half.

  “My older brother is so much like our pops that it scares me. I know I’m not one of God’s children, because I’m too much like the devil, but I’m tired, Father. I just want the demons in me to die. I want to be like my father—good.”

  * * *

  Carter sat on the other side of the booth with his finger wrapped tightly around the trigger of his pistol. Disbelief clouded his brain as he pictured Miamor’s face in his head. He pointed the gun directly at Mecca’s face. All he had to do was let off one shot to make things right. With one bullet, the deaths of Miamor and Monroe could be avenged, but the fact that Mecca was his brother made him hesitate. They both came from the same bloodline. They were the last of a dying breed. Carter wasn’t sure if he would be able to live with his decision if he chose to kill Mecca.

  Carter put his hands to his face as he felt the hot tears threaten to fall. He was in utter turmoil just at the thought of Miamor’s death. She had been his life, his everything, the woman that he had wanted to marry. He had planned to spend an eternity with her, and in the blink of an eye, she had been taken away. Mecca had robbed him of his only chance in life to be truly happy. Miamor was his happiness.

  Carter already knew of the basement that Mecca spoke of. It was The Cartel’s torture chamber, and he knew that Mecca had made her suffer a horrible death. He could hear Mecca crying as he poured out his sins, and Carter closed his eyes, allowing his own silent tears to fall. Both brothers sat on different sides of the booth in turmoil.

  The nigga deserve to die. All of this, this entire war started because of the lies he told. Everybody would still be alive if it wasn’t for Mecca. We broke the truce with the Haitians because we thought they were responsible for Money. All along it’s been him, Carter thought. His rage was so prevalent that it burned his insides, making him feel as though he would explode at any moment. Hearing Mecca’s confession and finally finding out the truth caused his stomach to turn violently. He was sick with grief. He had loved Mecca and trusted him.

  How could he kill Money? He was our brother, Carter thought. How did I miss what was right in front of my face for so long? Mecca murdered Miamor.

  Carter couldn’t grasp the fact that two people he had cared dearly for had been ripped from underneath him. It was unfathomable, and even though he had heard the words come directly from Mecca’s mouth, he still did not want to believe them. Carter remembered all of the lies that Mecca had told to cover his tracks as he watched Mecca rise and begin to walk away. It was up to him to end Mecca’s reign of terror, but he could not do it. Sitting underneath’s God’s watchful eye, all he could do was mourn the deaths of those he had lost at the hands of his only remaining sibling.

  When Mecca exited the church, Carter stood to his feet and stumbled out of the confession booth. He stepped over the priest’s dead body and down the long aisle of the church. He palmed his gun tightly in his hand; the security of having it locked and loaded reassured him. He had no idea what his next move would be, but there was one thing that he was sure of: his brother, Mecca, could not be trusted.

  The nigga has destroyed everything around him. It’ll only be a matter of time before he comes for me.

  * * *

  “What’s the matter, Zyir? You’re not used to riding in things this big?” Illiana asked as she lit a cigarette and blew the smoke into the air. “You’re going fifty-five miles per hour. The limit is seventy.”

  Zyir sighed as he reached over and pulled the cigarette from between her lips. She had been talking nonstop since they left Mexico, and he was more than tired of hearing her talk slick out of the side of her neck.

  “Hey!” she objected as she turned in her seat and looked at Zyir in irritation.

  “I said no cigarettes,” Zyir replied as he kept his eyes fixed on the road in front of him. Driving from Mexico back to Miami was a four-day trip, and he was sure to go crazy with Illiana riding shotgun.

  Illiana rolled her eyes and crossed her hands over her chest. She pointed at the highway sign and said, “Pull over at the next stop.”

  “What the fuck for?” Zyir asked. “I can’t keep stopping every hour. We’ll never make it back at this rate.”

  “I have to piss, so unless you want me to soak these fucking seats, pull over at the next stop,” Illiana replied bossily.

  Zyir glared over at her. He had to bite his tongue to stop himself from barking on her. It was obvious that she was used to men catering to her every whim. This bitch is going to drive me crazy, Zyir thought as he pulled over at the next rest stop. “Hurry up,” he instructed.

  Illiana purposefully took her time as she watched Zyir through the window of the truck stop. She enjoyed giving him a hard time. It was foreplay for her. Since the moment she had seen him, he held her attention. He was focused, powerful, and had a dominant personality that piqued her interest. It was she who had convinced Felipe to send her to Miami. It would be the perfect opportunity for her to get to know Zyir. She was a woman who did not understand the word no, and when she saw something she wanted, she went after it relentlessly. Zyir was in her line of sight and he did not even know it.

  As she finally emerged from the rest stop, she noticed Zyir standing outside of the truck, waiting impatiently and looking around cautiously.

  “Relax. Nobody’s watching, Zyir. You American boys are so paranoid. You watch too many gangster movies. My brother has moved shipments like this for years and nothing has ever gone wrong,” she stated as she stood directly in front of him. She was standing so closely that she could feel the imprint of his penis rubbing against her. The thin linen fabric of her sundress blew in the wind, and she made no effort to move.

  Zyir smirked at her blatant attempts at flirtation. “Get in the car. We’re not stopping again,” Zyir stated in a firm tone as he pushed her gently away from him and hopped back into the truck.

  Zyir got back onto the Interstate as Illiana reached for the radio to turn it up. Zyir immediately switched it back off.

  “What, the radio isn’t allowed either?” Illiana asked. “I’m supposed to ride for days without any entertainment?”

  “I can’t hear the sirens if the radio is blasting,” Zyir answered simply. “Read one of your magazines or something.”

  “I guess I’ll have to entertain myself then,” she replied with a mischievous smile as she opened her legs and slipped her fingers up her dress. She played with her clit as one of her straps fell off her shoulder. Zyir peered over and almost slid off the road as he swerved in surprise.

  “What are you doing?” he asked as he cleared his throat uncomfortably and regained control of the wheel.

  “You told me to read or something. This is something,” she whispered. The look in her eyes radiated lust as she put on a one-woman show for Zyir.

  He couldn’t help but to look over at the lovely sight as she closed her eyes and worked her fingers in and out of her wetness. He could see her juices flowing onto the seat.

  “You can touch it, Zyir. I know you want to.” Everything about Illiana was inviting; even her words teased his ears as he struggled to keep his attention focused o
n the road. His manhood hardened at the visual Illiana was providing him with.

  Illiana was a seductress, and she laughed slightly because she knew that Zyir was trying to resist the inevitable. She crawled across the front seat of the cabin and climbed into Zyir’s lap, straddling him.

  “Yo, fuck is you doing, ma?” Zyir asked, his voice low with indecision as he continued to drive. “You gon’ make me crash this big mu’fucka.”

  Illiana reached down and massaged his hard-on through his cargo shorts before removing it from its confinements. “Hmm,” she moaned as she kissed his neck.

  The scent of her invaded his nostrils as he gave in to the temptation. She was too beautiful to resist, too enticing to turn away, and although he knew that mixing business with pleasure was for the foolish, Illiana was too hard to turn away. Just like all of the other men she had encountered, he could not tell her no.

  “Let me pull over,” Zyir whispered as his breath caught in his throat when she slid down on his shaft. She was so tight that it felt as if his dick was in a glove specifically sized for him. “Damn, ma.”

  “No, keep driving. Don’t stop,” Illiana moaned as she worked her hips in circles, enjoying how he filled her up perfectly, taking up all the space in her pussy. The girth of him took her breath away as she rode him slowly.

  The ecstasy was so great that Zyir could not stop his eyes from closing. He was high off of the feeling that Illiana was giving him, and the harder she rode down on him, the faster he pushed the large Mack truck. The mixture of speed and sex tickled his loins as his adrenaline rushed him. He removed one hand from the steering wheel to grip her voluptuous behind.

  “Ooh, Zy, cum with me, papi,” she urged as she felt the intensity building between her thighs. The sound of her voice in his ear as she rode him only heightened his lust for her. Zyir was ready to pull over and beat it up.

  “Ride it faster, ma,” he coached.

  Illiana began to work her vaginal muscles, tensing them around his thickness until Zyir could no longer take it. He lifted her off of him with one hand just as he exploded. He closed his eyes, and his mouth fell open as he rode the powerful wave of the orgasm.

  “Zyir!” Illiana yelled as the truck veered into the next lane. She grabbed the steering wheel, laughing hysterically, until Zyir regained his composure.

  “Is it too much to ask for you to pull over again at the next stop so I can clean up?” she asked.

  Zyir nodded and gave her a rare smile, turning his usual serious face into the most handsome one she had ever seen.

  “Yeah, ma. Whatever you want. I got you,” he replied.

  * * *

  Carter stood outside of the house where Mecca had murdered Miamor. It wasn’t hard to find. The Cartel had used the dilapidated structure many times before. Things didn’t make sense to him. He did not understand why Mecca had taken such extreme measures.

  What did she do to deserve this? he thought as he stepped foot inside. The stench of death invaded his nose instantly. It was almost too much for him to stomach.

  Making his way down the basement steps, he saw the remnants of Miamor’s murder. The floor was painted with stains of her blood, and the entire room only gave him unwanted images of her death. He stood in the middle of the room as he absorbed it all. He could feel Miamor’s ghost lingering over him. It pained him, because he would never even get to lay her to rest properly.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered aloud as he turned to leave. As he looked back one last time, he noticed something on the floor. A necklace, one identical to the one that he wore, lay near the wooden chair. He walked over to it and picked up. His hands instinctively went to his own neck to touch the small cross that hung from it. It had been a gift from their father, and because they were the only two left, he knew that it was Mecca’s.

  The walls of the basement began to close in on him as his grief threatened to swallow him whole. Not only had he lost his woman, but his brother as well. No matter how he chose to resolve the situation, things would never be the same. With a new connect, things were supposed to be looking up, but deceit was threatening to tear The Cartel apart from the inside out.

  His cell phone rang just as he made his exit. He answered it immediately, already knowing that it was Zyir.

  “Zy, I got to talk to you about Mecca.”

  “I just got off the phone with him. We about to get this money, fam. Mecca’s on his way to the warehouse. Meet me there.”

  “I’m on my way, but do me a favor, Zyir. Don’t trust Mecca. Be careful around him. I’ll explain later,” Carter replied in a tone of warning.

  “No explanation needed. It wasn’t a day that I didn’t move carefully around him anyway, fam. A nigga with a body count like that you gotta watch, nah mean?”

  * * *

  Carter walked into the warehouse to the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. Three thousand kilos of cocaine sat lined neatly side by side, one on top of the other, composing a wall of riches before him. The math was easy to do. Flipping that many birds meant that they were about to be stupid rich.

  “Yeah, boy, you can crack a smile. No need to be the boss at all times,” Zyir joked as he slapped hands with Carter and embraced him briefly. He missed Mecca with the introductions. He had no desire to show his brother love when all he was feeling in his heart was hate.

  “We’re back. I can put this work out a.s.a.p. Let niggas know the drought is over,” Mecca stated.

  Carter stared at Mecca for a long time and found it hard to conceal his rage. Fire burned in his eyes, and even the stature of his presence was stiff, cold, as if Mecca were the enemy.

  “What’s good, Carter? You a’ight?” Mecca asked. He had no idea that his secret was out, but as he looked in his older sibling’s eyes, he felt that the times of treachery were headed his way.

  “Everything’s good. Just thinking about how niggas might want to steer clear of stepping on my toes. I made the mistake of trusting Ace too much. It’s always the closest niggas to you that do the most harm,” Carter replied while never averting Mecca’s gaze.

  “Nah, baby, you don’t put in work. You just sit back and drive this ship. Take us to the money like only you can do. Me and Zy can handle the beef. All snake-ass niggas have been taken care of,” Mecca replied.

  “It’s always one left hiding in the grass,” Carter responded.

  The tension in the room was high and put Mecca slightly on edge. He felt as if he were staring into the eyes of his father. It felt like Carter was looking straight through him, and the only other man who had ever been able to make him feel so transparent was their father.

  Zyir was silent because he knew Carter well. He was speaking in codes, and Mecca didn’t even have a clue that the beef Carter had was with him.

  Larcenous-ass nigga, Carter thought.

  Zyir pulled two keys from his pocket and handed one to both men. “I had the locks changed. Only the three of us have access to this building, so each and every bird should always be accounted for,” Zyir stated. “Felipe sent his sister Illiana back to Miami with me. She’s here to protect their investment. . . a set of eyes for the Garza Cartel.”

  “Where is she now?” Carter asked.

  “I took her to my crib. I didn’t know if you wanted her to know the location of the warehouse. Three thousand joints are too many to take any risks,” Zyir stated.

  “You can show her, and only her, where we keep ’em,” Carter stated. “She doesn’t need a key, however. If the Mexicans want her here to make sure everything is moving right, then we have nothing to hide from them. It’ll show good faith.”

  Carter began to walk away, and Zyir stated, “I know we gon’ celebrate tonight. This is a power move we’re making.”

  Carter turned around and shook his head as he looked at Mecca. Disappointment, anger, sadness . . . it all consumed him simultaneously. Without responding, Carter made his exit. He had thought when he emerged from prison that all of his problems would be behind him, b
ut now the dilemmas in his life seemed even more prevalent than before.

  “Fuck is up with him?” Mecca stated.

  Zyir feigned ignorance and replied, “I don’t know, but I’d hate to be a problem of his. Just because he don’t talk about it, don’t mean he ain’t about it, nah mean? Carter ain’t about playing gangster. He don’t got to be all extra in order to get his point across. That macho shit is for dumb niggas, and dumb mu’fuckas are the easiest to clip.”

  * * *

  Zyir sat in the apartment like a seasoned chemist as he took it back to his humble roots, cooking dope with ten naked women around him. The titties and ass that were on display were of no interest to him. It only ensured that nobody got sticky fingers. Theft was impossible when you wore no clothes to stash the product. The Cartel took to the streets like never before, and in addition to selling the bricks wholesale, they had chosen to break down three hundred of them.

  Zyir was a perfectionist when it came to stretching cocaine, and he was more than willing to put in the work to turn three hundred into six hundred, with the help of the lovely ladies around him. While Mecca thought he was above serving fiends, Zyir wasn’t for turning away a single dollar. He loved money, and while Mecca had the wholesale market covered, Zyir was taking over the streets. He kept it hood and set up his operation on every inner city block in Dade County.

  He wasn’t about the gunplay, because he did not need any unnecessary attention from the boys in blue, so instead of forcing his competition out, he played fair and simply offered them an opportunity to work for him. His affiliation with The Cartel put stars in niggas’ eyes and they instantly jumped at the chance just to be down by association. Zyir had so many hustlers working for him that he never personally saw the blocks. He simply organized the operation, supplied the dope, and sat back as the money piled in. Nobody caused conflicts because everybody was eating.

  Miami had never seen a movement like The Cartel’s. It was calculated carefully and executed with efficiency. It was all about the money, and the more they accumulated, the more the streets began to forget the troubles that had plagued them surrounding the law.