by Ashley
“How much is that?” he asked as he threw a large stack at Illiana, causing her to drop the blunt that was hanging loosely from her lips. It fell onto the exposed skin of her thigh.
“Damn it, Zy!” she screamed as she frantically hopped up, wearing nothing but lace panties and one of his button-up shirts. “You burnt the shit out of me,” she whined.
“You’ll be a’ight. Finish counting that,” Zyir instructed. He continued the count in his head as he began to flip through a new stack of money. He was a mathematician when it came to his paper. The sound of the bills flipping through the money machine was like a classic melody to him, but even he questioned its accuracy. After the machine counted it, he counted it—every dollar, one by one, until he was content with the amount.
He would usually do the task alone, but he knew that Illiana posed no threat. She wasn’t your average woman. She did not need to steal, because she had her own, and her bank account was filled with endless zeroes. It was for this reason alone that he allowed her to be present.
After many lonely nights, Illiana’s presence in Miami had become surprisingly welcomed. She was a distraction, someone he felt comfortable enough around because she understood his world. At first Zyir was hesitant to keep her too close, but after many lonely nights, the feelings of isolation and the ghosts that haunted his mind became too much. He needed companionship, and the time he spent with Illiana became convenient for Zyir.
Her warm body filled the empty space in his bed most nights, but unfortunately for Illiana, his heart remained ice cold. That was a void that only one woman could fill, and he had closed it off to the rest of the world the day that Breeze had been kidnapped. The day that she disappeared was the same day that Zyir gave up on love. Hustling was all that mattered, getting money his only concern. Even a woman as strikingly beautiful as Illiana could not soften his reserve. She had managed to squeeze into his bed, but he would never allow another woman to enter his life in the magnitude that Breeze Diamond had. Meeting her had changed the man that he was, and losing her had killed his spirit.
No, I can’t afford to feel like that again. Loving a woman hurts too bad, he thought as he watched Illiana carefully.
“Why are you looking at me like that, papi?” Illiana asked, snapping Zyir out of his daze. “You see something you like?” Her flirtatious nature surfaced as she threw the money from her hands up into the air.
“What you doing, ma? You’re fucking up the count,” he objected with dismay.
Illiana shrugged her shoulders as she began to unbutton the shirt she was wearing, revealing her perky breasts and quarter-sized nipples.
“You’re just going to count it again anyway,” she said as she brought her face close to his and kissed his lips. Zyir turned his head, allowing her kisses to fall on his neck. Having a woman’s lips on his own was too intimate for him. You kiss those that you love, and there was nothing but lust between them.
He flipped her over so that he was on top, and tapped her ass slightly. She already knew that he wanted to hit her from the back. He liked to see her derrière jiggle as he slid in and out of her.
Illiana was willing to give Zyir anything he desired. She was desperate to become his and to be affiliated with everything concerning him. She had never dealt with a man like him before. Everything about him attracted her, and she was pulling out all the stops in order to appeal to him. She wanted to be down, and the fact that he was a business associate of her brother’s was even better. It meant that he was powerful because the Garza Cartel only dealt with the elite.
As he slid into her, she grimaced from his size, but with each stroke he put down on her, the pain slowly gave way to pleasure. She threw her pussy on him as if her life depended on it. There was no slow lovemaking going on. Zyir was beating it up. Illiana moaned loudly, unable to contain herself. He reached around her body and fingered her clit simultaneously, making her call out to him in Spanish. It didn’t take her long to cum. Zyir was well versed in the female persuasion, and brought her to an orgasm better than any man before him ever could.
Money stuck to her sweat-covered body as she breathed in heavily from their intense escapade. She collapsed on the bed, exhausted as she watched Zyir stand before her.
“Come lay with me,” she said as she rubbed the empty spot next to her. She saw the look in his eyes and knew that he was about to tell her no. She knew she had to turn up her game in order to get her way. He was constantly pulling away from her. Sex was her only weapon, the only thing that kept him near. “I’m not done with you yet,” she said as she reached up and grabbed his penis. It came back alive instantly from her touch, and she smiled as she crawled to the edge of the bed and took him into her mouth. She was an expert at keeping a man interested in the bedroom. All she had to do was figure out how to keep Zyir focused on her once the sun came up. She wanted him for herself, and was willing to go to any extreme to ensure that he belonged to her.
Chapter Twelve
“I’ve killed niggas for less than what you’ve done.”
—Carter
The Cartel had buried Breeze’s memory so long ago that Carter did not believe his eyes. This can’t be her, he thought as he rushed over to the bed and pulled the girl off of her knees.
“Hey! Wait your turn,” the john protested. Carter pulled his gun and trained his aim on the man, who bitched up quickly, raising his hands in defense. He scrambled to get his clothing before scurrying out of the room.
“Breeze?” Carter called out. Breeze heard her name being called, but her high had her in a nod too deep to come out of.
“Carter, what is this? This is my place of business, señor. You can’t just . . .”
The girl before him was a mere shell of the vibrant young woman he had come to know. His mind told him that this girl couldn’t be Breeze. They had left her for dead so long ago and he was skeptical, but the resemblance was too similar to miss. When he saw the small gold cross hanging from her neck, her identity was confirmed. Through all of the storms that life had thrown her way, the necklace was still there. It had been the only piece of home she had left.
Carter turned his attention on Felipe as he rushed him with his gun drawn. He wrapped his hand around Felipe’s throat as he put his gun directly to his forehead, forcing him against the wall of the bedroom. “Where’d you get her?” he barked as spit flew from his mouth.
Felipe could see that Carter was irrational. “I can see that you’re upset over this girl—”
“She’s my sister!” Carter shouted as he pulled back the hammer on his gun. “Where did you get her?” It would be his last time asking.
Carter knew that his actions were irrational and stupid, but he was acting out of emotion alone, disregarding the voice in the back of his mind telling him to calm down.
“Carter, this is not going to end well for you. I understand your reaction, and I can assure you that I had no idea of her affiliation to your family. Now that I know, something can be worked out,” Felipe stated calmly yet firmly.
Carter released Felipe and rushed back over to Breeze. She was delusional as she reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Come here, baby. Let me make you feel good,” she whispered, thinking that Carter was a john.
Pure emotion pulsed through him as he scooped her into his arms. Seeing her like this was breaking down the very essence of his manhood, making him feel weaker than he ever had before. He had failed her, Mecca had failed her, every man in her life who was supposed to keep her safe had failed.
“This ain’t for you, Breeze,” he stated sadly. “None of this was ever supposed to happen to you.” Carter carried her over to Felipe, her head resting upon his broad shoulders as she fell into a nod.
“I’ll buy her,” Carter said. “A half a million dollars.” There was no negotiating this bargain, and Felipe could see that bartering was not an option. Carter was a man who was protecting his family. That connection had no boundaries. Felipe knew this, bec
ause he would go against a thousand armies to ensure the safety of his own loved ones.
Felipe nodded and placed a hand on Carter’s shoulder. He was not willing to give her away. To him, Breeze was just property, an expensive piece of real estate, but to maintain the business he was establishing with The Cartel, he was willing to sell her back. “If I could give her back to you for free, I would, but I paid a high price for her. A half a million dollars is not necessary. Just replace the seventy-five thousand dollars I spent in acquiring her and you can take her home,” Felipe said.
Felipe opened the bedroom door. As Carter stepped out, he was instantly surrounded by Mexican men who held automatic machine guns pointed his way. He had no idea that Felipe had so many soldiers throughout the brothel. They were his security, and every room was monitored.
Felipe knew that he had never been in danger. The only person whose life was at stake was Carter’s. Felipe lifted his hand to halt his army of loyal shooters, and shook his head from side to side.
“Let them pass,” he said. Felipe turned to Carter. “My driver will take you back to the airstrip. I know you are eager to get home. We will take care of the details later.”
The men lowered their weapons obediently, and Carter carried Breeze out of the brothel as she clung to him. He kissed the top of her head as he stepped into Felipe’s limousine. When he was inside of the tinted vehicle, he broke down over Breeze, cradling her closely and hugging her tightly as his tears fell relentlessly. There was no stopping them. This was his baby sister, the most innocent one of them all, and yet she had been through the worst hell imaginable. The rest of his family had played the game and accepted the risks, but it was Breeze who had been sucked in by association, only to be chewed up and spit out. He could only imagine the cold and lonely place that she had just come from.
As he looked down at her face, he noticed the change in her. Whatever she had been through, it had drained her spirit. Even through the high from the heroin, he could see the hopelessness in her eyes. He grimaced as he thought of all of the men who had invaded her body, and as she began to scratch herself in her sleep, he saw the tell-all signs of a junkie.
As they pulled up to the airstrip and boarded the private jet, Carter held onto her tightly, as if she would disappear.
Breeze opened her eyes slightly and looked drowsily up at her older brother. “I just want to go home. Please take me to my family. They don’t even know I’m alive,” she whispered, still disoriented and unaware of her surroundings.
“I’m taking you home, Breeze, and nobody will ever hurt you again.”
* * *
Zyir awoke to the sound of his cell phone vibrating against his wooden nightstand. He sat up and wiped the sleep out of his eyes as he reached over Illiana to answer it. Carter’s name appeared on the screen, and he answered it immediately.
“Yo, fam, it’s like seven in the morning. You know the streets don’t see me until noon,” Zyir stated with fatigue.
“I’m outside of your building. Buzz me in. We need to talk,” Carter stated. Zyir had known Carter long enough to know when something serious had gone down.
“I thought you weren’t due back from Tijuana until—”
“Open the door, Zy. I’ll explain when I see you,” Carter replied. His tone was demanding, but Zyir knew Carter too well not to pick up on the anxiety that was in his voice.
Zyir hung up his phone and then slid out of the bed to avoid waking Illiana. It was obvious that Carter wanted to discuss business, and he wanted the conversation to remain private. He shut his bedroom door as he exited and buzzed Carter in.
When Zyir opened the door and saw the stress lines on Carter’s forehead, he knew something had gone awry. His red, sorrow-filled eyes told a story all their own.
“I need to talk to you,” Carter stated as he stepped inside. Carter knew how Zyir felt about Breeze, and although her return was a joyous event, he wanted to prepare Zyir for it. He knew that Zyir loved his younger sister, and he did not want her condition to be a surprise to him. Breeze was not the same girl she used to be.
“No doubt, fam. Come in,” Zyir invited as he stepped to the side to allow Carter to enter.
“It’s about Breeze,” Carter started.
“Breeze?” Zyir repeated in confusion. “Breeze is dead. We said our good-byes to her a long time ago.”
“She’s alive, Zyir,” Carter stated as he put his hand on Zyir’s shoulder.
Zyir smacked his hand away. It was the first time that he had ever bossed up against his mentor. His face frowned in pain as he backed away from Carter, bumping into his end table and sending a lamp crashing to the floor. The mere mention of Breeze’s name was a soft spot for Zyir.
“Fuck is you saying, fam? She’s been gone for almost two years! She’s dead. We held the service . . .”
Carter stood stoically as he nodded his head. He knew that Zyir would take Breeze’s reemergence just as hard as he had taken her actual death. “I know. We were wrong. She was still alive.”
Zyir began to tear up as he put his hands on his head. “Don’t say that to me, man. That means I gave up on her, fam. If she’s been out there all this time, then I failed her. I was supposed to bring her home,” Zyir stated emotionally as he punched the wall in frustration, putting his fist through the plaster and causing his knuckles to bleed.
He put his balled fists to the sides of his head in utter turmoil as he closed his eyes in horror. This was the last thing he had expected to hear Carter say. Wars he was ready to fight, money he knew how to collect, beef he enjoyed to cook, but to hear that the only girl he had ever loved had come back from the dead had him shook. It was the only situation that he was unprepared to handle. It was a chapter that he had closed in his life, and now it was about to be rewritten.
Zyir’s grief reminded Carter of his own. It was the same way he felt about Miamor. He wished that she would magically reappear the same way that Breeze had done, but there was no bringing her back. She was gone forever, and because of this, he hoped that Zyir appreciated the gift that he was being given.
“She was working in one of Felipe’s brothels. He says he purchased her from a woman who runs a human trafficking camp called Murderville. I don’t know what Breeze has been through, but I know that she needs you.”
Zyir looked at Carter in utter astonishment as he collapsed onto the couch. He buried his face in his hands and shook his head from side to side. His brain could not process the information, but his heart had sped up dramatically and felt as if it would beat out of his chest.
“Take me to her,” Zyir stated.
“Take you to who?” Illiana’s voice broke through the conversation and was an unwelcomed intrusion. She wasn’t shy, and she made no efforts to cover her scantily clad body as she stood in front of Carter and Zyir while smoking a freshly rolled blunt.
Zyir ignored her question and refocused on Carter. “I need to see her, fam.”
Carter saw the look of displeasure that crossed Illiana’s face. He hoped that Zyir could see the signs that Illiana was giving off. It was obvious that she wanted more than Zyir was willing to give. The jealous look on Illiana’s face spoke volumes, and Carter made a note to put Zyir up on game later.
“Handle your business and wrap things up here. I’ll be waiting downstairs. Breeze will be happy to see you,” Carter replied.
As Zyir dressed, Illiana stood in the doorway of his bedroom while smoking the cush weed slowly. I know he’s not rushing out to see some bitch when he has me here. Ain’t nothing better than this, Illiana thought arrogantly.
“Who is this Breeze bitch you’re so worked up over?” Illiana asked.
Zyir stopped dead in his tracks and approached her as he buttoned up his Armani cardigan. He stood two inches away from her face as he said, “Don’t ask questions about things that don’t concern you. You’re here to keep track of your brother’s money, so start counting,” Zyir stated, referring to the money that they had sexed on the night
before. Without another word, he walked out of the room. Illiana’s feelings were not his concern. He had one thing and one thing only on his mind—getting to Breeze.
* * *
“Thank you for meeting me,” Mecca stated as he sat down on the park bench next to Leena and his nephew. She looked up at him and noticed the graze wound on his face. She had known him long enough to be able to tell that it had come from a bullet, one that had barely missed him.
“What happened to your face?” she asked.
“I had a little run-in with someone. Nothing major. I appreciate you showing up, Lee,” he said, changing the subject.
“You said you had something to say,” she replied. Leena was so short with him. She could not let go of the tiny piece of anger she still held onto, and Mecca heard it in her voice.
“You still toting pistols in my nephew’s diaper bag?” Mecca asked, trying to lighten the mood.
Leena ignored his question as she looked out at the children playing in front of her. “What do you want, Mecca?” she asked impatiently.
“I don’t know,” Mecca replied honestly. “I want us to become friends again if that’s possible.”
Leena raised her eyebrows skeptically. “Friends?” she repeated.
“I know that’s a lot to ask for, but it’s the truth. I did what you said. I asked God for forgiveness.”
“That’s good, Mecca. I’m glad you took that first step,” she admitted. She looked into his troubled eyes and said, “I wish you had taken it a long time ago.”
“How do I know if it worked?” Mecca asked sincerely.
Leena looked at him suspiciously. She had never seen this side of Mecca before. “You will start to feel better,” she replied. As she looked down at her son, who had fallen asleep in her lap, she said, “He looks just like you.”