The Cartel Deluxe Edition

by Ashley

  Illiana failed to mention to Felipe that she had slipped Breeze dope, and only told her family about the beating Zyir had put on her. Needless to say, they were infuriated. The sad part was that this was only the beginning.

  Zyir and Carter pulled onto the block to witness the scene. Carter shook his head from side to side as he thought about what Zyir had gotten them into. Carter couldn’t get too mad, because he knew that he would have reacted the same way if he had caught Illiana giving Breeze the dope.

  “This isn’t good,” Carter said in a low tone as he slowly drove by the scene, not wanting to stop. Zyir looked at the bodies and saw his li’l man Scoot lying awkwardly on the pavement with blooding leaking from his body.

  “Damn, the kid was only sixteen years old,” Zyir said as he quickly turned his head, trying to look at the kid’s lifeless eyes.

  Police had begun to rope off the area, and ambulances were at the scene, but it was all for nothing, because there was no one to save. Everyone was dead.

  Just as Carter reached the end of the block, they were taken by surprise. Two white vans without windows blocked Carter’s car, boxing him in so he couldn’t escape.

  “What the fuck?” Carter said under his breath as he watched the scene unfold. He didn’t realize what was going on, but he would soon find out. A third van quickly pulled up in front of Carter’s car, and the sliding doors on all the vans seemed to open at the same time.

  Three men jumped out of each van, all of them carrying military assault rifles. They began to riddle the car with bullets. The Garza Cartel had orchestrated a perfect hit. They knew that Carter, Zyir, or Mecca would visit the crime scene, and preyed in anticipation until they eventually showed up.

  Carter quickly ducked down, and Zyir did also. The thuds of the bullets hitting the car sounded like a hailstorm, as the gunmen spared no ammunition and lit the car up in broad daylight.

  Luckily, Carter was driving his bulletproof Benz, and no bullets penetrated the interior of his car.

  The Miami police ducked for cover and began to call for backup on their walkie-talkies as the block underwent pandemonium. Some of the officers began to run toward the gunmen with their guns drawn, demanding them to drop their weapons. The Mexicans didn’t care if they were uniformed cops. They shot at them also. In their country, there was no authority above their cartel. The Mexican gunplay was too much for the officers, and the Miami Police Department had to back down and wait for help.

  After noticing that Carter’s car was bulletproof, one of the gunmen said something in Spanish, and the Mexicans hopped in their vans and peeled off, leaving black tire marks on the pavement and smoking tires. Carter and Zyir grabbed their guns from under the seat and watched as the vans disappeared off the block. Both of their hearts were pounding rapidly as they escaped the deadly ambush by the skin of their teeth.

  “You good?” Carter asked as he looked Zyir’s body up and down to see if he was hit.

  “Yeah, I’m good. You?” Zyir asked as he breathed heavily.

  “Yeah,” Carter responded as his phone began to ring. He looked at the caller ID and noticed that the incoming call was blocked. Carter picked up the phone and heard the operator’s voice. The call was from a federal penitentiary.

  “I accept,” Carter spoke into the phone.

  “My dear friend, I am hurt that you crossed the line . . . and for that, you will suffer,” Garza said calmly and confidently. “I have no control over what happens after this point. My only advice to you is to flee as far away as you can. There is nowhere in the country where Felipe can’t find you and your family. With that, I’ll say good-bye,” Garza said just before hanging up the phone.

  Carter didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything. He just closed his phone and shook his head from side to side.

  “We have to get out of here,” Carter said as he steered the bullet-riddled car off the block. The tires were flattened, but Carter wanted to leave before the cops approached them, asking questions.

  Zyir and Carter were silent because they knew that they had just started a war with one of the deadliest cartels in North America.

  * * *

  In the meantime, Breeze was asleep in a hotel room, with Mecca present with her. Mecca was up looking out of the window with a gun in his hand. After giving him the news of the melee on their block, Carter had told him to check into a hotel downtown just to be safe. He knew that Illiana knew about their personal residences, and he didn’t want to take any chances.

  Mecca looked at the gun in his hand and shook his head. He didn’t feel the same adrenaline rush that he once did when feeling the cold steel in his palms. Actually, it started to disgust him. Mecca was tired of selling drugs, tired of murders, and tired of The Cartel. He knew that if his family wasn’t a part of The Cartel, they would all be there with him and not dead.

  He looked over at his sleeping beauty, his baby sister, and wanted more for her. He refused to lose her again.

  Mecca’s mind ran wild as he began to think about religion, and it seemed as if every time he closed his eyes, he saw a person’s face that he had once murdered. Throughout his killing career, it never bothered him to look into the eyes of a person he killed, but now, it was crashing down on him like a ton of bricks.

  Since Mecca was a young boy, he’d always wanted to be a gangster—nothing more, nothing less. But now he wanted to be just a regular man, a family man. His mind was clear since he hadn’t been using drugs or drinking, and he really wanted a change.

  This new beef with the Mexicans was one that Mecca didn’t want to see. He knew the ramifications of a war, and he wasn’t willing to lose any more family over it. Mecca glanced at Breeze once again and then walked over to her and knelt beside the bed next to her. He did something that he had not done since he was a little boy. He began to pray.

  * * *

  Carter and Zyir entered the hotel from the back entrance, using the keycard that was provided for the guests. They stepped in and saw three Mexican men run by them with guns in their hands. Carter and Zyir quickly ducked back and out of sight as the men whizzed by them, not even noticing them.

  “What the fuck?” Zyir whispered as he and Carter pulled out their guns. Carter had underestimated the Garza Cartel. He knew that they had come for blood.

  “Breeze and Mecca are up there!” Carter said as he looked around the corner and saw that the three Mexicans were headed up the stairs.

  “Let’s use the elevator,” Carter suggested as he cocked back his gun and flipped it off safety. Zyir and Carter flew to the elevator, hoping that they would reach the fifth floor before the Mexican goons did.

  Carter hurriedly tapped the button in the elevator, trying to make the doors close faster, and Zyir immediately hit the camera that was in the top corner of the elevator, knowing that they were about to get into some shit. The door finally closed and they began to go up.

  “Come on, come on, come on,” Zyir repeated as he stared at the numbers indicating what floor they were passing. They knew that they only had a small window of time to make it to the room before the Mexicans did.

  “I wonder how many are here,” Carter said, believing that Felipe had sent more than three men to do the job.

  “Don’t know, but I’m ready for whatever,” Zyir said bravely as he thought about his love, Breeze, who was in the room with Mecca.

  They finally reached the fifth floor and—

  * * *

  “Where is the food?” Mecca asked, flicking through the channels as Breeze sat next to him in the bed.

  “Just call Carter and tell him to bring us something on his way here,” Breeze said, not wanting to eat the nasty hotel food anyway.

  “Cool,” Mecca agreed as he picked up his phone. “Damn, I don’t have any service.”

  As soon as the words escaped his mouth, a knock on the door sounded.

  “Room service,” a maid announced with a heavy Spanish accent.

  “Thank God! Finally some food
,” Breeze said as she sat upright and looked at the door.

  Mecca got up and grabbed his pistol off of the bed, wanting to be cautious as he approached the door. He peeked through the peephole and was at ease when he saw that it was a maid with a platter in her hand. Mecca tucked his gun in his waistline and removed the chain lock that was on the door. He reached into his pocket and grabbed some money and opened the door.

  As soon as the door opened, a Mexican man stepped into view with a sawed-off shotgun aimed directly at Mecca’s chest. Before Mecca could even react, the loud sound of the shotgun rang through the air. The blast struck Mecca in his sternum, causing him to fly back viciously.

  Breeze was startled by the blast, and she screamed at the top of her lungs as she saw her brother get blown off of his feet.

  Breeze screamed at the top of her lungs as she tried to scramble off of the bed and run for cover. The man ran in and grabbed Breeze by the hair and flung her violently across the room. He was speaking Spanish, so Breeze couldn’t understand him, but his body language and facial expression clearly stated that he hated her and wanted her dead.

  He grabbed her by the throat, still speaking Spanish, and he sinisterly smirked as he put the gun to Breeze’s face. Boom! A loud shot rang throughout the hotel room, and blood and guts splattered all over Breeze’s face—but not blood of her own. It was the blood of the gunman.

  She screamed hysterically as the man lay slumped on her with his face blown off. Mecca stood behind him with a smoking gun. He ripped open his shirt, revealing his bulletproof vest, something he never left home without.

  He pushed the man off of Breeze and helped her up.

  “Are you okay?” he asked as he held his chest. It was tender, sore, and felt like it had been hit with a bat swung by Barry Bonds.

  “Yeah, I’m good,” Breeze answered as she hugged her brother tightly.

  Mecca heard commotion in the hall and knew that there were more goons coming. He thought quickly and looked toward the window for an escape route.

  “Come on,” he said as he pulled Breeze toward the window, knowing that his one gun couldn’t go up against whatever was about to come his way. Mecca, all of a sudden, heard shots ringing out and three bodies dropped, tumbling over one another. Mecca quickly pointed his gun at the door, ready to bust at whatever came through. He breathed heavily and stood in front of Breeze, willing to be her shield.

  Carter and Zyir had just dropped the three Mexicans with their accurate shots, and they made their way to the room where they knew Mecca and Breeze were.

  “Mecca!” Carter yelled as he ran down the hall with his gun in a firing position.

  “In here!” he heard Mecca yell from the suite.

  Zyir and Carter ran to the door, but looked back and noticed about ten more Mexicans coming from the staircase. Zyir and Carter quickly dipped into the room and closed the door, knowing that they only had seconds to think of something.

  “Is Breeze okay?” Zyir asked as he ran to her and she hugged him tightly while still crying hysterically. “I got you, ma,” Zyir whispered in her ear as he rubbed her hair. That moment was short-lived because Zyir knew that they would be busting in at any moment.

  “How many?” Mecca yelled as he pointed his gun at the door along with Carter, waiting for them to come in.

  “Too many,” Zyir said as he shook his head.

  “He’s right. We can’t win,” Carter said as he thought about how many goons he saw at the far end of the hall, heading their way.

  “We have to jump. It’s the only way to make it out alive,” Zyir said as he slid the patio door open and looked down at the pool five stories below.

  “Fuck we waiting for?” Mecca asked frantically while still aiming at the door.

  The sounds of bullets trying to shoot the lock off erupted, and they had to make their decision quick. The old Mecca would have never thought twice about shooting it out with the Mexicans and dying in the blaze of glory, but the new Mecca wanted to live. He thought about Leena and his nephew and the fact that he hadn’t gotten his redemption yet. That reason alone was enough for him to concede defeat and try to escape.

  “Fuck it!” Mecca said as he hurried to the balcony and looked over. Without hesitation, he jumped feet first into the deep pool. Breeze, then Zyir, followed suit and jumped also. Carter was the last to jump. Just before Carter jumped, the door flew open and the sounds of the drums letting loose and releasing numerous bullets sounded. Bullets whizzed by Carter’s head and body, forcing him to jump prematurely. He landed into the water and they barely got away.

  The Garza Cartel was too much for them to handle. Ruthless would have been an understatement.

  * * *

  Carter and Breeze were stationed outside of the warehouse, waiting for Zyir and Mecca to return. The plan was for them to retrieve all of their owed money out of the streets and flee the state. The long arm of the Garza Cartel was too much for Carter and The Cartel. Carter made an executive decision to leave town; he chose not to fight another war. He was smart enough to know when he could not win. The Cartel was not as strong as it once was, and this was the proof. The Mexicans had pushed them into a corner, and this was the last resort.

  “Is everything going to be okay?” Breeze asked her big brother in her most innocent voice. Carter could sense the fear in her tone, and he calmly looked over at her and smiled.

  “I got you, Breeze. Everything is going to be all right. Tonight is the last night we ever will step foot in Miami. This drug game has tore this family apart. I’m going to make sure that I put this family back together and start a new type of legacy, one built on love and not power. I got you, baby girl,” he said as he leaned over and kissed her forehead.

  Breeze felt warm inside, and for a brief second, she thought she was listening to her father. Young Carter resembled him so much, and he also had a way of letting her know that everything would be okay, just as her deceased father did when he was still alive. Breeze smiled and sat back in the seat, confident in his words.

  “We just have to go in here, count the money, and wait for the sun to rise so we can head out to the airport,” Carter said. He felt safe at the warehouse, knowing it was a spot that the Mexicans would not think to look for them. His plans were to end The Cartel’s legacy that night and leave the drug game behind.

  Mecca and Zyir pulled up with three duffel bags full of money. They had collected all of their funds out of the streets, and if blocks were short, they just took what they had and called it even. They needed cold, hard cash to relocate and start over.

  Carter and Breeze saw Mecca’s car pull behind them, and they got out of the car to enter the warehouse. Soon, they would all be on a private jet to an unknown location. Well, at least that was their plan.

  Members of the Garza Cartel were parked about a half-mile away from the warehouse, waiting for The Cartel to arrive, and just as they thought, they were there. They were waiting for them to enter so they could go in and ambush them and leave them all dead. They looked through binoculars, watching the whole scenario unfold. Little did they know, they weren’t the only eyes watching The Cartel on that night.

  Murder waited patiently on the side of the building watching The Cartel walk in. He smiled as he thought about what was about to happen. He held a detonator in his lap. He was about to send all of them to hell, first class. Murder was doing this for Miamor, and it made him feel good inside.

  He watched closely as they all entered the building just before he pulled away. He waited until he got far enough to be clear of the upcoming explosion.

  “Fuck The Cartel,” he mumbled as he pushed the button and heard the loud boom of the explosives go off. He began to drive away as the debris flew into the air and a massive fireball formed fifty feet into the air. His mission was done and The Cartel was officially over.

  “May they all burn in hell,” he said as he chuckled to himself, disappearing into the night.

  The Last Chapter

  “S
he probably is in hell, smoking a blunt. That’s a real bitch.”

  —Unknown

  “We are gathered here today to celebrate the lives of three of God’s children.”

  The preacher stood before the many people who attended the funeral of street royalty. It was a sad day in Miami, and on this day, the streets were like a ghost town. It seemed as if the entire underworld had stopped to commemorate those they had lost. Everyone within the city limits felt this grief. The lives of three street legends had been destroyed, and grief overflowed in the ceremony as three silver-plated coffins sat side by side with an array of flower arrangements around them. It was a bright, sunny day, and it seemed as if God shone his light down from the heavens above to make that hard day seem a tad bit better for the mourning attendees. It was a triple funeral to bury the last of the Diamond family—Breeze, Carter, and Mecca.

  The Cartel was no more, and it was the last chapter to what was to be named one of the biggest legacies in Miami’s underworld history. Their story was legendary, ruthless . . . and most of all, classic.

  Many people were in attendance, but the most important guests were not there to pay their final respects, but to confirm that the last of The Cartel was deceased and about to be buried into the ground.

  Robin and Aries were in attendance, draped in all black dresses with big shades on to keep a low profile. Murder also sat beside them. The demise of The Cartel was bittersweet for him, and he gritted his teeth tightly as he thought about Mecca and the missed opportunity to personally kill him on Miamor’s behalf. Nevertheless, Mecca was dead, and that would have to be enough for him.

  Emilio Estes, Leena, and Monroe Jr. were also in attendance, mourning the loss. They were the only people left alive who could sit in the front pew reserved for family. Although far removed from the Diamond legacy, they were the last of a dying bloodline.

  There was an eerie feeling in the air and everyone there could sense it. As the preacher held the Holy Bible tightly in his hand and read from the book of Psalms, a stretch limo with tinted windows rolled up slowly about fifty yards away from the service. Many people didn’t notice it, but the trained eyes were glued to the approaching vehicle.