“That situation?” I ask sarcastically, starting to rise.
“Chuey, stop, just stop trying to make nothing into something,” Rocky says. She takes a deep breath and steps toward the suite balcony. Rocky snatches the sliding door open, and goes outside. Her hands grip the railing, she takes a deep breath.
I step out toward her, knowing lil’ mama is holding back her feelings for me. Instead of trying to touch Rocky, I just step next to her. We both look out at the turquoise water as I say, “Damn ma, so you just want me to stay in my lane? Lorenzo has you that far fucking gone that you don’t even realize how unsafe it is to be with him?”
“I’m not going there with you,” Rockwell says. She takes a hand and flaps at her face as if the sea-salt breeze isn’t enough. “We ain’t finna talk about me and Lorenzo. Nope, not anymore. You know what?” Rockwell says, turning to look at me. “Chuey, you must not even really understand. All my life, I’ve been in love with true love. When I was little I wanted a knight in shining armor. With a black stallion–Nigga I know it’s supposed to be a white horse, but anyways I wanted a black stallion after watching Black Beauty on TV once.” She smiles. “Then Renzo stepped into my life. I was so scared of him. He was hard even for –what my uncle Marcel called a youngblood. Renzo loves hard. Everything with him is hard. So you see, he captures me. Takes my whole heart siege and if he doesn’t want me, then… it’s always been on Lorenzo. No matter what he does, I could never let him go. So I’ll always be his, Chuey. Does that satisfy you, Chuey?”
I just look at her and shake my head.
“Now no more this,” she says pointing at the both of us. “No more trying to get in my head when it comes to my relationship because as you see, I could never love you, never want you anywhere as much as I adore my man. My husband.”
I stare at her. In my mind, Rockwell’s saying, if this nigga wasn’t around we could be together. That’s what she just said. My emotions are on pause for my brother. Fuck him. I want her.
Rocky gives me this funny look, then asks, “Chuey, just let me go…”
I nod, for now...
Chapter 99
SANTIAGO
My legs buckle at the knees, I fall to the ground in the front courtyard of my mansion. I wrench the jacket of my custom-made suit off, then pull at my tie. This can’t be fucking happening to me. To me!
I’m the fucking king of the Mendoza De Dios! God is with us, it’s all in the name! From jump, we’ve done nothing but prosper. I pay my–legit– tithes like clockwork! Now I’m feeling this pain in my chest like never before.
“It’s that lil’ muthafucka, Nino.” One of my guns says, holding my private cell phone.
“Nah,” I look up at this stupid ass before me, and pull out my gun, “Can’t you fucking see I’m in mourning!”
The thug flinches as I cock back the hammer of my pearl handled 357 Magnum. He quickly says, “Nino is claiming it!”
Nino? This irrelevant ass piece of shit is the reason I’m having a heart attack? I drop my gun and snatch up the phone. The words, the threats will not escape past my lips. I’m speechless.
“The worse thing about taking 80 million dollars from you is that I don't even want your money. Really tho, I don't,” Nino says in Spanish. This muthafucka sounds like we’re discussing a business transaction in my office while drinking the best whisky and smoking the finest cigars. Not scared. Not one iota.
In Spanish, I reply, “I’ve got dogs that are worth more than you, Nino. Listen you little shit–”
“Nah, you don't even hear me. Now that I've finally gotten your attention, ha ha ha. Took the breath right out of ya mouth, huh?”
Shit yeah. He took every single lace of air from within my lungs. Millions of my dollars are gone.
“Santi, we Colombianos. Ain’t nothing like our culture. That means when someone touches one hair on our familias head, we on one. Evidently, you didn't get the fucking memo. I suppose you also didn’t give a fuck about your niece, Toi. Nah, couldn't have. I mean, a dude like me was on my worst behavior from jump when it came to Toi, because I knew she was your blood. I treated that bitch in ways that would have mi madre spinning around in her fucking grave. Mi madre would spit at my feet for this shit, real talk. Soon as I got that girl off the streets, I just knew you couldn’t give a fuck about her. Which I kinda wish wasn’t so. I kinda wish you actually gave two shits about ya fam. Really tho, I woulda been done fucking with you if Toi held some importance to you. Fam first, right?” Nino pauses for a second and takes a heavy breath. “Lil’ mommi was all messed up even before she came to me. Took myself disconnecting from reality to even take her up to my crib. My dirty, nasty ass crib that a Medina-Mendoza would be too good for, right? I had to step out the room as some random dudes I was chilling with did Toi in a way that would make Jesus weep. All because I could give a fuck about that bitch. Only problem, Toi’s sins were being blood related to you!”
“Nino, you just said I, too, could give a fuck about that little bitch so why the long monologue then? We’re in agreement. I had my reasons to treat Toi as such,” I spit the words, realizing that even more than fucking with Lorenzo’s head, I hated Toi. Every time I looked at her beautiful face she reminded me of my sister, Margarita.
My gorgeous sister that can do nothing wrong. I gulp back my desire for Margarita and say, “Toi’s fucking dead! I will piss on that little cunt’s grave, if it helped get the point across, but from what I’m hearing, sounds like you undastand. Seems we are in agreement about the girl. Now, gimme my money!” I shout into the phone so hard that spit flies from my mouth. When I look up, my crew turns away, too embarrassed to see me in this state.
“Fifteen years ago there was this girl. Barely 12. Her name was Zendaya. She was smart. She was beautiful. She–”
“So?” Eerie laughter comes from deep in the pit of my belly.
“You did my girl just the way I had those dudes do your niece.”
“Okay, Nino,” I chuckle. Sweat and tears stream down my cheeks. All I see is dollar signs disappearing. It’s not the money. It’s the muthafuckin’ principle. “Bravo, Nino. You fucking got me. So you avenged some little gutter bitch? Some little slut whose life meant nothing to me.”
“Yup.”
“I guess this means I’m gunning for you. Okay, mi amigo?” I shrug.
“Get at me, Santi. Guess where I am?” Nino asks, sounding as if he’s smiling through the receiver.
“Santiago- Santi-” someone shouts in the background.
“Shut the fuck up!” I spit the words and start cussing Nino out again.
“But someone is handing out bricks of your money in the city,” one says.
“Mountains and mountains of it,” says another, still on the phone, having been talking to the streets.
... My God? What do I do?
Already on the ground, I kneel down and pray to God. I kiss the fucking dirt, praying hard. It’s been a while, but God must bless me as He had done with mi padre León. As he had done when Margarita’s knife went into the eye of one of those Mexican Cartel goons.
Now, I’d kill a dude over taking one grain of my purest cocaine. Eighty million dollars, that shit is replaceable. But those funds were for Emerald and Hernandez. My hush money to put Lorenzo away for my sins are going up in flames. Those greedy muthafuckas weren’t good with just the clout of taking down the notorious Phantom. They wanted money too. Lots of it.
There’s no issue with sending over more money. Stinky green is an endless sea, where I come from. But them knowing that those exact funds have been tampered with won’t sit well with them. If I know anything, Hernandez and Emerald are watching the streets like my muthafuckin’ crew should have been when my money went missing!
“God, please…please…please…” My soul shakes as I think about Special Agents Hernandez and Emerald. No matter that my son has infiltrated the FBI as Special Agent Cruz, I’m so fucked.
Nino just shitted on me with this move. All
over some bitch, named… I can hardly even remember what he said her name was. A girl from 15 years ago! God, I don’t know her. Thousands of bitches have met their demise tryna scurry along after me. So no, I don’t recall Nino’s trick. Don’t know anything but the fact that Hernandez and Emerald are onto plan B…
Chapter 100
LORENZO.
One hundred and fifty life sentences? Damn that shit is all bad. If I didn't have a family, three kids, and a baby mama, Rocky, that would talk that shit and cry her eyes out, I’d take it like a G. I’m not a simp, the consequences to my actions were bound to catch up to me, but one hundred and fifty life sentences, really tho?
We were almost to the home front. Shit went south in a blur… I rub the back of my head as I sit at the FBI headquarters in Florida.
“So we already know you’re the Phantom, Mr. Medina. We know that you know what we want,” Special Agent Hernandez sits across from me, glaring hard. Hernandez looks like he just made it across the Mexican border, himself, even in a Macy’s button up and slacks. He takes a look at his partner Agent Emerald, they been trying to tag me all day. Waiting for a snitch, they finna wait forever.
They want my uncle Santiago Mendoza, the don of the Mendoza De Dios Cartel in Colombia. “Nah, man. I'm good.”
Emerald rubs his tired green eyes, then takes a sip of his whiskey laced black coffee. He pulls out a picture of Rockwell from last summer while pregnant with the twins. She had on a bright yellow sundress. He damn near slobbers on the photo. “Now I'm partial to a pregnant chick. I just love that glow the beautiful bronze of Rocky’s skin really brings out those hazel eyes you know. And those fucking breasts,” he whistles, “God, I’d love to suck on those.”
“Yup,” I reply.
They both laugh, lusting over Rockwell. Ain’t the first, won’t be the last. I love it when niggas are tough on my lady.
“Now me on the other hand,” says Agent Hernandez, taking a photo of Rockwell recent in a short skirt, “I think this photo of your bitch is my favorite.”
Finally I laugh. “Bitch? Almost seventeen hours we’ve been sitting here. Y’all talking that head. Going back and forth, tryna sic a nigga out. Nah, but maybe you the one sleep deprived. Call my wife a bitch!” These are the most words I’ve said in hours, and I know these muthafuckas think they’ve gotten through to me. Yeah they have, just not in the way that they want. So, I let these dudes know exactly what is going to happen when I get out. They both dead, I say then fold my arms and sit back again. Gaze to the ceiling.
“I'm dead?” Hernandez laughs and Emerald pats his back.
“I don’t feel dead,” Emerald puts a hand to the breast pocket of his suit as if feeling for his heartbeat. His orange hair and freckles make him look psychotic as he laughs hysterically. “Nope, I’m not dead. We’re not dead.”
“Call my lady a bitch, that's ya life.” I’m smiling, but my veins are boiling.
“Okay, Mr. Medina. You a scary mother fucker on the street,” Hernandez says, “But we gon’ see just how much you like being locked down.”
“Aight y’all got me.” I rub the shackles on my wrists, “For now, I’ma be out by tomorrow. So lemme go take this quick nap.”
“Funny dude?” Hernandez smiles his yellow teeth, but its tense and I know these muthafucka’s are pissed. “Lemme see how you feel about this, idiota.”
The guard that is standing next to the wall, ready to take me to solitary confinement, falls back again, with a straight spine, and ready to suck these bitch’s dicks if need be. Emerald takes a manila envelope that he’s been holding onto and opens it up. With his funny Irish voice he apologizes, “We were trying not to take it there with you, but…”
“Dude, just lock me the fuck up. My lawyer is on his way from Colombia,” I wave them off, I'm done with those old heads. I start to get up, but the guard bashes me in the abdomen with his baton, I spit blood in his face. Before he can bust another move, Hernandez thrusts another photo of my wife in my face.
A recent pic.
Rocky looking fine as fuck. As usual. Now like I said before, a nigga can look at her, no touching. Love that.
But the nigga that is enjoying the company of my childhood love, sho’ ain't me. It takes me back to the night I held the knife to Rockwell’s throat. I’d just come home from Janyca’s and Rockwell boldly claimed she had another dude. She wasn’t fronting, or talking shit just to get at me…
These muthafucka’s Hernandez and Emerald was talking some one hundred and fifty life sentences, right?
Then after hours and hours of interrogation, they pull out some photos. The type of pictures that will have a nigga feeling that shit in his chest.
Murder.
“That's your baby mama–excuse me, your new wife, and your cousin Santiago Junior enjoying a night out almost a half year back? About a month or two after Lisa and Lila were born, if that helps jog your memory.”
So it’s like that?
These Feds want a rise out of me, but they ain’t finna get that. Nope.
“Now don't go getting too angry. I think the Latin lover is to blame. As you can see she's not really all that into him there. But don't take my word. I'm only a behavioral and body language analyst.” Emerald laughs.
Hernandez holds out another photo. “Now this one. Oh wait, this ain’t even a year ago. You’re still a newlywed right? This one is from today...”
Tears burn my eyes as I see a photo of Chuey and Rockwell on the balcony of a lavish beach hotel. His arms are around hers.
“Look at you. Does the Phantom need a tissue?”
“Nah. I’m just feeling some type of way for my kids, their moms, that bitch only has a little while longer to breath…” My hard glare goes straight through these agents. I love Rocky with all my heart. Loved Chuey, he's my blood. Which one of these muthafuckas is going to get it worse…
They’re talking but I can’t hear it for a few minutes.
“So you want us to let you go?” They laugh.
“Lemme rephrase that shit for you. For hours y’all ain’t gotten shit outta me. A few minutes before you pulled out this new file with my bitch and my muthafuckin’ primo y’all was looking funny style. Hernandez had just stepped out with a phone call. For a Mexican dude, you came back in here looking pale as fuck and had that file. So I'm thinking that phone call wasn’t your bitch ass mama. Y’all showed me these photos because you want to set me free. Ain't no way in hell y’all finna lock me up after showing me this shit I know.” I put my emotions on the back burner, letting these muthafuckas know that I’m not as dumb as they take me for. My assessment must be grounded in some type of truth because Hernandez still looks like he is going to cry since I mentioned the call he took.
“Bravo, Hernandez looked like a fucking ghost, huh? I’m the Gringo,” Emerald shakes his head. “So you’re right. We just found out our vacation and retirement plan just got blown to shit. We do wanna let you go. We've always been in the business of making friends,” Emerald adds with a shrug.
Hernandez laughs. “We fucking like you, contrary to our previous inability to be hospitable. But what we want,” he pauses. Looking at one of the cameras. Damn, I notice that the red lights on all the cameras are out. Had to have been turned off when Hernandez came back into the room. I’ve been very observant while here, but didn’t notice that.
“What we want is for you to become our newest buddy.”
“Hold up, y’all. I ain't a fucking snitch. We’ve been here almost twenty-four hours–shit, I thought y’all knew what’s up. No snitch. Never that.”
Then I remember Salvatore Ganza and all that rambling he did before dying. He had started to say Emerald. Did he mean this muthafucka standing before me? These dudes act as if they’re at the top of the totem pole. They want me to snitch, and I can tell they have too much motive too.
But if Chuey could take my bitch, then the least I could do is be cool on him too. So I wait for these grimy dudes to spit out their newest mot
ivation.
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LOVE,
KALI
Have you checked out my girl Nine? More shady characters are coming your way.. My fingers are crossed to have Love Ain’t Enough II out by the first week this October ;) But turn the page for a sneak peak
Love Ain’t Enough II (Unedited) Sneak peak
Paula Dubois aka Nine
From jump I've been more than just a bad bitch that could handle her own. Makhi only had to say, put a nigga down. Done. Handle this, handle that. “Okay, boo. Little Mama got you.” But to think he's going to body me over a bitch that has done him dirty...
In leather stilettos, and jeans that hug my sexy ass curves curtesy of my Louisiana Creole cooking, I get down on my knees. We’re in the basement of Cabo my nigga father’s nightclub, waiting for my nigga to put two slugs in my skull for killing his bitch. His old bitch, all because they had history. Hell, I had this muthafucka’s little baby girl. Went through hard labor. No epidural because I wanted to bring a beautiful child into this world free of any type of drugs. Nevaeh came into this world dead.
If I'm dead to him, all he has to do is pull the trigger.
“Nine, damn, mama. You need to listen. Didn't I tell you not to murk any of my hoes without my consent?”
I glance up at him, my hazel eyes burning with anger. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell Makhi Mack about himself. But I don't say how stupid I am to let my dude be in an open relationship. But a chick like me is just too loyal. Never looked at another nigga. Not once.
Loving a Colombian Cartel Thug 2 (Loving a Columbian Cartel Thug) Page 27