The Cartel (17 page)

“Thank you for the dress,” she said. “I love it.”

“Thank you for wearing it. I love it too.” Carter grabbed her hand and led her over to her dining room, where Rachel, her chef, presented them with breakfast.

“You are too much. You know that, right? I’ve never met a nigga like you.” Miamor laughed. Carter was on point in every way.

“There ain’t another nigga like me,” Carter replied with a smirk.

Normally conceit appalled Miamor. There was nothing worse than a stunting-ass nigga who couldn’t back up all the shit that he talked, but Carter’s confidence was attractive, and he had already proved that he didn’t make empty promises. She knew that he was an entirely new breed. His game was different than the Down South men she had encountered, and she appreciated his refreshing Flint swagger.

“You got a passport?” he asked out of the blue.

“Yeah, I got one. Why?”

“I want you to come away with me this weekend to Costa Rica.” Carter said it in a nonchalant manner, as if he was merely asking her to go out on a casual date.

“I can do that,” she replied with a breathtaking smile.

Carter knew that she was trying to keep her cool, because the infectious smile she displayed gave away her excitement.

They ate their breakfast together, chatting like old friends, and then spent the entire day together. They shopped arm in arm as they hit the designer stores, and although she was prepared to pay for her own items, Carter covered every expense. She couldn’t believe how perfect he seemed to be. He was the one thing that her life had been missing.

For so long, everything had been negative in her life. She was all about her business—murder, murder, murder, kill, kill, kill—and had forgotten how good it felt to just live. She had cut off her emotions, because allowing herself to feel anything was a sure way to get herself killed. Carter, however, was becoming the exception to her rule, and she only hoped and prayed that he was worth the risk.

“All I need in this life of sin is me and my girlfriend.”

—Tupac Shakur

M
iamor and Carter, both with an oversized martini cup in their hand, sat on the secluded shores of Costa Rica, enjoying the scenery. The sun began to set, illuminating an orange hue onto the ocean as they sat at the edge of the water.

Miamor glanced over at Carter and smiled. She was definitely impressed. Carter’s body was intact, and she loved it when a man took care of his body by being in shape. She glanced at his six-pack, and then she looked at the noticeable bulge in his white linen shorts. She smirked, remembering how he’d laid the pipe down the previous night. Carter’s sex game was on point. He never left her disappointed and made sure that she got hers every time.

Carter noticed her staring and playfully asked, “What you looking at, ma?”

“You,” Miamor answered sexily, leaning over to kiss his lips.

Carter examined Miamor’s body and loved the way her one-piece Chanel swimsuit hugged her frame. The fabric could barely hold in her voluptuous ass cheeks, and Carter loved every minute of it. He watched as Miamor reached into her matching Chanel bag and pulled out a Dutch and a bag of Miami’s finest. She licked and split the Dutch like a pro and filled it with the goods.

“You on this wit’ me?” she asked, knowing Carter didn’t smoke.

Carter shook his head no and watched as she lit up the “la.” Carter loved the fact that Miamor was so street, so hood, but yet so classy all at the same time. And her Brooklyn accent turned him on. When he was with her, he felt like he was with his partner, because they could relate on so many levels. He knew that either, one, Miamor’s father was a real street cat, or two, she had a serious relationship with a street nigga. Either way, he knew that she had been taught well.

What Carter didn’t know was that neither Miamor’s father nor any of her exes had been in the streets. She was a street bitch in her own right.

Carter decided that he wanted to know all about Miamor and thought now would be the perfect time to ask. “So what’s your story?” he asked as he took a sip of his drink.

Miamor slowly blew the smoke out. “What do you mean?”

“What do you do? I noticed that you wear the best clothes, and that expensive condo you trying to sell ain’t cheap. How do you get your money? You got a nigga back home cashing you out?”

“No, ain’t no nigga breaking me off. I make my own money.”

Miamor hit the la, to buy herself more time to think of her lie.
I can’t tell him that I kill niggas for a living, and that my crew and I have caught over forty bodies over the years. What am I supposed to say—'Yo, I’m a Murda Mama'?
“My father left me a nice piece of change before he died.” She looked into Carter’s eyes, trying to sense if he bought the lie or not. “And he had a lot of properties back home in New York that I own now.”

Carter looked in Miamor’s pretty hazel eyes and instantly knew that she wasn’t telling him something, but he was determined to find out more about his beautiful mystery woman. His stare was so deep that he made Miamor nervous.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” she said, desperately trying to change the subject.

“I enjoy your company. No need to thank me. I needed to get away.”

“From what?”

Carter sat up in his chair and looked her directly in her eyes. He had encountered many women in his life, but none compared to the one before him. She seemed to have the complete package. He had seen prettier chicks, even some with better bodies, but Miamor was different. A bit rough around the edges, he was confident that she could be trained.

While every other woman he had ever courted tried to become wifey, Miamor just went with the flow and was comfortable with her status in his life, whatever it may be. There was no pressure with her, and he appreciated the fact that she didn’t sweat him.

“Take a walk with me,” he said as he stood and reached down to help her up from her seat.

Miamor lifted her designer shades off her face and placed them on top of her head as she looked up at Carter. “Where we going? You know I’m tipsy, nigga. We’ve been sipping on mai tais all day.” She laughed. “I probably can’t even stand.”

“I got you.” Carter licked his lips.

Miamor stood and held his hand, clinging to his arm as she steadied herself. It felt so good for her to just be able to relax.

They walked through the sand of the darkening beach, the horizon a phenomenal mixture of exotic oranges and reds, setting the perfect atmosphere for an intimate walk on the beach.

In the States, she could never let her guard down, so to be so far from home was like heaven to her.
Me and Nis used to always dream of traveling,
she thought. She looked down at her feet as thoughts of her murdered sibling crossed her mind.

Carter noticed the sad expression take over her striking features. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I was just thinking about my sister. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin the mood,” she said with a weak smile.

“You didn’t. Tell me about her.”

“She was the most perfect person ever,” she whispered.

A wind gusted up to shore from the ocean, and Miamor wrapped her arms around herself. “She always wanted to travel. She would be so jealous that I’m here right now if she was alive.” She laughed, thinking of how Anisa would’ve cussed her out if she hadn’t invited her. “She taught me everything I know, and she saved me from living my life in fear and in pain.”

“In fear of what?”

Miamor stopped walking and put her head down as memories of her childhood came rushing back to her. Carter lifted her chin with the tip of his finger and noticed the look of rage going through her eyes.

A single tear trailed her cheek. “My mother abandoned us for a boyfriend who liked to molest little girls. One night he came into my room to touch me, and my sister told him to take her instead. I remember the first time it happened. I heard her screaming for him to stop, and I laid in my bed the entire night listening to him violate her. He threatened to kill us if we ever told our mother.” Miamor had tears streaming out of her face as she stared out into the ocean, the dark arms of the night enveloping her and Carter on the deserted beach. “Anisa got pregnant. She was only twelve and was walking around with a baby in her stomach because of him. We were afraid to tell our mother, so she came up with a plan to lose the baby. She purposefully started a fight with these girls in our neighborhood and told me not to jump in, no matter what. They beat her until her body miscarried the baby. There was so much blood, and she was in so much pain, but we got through it … together. I remember being so scared. I thought my sister was dying. That same night, our mother’s boyfriend was back in our room. He pulled Anisa into his bed. She was crying and screaming, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I knew that she was in pain. I grabbed a gun that my mother used to keep hidden in the coat closet and I killed him. I shot him in the head. I saved her then, but I wasn’t around to save her this time. I was supposed to be, but I wasn’t, and now she’s gone. The one time that she needed me most, I let her down.”

Carter didn’t know what to say. He knew that no words would heal the old wounds that she’d just reopened. He pulled her close, and she wrapped her arms around him as she wept in his arms. No words were spoken, but a bond was established between the two of them.

“I’m scared, Carter. I didn’t use to fear shit, because I had Anisa behind me. Now it’s just me, you know?” Miamor exhaled.

“You don’t have to be afraid of nothing, ma, not with me. I got you. Understand? All I ask is that you keep it real with me.”

Now that he knew her history, he had a much better understanding of the woman she was today. He knew what made her tick. He felt the walls that she had built around her heart, but he was willing to be patient as he knocked them down one by one. She had let him in. That was the first step.

Carter and Miamor stood on the beach for what seemed like hours just engrossed in each other’s embrace. It wasn’t until the tropical rain began to fall that they retreated to their five-star resort room.

When they showered together, Miamor ran her hand all over Carter’s soapy physique as her honey pot heated up.

“Uh-uh.” He removed her hands before she caused him to get an erection.

After learning of Miamor’s past, he was even more intrigued by her. She wasn’t just another chick that he wanted to fuck. He knew that she played tough on the outside, but was really a fragile soul on the inside. Carter told himself that he would be careful with her heart. He didn’t want to be the one responsible for breaking it.

“I already know your body, Miamor. On this trip I want to get to know your mind and your heart.” He kissed the nape of her neck, rinsed his body, and stepped out of the shower while she followed close behind.

His words touched her, and she realized that she had never been treated with as much respect as Carter had just given her. The way he was spending money, wining and dining her on this trip, she planned on paying him back as soon as they hit the sheets.

Carter read her thoughts and said, “You don’t owe me shit. I’m feeling you, ma, but if you gon’ be my bitch, you got to be my nigga too. I have to trust you with everything I am. There are some things that you don’t know about me.”

Miamor’s eyebrows rose in disapproval.

“It ain’t about no other chick or nothing. But there are some things that I just can’t trust with everybody, nah mean? I’m trying to build a friendship with you so that
if
we decide to take this to a serious level, the relationship will have legs to stand on.”

Carter didn’t know it, but his logic and the way that he spoke it made Miamor trust him more than anyone she had ever known. He was literally blowing her mind. Miamor kissed his neck and nibbled on his ear as she whispered. “I hear you, Carter, but I already trust you.” She took his fingers and placed them between her slit. “And I don’t want you for a friend. I have enough friends. I want you as my man.” She kissed a trail down to his rising manhood and took him into her mouth.

“Ooh, shit,” he moaned as he grabbed the back of her head.

Miamor looked Carter directly in his eyes as she gave him the best head he’d ever received in his life.

The club was jammed packed as Rick Ross blared out of the speakers, and the entire Cartel was in attendance at Club Moon, a club that Polo was a silent partner in. It had been months since they went out and partied because of the war with the Haitians, but Polo thought it would be a good tool to get everybody’s mind off the current turmoil.

Mecca, Money, Breeze, and Leena were in the middle VIP section popping bottles of Rosé, celebrating Breeze’s birthday, while other members of The Cartel were scattered over the room, their hands close to their bangers, ready for whatever if something popped off.

Mecca had two bottles of champagne in his hand. He said to Breeze, “It’s jumping in this mu’fucka!”

Money held a single wineglass in his hand and had been sipping on the same glass all night. He wanted to be on point at all times, and by the way Mecca was downing the drinks, he knew that he had to be extra cautious. “Yeah, it’s popping tonight, bro.” Money took a small sip. He looked over at Breeze who was dancing with Leena and waving her hands in the air and yelled, while holding his glass in the air, “Happy birthday, B!”

“Thanks, baby!” she yelled as she began to dance on two guys that approached her.

One of the guys turned around and began to dance with Leena as the DJ switched to a slow R. Kelly song. Money smiled as he saw that everyone was having a good time and laughing. It had been so long since he had seen Breeze smile and she looked like her old self again.

Mecca walked over to Money, almost tripping over himself. It was obvious that he was drunk. “Bro, I need another bottle of”—He paused mid-sentence as he noticed the man dancing on his woman. His anger began to set in when he saw the man rubbing all over Leena’s ass while she danced seductively on him. Mecca’s eyes were glued on them as the liquor made the innocent dancing rendezvous seem more sexual than it actually was.