The Cartel 3: The Last Chapter (18 page)

She was so conflicted, so torn over him. Everything in her wanted to hate him. He deserved to be punished for the acts of sin he had committed against her, but seeing his transformation made it easier to forgive. He was slowly changing into
a better man. She had known Mecca for a long time and knew that it would not be easy for him to give up the life he had been born into, but he was trying, and that alone impressed her.

The ticking of the antique grandfather clock in the corner of the room kept her awake as her heart raced in the midnight hour.
How can you still love him?
She asked herself, but she knew that she loved Mecca because it was the next best thing to loving Monroe. They were so much alike that she could not keep up her angry visage toward Mecca. Every time she saw his face she remembered Monroe. Identical in every way except demeanor, Mecca and Monroe were two halves that made up her whole heart. Those two halves equaled the one true love of her life.

Hesitantly, she sat up in bed and peeked over at Estes. His light snoring indicated that he was in a deep sleep. She took a deep breath as she leaned down to kiss her son’s cheek before she slid out of bed. She knew that the decision she was about to make could be detrimental to her health.

I have to see him,
she thought as she slipped on her clothes, moving silently through the dark as she dressed. She grabbed her Chanel bag and fished out her keys as she snuck out of the door, hoping that Estes would not awaken before she returned.

Fear, anxiety, and anticipation filled her as she pulled away from Estes’ home. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed Mecca’s number.

“Mecca, I need to see you,” she said as soon as he answered.

Without hesitation, he gave her his address, and she sped through the city streets, her Benz making its way to Mecca’s place in record speed. She sat in front of his building for an hour, listening to the pattern of the rain falling on the roof of her car. It was as if the sky were crying right along with her as her own tears flowed down her cheeks.

Confusion plagued her as she tried to make sense of her feelings. Knowing that Mecca was no good, she started to leave, but every time she went to put the car in drive, she froze. She needed to see Mecca, and although the consequences of her actions would be great, she decided to stay.

She got out of the car before she lost her nerve, and ran into the high-rise building. Her throat felt as if it would close as she took the elevator to the penthouse on the top floor, and nervous energy filled her.

She went to Mecca’s door and lifted her hand to knock, but before she could, Mecca pulled it open. He stood before her, shirtless, with a blunt in one hand, as weed smoke danced in the space around him.

She took in everything about him. Mecca was a beautiful man. From his broad and well-sculpted chest to his strikingly handsome features, he was perfect. His only flaw was his dangerous temper. She had seen it firsthand. It had almost cost her everything, yet there she stood, intrigued and forgiving in front of him.

Overwhelmed by his presence, she stopped thinking and did what felt right to her: she kissed him passionately, catching Mecca off guard as she backed him into the penthouse. Their pace was feverish as desire filled the space between them.

Mecca fumbled to put out the blunt without breaking their connection. “I’m so sorry, Lee,” he whispered over and over again in her ear, causing her tears to flow.

Hearing the sincerity in his words was like a punch to the gut as she pushed him away. “Why did you have to speak, Mecca? Why did you have to remind me of what you did? Every time you apologize, I remember that night!” she yelled as she put her hands to her face and turned toward the door.

“Leena—”

Before Mecca could get his words out, she stalked over to
him in a rage and slapped him across the face. “I hate you, Mecca. I hate you for what you did!!” she yelled, her anger ablaze in her emotion-filled eyes.

“Then why are you here?” he asked as he touched the side of her face. The gentleness that he displayed was uncharacteristic for him. This new version of Mecca that stood before her was so much easier to love than the callous gangster she knew him to be.

She sobbed as if she were ashamed of herself. She replied, “Because I love you. The line between the two is so thin that I go back and forth every day.”

Mecca embraced her, and she fought him as she tried to regain control of her heart.

“No, Mecca, I have to go. I shouldn’t have come here. What the fuck was I thinking? I have to think of my son,” she protested.

“Stop fighting me, ma,” he whispered. He took her chin into his hand and lifted her face to his, kissing her gently. She melted as she kissed him back, indulging in the forbidden affection she felt for him.

“I’m trying, Leena. I’m trying to change. You don’t know how much I wish I could take back—”

“Don’t,” she said as she looked up at him. “Don’t keep making me relive it, Mecca. We can’t take back the things we did in the past, and it’s too painful for me to think about. I know that being here with you is a mistake, but please just let me make it.”

“Okay,” he replied simply as he picked her up, her long legs wrapping around his body as he placed his hands on her behind. He carried her to his bedroom as their tongues performed a delicate dance. He laid her down on his bed and then stood up as he admired her.

Seeing her in his bed, alive and breathing, caused him
much distress as he felt his chest swell. Although he had hurt Leena, she had hurt him as well. She was a constant reminder of the monster he had become. At that moment, everything sexual about their interaction went out of his mind. His motive was different. What he sought from her was intimacy. He wanted to feel the unconditional love that she had for him.

As he looked down at her, his heart swelled, and for the first time in his life, he was selfless, thinking of her before himself. After everything he had done to her, Leena still came back to him. The hollow space inside his chest, where his heart should have dwelled, ached because he realized that he loved her too. He lay down beside her and pulled her close to his body.

“I just want to hold you, Lee. Just stay here with me. Forgive me, Leena,” he whispered as he kissed the top of her head.

Leena closed her eyes as the heat from his body warmed her. She was reluctant in her decision, but knew that it was one she would still make, despite the warning bells ringing in her conscience. “I do, Mecca. I forgive you.”

When Breeze opened her eyes, her entire body hurt. She had been asleep for three days straight, but now that she was awake and coherent, she felt the horrible effects of withdrawal. She reached for the IV that was in her arm and weakly pulled it out. As she stood to her feet, the weight of her body was unbearably heavy. Despite the fact that she had lost tremendous weight, it felt like her bones would break with every step that she took. Her body had been dependent on heroin for so long that it was no longer producing the endorphins she needed to resist pain. Every inch of her body hurt. The pressure of her feet hitting the floor felt as if she were walking on glass. It was no longer a matter of enjoying the high; she needed heroin to keep her functioning. Without it, she felt sick.

For so long she had convinced herself that she would never make it home. Now that she was back, she felt dirty and ashamed of where she had been. As she made her way out of the room, she gripped her churning stomach with one hand while keeping her balance against the wall with the other. When she stepped into the hallway, the smell of food cooking drew her to the kitchen.

She was caught off guard by the unfamiliar face that greeted her. Illiana stood in a Victoria’s Secret negligee as she prepared breakfast. Breeze gasped at her beauty, and instantly began to smooth out her own hair from insecurity.

I used to look like that,
she thought as she fumbled nervously, ashamed of her appearance.

When Illiana realized she had an audience, she smirked. “So, the famous Breeze Diamond does more than sleep,” she said as she motioned her hand for Breeze to sit.

“W–where’s Zyir?” Breeze asked as she sat down timidly, wincing from the pressure of her tailbone hitting the wooden chair. She looked around nervously as she shivered and rubbed the goose bumps on her bare arms. Being home felt odd, as if she no longer belonged, and the way Illiana was looking at her made her feel out of place.

“He’s in the shower,” Illiana replied as she looked Breeze up and down from head to toe.
I don’t see what all the fuss is about,
she thought as she instantly judged Breeze.

“Who are you?” Breeze asked.

Illiana fixed herself a plate and began to walk past Breeze. She stopped right next to her and replied, “I’m the new bitch in Zyir’s life that you don’t want to fuck with.” She placed the plate of food down in front of Breeze so hard that some of the food fell onto the table. “Here, you need this more than I do. You look like shit.”

Feeling as if she hadn’t eaten in days, she dug into the plate, as Illiana shook her head and walked away.

She’s pathetic,
she thought as she walked back into Zyir’s bedroom.

“You cooking?” Zyir asked in surprise as soon as she came into the room. Water dripped from his rock hard abs, and the white towel that was hanging from his hips barely covered his family jewels as she eyed him hungrily.

“Don’t act so surprised, Zyir. Our houseguest woke up, so I just thought I would make her something to eat. She looks so unhealthy,” Illiana replied with fake innocence. “Your plate is on the stove.”

Zyir nodded his head, but looked at her skeptically. “Play nice, Illiana. Now is not the time for bullshit,” he warned.

“What?” she feigned. “Can’t a girl do something nice?” she asked.

“Not a girl like you. Every move you make is calculated,” Zyir answered as he finished dressing.

He bypassed Illiana as he went to join Breeze in the kitchen. He noticed that when he approached her, she wouldn’t look him in the eyes. He walked right up on her and kneeled in front of her. Reaching up to touch her face, he felt his heart speed up. No matter how much she had changed, he was grateful to have her back. He had never thought he would see her alive again.

“You should be in bed, B,” he whispered as he brushed a piece of food from the side of her delicate mouth.

“Where is everyone, Zyir? I just want my mother. Has she been to see me? Why am I not at home with her?” Breeze asked.

Zyir became silent. A lot had happened in Breeze’s absence, and it had slipped his mind that she was unaware of her mother’s death.

I can’t tell her that,
he thought.
She should hear it from Carter or Mecca.

Breeze noticed the look of uncertainty in Zyir’s eyes. “Where is she, Zyir? Where is my mother? I need her,” she said in a pleading tone.

“She’s gone. She died after you disappeared,” he said, giving her the news as gently as possible.

Breeze reached out and gripped Zyir’s shirt tightly as her head fell onto his chest. Her vision was so blurry with tears that she couldn’t see as she cried silently. She could not even form the words to express the sharp pain that radiated through her heart.

“I know, B … I know,” Zyir soothed as he rubbed her back.

“It just hurts so bad. I wasn’t even here. I missed everything,” Breeze cried.

“Nah, ma, everything missed you. Nothing has been the same since you’ve been gone. You’re home now, and I’m gonna take care of you,” Zyir assured. Zyir picked her up and carried her back into the guestroom.

“Aghh!” she whimpered as he lay her down. Even the thousand thread count sheets felt painful to her. She gripped his hand as he watched over her sympathetically. “Zyir, please … this hurts too bad. I need you to help me. Please just give me a little bit to make me feel better.”

Hearing her beg him for dope broke his heart. He would do anything to take her pain away—anything except what she was requesting of him.

“I can’t do that, Breeze. You don’t need that, ma. I’m going to help you through this, but you’ve got to be strong,” he said.

Breeze began to shake as a chill set into her bones, and she squirmed uncomfortably.

Tears of rage rushed Zyir, but he held them back, refusing to let even one fall. He dipped the sponge on the nightstand into a bowl of cold water and wiped it across her forehead. “What happened to you, ma?” he asked. “Tell me who did this to you. Who took you, Breeze?”

Breeze closed her eyes, because she knew that once she admitted what had occurred, Zyir and her family would never look at her the same.

“Talk to me, Breeze. You can tell me,” Zyir urged. He was ready to pop off on anyone who had played a role in kidnapping Breeze.

“It was Ma’tee. I was trapped in Haiti with Ma’tee,” she replied. Images of the constant rape raced through her mind as she shook her head from side to side, her eyes still closed from fear of the look that Zyir was giving her. “He raped me every day Zyir, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop feeling his hands on my body.”

Her revelation would not allow him to remain strong. He cried at her bedside as he gripped her hand and kissed her face repeatedly. “I’m going to murder that nigga, Breeze. You hear me? I’m going to—”

“He’s already dead,” she whispered. “The earthquake killed him. It was how I got away from him, but I only went from one hell to another.”

It took everything in Zyir not to explode, and he turned away from Breeze so that she could not witness his grief.

“That’s why I didn’t want to tell you. You don’t want me anymore,” Breeze said.

Zyir cleared the tears from his face and gained his composure before turning around. “I’ll always want you, Breeze, and you never have to talk about it again. You are home now, and that is all that matters. I’ma stick with you through it all, B, and I’ll body anyone who ever hurts you again. All you have to do is promise me you’ll try … try to kick this shit, Breeze. That’s the one thing that I can’t do for you. You have to want that for yourself.”

Breeze nodded and replied, “I will, Zyir. I promise you I’ll get clean.”