The Cartel 4: Diamonds Are Forever

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Authors: Ashley,JaQuavis

BOOK: The Cartel 4: Diamonds Are Forever
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The Cartel 4:
DIAMONDS ARE FOREVER
ASHLEY & JAQUAVIS
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Chapter 1
“The sleeping beast had finally awoken.”
—Unknown
 
Mecca heard the sound of a gun being cocked behind him and he wasn’t even startled. He didn’t even turn around, for that matter. He just took a deep breath and placed his hands together in a praying form.
“Our father, which art in heaven, hallowed be thy name . . .” Mecca said as tears slid down his face. He already knew who was behind him, and it came as no surprise to him. Carter began to recite the prayer along with his brother, as he pointed the gun to the back of Mecca’s head.
Mecca had always known that Carter would eventually seek revenge for Miamor’s death. He had loved her way too much to not come after him. Mecca’s only dilemma had been to figure out when and where Carter would take his life. Mecca was a seasoned street veteran and the one thing that he knew for sure was that “the eyes don’t lie,” and on that day, Carter could not hide the hatred he had inside.
Carter knew that if he let Mecca live, Mecca would possibly turn on him one day, just as he did to Monroe. He also felt obligated to avenge Miamor’s death, so killing Mecca was inevitable.
Mecca also knew the game. Mecca realized that if he was in Carter’s shoes, he would have done the same, so he wasn’t mad at Carter for what he was about to do. Once the prayer was over, Mecca stood unflinchingly with his heart pounding through his chest. There was no malice in his heart, only regret, but he knew that his oldest brother was about to deliver his retribution.
“I love you, Carter,” Mecca said as he straightened up his tie and prepared for his death.
“I love you too,” Carter replied sincerely as he wrapped his finger around the trigger. “I always will, bro.”
Boom!
It seemed like he had heard that boom from a year ago. Slowly his senses began to be restored after a long slumber. It seemed as if he looked through Mecca’s eyes just before he died. All he could see was the face of Mecca Diamond as his eyes were closed shut.
His ability to smell was the first sense that came back to him. The fresh scent from the ocean was like heaven as he took a deep inhale through his nostrils and the moist air journeyed into his lungs. Second, the sounds of the waves traveled through the air and to his ears as the waves crashed onto the shore. A light, steady beep echoed through the room from the heart monitor that sat at his bedside. The cool breeze blew through the window and caused goose bumps to form on his arm.
He took a deep breath and slowly opened his eyes. At first the sunrays were too much for his sensitive pupils, so he quickly closed them back shut. After a few seconds, he built up enough courage and tried again. He opened his eyes and his blurred vision slowly began to focus as he looked toward the open window. The beautiful ocean was in clear sight and just above it there were the blue skies; it mesmerized him.
He had been in a coma for five years and had finally come back to life. He swallowed his spit and his mouth was drier than he had ever remembered. He was thirsty. He was thirsty for water, but he also thirsty for knowledge. He didn’t understand how he had gotten there. The last thing he remembered was looking down the barrel of a gun . . . pointed by his own blood brother. He remembered hearing a shot and then everything went black. The sleeping beast had finally awoken. Monroe “Money” Diamond was alive.
Money looked around and the setting was so unfamiliar. He had no idea where he was, and his mind began to race rapidly. He had an IV hooked into his arm and patches were on his bare chest to monitor his heartbeat. Although he was under care, he noticed he wasn’t in a hospital. He was in a plush, spacious bedroom that looked to be some sort of luxurious beach house, and the back French doors that led to the beach were open.
He had no idea where he was, and panic began to set in. Money felt his heart begin to speed up, and along with that the heart monitor began to beat louder and more rapidly, signaling the homecare nurse, who was in the other room. Money quickly sat up, causing him to become dizzy. He lost his balance and fell onto the floor. He tried to pick himself up, but that’s when he realized how weak his limbs were.
Two Dominican nurses rushed into the room, and they were in shock as they looked at the frail, bearded man that lay on the floor. They had taken care of him while he was in a coma for years, but never had they met him personally.
The two ladies began to frantically converse in Spanish. Money picked up the accent and immediately knew that he was in the Dominican Republic. As a child, his mother would speak that language when she got angry, so he caught on quickly.
They just stared at him in shock as they placed their hands over their mouths. Monroe, being fearless and refusing to be defeated, tried to get to his feet again. Almost instantly, he crumbled to the ground, not being able to get his legs under him. The nurses rushed over to him, one of them grabbing him by each arm. He aggressively snatched away and grimaced.
“I . . . I got it,” he said faintly as he clenched his jaws so tightly that veins began to pop out in his forehead. One of the nurses ordered the other one to go call Estes and notify him that his grandson had awoken.
He gathered himself and tried to get up again. This time he used the bed as a crutch as he climbed to his feet, gritting his teeth as it took all of his might and willpower. He slowly got to his feet and stood up straight and poked his chest out. He refused to be defeated, and the nurses watched as he breathed heavily. He was obviously in pain.
“Where am I?” he asked as he looked at the nurses.
Just as he finished the sentence, the nurse who had left the room returned with a phone in hand. She walked up to Money and gave it to him. He reached for the phone as he leaned on the bed to help him stay upright. He then slowly raised the phone to his ear. He just listened as he waited to hear who was on the other side of the phone.
“Monroe Diamond. Is it true?” Estes asked as he listened to Monroe breathing on the phone. It was silence in the air, and Estes wanted nothing more than to hear the sound of his favorite grandchild’s voice.
“Speak to me!’ Estes yelled through the phone in an attempt to confirm the news. Monroe’s mouth felt like sandpaper, and he cleared his throat so that he would be clear.
“I am here, Papa. I am here,” Monroe confirmed.
“I am on my way!” Estes said calmly. Estes knew that he had a tough task ahead. He had to let Monroe know that things weren’t as he had left them. Taryn, his mother, had been murdered, his sister had been through hell, and his twin brother had met his fate in Brazil. “Get some rest and I’ll be there immediately,” Estes ordered.
“Wait, Papa. Where am I? Why am I here?” Monroe asked, trying to fill in the blanks.
“You are in the Dominican Republic at one of my private estates. You used to go there as a young boy every summer with me. Do you remember?” Estes asked.
Monroe looked around, and slowly the memories began to resurface. “Yes, Papa, I remember. But why am I all the way out here? How long have I been out?” Monroe questioned.
“Five years,” said Estes.
“Wha . . . What?” Monroe said as he sat down on the bed in confusion.
“It has been five years since you slipped into the coma. A lot has changed since then. I will talk to you as soon as I get there,” Estes said as his voice began to crack. He knew that telling Monroe the news would be one of the hardest things he ever had to do.
“Five years?’ Monroe said almost in a whisper as he was mentally thrown into the abyss.
“Yes . . .”
Estes was on the first jet to the Dominican Republic to break the news to his grandson that he was the last male of the bloodline alive. He would tell Monroe the whole story, excluding nothing of what had happened.
Young Carter woke up in cold sweats as the thundering and lightning caused chaos in the sky. He sat up from his bed, breathing deeply as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. His bare chest was drenched as sweat beads covered his whole body. He slowly got out of bed and walked over to the bathroom that was connected to his room. He turned on the water and bent down to splash water in his face.
The nightmares had haunted him every day since he murdered Mecca. He always wished that he could take the murder back, but when he thought deep about it, he knew that he had to do it. Mecca’s character was flawed, and he eventually hurt the people who were close to him. Young Carter knew he did what he had to do.
He looked into the mirror and into his own eyes. Unlike many, he could see his soul. He was content with the person he was. The last year had been a peaceful one for him. He fell all the way back from the streets and let Zyir take over. He only came into the picture when it was time to meet with their supplier.
Carter knew that he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep, so he slipped on a T-shirt and walked into his living room. He clicked on SportsCenter and walked over to his mini bar to pour a glass of cognac. He needed to take the edge off and get his mind off the murder.
The loud roars of the thunder were like a soundtrack to a horror film, and the rain began to pour down like cats and dogs. As he poured himself a glass, he felt a chill go up his spine. Things weren’t right.
Just as he put the glass to his lips, he heard his doorbell ring. He instantly focused his attention on the door and frowned up.
Nobody knows about this place but Zyir,
he thought as he walked to his room and grabbed his gun off the dresser. He tucked it in the small of his back and headed to his door. He unlocked his door, and when he saw who stood on the other side, he dropped his glass. He was seeing a ghost—he had to be, because he was looking at a person he thought was dead a long time ago.
Oh my God,
he thought as he looked into the eyes of . . .

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