The Cartel 4: Diamonds Are Forever (19 page)

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Authors: Ashley,JaQuavis

BOOK: The Cartel 4: Diamonds Are Forever
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Chapter 20
“One to the heart. No head shots, no torture.”
—Carter
 
“You’re beautiful,” Breeze said as she stood back and watched Leena try on the beautiful ivory wedding gown. It was Vera Wang, and although the popular wedding designer was booked clear through the next two seasons, Money had given her a bottomless budget to make his bride-to-be’s dreams come true. Leena spun around and rushed to Breeze.
“You made it!” she squealed in joy as the two women embraced. “It’s so good to see you!” Leena was genuinely elated to be around Breeze. The two women were more than close, and it had been too long since they last spoke.
“Of course I made it!” Breeze said. “You’re getting married tomorrow, and I’m honored that you want me to be the first person to see the dress. It’s amazing!”
Breeze noticed the sad look in Leena’s eyes. “What’s wrong? Why aren’t you happy? This is what you want, right?”
Leena shook off her poor mood and masked it with an insincere smile. “Yes, I’m fine. Sorry. I guess I’m just nervous.”
Breeze wasn’t buying Leena’s excuse, however. She frowned and turned to the saleswoman. “Could you excuse us for a moment?” Breeze asked. The woman exited the fitting room and Breeze grabbed Leena’s hand. “This is not the face of a woman getting married tomorrow. Now spill.”
“Things are complicated, Breeze. I love Money and he’s good to me, but this isn’t how I envisioned this day. It all feels a little rushed. You’re not even in the wedding.”
“Yeah, well, considering you decided this two weeks ago, I’d say that it is rushed,” Breezed answered with a smile. “It doesn’t matter, Leena. You are meant for Money and he is meant for you. As long as the two of you are happy, no one else matters. Besides, I’ll be there. I wouldn’t miss this day for the world.”
“Does Zyir know you’re here?” Leena asked.
“You asked me not to tell him so I didn’t. He’s been distant lately, focused on other things,” Breeze said, more to herself than to Leena.
Leena knew that Breeze didn’t know what was going on between Zyir and Monroe. As much as she wanted to tell her, it wasn’t her place. Breeze was the baby of the family, and she had been through a lot. No one liked to add burdens to her delicate shoulders.
“But we’re not talking about me, we’re talking about you.” Breeze turned Leena toward the mirror and stood behind her as they looked at the reflection. “Now where’s the veil?” Breeze asked. She spotted it in a box on the floor and pulled it out, admiring it briefly before clipping it in Leena’s hair.
They both gasped in amazement.
“Now that’s the smile of a bride,” Breeze said. “You’re perfection.”
They embraced and Breeze checked her Burberry wrist piece. “I’ve got to go, but I’ll see you tomorrow. You’re staying at Turnberry Isle tonight?” she asked.
“Yeah, Money put me in a suite there. The entire glam squad is coming in the morning,” Leena said.
“I’ll see you then, bright and early. I love you, Lee!” Breeze said as she headed for the door.
“Love you too! Don’t be late!”
Breeze leaned back against Zyir’s chest as he held the book they were reading in front of him. It was a ritual that they had started when they first met, and to this very day they still read to one another every night that they were together.
“Flip the page, B,” Zyir said.
Breeze sighed and turned it to the next page, but Zyir could tell that she had stopped indulging in the juicy exploits of
Six and Free
long ago. He put down the book and she didn’t even protest. She was too distracted to notice.
“You want to be with Leena right now, don’t you?” he whispered.
Breeze turned toward him in shock. It was as if he had read her mind.
“This is the first lie you’ve ever told me, baby girl, and I must say you’re not very good at it,” Zyir said. “I’ve known about the wedding since you found out. You’re very loud on the phone, ma. Where’d you learn to whisper, a helicopter?”
Breeze laughed and cut her eyes as she exclaimed, “Why didn’t you say something? I’ve been trying to keep this a secret for two weeks!” Breeze exhaled, relieved that the secret was out. She hit him playfully with the book they had been reading. “I know you think that I’m naïve, but just because I follow your lead, Zyir, doesn’t mean I’m blind to the things happening around me.”
“Why aren’t you invited to the wedding? Why isn’t Carter? Why haven’t I talked to Money since that dinner at Carter’s house?” Breeze asked. “I have a feeling; I’m just hoping that it’s wrong. I don’t want to have to choose between the men in my life.”
Zyir kissed the top of her head and inhaled her angelic scent. Her Cashmere Mist perfume, her signature scent, enveloped him.
“Things have been . . .” He paused to choose his words carefully. He didn’t want Breeze to know too much. How could he tell her that the first chance he got he was going to blow her brother’s head off his shoulders? Admitting such would be marital suicide. It would destroy their relationship forever.
“Things have been what?” Breeze asked.
“Tense,” he finished. “We’re all trying to figure out our place in The Cartel.” Before she could ask any more questions he added, “But that shouldn’t stop you from being with Leena and your nephew tonight. I’ll call a car for you.”
“Promise me that you’ll work things out with Money,” she said.
“I can promise to try,” Zyir replied honestly. She turned and kissed his lips.
“I need you to try your hardest, Zyir. He’s my brother.” Her eyes told him that a storm would come if anything happened to Monroe; little did she know that Monroe had signed his own death certificate. He would fall, and soon Breeze would have to decide exactly where she stood. Zyir only hoped that their love would be strong enough to endure.
He sent her with a driver to Leena’s suite and watched her drive away. As soon as the taillights could no longer be seen, he called Carter.
“Zyir, is everything smooth, fam? It’s late,” Carter answered, seeing Zyir’s name on his caller ID.
“The nigga Money is getting married tomorrow. This is the first time I’ve been able to pinpoint this nigga’s location. I’m not invited, but I’ma be there, nah mean?” Zyir said.
Carter was silent as he weighed the pros and cons in his head. “I don’t know, Zy. Shit could get messy. Leena and my nephew will be there,” Carter said. He was still trying to figure out a way to keep the peace and restore balance to the situation, but Monroe was making it very difficult.
“I sent Breeze to Leena’s suite in Aventura. Li’l man is there with them. My driver will be on call in the morning to take them to the wedding, only I’ve already made sure that they never get there. By the time they realize something’s wrong, the nigga Money will be leaking at the altar,” Zyir stated.
A lump formed in Carter’s throat, but he fought his conscience and said, “Make it quick, Zy. One to the heart. No head shots, no torture.”
His voice was sad, and he felt nothing but regret as he gave the nod of approval.
“We got to get him before he gets us,” Zyir said. “He sent bullets flying through your windows, fam. If the shoe was on the other foot and he had a clear shot, Money would pull the trigger.”
“I know,” Carter answered. “What kind of brotherhood is this?” he asked. He sighed and finished, “Take care of it. That solves our beef problem, but we still need a new connect. I’ll hop on a flight in the
A.M.
to the West Coast. I’ve got a few connections out there that might be able to accommodate us.”
“Sounds good, fam. I’ll hit you after that thing is taken care of,” Zyir said. Zyir hung up the phone and a crooked smile crossed his handsome, youthful face. Carter had just given him the green light, and it was all the permission he needed to make Monroe Diamond extinct.
Chapter 21
“I want shrimp and lobster, naked bitches and good pussy, linen suits and ocean views.”
—Polo
 
Carter looked out into the night sky from the window of his private jet. In deep contemplation, he couldn’t help but to think of Miamor. He shook his head, tossing her from his train of thought, and focused on the task at hand. He sank deeper into the plush leather seats.
He was bound for sunny California—Los Angeles to be exact, where he hoped to link up with his father’s old running partner, Polo. The streets were a perfect distraction from Miamor, and he was ready to jump back in headfirst.
Monroe only had the game locked because Carter had allowed him room to eat. With his shark Zyir on his tail, it was only a matter of time before Monroe was out of the picture. His reign would be short-lived indeed, but it was a choice that Monroe had made the moment he had turned against the family. Carter knew that Monroe’s death was one that would tear his entire family apart, but also a death that was necessary. His heart could not be any more broken than it was so fuck it, he was sending the Grim Reaper to Monroe’s door with no remorse.
The pilot prepared for landing, and Carter gazed out over the lights of the city. Polo wasn’t expecting him. Carter never liked to let anyone know his next move; the unexpected was always the safest way to move. That way no one could see him coming. In fact, Polo thought he was living in seclusion, cut off from all of his Miami ties. Little did he know that Carter had always known where he was, down to the four numbers on his mailbox.
As the plane made its final descent over the city, Carter gathered himself. Polo would definitely know where to go to get the product that Carter needed, and he wanted to hit the ground running. This wasn’t a parlay trip. It was all business all the time for Carter, and he wasn’t leaving without a brand-new cocaine connect. He wouldn’t complain if he could corner the heroin trade either. Prescription drugs even. Los Angeles was the land of opportunity, and Carter was going to take advantage of the things it had to offer.
A black Maybach waited at the end of the clear port upon Carter’s arrival, and he wasted no time instructing the driver how to get to Polo’s Santa Monica apartment. He wondered why someone who had hustled so large now lived so small, and he vowed to make smart money moves with his dough so that he wouldn’t end up living mediocre after his own retirement.
As the driver pulled onto Polo’s street, Carter sat up attentively as he surveyed the area. “Spin the block for me,” Carter instructed the driver, who nodded in reply. His paranoia was what kept him free and living. Many niggas had gotten caught slipping by being too relaxed. Carter would rather be safe than sorry. “Park up front. Do not move the car under any circumstances,” Carter said.
“Yes, sir,” the driver responded. He got out of the car and opened Carter’s door.
Carter emerged and buttoned his Ferragamo suit jacket before heading to the entrance. The building was nice, luxurious even, and sat across the street from the Santa Monica beach, but still Carter wondered why Polo wasn’t put up in a Beverly Hills estate. Ownership was key in Carter’s book. Why lease a unit when you can own the building?
He knocked at Polo’s door. It had been half a decade since they had last seen one another. He hoped his father’s right-hand man was well, and he was eager to check in on him. The door opened, and Carter stood face to face with Polo the God a.k.a Uncle Polo, the godfather to all of Carter Diamond’s children, including Carter Jones. Recognition registered in his gaze, but the words that came out of his mouth didn’t match.
“Who are you?” he asked.
Carter stepped back, thrown off guard as he frowned. “It’s me, Carter,” he replied in confusion. “You don’t know who I am?”
Polo shooed him away from his door. “G’on, young’un. Ain’t nothing for you at my door. It’s a young lady live a few doors down. You got the wrong apartment number, son,” he said.
Before Carter could get another word out, the door was slammed in his face. Carter stood there for a second, stunned and obviously lost. He turned around and walked hesitantly away from the door. He looked back at the closed door, wondering what the hell that was all about.
I’ll come back tomorrow,
he thought, hoping that Polo hadn’t gone crazy from baking in the hot L.A. sun.
Carter checked into one of the swankiest five-star hotels in West Hollywood, reserving the penthouse suite for his stay. After tipping the bellman to deliver his bags, he was escorted by the concierge to the fiftieth floor.
Italian marble graced the floor, and the expansive floor-to-ceiling windows made Carter feel as if he were the king of the city. All of L.A. was at his feet as he looked out over the nightlife. The concierge left him well appointed with his requested vintage bottle of wine and a steak dinner already prepared and waiting for him to enjoy. He tipped the man generously and then sat down at the large dining table to indulge in his dinner for one.
He looked at the vacant chair across from him and emptiness filled his chest. His thoughts drifted to Miamor. Her absence was suffocating Carter, and he had never felt more alone than he did in that moment. He should be courting her all over the city, wining and dining, shopping and sightseeing. Instead he was solo and missing life as it passed him by.
BUZZ!
The bell to the room rang, and Carter stood, knowing that it was his bags being delivered. He grabbed a twenty dollar bill out of his money clip and headed for the door. He pulled it open.
“Young Carter.”
“Hello, Polo,” Carter replied as he embraced him. “It’s good to see you. I thought you had lost your wit for a minute there, old man. What was that all about?” Carter asked in confusion.
Polo pointed to the steak that could be smelled clear across the room. “Why don’t you order another one of those three hundred dollar steak dinners and let me fill you in?”
The two men sat over dinner, and Polo cut into his steak. He savored the flavor and said, “Now that’s a steak.”
Carter chuckled. “How did you know where I was staying?”
“You’re Carter Diamond’s son. I picked the most expensive hotel in L.A.,” Polo said. “But look, you can’t just show up out here unannounced. I’ve got a lot going on out here—things that you don’t want to get wrapped up in.”
“Try me,” Carter said, fishing for more details.
“What I’m about to tell you will probably make me look like a snake, but it’s the only thing keeping me free. After I left Miami, I began cooperating with the Feds against Estes,” Polo admitted.
Carter put down his knife and fork, and his eyes immediately went to the door.
“You don’t have to worry about them, Carter. They didn’t follow me here, but they are watching every single person that steps foot to my door. That’s why when you showed up out of the blue I acted like I’d never seen you before,” Polo explained. “The last thing you need are ties to me. That’ll automatically put you under a federal scope.”
Carter silently kicked himself for walking right into the middle of a federal investigation. He knew that the DEA was the most thorough crime fighter on the planet. They had a war against drugs that had taken down some of the greats in the game. Just by putting his face on their cameras he knew that they would be asking who he was and what he did. He had drawn attention to himself.
“Are you wired?” Carter asked sternly.
“What? No, never against you,” Polo assured.
Carter pulled his pistol off of his hip and placed it on the table. “Then you won’t have a problem standing and unbuttoning your shirt,” Carter said.
Polo paused briefly, slightly offended that Carter wanted proof, but as a major player in the game, he understood. He stood and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing nothing but a slight gut and hairy chest.
Carter exhaled, relaxing slightly. “I have to take every precaution. I hope you understand,” Carter said.
“I do, Carter,” Polo responded.
“Now what the fuck would make you turn into a federal snitch, Polo?” Carter asked with contempt.
“The muthafucka Estes is a snake. He played the game dirty, young blood. The nigga left me in the middle of the fucking Atlantic in a boat the size of a bathtub. The fucking US Coast Guard pulled me from the water, and guess what they found taped underneath the fucking boat?” Polo paused and shook his head as he rubbed the top of it, clearly stressed from the recollection of events. “Five fucking kilos of cocaine. The nigga set me up. I was going away, and I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to spend my golden years behind steel and concrete beating my dick to naked photos. I want shrimp and lobster, naked bitches and good pussy, linen suits and ocean views. So I either had to take those years or turn on the nigga that set me up. Estes robbed me and your father for years, giving us bullshit prices and bad coke. We still built an empire off of that shit, and it burned him up. Wetback, Dominican muthafucka tried to put me under the jail, so I turned on him. I’m the master at the double-cross,” Polo said.
Carter rubbed his goatee and shook his head. “Damn.” Carter didn’t condone Polo’s method of revenge, but it was his choice. They were grown men, and Polo had made his bed.
“Anybody associated with that scumbag is going down,” Polo said.
Carter thought of Monroe. “Money is associated with Estes,” he revealed.
“What? Monroe is dead,” Polo shot back.
“Estes staged Monroe’s death to protect him from the Haitians, Polo. He is very much alive, and he’s doing business with Estes,” Carter said as he stood to his feet. He began to pace the room.
“I had no idea,” Polo said regretfully. “I’d never do anything to destroy The Cartel.”
“He’s not aligned with The Cartel anymore, Polo. I came here to get a connect from you so that I could take back the streets from Monroe. He wanted out. He wanted to do his own thing,” Carter explained.
“And now you’re at war with your brother over real estate in Miami,” Polo summarized. “He is your brother, Carter, your younger brother. You are his keeper. Me and your daddy were like brothers, and I don’t give a fuck what beef we had; I would never bring him harm. You take care of your brothers, Carter.”
Guilt weighed down Carter’s shoulders, because he had just given Zyir the okay to take care of Monroe.
“Money is out of control. He tried to have my young’un Zyir murked. He’s murdering our men, burning our trap houses. . . .”
“He’s your brother. Money and Zyir aren’t fighting over money, drugs, turf.... They’re fighting over you. They both want to be at your right. You’ve got to make them realize that they both are equally valuable to you. You’re the oldest; you can dead the beef,” Polo said, cutting off Carter. “Monroe and your friend Zyir will follow by your example. You have the power to remedy things, but whether you do or not, chances are the war will be over soon. I hate to say this, but Monroe is under scrutiny of the Feds. There is no way that he can make it out of this one, and unless you want to see him spend his life behind bars, you have to warn him.”
“You should have warned us all, Polo,” Carter answered.
Polo stood to his feet and placed his fedora hat back on his head.
“I’m sorry, Carter. I’ve still got some connections in South America and a few over in Asia. These are safe; nobody knows about these,” he said as he wrote down contact information for Carter. “These connects make Estes’s coke look like baby powder.”
“Is this a setup?” Carter asked, disappointed that someone so thorough had turned informant.
“No, Carter, this is the real deal, baby boy,” Polo replied. He looked at Carter with sympathetic eyes. “Take care of your brother. Get him out of the country as soon as possible. They have been building this case against Estes for four years. Money doesn’t want to be anywhere near Estes when the other shoe drops.”

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