La Bella Mafia (22 page)

“I would think that you would enjoy this,” she said. “He fucked up. You're feeling me. Isn't this when most niggas make their move?”

“Lame niggas,” Fly Boogie responded. Despite the fact that her body felt so good against him, he moved as he hit the unlock button on his keys. “Anything you do right now is out of character. This is all about him. I would be playing myself if I jumped on you. I can see the hurt in your eyes Miamor. I'm the last nigga you got to worry about taking advantage. I'ma get my shot at you ma, but this ain't it.”

Miamor smiled, slightly embarrassed as she walked up to him once more. She kissed his cheek. “This kiss you earned.” She blew out an exasperated breath and shook her head to try and gain some clarity. “I have to go home,” she whispered. “I need to get my son and pack some things. I'm not beat for this Vegas shit. He wanted this life. I'm going back to Miami.”

“Nah ma. I'll take you home but you pack up his shit. You built all of this out here. We all followed
you
out here. The Cartel of Miami belonged to Carter, but The Cartel of Las Vegas belongs to you. You got a gang of niggas that'll ride on your command,” Fly said. He opened the passenger door for Miamor. He had given her something to think about and as she climbed inside the car, plots of revenge flooded her brain. Hurting the one who had hurt her sounded like poetic justice and she knew that the only way to get to Carter would be to take what he treasured most. She was going to hit his pockets, his empire, take his throne . . . she wanted it all . . . not because she needed it, but because he wanted it too much. He wasn't afraid of her gangster and she didn't know if she could ever hate him enough to handle him the ‘murder mama' way. She couldn't intimidate him with her reputation, but she could handle him like a wife scorned. She would divorce him and take everything, including the Cartel. He wouldn't be expecting her to play hardball and by the time he realized what was happening, it would already be done. She was going to take him to the cleaners and while she was at it, she would send Yasmine straight to hell.

 

“Dig deeper,” Miamor stated coldly as she stood over the two burly men that were unearthing the desert soil. Their shovels clanged loudly against the earth as their grunts filled the air. “It can't be shallow. We don't want any mangy coyotes coming along and digging the body up.” Miamor was livid and her heart pumped violently as her emotions went haywire. Her Cavalli sunglasses masked her watery eyes as she thought of the motivation behind her actions. She had murdered many times before. Fuck it. It was nothing for her to go boom on a nigga. She was in the business of extinction, but when business became personal it always played a tug of war with her mental.

Her judgment hadn't been this clouded since she had lost her sister at the hands of Mecca. She had promised herself that she would never let her emotions get so tangled again, but yet here she was . . . devastated . . . heartbroken . . . confused all over again. She should have been taking her aggression out on the root of the problem. Her man. Carter ‘muthafuckin' Jones. He was the perpetrator to the crimes that had been committed against her heart. It was he who deserved to be buried in this shallow grave but instead it was his pretty little mistress who was in her crosshairs. Miamor saw red when the blacked out SUV pulled up a few yards away, because she knew who was hidden inside. They were in the middle of nowhere . . . Thirty miles into the Mojave on uncharted land. It was an unofficial graveyard. Many a mobster had held court in these deserted lands. There was no telling how many bones were buried beneath the hot sands. Miamor was about to host a funeral and the guest of honor was a Persian bitch named Yasmine.

The most dangerous thing in the world was a woman scorned, but a Miamor scorned was deadly. No one had seen the kind of damage that Miamor could do. She hadn't had to deal with groupies in Miami. Carter had always walked a straight line. Their love story had been so complicated that he hadn't found the time to entertain anyone but her. Even during her absence from his life he had remained true, but Yasmine . . . Yasmine had distracted him. She had seduced Miamor's man and there was a price to pay for that.
The bitch clearly doesn't know who she's fucking with,
Miamor thought, her temperature rising as she stalked across the desert. She was heated . . . not from the sun that blazed down on her, but from the hatred that burned in her heart. As an unsuspecting Yasmine climbed from the backseat of the car, Miamor approached.

“What the hell is the meaning of this?” Yasmine asked.

Miamor was feminine as ever in designer clothes and five-inch heels. She hadn't anticipated getting too dirty. She had men who followed orders at her discretion now. When she wanted someone to bleed, it never dripped on her shoes now. But this bitch Yasmine was a bit too pretty for her tastes. The smug, entitled, expression she wore irked Miamor to the point where she couldn't stop herself from slapping the taste out of her mouth. Before she could stop herself she struck her violently and muscled her to the ground. Miamor's vice grip on Yasmine's jet black hair caused the girl to scream in alarm as she tried to tear Miamor's hand from her scalp. Sweat started to form on Miamor's forehead as she spoke through gritted teeth. “There are plenty of men in Vegas. You should have chosen somebody else's,” she said. She didn't even care about getting her hands dirty anymore. When her temper flared it took nothing less than murder to calm her down. She was on ten, it was too late to be rational now. She pulled Yasmine through the desert, destroying along the way, the all white dress that the girl wore.

“Agh!!” she screamed as she clawed at Miamor's wrist while kicking her legs violently as she tried to break free.

Miamor mustered strength that she didn't even know she had and she didn't stop until she had pulled her from the car to the hole that was now complete.

As soon as Yasmine laid eyes on the ditch, terror filled her. She turned to Miamor. “Do you know who I am? You can not get away with this!”

Miamor smirked as she shook her head incredulously. “I know exactly who you are. You're nobody. You live off of your daddy's name to get by. You think because you're a pampered little bitch from Saudi that you can do whatever you want, but you made one mistake. You didn't know who you were offending. You didn't check my resume. You see me in the casino in my fancy clothes, prancing around as Carter's arm accessory and you got me confused. You thought I was just a wife . . . just a mother perhaps? You didn't do your homework. Should have checked my resume.”

“Please! You can have Carter . . .” the girl began to plead.

“Bitch I already have Carter. There ain't a woman alive that can take Carter away from me. I own that nigga. That's my dick, my houses, my cars, my everything.”

“Okay, okay. I won't even look at him. I swear to you,” Yasmine pleaded as she held her hands out in front of her. “Just let me go. This isn't necessary.”

“You fucked my nigga. This is very necessary. I hope it was good,” Miamor said. Suddenly she snatched one of the shovels from her bodyguard's hands and swung it full force, hitting Yasmine in the side of the face. She fell to the ground as blood poured from her ear. Miamor's rampage exploded as she hit her repeatedly, again and again and again and again. She showed no mercy as she took her frustrations out. Miamor knew that ultimately it was Carter's fault for sleeping with Yasmine. She wasn't married to Yasmine. Yasmine owed her nothing, but the fact that she was so smug about it had earned her this fate. Miamor didn't care that she was literally beating the life out of the girl. Yasmine's efforts to block the blows were futile. There was no protecting herself from this ruthless assault and as the excruciating beating continued she could do nothing but pray. Miamor's chest heaved as she felt her clothes begin to stick to her skin. She held the shovel high above her head as she prepared to bring it down once more, but the sniffling, bloody, mess of a woman before her was no longer worth the effort. This beating wasn't making her feel any better. It didn't dull the pain that plagued her. She was still aching inside. The unbearable emotion haunted her, making it hard for her to breathe. Tears clouded her vision as she tossed the shovel to the ground. “Should have never crossed me,” she said. She turned to her men. “Put the bitch in a box and bury her while she's still breathing. Leave a little air hole for her. I want it to be slow. Let her feel every single moment of what's left of her miserable life.” Miamor left two of her men behind to clean up her mess as she headed back to the car with her driver. She had a meeting to attend. Yasmine was only the first to be punished. Carter would feel her wrath as well. As she climbed into the back of the car she knew that no matter what fate she delivered to him . . . she would always suffer behind his betrayal. Nothing she could do to him would ever make this right because even when she hated him . . . she loved him.

 

 

Carter was a man of little patience and as he checked the presidential that occupied his wrist he had to contain his anger. Tardiness was a sign of disrespect and Carter clenched his jaw as he folded his hands, placing them on the conference table in front of him. He was all business as he sat with a stern expression. The tailored Tom Ford suit he wore proved that he had graduated from the streets. He was no longer chasing hood fame; he was chasing them M's . . . the legal way. Owner of The Davinci, Las Vegas' newest resort and casino, he was a man with little free time. He had no hours in the day to waste. Miamor knew that. She had been by his side for so long that he already knew that her late arrival to their meeting was intentional. She was purposefully showing him that no matter how large he became, she would always run the show. He had given her the throne beside his. She was his queen and because of that he was on her time, like it or not. Carter leaned into the attorney that sat to his right. “We need to wrap this up.”

Einstein looked across the table at the opposing counsel. “Mr. Levie, if your client doesn't show up in the next five minutes, we will have to reschedule this mediation session,” he spoke. “Clearly she isn't taking this situation very seriously. Mr. Jones has asked her numerous times what she wants. We have yet to receive a response and today she doesn't even show up . . .”

Davison Levie drummed his fingers on the oak table as he leaned back in his chair with one hand placed underneath his chin. “She will be here . . .”

“I am here.”

Miamor's voice caused all three men to turn their attention toward the door. Standing in a Carolina Herrera bodycon slip dress and five-inch heels, each of them were mesmerized by her beauty. Her hair fell in an asymmetrical bob around her face. Beautiful wasn't quite the right word to describe Miamor. She was dangerous, enticing, and alluring. Miamor was simply a bad bitch. The curves of her body were so sharp that they were deadly. Her face so pretty that it was deceptive. She was like a black widow. It was easy to get caught up in her web and very few escaped it. She took a seat beside her lawyer, sitting directly across from Carter. Her heart thundered in her chest. Seeing him made her blood boil, but oddly she loved him so much all at the same time. She could not believe that she was sitting across from him, when her place had been next to him for so long. Once lovers, they were now adversaries and it was still so hard for Miamor to believe. As she sat silently, soul bleeding, love dying, she wished that she could turn back the hands of time. Her eyes were cold, dark, and distant as she sat stiffly, trying to remain strong. There was no way she would give Carter the satisfaction of seeing her break, not over him, not over his infidelity and lies. She had thought he was so different. Carter had promised her a unique love, but in the end he had turned out to be just another nigga. He had broken her heart and now there was no turning back. They had survived many things, but his one mistake had brought their love to a screeching halt. Now they sat, at the divorce table, enemies as they each watched their love slip away.

“Glad you could make it,” Carter said sarcastically.

Miamor nodded her head but didn't respond with words. She had nothing to say to him. She knew that if she opened her mouth to speak that nothing but tears and sobs would fall out. No, it was best if she remained composed and let her attorney do the speaking. She and Carter were beyond words at this point. She leaned into her lawyer and whispered, “Lay out my demands.”

Levie cleared his throat. “Mrs. Jones wants everything. She wants to keep the fifty percent stake that they currently share in ownership of The Davinci Resort and Casino, she wants the house in Summerlin, and she wants the $10,000,000 that is in the joint savings. According to our records, Mr. Jones has another savings account that he opened last year. In that account is $50,000,000 that he had hidden from Mrs. Jones. She wants that as well. She wants to keep all vehicles that are currently parked at the home in Summerlin. She also wants all stocks and bonds that they have purchased since being married. The estate in Miami, he can have and the home in Flint, MI she has no interest in.”

Carter scoffed as if he had just heard a joke.

“This should not be amusing Mr. Jones. Mrs. Jones is very serious about her demands. Considering that there was no prenuptial agreement . . .”

“She's not getting my casino,” Carter interrupted coolly, with a calm but serious tone.

“That is my casino,” Miamor said. “While your ass was hiding out from a Fed case in Saudi, I was here with Breeze, with Leena, establishing The Davinci.”

Carter stood to his feet and Einstein followed his cue. “Let us know when you have a serious offer. Mr. Jones is willing to offer a generous settlement. He has no intention of putting Mrs. Jones out in the streets. He wants to ensure that she is comfortable. But these demands are ludicrous. No judge will grant them,” Einstein stated.

“A judge won't have to,” Miamor replied. “I've got more than enough dirt on you Carter. It's in your best interest to give me what I want.”

“You're being ridiculous,” Carter stated. He could see the hurt in her eyes. No matter how hard of a front Miamor put on, Carter knew her. He could feel the disappointment and resentment radiating from her heart. He turned to Einstein. “Take Levie and step out of the room.”

Levie objected. “I don't advise my client to speak with you without me.”

Carter's eyes turned dark as he turned his attention to Miamor's attorney. “Leave the room,” he demanded, his shoulders squared in authority as his baritone banished both men from the room.

He turned toward Miamor when they were alone. It was the first time he had seen her in weeks. She had accepted no phone calls from him and hadn't been home since she had found him cheating. Carter had no idea where she was even staying. “Can we talk?” he asked.

“No,” she replied, stubbornly.

“It's not what it looks like. If you let me explain . . .” Carter started.

“I caught a bitch half naked in your bed, it's exactly what it looks like. There's nothing more to say,” Miamor spat. Her words were so sharp that they cut Carter to the core. He could hear the contempt lacing her words. She was scorned, dejected, and scarred by all of the promises that he had broken. So many apologies sat on the edge of his tongue, waiting to leap out of his mouth, but he held them back. She was too full of anger to hear anything that he had to say at the moment.

“I want it all,” she continued. “Every dollar, every business, every asset.”

“You're pushing me Miamor,” Carter warned. “I'm trying to be patient with you because I know that I hurt you, but don't take that as weakness ma. You out of everybody know what it is. You know exactly what I'm capable of.”