The Cartel 4: Diamonds Are Forever (7 page)

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Authors: Ashley,JaQuavis

BOOK: The Cartel 4: Diamonds Are Forever
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“I’ve always chosen you. You just never had the courage to choose me back. You wanted me to be a private affair. You had me in the streets strutting on Mecca’s arm, but you were the one in between my legs at night! Do you know how that made me feel, Money? I felt like a plaything, like your whore,” Leena shot back.
Monroe looked at her in exasperation. “You were never my whore, Leena. You were the classiest chick I’d ever met. The only one fiery enough to handle my hotheaded brother, but the only one beautiful enough both inside and out to intrigue me. Mecca needed you more than I did. That’s why I never wanted you to leave him. You made my brother better! You made him happy! He just didn’t know how to show you, but he always told me! My whore? Nah, you weren’t my whore, Leena. You were the love of my life, ma,” Monroe said.
“But I never felt that you would truly choose me over Mecca. The two of you together weren’t perfect, but on the off day when you were, the entire city saw how you both shined. On those days, jealousy ate me up inside. You were his bitch, Leena. You never would have chosen me. You asked me to tell Mecca about us, but you were asking for something that you didn’t really want. If you wanted it then you would have stopped fucking with Mecca on your own. You chose him.”
“I wanted you!” Leena snapped, feeling angry, overwhelmed, and vulnerable all at once.
“Then prove it,” Monroe said, his voice calming.
He pulled a black satin box out of his pocket and got down on one knee.
Leena’s eyes widened in surprise as her tears now made a trail down her cheeks.
“Marry me,” he said.
Leena was speechless as she got on her knees in front of him and clasped his wrists as she looked at the flawless, princess-cut diamond and platinum ring.
“Really?” she asked in disbelief.
“You would make me a very happy man, ma,” Monroe replied with a charming crooked smile.
Leena nodded her head as she smiled happily. “Yes. Monroe Diamond, I will marry you.”
Chapter 6
“You need to leave Miami. Disappear.
If you don’t, the next time we cross paths
I will cut your fucking head off.”
—A ghost from her past . . . Mecca Diamond
 
Miamor closed her eyes and retreated inside of herself as her body endured the brutal beating Fabian put on her. Physically she was present, but her mind was a million miles away. Detached from the reality that loomed over her, Miamor no longer felt the pain. Each blow was absorbed into a woman who was mentally and emotionally drained.
This had been her entire life. Death. Destruction. She was a terrorist and out of all her years on this earth, she had never known true happiness. A killer by nature, she had been so focused on revenge, on efficiency, on the money, that she had never truly lived. Miamor was well acquainted with death and the ills of the world, but she knew nothing about life.
Fueled by her thirst for revenge, she had hunted Mecca relentlessly, but as she sat looking into his eyes, she couldn’t help but wonder if it was all worth it. In this final moment it all felt so pointless. In a normal life he was supposed to be the brother of her future husband. They were supposed to be connected by a man they both loved dearly, but her existence was far from normal. Her world was not so black and white, but instead a shade of gray where nothing made sense to her but green and red . . . money and blood.
Miamor’s head hung low as her chin hit her chest. Visions of Young Carter filled her mind as her soul slipped slowly away. Her heart ached of sorrow as she remembered his smile, his confidence, his energy. She recalled how it felt to fall head over heels for his undeniable charm. It was his face that kept her mind strong as her body began to fail her.
Miamor knew that if she let Mecca into her head then she conceded defeat. He could beat her until no breath flowed through her body, but he would never conquer her mentally; she wouldn’t allow it.
Her cunning wit was what separated her from the average chick. She had always been able to outthink those around her. Prideful and ruthless, Miamor couldn’t be conquered, but Mecca was determined to make her break. With every vicious blow that Fabian dealt, she forced herself to take it. Her body was painted in red as if Basquiat himself had used her as his canvas. Blood flowed from her wounds like water as the irony of her impending death haunted her.
Mecca stood in the background watching intensely as Miamor was tortured slowly. The average man would have given into the pain by now, but Mecca could see in Miamor’s eyes that she would not give up her life easily. She didn’t want a quick death. She wanted to feel until she couldn’t feel anymore.
For the first time ever, Miamor was realizing how valuable life was. She was saddened that her value had been wasted. The way that she had led her life would not earn her a spot in paradise. Her eternity would be spent in hell, and it was a fate that she feared.
A tiny voice inside of her told her to beg, plead, and bargain for her life, but the killer she had become wouldn’t allow it. She was overdosed on pride and refused to ruin the hood legacy that she had built by dying on her knees. She had lived by a code that only a murderer could understand. When the streets recounted her story, she wanted them to speak the truth. She was ruthless and calculating, even when staring into the eyes of the Grim Reaper. No one, not even Mecca Diamond, had been able to break her. Miamor was the greatest to ever do it, and she refused to let Mecca take away her power.
“You fucking heartless bitch,” Fabian seethed through gritted teeth as he pulled her head back. She felt the cold kiss of the gun as it met the back of her skull, and tears involuntarily welled in her eyes. Fabian’s finger danced on the trigger. There weren’t many people who could kill without remorse. It was a specialty that Miamor and Mecca had perfected.
“Put the bitch down and get it over with. I’m bored with this shit,” Mecca stated, his voice sending chills of hatred up and down Miamor’s spine. “Fuck you waiting for, nigga?”
Fabian looked up at Mecca, the unsteady grip on his pistol giving away his uncertainty as his hand shook slightly.
“You still scared of this bitch? She’s tied up and you the one with the gun, but she still got you shook? Pull the fucking trigger!” Mecca ordered, shaking his head in disgust.
Fabian stood, his lean torso shaking as his bottom lip trembled in uncertainty. “I . . . I . . . can’t,” he admitted.
BOOM!
Without warning, Mecca sent a bullet through Miamor’s shoulder.
“Aghh!”
“Fuck you mean you can’t?” Mecca barked at Fabian. “See, it’s simple.”
BOOM!
With precision he sent another shot in Miamor’s direction, this time hitting her midsection.
“Aghh!” she howled through gritted teeth as she balled her fists tightly. The bullet ripped through her organs, making it feel as though she were on fire.
Fabian backpedaled until his heel hit the bottom step of the basement. He was in over his head. Fabian dabbled in the streets every now and then, but he wasn’t major. He had never led the lifestyle that Mecca had and knew nothing about this heartless side of the game. Revenge had sounded so sweet, but when it came down to it, Fabian couldn’t put in the work. As Miamor gasped for air, Fabian shook his head back and forth. Jailhouse blues filled his soul as he became overwhelmed by the possible consequences of his actions. Suddenly, he wanted no part of this murderous plot.
Mecca turned toward Fabian and before he even realized it, Fabian was hightailing it up the steps.
Mecca smirked as he saw Fabian run out of the basement. “Pussy-ass nigga,” Mecca scoffed, making a mental note to handle Fabian later. Mecca didn’t leave loose ends. Fabian was a liability, and it was imperative that he was removed from the equation. Mecca was leaving zero witnesses, but first Mecca was going to enjoy his final round with Miamor.
“Now that there are no cowards in the room, the real fun can begin,” he taunted.
Mecca grabbed the metal chain off the floor and circled Miamor. The chain scratched the floor like nails on a chalkboard, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand. Mecca examined Miamor as she struggled to lift her head. Her eyes followed him back and forth as he paced the concrete floor. He stopped and knelt directly in front of her, waiting to see the fear creep into her eyes. But when he stared at her all he saw was acceptance and regret.
He wrapped the thick chain around her neck. His heart beat furiously inside of his chest as he thought of avenging the death of his mother. He had waited so long for this moment that it made his dick hard.
Miamor was like a rare specimen. The Cartel had warred with a thousand armies before her, but somehow she had been able to dismantle their entire operation. One woman had annihilated his entire family. The empire that the Diamond family had built was standing on its last leg. She had destroyed the infamous Miami Cartel. Mecca hated her existence yet envied her efficiency all at the same time. She was thorough and conniving, professional and about her paper. No mark had ever been too big to hit. If the money was right, then she had no problem making it rain bullets. No questions asked. She was the Grim Reaper.
Mecca lived by the gun and knew that one day he would die by it as well. As he looked at Miamor he realized that she lived by the same creed. If he had been half as calculating as Miamor, his family would not be lined up in metal coffins under the dirt.
Since the death of his father, Mecca and Miamor had played a deadly game of cat and mouse. There was no prey among them; they were both predators. With no sheep to slaughter they had gone at each other’s throats and it all culminated in this one moment. He pitied the fool who looked at Miamor and underestimated her. Her pretty face had hidden the ugliest of intentions, and it was only by God’s grace that Mecca hadn’t ended up on the other side of her gun.
They stared at one another silently and for a brief moment they came to a mutual understanding.
“Just do it,” she whispered as tears finally came to her. “If anybody had to do it, it may as well be you. You’re just like me.”
Her words connected with Mecca, digging a hole straight to his heart as he nodded his head. Miamor was tired of fighting him, tired of feeling guilty for being the way that she was. She was ready for this to end.
“Tell Carter I’m sorry,” she whispered, barely audible.
Mecca pulled the ends of the chain, cutting off Miamor’s oxygen supply instantly. He pulled so hard that the metal pierced her skin, causing it to become raw as her eyes bulged in distress. Mecca gritted his teeth as he stared at her while choking her to death. The light in her eyes began to dwindle and the sounds around her became muffled as a natural reaction to fight overcame her. Her body jerked violently as her lungs begged for air. The tighter he pulled, the more her body rebelled, but she was helplessly bound to the chair. All she could do was die.
“Aghh!” Mecca roared as he pulled tighter and tighter on the chain.
You’re just like me.
Her words replayed in his head, taunting him and reminding him of the evil that lived inside of them both. Mecca stared into her face with anger, with resentment, but when he saw his own face staring back at him he froze. Sympathy poured into his heart as his chest became heavy.
She’s right,
he thought as he backpedaled and put distance between them. Taken aback by the naked truth, he realized that as much as he hated Miamor, he couldn’t condemn her. He was not without sin.
Her lungs felt like they were on fire as she coughed uncontrollably and sucked in as much air as she could.
Mecca felt as if he were going insane. For so long he had dreamt of this very day. He had never hesitated to make an example out of a mu’fucka, but with Miamor it was different. Killing her would be like killing himself. They were the same. They both had blood on their hands, and their hate for one another kept them teetering on the edge of insanity.
“Just do it,” she said with no more fight left in her voice.
A moment of clarity passed over Mecca as he turned away from her and placed his hands on his head in distress. Something bigger then Mecca’s conscience was coming into play. The universe was intervening. It wasn’t in God’s plans for Miamor to die. Not by Mecca’s doing.
“I can’t,” he whispered as he lowered his hands to his side and allowed the chain to fall to the ground.
Miamor was barely conscious as she craned her head to the side and replied, “What?” The blood that fell into her line of sight clouded her vision, and she was so close to giving up that she knew she couldn’t have heard Mecca correctly.
“I am you,” Mecca whispered with sorrow as his own tears came to his eyes. He quickly pinched the bridge of his nose and shook the emotion away. Mecca was evolving right before Miamor’s eyes, and she was so close to death that she was missing the sight. “I should fucking kill you. You deserve to die,” Mecca stated, larcenous venom lacing his tone. “But something in me won’t allow me to. You need to leave town and stay the fuck away from my family.”
Miamor’s eyes opened and closed weakly as silent tears flooded down her face.
“Don’t contact Carter. Don’t even enter the city limits. You need to leave Miami. Disappear. If you don’t, the next time we cross paths I will cut your fucking head off,” Mecca raged.
Miamor wept as his words pierced her ears. She had never felt more connected to anyone in her life. Mecca was her adversary, but today he chose to be her savior. If he could put his prideful vengeance aside and leave her with air in her lungs, then he deserved to see her break.
Miamor lifted her head, her neck bobbling loosely as she felt every broken bone in her body. “I . . . I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Mecca stared at her in hatred while forcing himself to remain composed. “Disappear,” he stated with finality. “Leave and never look back.”
He was instructing her to do the very thing that he had wished he could do. He was pardoning her and forcing her to start over. All she had to do was pick a place and act as though a girl named Miamor had never existed. Mecca turned and walked up the steps with an agonizing ache in his heart, but a lighter soul. His mind was telling him to put a hollow tip through Miamor’s chest, but his spirit was teaching him the hard lesson of forgiveness. He never looked back as he left Miamor. He was afraid that his rage might change his mind if he ever saw her face again.
Miamor waited until she was sure that Mecca had gone before she lost all composure. The cry that erupted from her battered body reflected years of pain. No one knew the things that she had suppressed, but deep inside she knew that Mecca understood. He did her no favors. She was still bound and beaten near extinction, but he had left her with a tiny chance to survive. He owed her nothing, so that tiny act was a gift. It was ironically the kindest thing that anyone had ever done for her.

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