La Bella Mafia

Ashley & JaQuavis

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Table of Contents

 

 

Thank you to all of you who have watched us grow both individually and as a couple through our writing. You have turned two kids from Flint, MI into New York Times best selling authors. We love y'all for that and are forever grateful for your support. As you pick up this next chapter of The Cartel we hope you enjoy. It doesn't end with this book. As we move into the next phase of our careers we plan to bring you
Cartel 6
, a fresh spin-off called Zyir:
son of the Cartel
, and who knows maybe even a book called,
Ethic
, if you're lucky. You guys have held us down from the very beginning and it is because of you that we are inspired to continue this journey. We are fortunate to be able to live our dream every day. We are blessed to have literary fans like you! There is no limit to what the future holds for our readers and us. Much love.

 

Mr. and Mrs. Coleman

Carter looked in his rearview mirror and noticed that the same two cars had been following him for blocks. At that moment, he knew that the Feds were on him. The white boys who were driving the cars that were tailing him were a dead giveaway. Carter immediately put the pedal to the metal and bent a couple corners to shake them. With his foreign car and world-class speed, there was no competition. Carter checked his rearview mirrors after a couple corners and brief stretches and just as he expected, he was in the clear. He headed toward the hospital for Zyir. It was a must that they shook out of town until things died down. The heat from the authorities was too much to bear. As Carter made his way toward the hospital, his phone began to ring. He looked down at his caller ID and noticed that it the call originated from Los Angeles, California. He picked it up, only to hear another person breathing on the phone.

“Hello,” he said again and still received no answer. He then knew that the call was coming from Polo. It was a discreet way of telling Carter that the Feds were about to move in on him. Carter hung up his phone and shook his head in frustration. He knew that if he stayed around, it was only a matter of time before he went down. First and foremost, he had to get his li'l man out of the city too. Zyir was his right-hand man from day one and he refused to flee the city and leave Zyir hanging out to dry.

Carter arrived at the hospital and immediately knew that he would be walking into a trap. He could spot unmarked cars from a mile away and the entrances were swarmed with them.

“Fuck!” he said as he hit his steering wheel with force and aggression. He picked up his phone and called Zyir.

“Hello,” Zyir answered in a low, raspy tone.

“Listen, who is in there with you?” Carter asked, cutting straight to the point.

“Just me and Fly Boogie,” Zyir said as he slowly sat up in the bed while grimacing.

“Listen closely, because we don't have a lot of time. The Feds are coming in. Do me a favor. Tell Boogie to look outside the door and see if there are any agents outside your door,” Carter said as he pulled off and looked at the cop cars filing into the hospital through his rearview mirror. Zyir immediately told Fly Boogie to check and he poked his head outside of the door and came back.

“It looks clear. Just a couple of nurses,” he said as he stood there wide-eyed trying to figure out what was about to go down.

“Shit looks normal,” Zyir said to Carter.

“Okay good, good. That means that they are on their way to you right now. Listen, you have to get the fuck out of there, Zyir. Like right now,” Carter said.

“Damn. Okay cool. Where are you at?” Zyir answered.

“Meet me at the take-off spot. You already know what it is,” Carter said, not wanting to tip off anyone, just in case he had wiretaps on his phone.

“On my way,” Zyir said as he began to snatch the wires off of him that were monitoring his heart rate.

“Yo, Zyir,” Carter said as his tone dropped.

“What up, big homie?” Zyir replied.

“I'm not leaving without you, so make sure you get there,” Carter said with all sincerity in his voice.

“I'll be there,” Zyir confirmed just before he hung up the phone.

Carter headed in the direction of Monroe's condominium. He had unfinished business with his brother that needed to be handled. Carter made sure that there wasn't anyone trailing him before he turned into Monroe's place. Carter took his gun from his waist and exited the car. He threw the gun in the seat, not wanting to even have it on him when approaching Monroe. He didn't want to go that route with Monroe. Carter just had to tie up loose ends. He walked to the doorstep and knocked. He didn't know what to expect on the opposite end but he was prepared for whatever God had in store for him. As Carter waited for someone to answer, he got a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. He took a deep breath and then exhaled trying to calm his nerves.

The sounds of locks being unclicked sounded and Carter stood strong as he waited for the face of his brother to appear. Once the door was open he realized that it wasn't a face that he was staring at, but it was the barrel of a double pump shotgun that Monroe was holding about five inches from his nose.

“I come in peace,” Carter said as he put both his hands up. Carter walked toward the gun, pressing his chest against the barrel and slowly walking Monroe backward. “I don't want no smoke, bro. Just want to talk,” Carter pleaded as he spoke softly, slowly, and collected. There was no hostility showing in his voice or mannerisms. He knew that he was playing Russian roulette at that point but he knew it had to be resolved.

“You come to my house after you sent ya li'l mans to get me? You must be out of your mind,” Monroe said as he stopped and dug the barrel into Carter's chest even deeper.

“You're right. But if I recall right, you sent Buttons' niggas to kill me in Rio. Remember that? Look, we both have been at each other, but this shit has to stop,” Carter said with no malice in his heart. Monroe was at a loss for words.

“I'm tired of the killings. I just want this shit to end. Honestly, I would prefer if you get this gun out of my chest. If you want, I'll shoot you a fair one and we can handle it like men,” Carter said, referring to a one-on-one fight. “No guns, no goons. Just me and you,” Carter suggested.

Monroe paused as if he was in deep contemplation and released a small smile, gladly wanting to take Carter up on his offer. Monroe slowly lowered the gun and then tossed it on his couch. Carter stepped completely in the house and closed the door behind him. He then took off his shirt, exposing his chiseled body and ripped abs.

“I thought you would never ask, playboy,” Monroe said as he snatched off his shirt and put up his hands. They were both the direct bloodline of the most fearless man who ever walked the earth: Carter Diamond. So there was no fear in either one of their hearts.

Carter also put his hands up and the men began to circle each other in the middle of Monroe's living room.

“This ass whooping has been a long time coming,” Carter said as he began to inch closer to his brother. Monroe threw the first punch. Carter side-stepped to the left, just barely missing get hit by Monroe's punch. Almost simultaneously, Carter snapped a quick jab to Monroe's kidney.

“Too slow, li'l nigga,” Carter said as he smiled and swiped his nose taunting him. This enraged Monroe. Monroe began to throw haymakers at Carter, trying to knock his head off. Carter caught a couple of them but the majority of them he dodged artistically. Carter saw that Monroe was getting tired and he knew it was time for him to put in work. He went after Monroe relentlessly. Left hook, right hook, jab . . . sending Monroe flying onto his back. Carter then pounced on Monroe, straddling him while wrapping both hands around his neck, trying to choke the life out of him. Monroe fought for air as Carter gripped his neck tightly. Monroe felt that Carter was much stronger than him and knew that he needed help getting Carter off of him. He reached for the lamp and grabbed it. He then smashed it against Carter's head, making the lamp shatter into pieces and temporarily got Carter off of him. Carter flew to the ground as the world began to spin. He temporarily saw stars and tried to get up, but couldn't keep his balance. Monroe on the other hand was panting on the ground trying to catch his breath. Blood leaked from Monroe's swollen lip and Carter had a huge gash on the right side of his head. It was an awkward moment of silence as both of them leaned their backs against the wall and tried to regain their composure.

“We could have been a dynasty. We . . . could . . .” Monroe tried to say in between breaths as he steadily held his throbbing neck.

“That was the plan,” Carter said as he sweated profusely and sucked air trying to get his wind.

“You let that nigga Zyir take my place,” Monroe admitted as he expressed his true feelings. He was envious of the place that Zyir held in his brother's life. They were close and Monroe felt as if he had missed out by being away from life for so long.

“Zyir is my nigga. He's been there with me from the start. He wasn't taking anyone place because he always had a place of his own. So this what this is all about, huh?”

“I just believe in blood over everything. I was raised in this drug game and what I learned is that anybody will cross you for the right price. But family, family doesn't have a price. Family is forever. Diamonds are forever.”

“Diamonds are forever. We have to end this, Money. We have to,” Carter said as he looked over at Monroe. Neither of them wanted the beef to go any further. It was as if them saying that Diamonds were forever released the tension out of the room. “I've lost everybody from this game. This game has no love for anyone. I don't want to lose the only brother I have left behind this,” Carter admitted.

“I want this shit to be over too, bro. I swear to God I do. It seems like it's at a point of no return,” Monroe replied.

“It's never too late, my nigga. All we have to do is let it end here,” Carter said as he slowly stood up, sneering at his aching headache. He reached down his hand to Monroe and looked at his brother in the eyes. Monroe paused and took a long, hard thought about what he was about to do. He took a deep breath and reached out his hand, letting his older brother help him up. They embraced and rocked back and forth, both of their souls being cleansed in the process.

“Now we have to go. The Feds are coming,” Carter said, as he went to the window and looked down over the street cautiously. “We have to go. They will be here any minute.”

“What?” Monroe asked, trying to grasp what was going on.

“They're on to Estes, which means they're on to all of us. Just come on! I don't have time to explain, but I have a jet waiting to take us to Bermuda. All we have to do is make it to the airstrip. We have to go!” Carter said as he fled out of the door. Monroe followed closely behind and just like that they were gone out of the door.

 

 

Zyir looked at the dashboard and saw Fly Boogie pushing over 120 miles per hour. Zyir then looked in his rearview mirror and saw the trail of police cars and flashing lights. They were on a high-speed chase and Zyir knew that it wasn't looking good. He looked at Fly Boogie and noticed a grin on his face. He was actually enjoying the high-stakes car chase. A helicopter was hovering above them, keeping up with their every move. Zyir shook his head and had no choice but to smile. He gripped his wounded stomach and felt his phone vibrate. It was Carter.

“I'm on my way. But I have a couple friends with me,” Zyir said, knowing that it didn't look good for him.

“I'm waiting for you, homie. You have to get here. I am not leaving without you, Zyir. Make a way,” Carter said confidently. He heard the sirens in the background and knew that Zyir wasn't looking too good. Carter hung up the phone and took a deep breath. He and Monroe were sitting on the jet waiting to go. Carter looked at his watch and took a deep breath. “He'll be here,” he assured Monroe as he looked out of the window. “Come on, Zy,” he whispered to himself.

Fly Boogie jumped off the highway, pushing almost 150 miles per hour. He had created about a thirty-second lead on the cops and he had an idea. He saw a tunnel and knew that that was their only chance. With the helicopter still on their tail, Fly Boogie raced into the tunnel and stopped about halfway through it.

“Look, big homie. You go that way and I'm going to shoot out this way, taking all them Feds away from you.”

“Damn, Boogie. I'm not going to let you go out like that. Fuck it. I'm rolling with you. Let's get it,” Zyir said bravely as he steadily clutched his stomach and frowned.

“Naw, I got you, big homie. They want you not me. I have zero strikes and they have nothing on me. This shit going to make me a legend in the hood,” Fly Boogie said as he kept a childish grin on his face. Zyir shook his head and returned the smile.

“You a crazy li'l nigga. You know that?” Zyir said as he held out his hand and gave Boogie a pound.

“And you know this!' he said playfully as he dapped up his mentor. Zyir got out the car and began to walk the opposite way. Fly Boogie put the pedal to the metal and shot out of the tunnel like a bat out of hell. He shot out of the tunnel and the helicopter got right back on his tail. The federal agent in the helicopter called in Fly Boogie's location and a mile down the road the cops were back on him; this time it was double the amount of marked cars chasing him. Fly Boogie was about to go down like a G.

Zyir casually walked into a gas station that was nearby and used the payphone to call a cab. Within thirty minutes he was pulling up at the jet strip where Carter was waiting for him. Carter helped him into the jet and Zyir was startled when he reached the door and saw a hand reaching to help him in . . . It was Monroe.Zyir got onto the aircraft and Carter immediately shut the door. “ okay, let's go!” he yelled to the pilot as they took off. Carter looked at Zyir and then Monroe. He was determined to bring his family back together and he was not taking no for a answer. Before they would kill each other, Carter would kill them both. He wanted the war to end for good. They had other problems ahead of them, problems that they could have never foreseen. The three biggest gangsters in history were on their ass: The F . . . . . . B . . . . . . I.

The jet lifted into the air and disappeared into the clouds as three of the realest niggas in Miami flew off into the sunset. Carter directed the pilot to head directly toward the Bermuda triangle; a no-fly zone where many aircrafts have vanished in American history. He instructed Zyir and Monroe to sit back and relax until they reached their destination. He had a plan . . . a master plan.