Chapter 11
“Take the bass out of your fucking voice before I let you hear a tiny whisper that'll leave you speechless.”
âMiamor
Daniel Broome rolled out of bed when the smell of fresh bacon frying hit him in the early morning hour. His bare chest was muscle-less and hairy, accompanied by a slim frame, and small waist. He wasn't much of a man. But what he lacked in stature, he made up for in reputation. His tenacity and ambition had gained him an excellent conviction rate at work. He was the most fast tracked prosecuting attorney the region had seen in quite a while. He ran a hand through his messy hair and made his way out to the kitchen where his wife and young daughter were already seated around the table.
“Morning honey,” he said as he gave her a soft swat on the behind and a kiss on the cheek. She never turned from the stove as she prepared breakfast.
“Mornin',” she responded. “Breakfast will be done in a sec. There's coffee in the pot.”
“I just need to grab the morning paper first,” he replied. He stepped out onto his porch and retrieved the Miami Herald. Wandering back into the house, he grabbed the hot cup of brew that his lovely wife now had waiting at his seat.
“Morning daddy,” his daughter piped, finally looking up from her coloring project.
“Morning sunshine,” he answered. Making himself comfortable, he unrolled his paper and took a sip of the brew.
Before he could even dive into the reporting he frowned as a photo fell from within the pages. He gasped when he saw an image of himself handing money to Timmy “Two Time” Bono.
“Is everything okay?” his wife asked as she turned briefly from her cooking.
“Uh . . . yeah,” he stammered as he quickly stood and grabbed the picture. “Yeah, yeah. Everything is fine. Look I'm going to head in early for the office. I've got a heavy case load today,” he lied, eager to get out of the house. He rushed back to the bedroom with the newspaper and photo in hand. “Fuck!” he cursed. He tossed the paper on his bed and noticed a bet slip from the horse race. He picked it up. On it in big bold letters he read the words . . .
GOTCHA!
Thoughts ran through his mind a mile a minute as he fumbled with his clothing. He didn't even bother washing off yesterday's stink before dressing and rushing out of the door. Before he could even reach his car a black sedan pulled up at his curb. He paused, his car key grasped between his thumb and pointer finger, as he diverted his attention to the vehicle.
Honk!
The beep of the horn made him eerily aware that the surprise visitor was for him. He looked around and then unsurely made his way down his driveway and toward the tinted car. The back window rolled down and Miamor sat wrapped in an expensive silk scarf. The large Chanel sunglasses she wore hid the intention that shone in her eyes.
“Get in,” she said, the tone of her voice leaving no room for him to decline. She popped open the door and moved over to the other side of the car. Broome fisted his hair and sighed heavily before hunching down to enter.
“It seems you're in quite the predicament Mr. Prosecuting Attorney,” Miamor began. “You lost money, evidence money, on a horse race. It was supposed to be a sure bet, but it wasn't. Now you have to come up with the money to replace the borrowed evidence before anyone realizes its gone missing.”
Daniel Broome, the young cocky P.A., with his American boy wit was speechless. He turned beet red as he realized Miamor had his balls in a vice grip. “I don't know what the hell you're talking about!” he roared. His heart felt like it would implode as an ache of devastation vibrated through his chest. He could see his entire future being flushed down the drain. His college boy gambling fun had turned into a nasty habit, one that had led him straight into the arms of the devil.
“Simmer down Mr. Broome,” Miamor said as she looked out of the window without a care in the world. “You feel that? Your tie feels like it's cutting off your oxygen and your hands suddenly became moist. Your stomach is a bottomless pit and your throat as dry as the Sahara,” she described. “That's how I felt when you brought a case against the man I love. It felt like the walls were falling in around me. You had all the power, but now . . . I have the power and I'm a ruthless dictator. . . I don't rule fairly. The only thing that stopped me from running in your house and tying up your kids and slitting your wife's throat while you watched . . . was the fact that you had so many fucking Feds watching me. So consider this route the easy one. You can keep your career and no one has to know about the missing evidence if you play this by my rules from this point forward.”
Broome's entire body was tense and he was pressed so closely to the door that Miamor thought he would fall out of the car. She recognized his fear. He was afraid of her. Many had been before, but she had never felt satisfaction like this until now. Before her murder game had been a job. This time it felt personal. Part of her wanted to say the code word so that Aries could fill Broome with bullets from the place where she rested in the trunk, but she held her composure. She needed him alive, at least for the moment. She needed him to drop the case.
“You are threatening an officer of the court! I will . . .”
“You will take the bass out of your fucking voice before I let you hear a tiny whisper that'll leave you speechless,” Miamor said as she placed a chrome pistol with a chrome silencer in her lap.
Broome's eyes watered as he was instantly brought back to reality. “I'm here to make you an offer. I'll give you the money you need to replace the evidence.”
“Your accounts are frozen,” he whispered.
“You're a fool if you think we don't have access to greater assets,” Miamor laughed. “If you drop the case against us, our men and the entire Cartel syndicate, I will give you the money in cash. You can replace the evidence and no one will ever have to know that you took it. If not, I'm going to ruin your career.”
“I can't just drop the case, there are witness statements, evidence . . .”
Miamor interrupted him. “Give me the locations of the witnesses. I can make them disappear. The statements will be recanted or silenced. Carter, Zyir, and Monroe aren't dead. Once you drop the charges they will come home. You can reduce the charges if dropping them seems too fishy. Reduce them all the way down. I'm talking slaps on the wrist, a few months in jail at the max. No real jail time.”
Broome was in a state of shock as his chin hit his chest. It was at that moment that he realized that he was in over his head. How three men had evaded federal arrest was beyond him. Not only that, they had been smart enough to make the government stop pursuing them. He wanted to stay on the right side of the law but there was no way he could get out of an evidence scandal without ruining everything he had worked for.
“Do we have a deal?” she asked. The car stopped moving and Broome peered out of the window to see that they had pulled right back to his house.
“How do I know you won't cross me after the case is dropped,” Broome said.
Miamor reached into the front seat grabbed the bag off of the passenger seat. She passed it to Broome. “There's your evidence money. The rest, you'll just have to trust me on. The fact that I have something over your head will keep your cross hairs off of The Cartel. If we ever go down, you'll fall with us,” she assured.
Daniel Broome nodded his head in understanding and then exited the car. As he watched the sedan pull away his wife came up behind him, taking him by surprise.
“Holy Hell! Donna!” he screamed on her, jumpy as ever.
“Who was that?” she asked.
“Nobody,” he mumbled. “I've got to go to work.”
He hurried into his own car and pulled off, leaving his wife standing in their front yard watching him leave in concern. He drove all the way to the end of the block before the stop sign halted him. Gripping the steering wheel with two hands he lowered his head and sobbed like a baby. He had just gotten in bed with Satan and he knew that no matter how the situation played out, he would eventually be burned.
Chapter 12
“That Murder Mama shit is sexy.”
âCarter
“Hmm,” Carter moaned as the feeling of warmth tightened around his strength. He could feel the veins popping out of his shaft as his manhood grew inside of her mouth. Being awakened out of his sleep to the best head of his life was like heaven. Yasmine was good for not knocking before she entered. He had meant to pull her to the side and discuss what had happened, to prevent it from going further. In a conscious state he would have been able to decline this favor, but she had caught him off guard. She had slipped into his bed while he was asleep and wrapped her pretty lips around his dick. As he brought his hands to her head he fisted her hair as he straightened his legs while curling his toes in ecstasy.
“Shiit,” he whispered. He had so much tension built up in him that he could feel himself pulsating in her mouth. Her tongue circled his head causing every nerve ending in his body to awaken. Her hands reached up and rubbed over his chest while her head traveled south as her tongue massaged his loins. Carter sucked in a sharp breath when he felt her tongue dip too far and he tightened his grasp on her hair to pull her up. He finally opened his eyes and lifted his head to the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.
“Hey you,” she said with a smile.
“Miamor?” he whispered. He wanted to think that he was dreaming . . . that she was a figment of his erotic imagination but the pleasurable feeling she was giving him felt too real . . . too familiar to be fake. “What are you . . .”
“Shhh,” Miamor whispered as she placed a finger over his lips and pushed him back onto the luxurious sheets. Miamor pulled her dress over her head and spun her body so that she mounted Carter backwards. She snaked her hips and his eyes followed as her waist and behind winded to a silent beat. By the time her depth drowned him he could barely hold off the orgasm. A rush washed over them both as her mouth fell open in an O and she drew in a sharp breath as he stretched her walls. He was thick and strong. The feelings of his hands on her hips set the tone as she began to rock and roll, slowly. Carter had a front row seat and he had to bite into his bottom lip to keep himself from losing his cool and moaning too loudly. Miamor rode him like she was the star cowboy at a rodeo show. Each time she bucked back he saw the pink of her pussy bloom as her voluptuous ass cheeks spread. It was a beautiful sight to behold. He reached out and palmed her backside, massaging it as she made his length disappear and reappear, again and again in her slippery abyss. She was warm and the honey scent that invaded his senses was the sweetness that only a woman could possess.
“Let's play a game,” Miamor whispered as she turned her neck and looked back at him. The coy look in her eyes was seductive yet flirtatious and as she subtly looked down at her own ass she twisted her hips simultaneously. Carter smirked because she knew that he loved every moment of her sex play.
“I ain't been inside this pussy in months baby, later for games,” he whispered. Miamor tightened her walls until her muscles shook, begging for release, but she kept them locked around him. “Have you given my dick away?” she asked.
“You know this your shit ma,” Carter replied as he sucked his teeth, toes curling. Miamor eased up the pressure, manipulating her grip on him while winding. She tightened again as she rose upwards. “Did a bitch have her mouth on this dick?” she asked.
“Never that, all I want is this right now. What's with all the talking?” Carter asked.
Miamor lowered her hips, rocking slowly, sensually. “That's too bad,” she said as she tightened once more. She sped up her pace, turning their love making into passionate fucking as sweat glistened on her body. This was carnal. It had been too long for them both. “If you had said yes, I would have told you to let me watch,” she whispered. The image of himself intertwined in the depths of one of the foreign beauties as Miamor sat and watched was too much for him to handle.
He roared and his entire body tensed as he released himself inside of the woman he loved. Miamor kept her pace despite the fact that she was spent. She was too close to her own orgasm to stop now. Carter sat up and reached around her body to thumb her clit. The friction of his hand was all it took. He stroked her swollen knob until it pulsated. Her back arched and her head flew back as he grabbed her neck, then her breast. “Give it to me ma,” he whispered.
Miamor rained all over him and her body went limp as she leaned against him. His manhood went limp and easily retreated out of her as he pulled her backwards until she lay beside him against the sweaty silk sheets.
“How did you know where to find me?” he asked.
“I'm resourceful when I need to be,” she said as she stared at the wall as they spooned, while he ran his fingers through her hair. “I used to hunt niggas for a living. Hunt and kill. Finding you wasn't hard, especially after you sent the post card clue.”
“Were you followed?” Carter asked seriously. “Does Leena and Breeze know where you are?”
“Breeze is home with the kids. Leena is in Monroe's room I'm sure doing something very similar to what we just did,” Miamor said with a laugh.
“This was stupid ma,” Carter said sternly in her ear, but he couldn't help but to nuzzle in the crease of her neck. “Damn, I missed you.”
Miamor savored the feeling of his touch and she closed her eyes, planting the moment in her memory. Now it was hers forever. She turned to him.
“I came to bring you home,” she whispered.
He sat up on one elbow. “You know that can't happen.”
“I took care of it,” she whispered as she stared at him intently. “The charges have been reduced. You, Zyir, Money, you all can come back to Miami. You can come home Carter.”
His eyes turned cold. “What did you do Mia?” he asked. “My son needs a mother.”
“And your son's mother needs you. I need you Carter. I look at our son and I cry because he doesn't know you yet. He's a baby yes, but I want him to have you. There was no way I was sitting around while you ran for the rest of your life. Like it or not you're in love with a murder mama Carter. When shit pops off I react. Now I couldn't make it go completely away. I tried, but to avoid suspicion you guys will have to do some time. 5 years. That's lightweight though compared to the life sentences they were trying to throw your way. You come home, you knock out the fed time for tax evasion, and I'll be waiting for you when you get out. I just want you back,” she professed. As she spoke tears fell down her cheeks and Carter could see that his absence had taken a major toll on her. They had spent years apart and had vowed never to separate again. Carter didn't want to see the inside of any prison but for his family, he would do those five years. If that's what it took to get back to Miamor and Carter junior, he would.
He wiped the tears from her eyes. “Don't ever put yourself at risk for me ma. I'm not worth your freedom. I'm not worth tearing a mother away from her son. You hear me? I can take care of myself. Our li'l man can't. That's your job while I'm away. He is me and I am him. He is my weakness Miamor. So make him strong. Make him your first priority from now on. I come after that, you understand?”
She nodded. “Yes and that selflessness is one of the many reasons why I'm in love with you,” she whispered.
Carter smiled and gave her a small laugh.
“What?” she asked as she frowned in confusion.
“That Murder Mama shit is sexy,” he whispered. “You rode out for yo' man.”
“Always,” she replied with a laugh. He watched her as she gave him a mischievous grin and disappeared under the sheets. They had been apart for too long. She had to remind him of all the things about her that he loved so much. It was time for round two.
Â
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Monroe stared out of the window of the penthouse suite as he leaned his head against his forearm. The sun was rising indicating a new day, yet Monroe still hadn't let go of the old one. His mind was restless. Sleep didn't come easy for him these days and the beautiful servant massaging his shoulders did little to calm his worries. A constant burden rested on him. It was the cause of all of his tensions. No amount of rubbing would make those go away.
“Can I do anything for you?” the Arabian goddess asked sweetly.
Out of nowhere a voice responded. “You can remove your hands before you find yourself without any.”
The servant immediately let go of an astonished Monroe as he turned to see Leena's not so sweet face. Her scowl was harsh as she stood with her arms folded across her chest.
“Really?” she asked as she cocked her head to the side.
Monroe didn't justify her displeasure with a response. He rushed her, picking her up, his arms wrapped under her behind as he lifted her. His excitement couldn't be contained as he pushed her against the wall, knocking expensive French paintings to the floor. Their kiss sent them to another world as the servant stood awkwardly, watching them. She cleared her throat.
“Hmm, hmm.”
Monroe waved his hand, dismissing her without ever losing focus of Leena and the servant fled the room. As his hands explored her body, he realized he hadn't been homesick. Monroe had missed his woman. He lifted her skirt and ripped her panties as she fumbled with his pajama slacks.
He filled her up to capacity as he pulled back, moving her hair out of her face gently. Her mouth was slightly open and he slid his tongue inside as he made love to her against the wall.
“I missed you,” she whispered. “Oh God, I missed this.”
Monroe had so much anger, so much emotion, so much love, so much everything . . . built inside of him that he was more passionate than he had ever been with her. Monroe had left Miami on bad terms with Leena. They had fought, they had been beefed out when he had been forced to go on the run. Leaving her while they were in distress ate him up inside. He didn't like to leave loose ends untied and it had been weighing on him. The last time they had seen each other, hateful words had been spoken. He needed her to feel his love for her and he was trying to give it all to her in that moment. Her legs were wrapped around his waist and he pinned both wrists above her head, with one hand. He placed the other hand around her to pull her love into him. Her wetness soaked him as his hips went in and out. Leena was a prisoner to his stroke. At his mercy, she could do nothing but close her eyes and let him take her on the orgasmic high. Monroe moved from her lips to her neck, to her breasts, as he kneeled before her. He kissed her belly button, her stomach. She gasped. She held his head and braced herself because she knew where he was headed. He found her throbbing clit and took it between his moist lips. “I'm sorry,” he whispered. “I'm so sorry.”
Before he even said the words, all had been forgiven, but she didn't tell him that. She let him pour all of his woes into her as he licked and sucked her gently. “Agh,” she moaned. “Money, wait.”
“No baby, just cum,” he said.
Leena brought her knees up and pushed it into his chest, sending him onto his back. Straddling him in a Sixty-nine, she placed her flower back over his face as she eased his manhood into her mouth. She could taste her sweetness on his tongue as she pulled on him with her tongue. Deep, then shallow, then deep, and wet . . . oh so wet, until finally he reached his peak. He sucked her clit mercilessly as he pulled her hair, causing her to lift her head as his seed spilled. He knew she had gotten hers as well when he felt the tremble of her thighs.
She climbed off of him headed toward the bathroom. “Come shower with me?” she asked.
Monroe arose and followed her into the bathroom. The steam from the shower quickly filled the air as they stepped in together. “How are you here right now?” he asked.
“I could never stay away from you Money. I love you,” she said. She took the soap and squeezed some on a towel and began to wipe his broad chest.
“I'm sorry ma, about everything. I don't want to fight with you. This shit has eaten away at me since we left Miami. I couldn't reach out to you, couldn't hear your voice. The last time I saw you, we were yelling and saying shit that we should never say to each other. I love the shit out of you Leena. I want you to know that, every minute of every day. I just got ghost on you and I didn't know if you knew. I needed you to know . . .”
Monroe gripped the back of her neck as he spoke. Their faces, inches apart, their soapy bodies close. They just wanted to be one.
“I knew,” she replied in a husky whisper.
“No ma, you don't know,” he said as he looked in her eyes. “I can see it in your soul. You couldn't feel me. You didn't know because I didn't show you good enough. Marry me.”
“What?” she said as she pulled back.
“You heard me ma, I'm not speaking French,” he laughed.
“When?” she asked.
“Now,” Monroe replied. He eased her under the stream of water as the remnants of their lovemaking circled the drain. Cleansed and feeling pure Monroe didn't know if he was caught up in the emotion of their reunion or if this had been his plan all along. All he knew is that he wanted her to be his. He wanted her to know that what they shared was nothing less than authentic.
“Let's go,” he pulled her out of the shower. “I want to be married tonight by the time to sun sets you will be a Diamond,” he said.
“What? Money!” she exclaimed. “This is crazy! We can't do this. Not here.”
Monroe paused. “Is this what you want?”
Leena was suddenly breathless but her smile was infectious. “More than anything in the world.”