The Cartel (4 page)

Breeze graced the church aisle as if it were a runway. All eyes were on her as she paused midstep. She knew that her life had been changed forever. Her Poppa, comparable to none, was the man of her dreams, and she didn’t want to let him go. She stepped up to the casket as she fought to keep her pain under control. But as soon as she touched his cold skin, she lost it. Against her will, a small cry escaped her lips, and a fountain of tears cascaded down her precious face. She leaned over her father, gripping his hand, and silently prayed for God to take care of his soul. The sight of her so broken-down caused the attendees to break down as well. Her collapse signaled the collapse of the entire church, and wailing could be heard throughout.

Mecca went to her side, to get her to let go of Carter’s hand. “Come on, B.” He gently rubbed her hair and lifted her head. “Don’t hold your head down. Poppa wouldn’t have that.” He smiled at her gorgeous face, and she gave him a weak nod of agreement as she finally left her father’s casket and sat with the rest of her family.

Just as the pastor took his place at the podium, the church doors clanged open. Gasps rang out throughout the church as all eyes focused on the young man who stood in the doorway. Speculative whispers traveled throughout the pews as everyone watched the young man walk down the aisle. From his skin tone, to his confident stride and striking features, he was identical to the man they were there to bury, and one would be able to guess without reading the tattooed name on his neck that he was Carter Diamond’s son. It was almost unnatural the resemblance that the two shared.

Mecca’s eyes followed the man as he approached the front of the church. “Fuck is that?” he hissed.

“The nigga looks just like Poppa,” Money commented in amazement.

“Mommy?” Breeze looked at her mother.

But Taryn needed no explanation. She knew exactly who the young man was. He was Carter Jones, her husband’s illegitimate son.

Polo leaned into her and whispered, “Taryn, I have something to tell you. Carter didn’t mean to—”

Without taking her eyes off the young man, she said, “Don’t worry about it, Polo. No need for you to explain. I know who he is.”

Carter felt the questioning glares of the people surrounding him. He stopped in the middle of the church and stared at the casket up front. His heartbeat was so rapid that he felt sick to his stomach.
I shouldn’t be here,
he thought.

Just as he turned to leave, four men with long dreadlocks entered the room. They were the only ones wearing black. Carter frowned at their blatant disrespect. They bumped him violently as they walked past, but Carter let it ride as he turned his head and watched them continue down the aisle.

Mecca’s temper immediately flared. He reached in his waistline for a pistol that wasn’t there. “Fuck!” he whispered as he began to stand.

Polo grabbed his arm to halt him. “Wait a minute,” he stated. “This is a part of the game.” Polo didn’t expect the Haitians to make their presence felt at the funeral. He had underestimated their coldness.

The church was silent as everyone waited to see how things would play out. It was no secret that the Haitians were responsible for Carter’s death. The dreadheads walked up to the casket and stood silently with their heads down, as if they were in prayer.

Taryn gripped her sons’ hands and let out a sigh of relief.

“See,” Polo said, “they’re only here to represent the Haitians. They’re just showing respect for the deceased. We gon’ handle that, just not here.”

Before the words could reach Taryn’s ears, she was in an uproar as she watched the Haitians hawk up huge gobs of spit and release them on her husband’s body, defiling Carter’s corpse.

“Hawk … twah!”

“Hawk … twah!”

Breeze watched in disbelief as the Haitians raised their feet and forcefully kicked the casket off the table, causing the body to roll out onto the floor. Carter’s head hit the floor hard, causing a loud crack to pierce the air, and the attendees gasped in horror.

Polo, Mecca, and Monroe sprung into action, with the rest of The Cartel behind them.

“Poppa!” Breeze shouted as she rushed toward the front of the church to retrieve her father’s corpse from the floor.

Taryn yelled in alarm, “Breeze!” as she watched her daughter head toward the mayhem.

Suddenly, bullets from an AK echoed throughout the church,
Tat, tat, tat, tat, tat, tat!,
little flashes of fire kissing the air, and was followed by the sound of people screaming and running for the exit.

Breeze didn’t care about the gunfire. She just wanted to get to her father. But before she could reach him, one of the Haitian gunmen snatched her up.

Taryn yelled, “Breeze!”

Carter looked in horror at the front of the church. He recognized the young girl from pictures that he had been sent when he was younger.
She’s my sister,
he thought as he pulled out his .45 without hesitation.

He stood up and scrambled to get between the screaming people as he aimed his gun and released one shot. His bullet hit its intended target, and the man holding Breeze dropped instantly.

Carter’s clip was quickly emptied as the gun battle continued. He was clearly outnumbered, but that didn’t stop him from reaching in his ankle holster and pulling out his 9 mm pistol as the three remaining Haitians shot recklessly, clearing a path to leave the church. Using his natural instinct for survival, he picked up the body of the dead Haitian and wrapped his arm around his neck, putting him in a chokehold from behind. The deadweight was heavy, but it was the only way for him to shield his body from the bullets being sent his way.

Carter yelled, “Y’all niggas wanna clap?” and shot his nine with one hand, while moving toward the Haitians, who were now headed for the door.

Carter’s gun spit hollow-points toward the Haitians as the dead body in front of him absorbed his enemy’s fire.
POW! POW!

Just as he reached the exit door, one of the Haitians yelled, “Me going to kill you, muthafucka!” And the three remaining Haitians made a run for it.

Carter continued to shoot until he was sure they left the building. Once he was positive that everyone was safe, he dropped the dead Haitian to the floor and let off his last round into his skull. “Bitch nigga!” He hawked up a huge glob and spat directly in the dead man’s face, returning the favor on behalf of his dead father.

He rushed over to Breeze’s side. Rocking back and forth, she was holding on to her father’s dead body and crying hysterically.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Get the fuck away from her. We don’t know you, mu'-fucka!” Mecca stated harshly as he pulled Breeze off the ground. Her head fell into his chest as he walked her away.

Polo looked around at the carnage inside of the sanctuary. A couple people had been injured, and the church was destroyed. “We’ve got to get the fuck out of here,” Polo stated. “How did they get in?” Polo yelled in anger. He patted the Young Carter on the back. “Come on, let’s go before the police show. Follow me back to your father’s house.”

A look of surprise crossed Carter’s face.

“Yeah, I know you’re his son, but right now that’s the least of my worries. Just follow me back to the house. We need to talk.” With those words, Polo escorted the family out of the church, and they darted inside of the limo.

The Haitians had sent a clear message—They were out for blood, and they weren’t going to stop until The Cartel was out of commission.

“Brother or not, next time homeboy step to me like that, I’m-a rock his ass to sleep.”

—Young Carter

T
he Diamond family sat in their living room along with Polo and Young Carter. The room was quiet; no one knew what to say. Taryn’s and Breeze’s eyes were puffy because of all the crying they had been doing, the horrific images of their loved one being kicked out of his casket haunting their thoughts.

Mecca’s Armani shoes thumped the marble floor as he paced the room back and forth, totally enraged, two twin Desert Eagle handguns in his hands. The Haitians had shown the ultimate sign of disrespect and was sending a clear message that they were trying to take over Miami. In fact, it was Carter’s decision to not cut the Haitians in on his operation that ultimately led to his assassination.

Polo stood up and slowly walked to the window. He looked in the front and saw henchmen, all strapped, scattered around the house to ensure their safety. With the Haitians merciless tactics, he didn’t underestimate them. He saw the fire in Mecca’s eyes and tried to calm him.

“We have to keep our heads on straight. These niggas are going hard at us. The Cartel still runs Miami, remember that! We have to retaliate to get our backs out of the corner.” Polo removed the suit jacket that rested on his black silk shirt.

“Fuck that! Let’s get at they ass, guns blazin'! I don’t give a fuck no more!” Mecca screamed, a single tear sliding down his cheek.

Money stared into space without blinking. He was in complete shock. The death of his father was very hard on him. He remained silent as his twin brother let out his frustrations. He couldn’t come to grips with his father’s death.

Money snapped out of his daze and looked over at Young Carter. It was obvious that he was his brother. He looked so much like Carter, it was unbelievable. Young Carter had thick, dark eyebrows just like his father, and he even shared his tall, lean frame. His mannerisms were even the same. He watched as Young Carter rested his index finger on his temple while in deep thought, just as his father used to do.

It hurt his heart that his father had an illegitimate child. The perfect image that he had of his father was somewhat tarnished by the news.
How could this nigga be my brother? Daddy wouldn’t step out on Momma like that,
Money thought as he stared at Young Carter.

Taryn noticed Money staring and decided to address the issue. She knew that there were other things to worry about and wanted to explain the complex situation. With tears still streaming down her face, she stood up. “I want you guys to meet Carter Jones … your brother.” Taryn rested her hand on Young Carter’s shoulder.

Breeze lifted her head in confusion. She looked at her mother and then to Young Carter. “What?” she managed to murmur. She couldn’t believe what her mother was telling them. The words were like daggers to her heart. She was so busy grieving, she didn’t even notice how closely Young Carter resembled her Poppa.

As she looked at Young Carter, she couldn’t believe her eyes. She just thought that he was one of The Cartel’s henchmen. He looked like a younger version of her father.
Oh my God,
she thought as she placed her hand over her mouth.

Mecca came closer to Young Carter and stared him in the face while saying harshly, “This ain’t my fuckin’ brother. He ain’t a mu’fuckin’ Diamond!” Mecca gripped his pistols tighter, refusing to believe the obvious.

Young Carter returned the cold stare at Mecca, not backing down whatsoever, but he still remained silent. Young Carter was respectful because he was aware that his presence presented a conflict to the Diamond family, but he wasn’t about to back down from anyone. And the way Mecca was gripping his pistols caused Young Carter’s street senses to kick in. He slowly slid his hand to his waist, where his own banger rested. He stood up so that Mecca wouldn’t be standing over him. Young Carter was a bit taller than Mecca, so he looked down on him, not saying a word.

“Mecca, he is your brother! Sit down and let me explain,” Taryn yelled, trying to reason. She rushed over to Mecca as the two men stared at each other intensely. “Mecca!”

“Fall back, bro,” Money said as he stood up.

Mecca jumped at Young Carter as if he was about to hit him, but Young Carter didn’t budge. Not even a blink. Young Carter grinned, knowing that Mecca was trying to size him up.

“That’s enough!” Polo made his way over to them.

Young Carter kissed Taryn on the cheek and whispered, “Sorry if I caused any more heartache. I didn’t come here for this.” And before Taryn could even respond, he was headed for the door.

“Yo, wait!” Polo said as he followed Young Carter out.

“Let that bitch-ass nigga go!” Mecca yelled as he continued to pace the room.

It took all of Young Carter’s willpower not to get at Mecca, but he figured that he would give him a pass for now.

Polo caught up to Young Carter just before he exited the house. “Yo, youngblood, hold up a minute.”

“There’s no need for me to be here. I don’t know why I even came to this mu’fucka anyway,” Young Carter stated, an incredulous look on his face.

“Listen”—Polo placed his hand on Carter’s shoulder, trying to convince him to stay—“Mecca has a lot on his mind right now. The family really needs you.”

“Look, fam, I ain’t got shit to do with them. I just came to pay my respects and keep it pushing, nah mean? Brother or not, next time homeboy step to me like that, I’m-a rock his ass to sleep.” Carter clenched his jaw.

Polo took a deep breath and saw that Carter was noticeably infuriated, but kept his composure out of respect. Young Carter reminded Polo of his late best friend in so many ways. Polo looked into Carter’s eyes and said, “Just give me a minute to talk to—”

Carter cut him off mid-sentence, not wanting to hear any more. “Look, I’ll be at the Marriott off South Beach until tomorrow night.” With that, he left Polo standing there alone.

“They were willing to murk women, children, hustlers, the good, the bad, and the ugly. It didn’t matter, anybody could get it, if the price was right.”

—Unknown

C
arter flipped through the different denominations of bills as he diligently counted the cash that he had just acquired from his flip. After the drama he had experienced during his father’s funeral, the business he handled in Atlanta made the trip better for him. He would now leave the Dirty South $180,000 richer.
This was definitely worth the trip,
he thought to himself as he admired the hood riches that lay scattered across the hotel bed.