The Cartel 3: The Last Chapter (20 page)

At that moment, Murder was on his way to meet Mecca at a warehouse, and the Murder Mamas were in the air headed home. On that day, Murder was supposed to meet Zyir and Carter for the first time. Murder questioned his willpower. He was not sure that he would be able to handle seeing Carter without reaching for his gun and going all out. Only time would tell.

Murder took a deep breath and whispered, “I love you, Miamor,” as if she were in the car with him. Deep in his heart, he was confident that she could hear him.

As Murder pulled into the warehouse where Mecca had directed him to meet them, he took a deep breath to prepare
himself. It was an old steel factory on the outskirts of Miami. The Diamond family owned the property, so it looked as if it was a shut down establishment, but it was where the bricks were stored and shipments were dropped off.

Murder stepped out of the car, and moments later, a Lamborghini pulled up behind him, shining its lights on him. Murder blocked his eyes and tried to see who the driver was. It wasn’t until Mecca killed the lights and the butterfly-style door arose that Murder saw who it was.

“What’s up, fam?” Mecca asked as he approached Murder.

Murder instinctively clenched his jaws as his hatred for Mecca surfaced once again. Murder caught himself and calmed down before Mecca got close enough to read the expression on his face. Niggas like Mecca could sense larceny, so Murder had to be sure to keep his temper in check at all times.

“What’s good?” Murder said between clenched teeth. He shook Mecca’s hand and put on a fake smile just before Mecca led him into the warehouse.

Carter and Zyir were already there, counting money and loading duffel bags with the bricks so that they could be distributed to their blocks. They had been there for over an hour and had parked in the back out of sight.

As Murder walked in, he had to stop his mouth from hitting the floor. He had never seen so many kilos of cocaine in his life. It was then that he knew that The Cartel was much more than street legend. They were the real deal.

Having Carter, Zyir, and Mecca in one place at the same time, he thought about taking them out right there. But he quickly changed his tune when he saw the arsenal of automatic weapons sitting on the table near the money.

“What took you so long?”Carter asked as he thumbed through the hundred dollar bills without looking up.

Zyir frowned when he saw the man following Mecca. “Fuck is this new nigga?” Zyir asked, not one to hold his tongue.

“I had to make a stop, but check it. This is my man I was telling you about. This nigga is on some Jet Li type shit with the pistols. He’s nice,” Mecca bragged.

“Word?” Carter said as he stood from the table to shake Murder’s hand. Mecca had told Carter and Zyir about Murder, and they needed an enforcer, so they had wanted to meet him. But when Carter shook Murder’s hand, he felt that something was off. Call it a hustler’s intuition; the handshake wasn’t right, the eye contact was too stiff, and Murder’s body language didn’t match his facial expression.

“Murder, this is Carter. Carter, Murder,” Mecca said, introducing the two men that both loved Miamor to the bone.

“What’s up?” Carter said.

“‘Sup family?” Murder returned.

“And this is Zyir. He handles everything on the street level,” Mecca said. Zyir was so busy counting the money that he didn’t even properly greet Murder. Zyir just glanced at him briefly and nodded his head.

Carter didn’t say anything then, but he made a mental note to tell Mecca to ditch the new nigga. He didn’t get a good vibe from him, and rightfully so, because Murder wanted all of them dead.

“Yo, let’s wrap this up. I got to make a move,” Carter said, trying to cut the night short. He didn’t feel comfortable around Murder and wanted him gone.

Zyir picked up on Carter’s vibe and agreed. Mecca was slipping, and Carter was going to tell him about himself later.

The next day, Mecca had a talk with Carter, and he instantly cut off Murder. They also shut down that location as a dropoff and pick-up spot. Carter didn’t know if Murder was a fed or an enemy, but he knew one thing: he could never be a part of The Cartel

“The Cartel runs this city, not y’all. You work for us!”

—Zyir

Breeze paced the spacious room back and forth, trying not to think about the subject that overwhelmed her thoughts. She was battling her conscience, and also the pain that was in the pit of her stomach. Heroin was calling for her, and she was on the brink of answering.

No, Breeze, you can’t. I can fight this shit,
she thought as she clutched her stomach and fell to her knees in pain. The pain that shot through her stomach was almost unbearable as she collapsed to all fours and began to cry.

Breeze couldn’t understand what was going on with her body. She had never had an itch so bad, and whether she knew it or not, she was going through withdrawal. She was so used to getting dope shot into her veins on a daily basis that the first time her body went without it, it became excruciating. She kept thinking about what her father would say if he saw her in the state that she was in at that moment.

Breeze stood to her feet and took a deep breath while still clenching her stomach. She was ashamed of what she was about to do, but she couldn’t help it. She had to shoot the magic into her veins immediately. She had to. She craved the warm sensation that the dope had when it crawled up her veins after injecting it. She kept thinking about how good it
would make her feel, and that thought alone was almost orgasmic. She had spent the last fifteen minutes going back and forth, hoping that she would have enough willpower to fight the urge. However, when that monkey is on a person’s back, all logic goes out the window.

Breeze quickly rushed to Zyir’s room and began to search through his drawers, trying to find any money she could. She ran across a rubber band full of hundreds, and immediately clipped two of the crisp bills. She then rushed to the front room and grabbed Zyir’s car keys. She was out the door and on her way to the trap to cop a fix.

Breeze cruised the streets, searching for a dope boy to serve her a fix. She had on a jogging suit with house shoes on her feet as she pushed the new model Benz down the street. Before, she would never have been caught looking anything less than glamorous, but now it was a different story. She was no longer street royalty. She was just a junkie looking for a fix. She was a completely different person than she once was, and life had taken a toll on her.

She pulled onto a side street that was known for drug trafficking and parked her car. She noticed a group of young thugs posted on a stoop and waved one of them over. All eyes were on Breeze as she posted on the block and waited for the young hustler to approach her car. Breeze was fidgety and anxious as she tapped her wheel repeatedly, waiting for the guy to approach. “What’s up, ma?” the hustler asked as he bent his head down and licked his lips.

“What’s up? You got some ‘boy’?” Breeze asked, cutting straight to the point while clenching her stomach.

The young thug squinted his eyes and recognized Breeze when he looked closer. He couldn’t believe what she was asking
him for. Here she was, the daughter of Carter Diamond, sister of the most ruthless gangster, and the dream girl for any dope boy that ever laid eyes on her, and she was looking to cop some dope from him. He instantly knew that she was craving dope from her body language.

“What?” he asked, thinking he had heard her wrong.

“You heard me. Do you got some or not?” she demanded again, but this time she pulled out a hundred dollar bill from her bra. The hustler couldn’t believe what she was asking, and he knew that her brother would not appreciate him serving Breeze, so he stepped back and shook his head.

Breeze smacked her lips and put up her middle finger as she began to look past him, searching for a willing hustler.

“You know I can’t do that. This is Mecca and Zyir’s territory, ma. You can’t do that,” he said, trying to put her up on game without getting disrespectful. He knew that the dope he had in his pocket came from The Cartel, and to give it to Breeze would be straight up violating.

“Nigga, fuck what you talking about? You just scared, that’s all,” Breeze said as she waved him off, dismissing him like a flunky. At that point, she bruised the young hustler’s ego, and it noticeably got to him.

“I’m not scared of yo’ peoples, believe that. I just ain’t for the bullshit that comes along with this,” he responded.

“Like I said, you scared,” Breeze said as she realized that her words were getting him upset. Breeze was smart enough to know that when a man’s ego is bruised, it’ll make him do things he usually would not do. In this case, he played right into Breeze’s hand.

“Look, ma, I ain’t scared of no damn body. I just—”

“You just a pussy,” Breeze interrupted as she waved the hundred dollar bill in the air. The hustler looked around and then reached into the car, snatching the money out of
Breeze’s hand. He then dug into his pocket and pulled out two packs of dope and tossed it on her lap.

“There you go. Fuck it,” he said as he stood back up, feeling like a big man.

Breeze’s eyes went directly to her lap and on the packs. Her eyes lit up and her anxiety went into overdrive as she anticipated what was to happen next. She couldn’t wait to get back to Zyir’s house. She wanted to shoot up immediately.

“Yo, is it somewhere I can take my medicine?” Breeze asked as she turned off the car and looked at the hustler.

“Yeah, up there,” he said as he threw his head in the direction of the house behind him. “Just go through the back and then you can do your thing in there,” he said, feeling like a big man now that he had served her.

Before he could complete his sentence, Breeze was out of the car and headed to the back of the house. All of the hustlers looked at her as she passed as if she were crazy. They looked at her nice body and the jogging pants that hugged her petite behind.

Breeze went to the back of the house and entered. The foul smell of blood and body odor filled the air as Breeze made her way through the shooting gallery, a nickname junkies gave a residence where users went to shoot their dope. Breeze walked through the house and saw different people scattered throughout the studio-style place, all using their preferred drug.

She stepped over a man that was laid out on the floor in a deep nod and found a table that was in the far corner. She quickly sat down and pulled out her two packs. She reached into her purse and got a shooter, also known as a syringe, and began to set up. Once she melted down the drug and got everything in order, she was ready to take the mystical train to cloud nine. As she filled the syringe with the smack, she felt her vagina get wet as if she were about to have sex with her
dream man; however, the only thing that was about to go into her was a needle filled with heroin.

She pulled off the jacket to her jogging suit and grabbed a belt that someone had left on the table. She tied the belt around her arm and fastened it as tightly as she could. She put the end of the belt in between her teeth to keep the tension. She slowly pushed up the syringe to eject the water that was at the tip, and prepared to put it into the big green vein that had formed on her forearm. She slid the syringe into her vein and slowly ejected herself with the dope.

She instantly became relaxed, and a small smile formed on her face as her eyes closed. Drool began to creep out of the left side of her mouth as she slumped into the chair. Within seconds, she had slipped into a deep nod, and all her pain was temporarily taken away from her.

Unbeknownst to Breeze, another hustler by the name of Scoot had known about the relationship Zyir and Breeze once shared, and he immediately called his mentor to tell him that Breeze was inside of the dope house shooting up. Scoot knew that once Zyir or Mecca found out that Breeze had been served on one of The Cartel’s blocks, it would be hell to pay. That’s exactly why Scoot called Zyir to notify him, hoping he would be saving his own ass.

Zyir sped down the street with Illiana in the passenger’s seat. Their lunch date was cut short by a phone call Zyir had received moments ago. “Can’t believe this shit,” Zyir whispered as he maneuvered through traffic, trying to get to Breeze. Illiana sat in the passenger’s seat with her hands crossed over her chest tightly. She had a major attitude, and the way that Zyir cared for Breeze had her jealous.

“Just let her be,” Illiana said as she rolled her eyes at Zyir. He shot a look over to Illiana that said much more than words
could describe. Basically, if looks could kill, Illiana would have been dead right then and there.

Zyir pulled onto the block, turning the corner almost on two wheels. He stepped out of the car and began yelling. “Where she at?” he asked no one in particular.

Everyone pointed to the house, and Zyir quickly entered his dope house and scanned the room. What he saw in the corner broke his heart. Breeze was nodding, with a syringe stuck in her arm.

“No, Breeze … no,” Zyir whispered as he slowly walked over to Breeze. She was so high she didn’t even know that he was there. Zyir reached Breeze and dropped to his knees so he could be eye level with her. He slowly took the syringe out of her arm and forcefully threw it across the room in anger. He then grabbed Breeze by the face and lightly smacked her, trying to wake her up.

“Wake up, beautiful. It’s time to go,” he said as his heart ached. Seeing Breeze high was one of the worst things he could ever endure. He loved Breeze, and he refused to let her continue down the path of destruction.

“Breeze!” he called again.

“Hey, Zyir,” she said in a slurred voice, barely opening her eyes. She smiled goofily because the drug had her in a total daze, and her body was completely relaxed.

“Come on, baby,” he said as he picked her up and headed out the door. Zyir kissed Breeze on the forehead gently as she kept nodding uncontrollably.

“Open the door,” he ordered to Illiana. She rolled her eyes and got out to do as he requested.

Zyir slid Breeze into the back seat and then closed the door. Zyir immediately pulled out his gun and made his way to the stoop where the hustlers were posted.