The Demise (2 page)

“‘We,' huh?” Murder asked with a chuckle. “That mu'fucka Carter must got the gift of gab. He be seducing all you simpleminded mu'fuckas. You ain't Cartel, homie. You better remember that.”

Fly knew that after Carter had discovered Miamor's name on his wrist, nothing could ever go back to being the same. He couldn't lie his way back into the inner circle. Fly Boogie's lust for Miamor had caused him to cross the line, and now his loyalty was questionable. Fly had taken a shot at Carter and missed … and although no one knew he was the man behind the gun, the tattoo had exposed him as snake. There was no coming back from that.

Over the years, he had forgotten about Murder's agenda and had developed one of his own. He had gotten so close to Carter that he respected him. It wasn't until the men had gone away to Saudi Arabia and Fly Boogie's feelings for Miamor grew that he developed malice for Carter. He wanted him out of the way, not for Murder's sake, but for his own. He had never thought twice about Murder catching up to him. Fly had thought Murder was somewhere rotting away in Miami, but when he reemerged in Las Vegas, Fly Boogie knew he had a debt to pay. He regretted the day that he had even agreed to infiltrate The Cartel, because now there was no taking it back.

 

C
HAPTER
2

“We've got to get out of here.” Panic was normally not a trait that Monroe Diamond possessed, but as he went to the door and peeked his head into the hall, an uneasiness took over the pit of his stomach. “Stay here,” Monroe said as he eased into the hall. He walked swiftly until he spotted an idle wheelchair. He was so paranoid, sweat covered his forehead. His anxiety made it feel like someone had turned the thermostat up a hundred degrees. He half-expected Baraka's goons to come through the door at any moment. He rushed back to the room and helped Carter out of the hospital bed. “Come on, fam. We've got to move,” Monroe said.

“Argh,” Carter groaned as pain erupted through his body. He put his arm around Monroe's shoulder, bearing his weight down on him, unable to stand. “I can't feel my legs, bro. I'm in no condition to run, Money.” He hadn't even made it to the hallway yet and already he was winded. Carter was hurt … bad.… They both knew that in his condition, he was a liability. “Truth is, I wouldn't run if I could, fam. If this is what it's come to, then let it be. There is no reason why we both have to die tonight, Money. Miamor is my bitch. This is my debt. Get out of here, bro.”

Monroe struggled to help Carter to the wheelchair at the foot of the bed. “Nah, bruh,” he huffed as he carried Carter's dead weight. “Ain't no selfless sacrifice shit happening tonight. We both getting out of here.” He adjusted Carter's feet and then took an anxious breath as he turned to retrieve the pistol from the hospital bed. “I know you fucked up right now, but that trigger finger still work, right?”

Carter grimaced, then answered, “Always.”

Monroe passed the burner to Carter, who laid it in his lap … safety off.…

Carter placed a small towel over his lap to conceal the gun as Monroe rolled him out of the room.

Monroe's head might as well have been sitting on a swivel. He couldn't help but keep his eyes bouncing around as he and Carter made their way down the hall. Baraka was in the States, which meant an entire Arabian army had made the trip with him. The Cartel was on the brink of a war. They had barely survived the beef with the Haitians, and now this. With Carter severely injured and Zyir in the wind, Monroe knew it was only a matter of time before everything they had worked so hard to get back to crumbled.

Monroe stood over Carter, clasping the handles to the wheelchair, impatience torturing him as the elevator slowly rose up to their floor.

The gun holstered at his waistline gave him little assurance, because he knew that when Baraka came, he was coming with soldiers. Two guns against armed assassins would do nothing to protect them. He and Carter were sitting ducks in the hospital. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as his internal alarm sounded. He was just waiting for someone to put a bullet in his back.

“You alright, bro?” he asked Carter.

“I'll be better when we're out of here,” Carter replied, grunting in obvious pain.

“Just hold on,” Monroe said as the elevator light finally illuminated. The doors opened, and Monroe hesitated when he saw two uniformed police officers standing inside. He hated pigs, but he stepped inside, easing the wheelchair in first. “Gentlemen,” he greeted them.

They nodded, but didn't respond as Monroe pressed the lobby button. Tension made the air thick, and Monroe cleared his throat as silence filled the space. It didn't matter that they had done nothing wrong. They were the bad guys. The drug dealers. The kingpins. In the presence of the law they were always under a microscope. The elevator descended to a stop at the fifth floor, and Monroe clenched his jaw.
I just want to get out of this mu'fucka,
he thought, anxiety filling him. When the doors opened, his back stiffened as he stared into the eyes of two men. He knew right away they were Baraka-affiliated. It wasn't their black hair or their olive skin that gave them away. It wasn't even the traditional Middle Eastern cloaks they wore, but the look of vengeance in their eyes.

“Money, this is our floor,” Carter said weakly, instantly recognizing the threat as well.

“Not quite, we're almost there,” Monroe stated, refusing to get off the elevator. He knew the men couldn't pop off with the two officers around. The safest place to be was wherever those officers were … or so he thought. The Arab men stepped inside, stone-faced, and as soon as the doors closed …

PSST! PSST!

Two silenced shots floored the officers before Monroe even had a chance to draw his pistol. Moments of life flashed before Monroe's eyes as he stared down the dark barrels of the gun. This was it. After reigning over Miami, transitioning to Vegas, prison, evading the law, surviving a coma … this was how it was going to end. The day of reckoning had arrived. He placed a firm hand on Carter's shoulder, who sat stoically. They weren't the type of men to beg … to fear.… They had lived their lives a certain way … followed the rules to a gangster's code. Now they had to die according to it, and even in the face of the devil, gangsters didn't fold. Monroe could feel his heart beating rapidly as he anticipated the final bullet.

“See you on the other side, brother,” Carter said.

Suddenly the doors to the elevator slid open.

BOOM! BOOM!

Aries stood, gun smoking, still aimed as she breathed heavily from the adrenaline pumping through her veins. The hospital erupted into a frenzy. She hadn't hesitated. There had been no time to silence her weapon. If she had thought twice, Monroe and Carter would be dead. “You gon' get your asses out of the elevator or you gon' stand there looking crazy?” Aries asked urgently as she looked around. “Baraka's goons are everywhere. We've got an ambulance waiting in emergency. We have to go … NOW!”

Monroe had never been so happy to see Aries's murderous face in his life. “I could kiss you right now,” he muttered as he followed her down the hall.

“Please don't,” she shot back with a smirk.

She rounded the corner only to halt at the sight of Baraka's men entering the building. There was nothing incognito about them. They came in, guns drawn, as if they made the laws themselves. “This way,” she said, turning around and running in the opposite direction. The lights suddenly went out, and chaos erupted. Gunfire exploded, and bullets flew their way. The Arabs were reckless in their assault. It didn't matter that they were in public, or that there were innocent bystanders all around. They had declared war on The Cartel. Aries ran as Monroe tried to maneuver Carter through the hospital while people ran for cover.

Monroe suddenly stopped running. “Fuck it. If it's gonna happen, I won't get clipped with a bullet to the back. Get him out of here. I'll cover you,” he stated.

“Money, no,” Carter whispered weakly as his head hung low, his chin touching his chest.

Aries knew if she had to make a choice, she would have to save Carter. Miamor would never forgive her if she let him die.

“Ain't no time for thinking. Go!” Money stated. He reached down and grabbed the gun out of Carter's lap and then quickly unholstered his own. With a pistol in each hand he rounded the corner and popped off, firing bullets as he diverted the Arabs' attention. Monroe went left, going in the opposite direction as Aries hustled her ass out of there, pushing Carter swiftly down the hall. She burst through the emergency room doors. The ambulance they had hijacked was waiting there, engine running.

“Miamor!” she yelled. “Help me!” Aries rushed to the back of the vehicle and pulled the doors open. Her heart dropped when she found Miamor sitting at gunpoint at the hands of a hired Arabian goon.

“Shoot him!” Miamor shouted.

The man shouted something in Arabic as he pointed his gun at Miamor's temple while holding her in a choke hold.

“Kill him, Aries! Shoot him! Now!” Miamor shouted.

the man barked his orders, and although Aries didn't understand them, she clearly read the look of malice in his eyes. He was ready to commit murder. She had already lost so many of her friends. She didn't want to see Miamor get her brains blown out in front of her. She straightened her trigger finger and let the gun dangle from it as she raised both arms.

“Aries!” Miamor shouted. The man pointed his gun at Aries, and just as his finger curled on the trigger, Carter pulled the gun out of Aries's back waistline. He was weak, but he was always accurate. He fired.

BOOM!

The man's body jerked violently as a bullet to the forehead sent him flying onto his back. Miamor rushed to Carter's side, kneeling before him as she cupped his face, kissing him repeatedly. “I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, Carter.” The way that they nuzzled into each other's space reminded Aries of two lions. Each of them was powerful in their own right, but they were each other's weakness.

“Feels like I'm dying, ma,” he whispered. His words sent a chill down her spine, and a tear fell down her cheek.

“I won't let that happen, baby, I swear,” she said.

“Let's get him up here,” Aries said, interrupting the moment, as the sounds of gunshots and police sirens broke through the air.

Miamor and Aries struggled to lift Carter into the ambulance without hurting him. “Agh! Fuck! Take it easy!” he shouted in pain as they managed to get him inside. Miamor climbed into the back of the ambulance as Aries rushed to the driver's seat.

“Money's still inside,” Carter said as they pulled away from the curb. “Don't move this fucking ambulance without my brother!”

“We have to, Carter,” Miamor whispered. “There are too many of them. If we go back in…”

Miamor stopped talking because they both knew what was happening. They were about to lose another Diamond. She gripped Carter's hand, and it didn't go unnoticed when he didn't squeeze hers back. Miamor was the cause of all of this. She knew it. So did he. Their entire empire was in jeopardy. This war was her fault.

*   *   *

Carter struggled to breathe as he attempted to stand up out of the wheelchair.

“No, Carter, you have to sit,” Miamor urged as she steadied him just in the nick of time. He couldn't make it from the wheelchair to his desk. He was hurt bad and sweating profusely. “You're trying to do too much. Just tell me what you need.”

“Call Monroe,” he ordered.

“Okay, okay,” Miamor replied as she immediately dialed the number.

Carter took three deep breaths and then managed to pull himself to his feet as he walked through the penthouse suite toward his office. It felt like he was running a marathon. His heart and lungs burned as if he were in full sprint.

“Carter! No!” Miamor said as she brought the wheelchair up behind him and he eased back into it. He was so weak; it was humbling and frustrating all at the same time. He wasn't running anything, not in his current state.