The Demise (27 page)

Sam drew her weapon and approached Miamor cautiously. Miamor got on her feet, causing Sam to stop momentarily. Even unarmed, Miamor's reputation implanted fear into others. “Miamor Jones, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.…”

Miamor didn't resist as Sam cuffed her. She simply accepted that it was the end of an era. It had been a hell of a ride. She had loved, lost, cried tears of joy and pain. This was it. She always thought she would go out in a hail of gunfire, but she didn't want that. She had lived her entire life that way. She wanted her son to be able to come and see her face should he choose to visit. He couldn't do that if she was lying in a grave somewhere, so instead of going out like a G, she simply complied. She tuned Sam out as she read off her rights and then stuffed her into the back of the squad car. She was sure that Carter would do his best to get her off. There would be lawyers, bribes, a lengthy trial … he would spare no expense on her behalf, but the confident look in Sam's eyes let Miamor know that the government's case was airtight. She wasn't being prosecuted for just her crimes; she would have the entire Cartel's history of violence on her back. They were going to fry her and she would let them, because as long as they convicted her, they couldn't convict Carter. It was a great sacrifice for a great man who had shown her the greatest love of all. She owed him this.

*   *   *

By the time Carter arrived, Miamor was gone. He climbed out of the car, among the crowd of reporters who were questioning the agents about what was being dubbed “The Drug Bust of the Century.” The feds had
his
bricks of cocaine lined up, showboating the arrest. Carter scanned the place desperately looking for Miamor, but in his heart he knew it was too late. She was gone, and there was nothing he could do about it. Carter gritted his teeth and slid back into the cab, conceding defeat. In the blink of an eye, his entire world had changed. Just yesterday he had felt on top of the world. He had had everything, their entire futures mapped out in his head. He had just learned a vital lesson: Tomorrow wasn't promised, and loyalty among men was scarce. After this day, for him, life would never be the same.

*   *   *

Monroe heard the sirens first. They were in the distance, probably held up at his armed gate, but he knew they wouldn't be stalled for long. They had come to arrest him … to crumble the empire that had started with his father.

“Daddy, that's the police,” Mo said.

“Yeah, son, come here,” Monroe said as he got down on one knee in front of his child. “I want you to always remember that I love you, son. I love you more than the air in my lungs. You're a Diamond, and Diamonds are forever. You keep that in your mind. We don't fold, son. We don't follow. You're a king. You're bred from kings. Don't cry. Stay strong. Be a man of your word. Be smart. Trust no one but family, and always know that I'm with you. I'm with you even when I'm not with you because I'm in here,” Monroe said as he pointed to his son's heart. The sirens drew closer, and Monroe had to pinch the bridge of his nose in order to stop himself from becoming emotional. “You understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Mo answered, sticking his chest out slightly in pride.

“I love you, son.”

“I love you, too, Daddy,” Mo replied.

“Now go into my bedroom. Put the code into the panic room and stay inside. Don't come out until your auntie Breeze comes for you and don't look at the screens on the walls, Mo. You a man of your word, right?” Monroe asked.

His son nodded. His eyes teared.

“Don't cry, son. I'm in there … always,” Monroe stressed, pointing at his son's chest. He pulled his son in for a hug and then kissed the top of his head before pushing him toward the room. He pulled out his cell phone and speed-dialed Breeze. She answered on the first ring.

“B, I don't have much time. The feds are here. I need you to come get Mo. He's in the panic room. He's not coming out until you get here,” Monroe said.

“Money, wait, you're talking too fast … the feds? What are you—?”

“Just come get my son, B!” he said urgently. “Take care of him. I love you.” Money ended the call and then rushed into his office. He loosened his tie and paced nervously, placing his hands on his head in distress. He wished he could lie down and take the time that they were trying to throw at him, but he refused to let them take away more years of his life. They had done that once before. He had told himself once he got out that he was never going back inside. Street legends always died on the throne. His father had died that way. Now, he would, too. He rushed to his safe and pulled out an AK–47 with the hundred-round drum. He was a one-man army. Money wished this didn't have to play out in front of his son, but it was now or never. The feds were at his front door. If they took him into custody, he knew he would never see another free day in his life. He refused to live on his knees. He would die on his throne before he allowed himself to become a slave to the system. He gritted his teeth as he fought the feelings of anxiety that filled his belly. He made sure he was locked and loaded before walking slowly down the steps. He looked around, knowing that it would be the last time he would see this home. It was the place where he had grown up. The Diamond estate. It was the castle that Carter Diamond had built for his children. Monroe wouldn't disrespect it by having a gunfight inside. He stepped outside on the front porch and walked out into the middle of the circular drive. Flashing red and blue lights approached. As many agents as they sent, you would think they were coming to take down a giant. In a sense, they were. Monroe was a street king. He would not be defeated easily. His ego wouldn't allow it to happen that way. They pulled up a hundred yards away from him and filtered out of their cars.

“Monroe Diamond! I have a warrant for your arrest!” one of them shouted.

He didn't hesitate. He sprayed.

RAT TAT TAT TAT TAT TAT TAT.

The AK–47 thundered as he rained bullets down on them. The kickback from the powerful weapon was so strong that he had to brace himself as he gritted his teeth while curling his finger on the trigger. Glass shattered as he shot out the agents' car windows. They cowered under gunfire and quickly returned with some of their own. Even with the high-powered weapon, he was outgunned. There was only one of him; there were a couple dozen of them and they were firing at him from all directions.

The first bullet that hit him took his breath away as a burning sensation spread through his chest. The impact of the bullet knocked him to his knees, but he never let go of the gun. He gritted his teeth as the taste of blood filled his mouth.

“Put down the weapon! Put it down!” the feds shouted as they aimed their weapons at him. He spit the blood out of his mouth, but it was futile. It only filled up more.

“Agh!!!” Monroe screamed in anger. He stood to his feet. “You can't kill me! I'm the king of Miami! This is my shit!”

He staggered to his feet and hugged the trigger, spraying bullets everywhere. “Muthafuckas!” Bullets riddled the police cars that sat on the front lawn. The federal agents tried to show restraint as they cowered behind their cars, but Monroe wasn't letting up. He had a chopper and if they wanted to come for him, he wasn't going peacefully. Eventually they returned fire. It was like the Wild Wild West in his front yard.

“Daddy!”

Monroe heard Mo's voice and he turned around, bloody, wounded, as he stared into his son's eyes. He held his head high as he watched tears slide down his son's face. “Diamonds are forever. I'm in here,” he said as he hit his chest proudly with his free hand. The fear that registered on Mo's face broke Monroe's heart. He never wanted his son to see this part of the game. This was the part that tainted young boys … this was the ugly part of it all, but it was too late. Mo was witnessing that gangster shit.

The agents used this distraction and fired relentlessly as Monroe's body jerked left, then right from the impact of the bullets. They shot Monroe down as if he were a rabid dog, right in front of his seed, who stood watching it all, in horrified shock.

Monroe felt his life slipping. It felt as if he were drowning, but his eyes never left his son's. He saw himself in Mo. His life played out like a movie in front of him. He saw his parents. He remembered how he had looked up to his father. He had wanted to be just like him, and now, in the last moments of his life, he realized he was. He had died because of the game … a game where there were no wins for anyone. It wasn't what Big Carter had wanted for his children, especially one as intelligent as Monroe. It was then that Monroe realized he had played the game of life incorrectly. Big Carter took to the streets so that his children would never have to, but instead, they had all followed in his fated footsteps. It was a tragic cycle that had led to the demise of an entire bloodline. The pain began to overwhelm Monroe as he gritted his teeth while gurgling on his own blood. He had never felt anything like this slow burn. All he wanted to do was take a deep breath … to just inhale … but he couldn't, and as he fell face-forward into the pavement, he heard a familiar voice.

“Its okay, bro. Just let go. It all goes away once you just let the streets go.”

Monroe blinked slowly because he knew that his mind had to be playing tricks on him. Mecca was in front of him as clear as day, talking to him … urging him to let go. He choked and he struggled, trying to fight the grim reaper as long as he could. It hurt so bad. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't. He couldn't. He wanted to just get air to his lungs, but he … just … couldn't.
I'm dying,
he thought.

“Just let go, Money. I'm right here,” Mecca's voice said. “It won't hurt anymore once you let go.”

Monroe finally listened as the struggle stopped and he just lay there as the last shallow breaths seeped from his body.
Damn, he's right. It doesn't hurt,
he thought. A calm passed over him in his final moments. A euphoric feeling swept over him, removing all pain. His crying son was the last thing he saw before permanently closing his eyes. Monroe “Money” Diamond was no more. With him, the legacy of The Cartel would be buried six feet under.

*   *   *

Sam walked into her apartment feeling victorious. She flipped the light switch. “Damn it,” she said as she sucked her teeth, realizing her light had blown. She had been undercover for so long that she hadn't darted these doors in months. “I'll be surprised if anything works at all.” She wiggled the light switch up and down again, to no avail. It had been a long day. Hell, it had been a long three years. All she wanted to do was come home to her own place and wrap her mind around what she had just achieved. Her investigation had finally come to an end and she had closed her case. It wasn't the conclusion she had in mind, but it would be enough to land her a promotion. Taking down The Cartel that had duped the federal government years ago would put her on the fast track. It was what they called “the case of a lifetime.” Most agents were lucky to even get one. It was the case that Supreme Court justices were made of, which was her ultimate goal. The arrest of the leader of the infamous Murder Mamas and the death of Monroe Diamond was an accomplishment. She hadn't nailed Carter, but she had done enough to make her career a long and fruitful one. She took off her holster and placed her weapon near the table that sat near the front door. The tension that had been building in her body left her with one long sigh. “God, I need a beer,” she said to herself before heading to the kitchen. She ran her hands through her hair and pulled it back into a sloppy ponytail before opening her fridge. The interior light came on and she grabbed a beer from the top shelf. Popping the top, she took a long swig before turning to head to her room.

The silhouette of the person sitting in the chair before her sent her into a panic as terror struck her. “Shit!” she shouted in alarm as she dropped her beer.

“Sit down,” Aries demanded in a calm tone.

Sam's eyes shot to her holstered gun that she had placed by the door, but before she could even make a move, Aries fired on her.

PSST!

“Agh!!!” Sam screamed in excruciation as she fell to the floor.

Everyone had always pegged Miamor as the most deadly Murder Mama, but Aries was highly underrated. She pulled triggers with less remorse than any of them. She had just blown off Sam's knee without thinking twice. “I asked you nicely the first time. Now you don't have a choice but to sit,” Aries said.

Sam writhed as blood soaked through her pants and she grabbed her knee in pain. Aries stood and walked over to the federal agent. She bent down in front of her. “We wouldn't want anyone hearing you scream now, would we? They might interrupt our fun,” she sneered. She snatched the kitchen towel off of the stove and stuffed it into Sam's mouth, then pulled a roll of duct tape from the messenger bag she wore across her body. She wrapped the tape tightly around Sam's entire head. Anger flickered in Aries's eyes as Sam tried to scream through the tape. “See, Miamor knew there was something fishy about you,” Aries said. “She just couldn't place her finger on it. Turns out you're a fucking fed.” Aries grabbed Sam's long hair and wrapped it around her fist until she had a tight hold on her. She dragged the woman across the floor mercilessly, leaving a bloody trail along the way. “Get in the chair,” she said. Her voice was so calm that it sent a chill up Sam's spine. The look in Aries's eyes was sociopathic. She had no remorse. No emotion. This routine was automatic for her. No matter how much she tried to keep the beast in her dormant, it always surfaced … eventually. Sam struggled to climb into the chair. Aries grabbed Sam's wrist and forced her hand to lie flat on the kitchen table. She pulled out a hunting knife from her bag.