The Demise (26 page)

What the hell?
Miamor thought, finding the call log extremely odd. All of the calls took place during the middle of the night, probably while Carter was asleep.
Who was she talking to? What area code is 202?
Miamor pulled out her own phone and looked it up.
Washington, D.C.
Her gut screamed.

Miamor's heart pounded in her chest as she pressed the call button. She bit her lip as the ringing filled her ear.

“You have reached the Drug Enforcement Administration. Please enter the access code to the agent you are trying to reach,” an automated voice filled the phone.

Miamor gasped as she dropped the phone. Her hand covered her mouth in disbelief.
She's a fed. Oh my God. She's an undercover fed,
Miamor thought as tears filled her eyes. There was no telling how much information Sam had gathered on Carter, but Miamor knew that she had been around long enough to build a successful case. Miamor immediately called Carter. “Come on, answer … answer,” she urged frantically. His voice mail picked up. She knew he was probably at the airport. He always turned off his phone as soon as he stepped foot inside. She checked the clock. His flight didn't board for another two hours. She called Monroe. Again, she received the voice mail. “What the fuck!” she shouted. Zyir was her next try. Voice mail. Miamor felt like she was losing her mind. She stormed into the room Sam had occupied. She had never finished taking all of her things out. She went through the entire room, tracing her hands around the baseboards, looking for microphones and cameras. She emptied drawers, opened envelopes—all to come up with nothing. In frustration, she swept everything off of the nightstand, knocking it over accidentally.

A large yellow envelope was taped to the bottom of it. Miamor pulled it off and emptied its contents on the bed.

A USB drive fell out. Miamor rushed to her laptop and inserted the drive. “Oh my God,” she whispered. Over a thousand documents and pictures were on the file. She opened them, one after another. There was enough material to put Carter in jail. Miamor opened an untitled document and read it.

I have concluded there is a criminal enterprise happening around Mr. Jones; however, I am unable to link him directly to it. It is imperative I catch him exchanging massive quantities of narcotics in order to seal this case. Whoever is arrested at this type of exchange will be brought up on kingpin charges. I will continue my investigation until I can find out when the next shipment will be.

Agent Tiffani Gamble

“The next shipment is today,” Miamor whispered, tears coming to her eyes. How had this happened? How had Carter let the feds get so close? Miamor felt like her world was crumbling, and sobs seeped from her lips.
With this much evidence, somebody has to take the fall. Whoever shows up to the exchange, the charges will fall on that one person. That can't be Carter,
she thought. Miamor wiped her eyes, grabbed her handbag, and rushed out of the house.

“C.J.!” she shouted as she approached him. “C.J., come here,” she said.

He could see the tears that she had tried to hide. “You okay, ma?” he asked.

Magdalena stopped and looked at her in concern. “Señora?”

Miamor nodded. “Mommy's fine, baby. I need you to listen to me. I love you. I love you more than life itself. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. You're the best part of me. I'm with you even when we aren't near each other. You hear me, my prince? I'm in here,” Miamor said as she touched his chest. “And I love you. I want you to know that. I love you more than anyone else in the world. You be a king, okay?”

C.J. looked unsurely and felt his own tears forming in his eyes. This felt too much like good-bye. “I have to do something and you won't understand it until you're older, but just know I did it for you and your father … for our family.”

“You're coming back, right?” C.J. asked.

“Yeah, baby. One day,” she answered. “But until then, I'm always close, because love crosses all distance. Where will I be until you see me again?”

“In here,” C.J. answered as he pointed to his chest.

Miamor pulled him into her for a long hug and she kissed the top of his head. “You're a king, Carter Jones, Jr., and I love you.”

She turned to Magdalena. “Take care of him. Carter will be by to get him soon.”

Miamor hopped into the car and took off down the mountain. She picked up her phone and dialed the number to the driver who was scheduled to pick Carter up at LAX. Carter didn't trust many people, but he always kept an ally in cities he frequented.

“Hello?” a man answered.

“Hi, Iman. This is Miamor, Carter's wife,” she said.

“How you doing?” the guy replied.

“I'm fine. I'm calling to let you know you don't need to pick Carter up today. I'll be in town. I'll scoop him up myself,” she said. She had no intentions of getting Carter. She would be in town, all right. She needed Carter's schedule thrown off to delay his arrival at the warehouse.

“Sounds good. Tell him to hit me when he touches down,” the man said.

“Will do,” Miamor replied before hanging up.

Miamor raced to the airport. She had to board the quickest flight and get to the warehouse before Carter. She would take the fall for him. She knew he would be better on the outside, with their son. Carter was too good of a man to shoulder the weight of the entire Cartel. This wasn't supposed to be his karma.
Me, on the other hand, this is exactly what I deserve.
She wasn't a good person; she was only good for Carter, and this would be her last gift to him: his freedom.

*   *   *

Carter arrived at LAX and walked out of the airport. He had no luggage to retrieve, so he was making good time. He still had an hour to make it across town. To his surprise, his man wasn't waiting for him as anticipated. He picked up his phone to call his ride when he noticed that Miamor had called him more than ten times. Before he could press her name to call her back, Zyir's name flashed across the screen.

“I just touched down, fam, let me hit you back. This nigga late. I'm out here waiting…”

“Don't go to the warehouse, Carter,” Zyir said.

Carter heard the stress in Zyir's voice. In all of their years working together, he had never felt an inkling of distrust toward Zyir.

“You got to say something after that, Zyir, because I don't like the direction my imagination is taking me,” Carter said sternly.

“Switch up the plans,” Zyir said. “Just whatever you do, don't go to that meeting.”

Carter felt his temperature rise as anger overtook him. “Nigga, be clear. You talking around the shit. Spit that shit out, Zyir. I raised you, homie. So I know you not saying what I think you saying,” Carter said. His volume was low, but the tone of his voice was threatening. He had never come at Zyir sideways. Zyir had never given him a reason to, but today, on this sunny L.A. day, he felt the tides of their friendship changing. Their brotherhood was turning sinister because Carter knew what Zyir's next words would be. He hoped and prayed Zyir said something different.

Come on, Zy. Say something, homie. Say anything other than what I'm thinking,
Carter thought. His eyes watered from a mixture of hurt and anger. Zyir's silence was admission enough. “Say that shit, Zyir. Tell me you ain't been laying down with pigs,” Carter said. He held his tone steady, but in person he was breaking down. This was his little man; his right hand. Zyir had been a brother to him before he had ever discovered he had a family in Miami. They say soul mates can come in the form of many things—not only between a man and a woman. Zyir and Carter had forged a friendship on something deeper, and this new revelation of deceit was ripping a hole straight through Carter's chest.

“Be clear, Zyir. Be the nigga I taught you to be. What the fuck is you saying to me?” Carter demanded.

“DEA is waiting at the warehouse. It's a setup,” Zyir finally said. “I fucked up.”

“Yeah, you did,” Carter answered.

CLICK.

Carter felt like he couldn't breathe. He loosened his silk Gucci tie and bent over, placing his hands on his knees. The pain in his gut, the empty feeling, the nausea. He was sick from grief because although Zyir wasn't dead, he was dead to Carter.

Carter couldn't think clearly. He had never had an adversary of this kind … the kind that he loved too much to kill, but hated too much to let live. It was a conundrum. He gritted his teeth as his fingers stabbed Miamor's name on his phone's screen.

“Carter!” she answered frantically.

“He fucked me, ma. Zyir is talking,” Carter said. He could reveal his hurt to Miamor. She was his rib, his wife. She knew exactly how much this had hurt him.

“Sam is a federal agent, Carter,” Miamor revealed, further unraveling the puzzle. Zyir had introduced him to Sam. He had been setting him up for the past three years.

“We've got to go, ma. Pack up some things. You and C.J. meet me—”

“It's too late for that,” Miamor replied sadly. “I found Sam's evidence. The Cartel is going to fall. She doesn't have the kingpin yet. She suspects it's you, but she doesn't know for sure. She needs you to make the exchange you set up today to pin it all on you. She won't find a kingpin. She's getting a queen pin instead. I got it, Carter. I'm pulling up to the warehouse now. Take care of my son. I love you.”

Her words echoed in his mind.
She's getting a queen pin instead. She's getting a queen pin instead.

“Mia! Miamor!” his voice boomed through the phone, and he could hear her breathing, but she refused to respond. She didn't need him to talk her out of this. Somebody had to fall from grace. The government had a hard-on for their empire. Carter couldn't take that fall, Monroe had Mo to think about, Breeze was the most innocent of them all. That only left her. She would pay for all their sins.

“I love you so much. You've taught me how to love someone other than myself. This is me loving you … just let me do this,” Miamor said.

“If you love me, turn around, ma,” Carter said. “I can take care of this. We've got lawyers for shit like this. Don't be stupid, Miamor. There's no me without you, ma. This can't happen. What I work so hard for, if I couldn't make this shit go away with a little paper? Turn your ass around, Miamor. Now!”

He was losing it. The universe was working against him today, throwing more at him than he could take. He had never pleaded for anything in his life, but he was begging her to not do this because once done, it couldn't be taken back.

“Good-bye, Carter.”

Carter grabbed the first taxi he saw and threw every dollar he had in his pocket through the passenger window.

“Hey, man! What the hell?” the cabbie asked, throwing up his hands as the money slapped him in the face.

“I need a driver for the day. All that's yours if you take me where I need to go,” Carter said.

The driver looked at the hundred-dollar bills scattered across his front seat.

“Hop in,” he said.

Carter climbed inside and leaned his head against the back of the seat. He knew that he wouldn't make it in time, but he had to try. He couldn't let Miamor do this, but what he didn't know was that it was already done.

 

F
INAL
C
HAPTER

Miamor sat drumming her bloodred nails against the long table that sat in the middle of the warehouse. Bricks on top of bricks sat on the table in front of her. A single tear fell down her cheek as the door to the warehouse began to rise and the DEA agents rushed in. They were fully suited, badges in plain view, and guns drawn as they filtered inside.

“Let me see your hands! Hands up!” they shouted as they stood in front of her.

She sat, legs crossed, in a Carolina Herrera tailored pantsuit. Her makeup was flawless, and not a hair was out of place on her pretty little head. This day had been a long time coming. Her downfall. She had always wondered how it would go down and who would have the balls to take her out of the game. She began to chuckle right in the face of law enforcement. “I've gone up against some of the biggest gangsters in the world and you muthafuckas are the ones to take me out,” she said as she fell into hysterics. Sam came through the crowd, and Miamor's laugh simmered to a sinister smirk. She began to clap, slowly, exaggeratedly, as she leaned back comfortably. Miamor eyed Sam with malice. “Bravo, bitch, you deserve a fucking Oscar,” Miamor said. “You played your part really well … a little too well for a fed, don't you think?” she asked, knowing the agent had fucked her man.

“Where are the rest of them?” Sam asked. “Where is Carter? Money? Estes?”

“It's just me. I'm all you get,” Miamor said calmly.

Sam turned to the agents behind her. “Tear this place apart. Everything in here is evidence.”

There had been no time to clear the bricks from the warehouse. There was enough cocaine to put Miamor away for the rest of her life. There was no way that The Cartel could get out of this unscathed. Someone had to take the fall, and Miamor made the decision that it should be her. It was the least she could do for Carter after all he had done for her. He had loved her when she was unlovable, forgiven her for things that were unforgivable. He had crowned her when he should have killed her. Carter was a king and he deserved to sit on his throne, not rot in a jail cell. Miamor knew there was a special place in hell for her, and she accepted that. She would miss Carter and C.J. every day, but she honestly believed that this was for the best. Carter would take better care of C.J. than she could. She loved them so dearly that she was willing to be the sacrificial lamb in order to save their family. Living without them would be the hardest thing she ever had to do, but at least they would be living. With her around, there was no telling which of her past skeletons would threaten their existence. Carter could make his exit from the game and raise their son without her. They were better off that way.