The Demise (29 page)

She hung up and put her car in drive as she pulled away from their mansion, wrecked with plenty of regret.

She was headed back to Miami, where The Cartel had begun and where it would now end—all because of the man she had chosen to love.

 

E
PILOGUE

THREE MONTHS LATER

Loneliness. That's what Carter felt as he walked the streets of Barcelona while looking at pictures of his son, Mo, and Breeze. He was grateful for those images. They made his days a little bit easier, giving him temporary relief from the anguish that was a constant weight on his heart.

His narrow escape hadn't given him time to take C.J. with him. He had been forced once again by the law to leave his son behind. Not being with him was torture, and Carter was biding his time until he could return. He vowed to walk back into C.J.'s life one day. Until then, a phone call once a month to a burner phone and postcards would have to be enough.

He ducked down an obscure alleyway, pulling the collar of his Burberry trench coat up over his neck as he kept his head low. Whenever he went to public places, he kept a low profile. He was wanted in the States. If he was ever caught, there wasn't a doubt in his mind that he would spend the rest of his days in a federal prison. He vowed not to meet that fate.

He entered the building where he had been holing up. It was a one-bedroom flat that sat on the top floor, overlooking the busy city. The feds had seized his accounts, but luckily he'd had the foresight to stash half of his money in a Swiss account. He could live the rest of his days luxuriously if he chose, but right now he just wanted to restore a sense of normalcy to his life. Things had spiraled so far out of control that he no longer knew how to rein in his problems. They overwhelmed him. Burdened him. Destroyed his inner peace. He entered the flat and quickly locked the door behind him. He had only the necessities. He didn't want to acquire anything that he would regret having to leave behind. Living the life of a wanted man, there was no way to know when he would have to up and leave. He had to move carefully if he wanted to remain free. Carter sat down and flicked on the television, turning to CNN.

It was the only way he could see her face. Miamor was awaiting trial, and her story had been plastered all over the news for months. The feds were portraying her as a murderous queen pin. The new-age Griselda, they had dubbed her. Carter knew that the description was accurate. Miamor was a villain. She wasn't the good girl in anyone's story except his own, but she wasn't being prosecuted for her crimes. She was taking the fall for his, and that fact tortured him daily. She was a good woman. The most real that a man in his position could ever dream of, but she was still a woman. She shouldn't have to carry this for him. She was facing life in prison while he was hiding in the shadows in Spain. It didn't feel right, and every day he was compelled to go back.

He picked up the burner cell phone and speed-dialed Breeze.

“What's wrong? You're not supposed to call until next week?” Breeze asked as soon as she answered the phone.

“I miss my son, Breeze. My wife's face is on the TV screen. She has nobody, B. She's fighting these charges by herself. I'm a man. I can't let her take this for me,” Carter said as he sat down on his couch while staring at the news.

“This is how she wanted it, Carter. You can't come back here. Not right now. Probably not for a while,” Breeze said. “And you can't call here too often. This is risky. You said once a month,” she reminded him.

“I know. I'm losing it over here, Breeze,” Carter said. It wasn't often that he revealed his vulnerability but Breeze was his sister and she was the only one who could relate to the type of loss he was suffering from.

“I know. I'm losing it here, too. Being in Miami won't make the pain go away, Carter. I live through it every minute of everyday,” she whispered. “Zyir—”

“Was a good nigga,” Carter said, interrupting her before she could defame Zyir's character. “He was a good nigga in a bad situation, Breeze.”

They both grew silent. They hadn't spoken of Zyir since everything had fallen apart. Carter's eyes grew misty and he quickly blinked them away. “Remind yourself of that when you're rubbing your belly. That baby's father was a real nigga. He held me down for a lot of years. You can't fault a man for doing the unthinkable to protect the woman he loves. He wasn't trying to get himself out of trouble with the law, B. He was trying to save you. It's fucked up and his actions hurt us all, but I understand it. The love of a woman will make you step out of character. I just wish he had come to me.”

He could hear Breeze's sniffles through the phone and he knew he had brought her to tears. “Thank you for talking me into keeping this baby, Carter,” Breeze whispered. “It's all of him that I have left. I just drove away that day. I didn't look back when I heard the shot. I just drove away. I'll never forgive myself for that.”

“We all have things we wish we could go back and do differently, B,” Carter replied solemnly. “Go see him. The fact that he took one to the head and didn't die is reason enough to check on him,” Carter said.

“I just can't,” she replied.

His heart was fractured. Without Miamor and C.J., he felt empty … soulless. He was incomplete. Despite the fact that Zyir had broken the code, he didn't want Breeze to feel the loneliness that he lived with.

“You want to speak to him? We've already been on the phone too long,” Breeze said, changing the subject to C.J. They always restricted their communication. The last thing they needed was for Carter to be caught.

“Just for a moment,” Carter said. “I'll be brief.”

Carter heard the rustling on the other end as Breeze called his son to the phone.

“Hello?” C.J. greeted him.

“Hey, big man,” Carter said.

“Daddy!” C.J. replied. “What's up! Where are you? You on your way back yet?”

“Nah, not yet, C.J. Dad is handling some business right now, but I'll be back one day. It might take me a while, but remember that I love you. Your mother—she loves you. Until I get back, your aunt B is gonna take care of you, a'ight? Don't give her a hard time. Keep your head on straight and stay out of trouble,” Carter said, clearing his throat to make sure his torment wasn't reflected in his tone.

“Yeah, a'ight, Dad,” C.J. said. “I love you, too. I've got to go. Me and Mo about to go hoop.”

Carter chuckled. His son was getting older by the day. He was only eight, but each time he spoke to him, he seemed to have matured. “Take care of each other, C.J. That's family, and family is—”

“All you got,” C.J. finished. “I know, Dad. Got to go. Later!” he shouted as he dropped the phone. Carter was amazed at the resiliency of children. He wished that he could bounce back as easily as C.J. did, but life hadn't burned his son yet. He knew nothing about the woes that Carter suffered from.

Breeze got back on the phone. “Carter, I've got to go. The police are pulling into my driveway,” she whispered.

He could hear panic in her voice. “Stay on the phone, B,” Carter replied. “How many of them?” he asked. He stood to his feet. This was the problem. He was too far away.

“Three squad cars and a SWAT truck,” Breeze replied.

“Boys, get in here!” she shouted, her voice shaking. “Carter, what the hell are they doing here? What could they possibly want now?”

Carter's jaw tensed, and he gritted his teeth while pinching the bridge of his nose. Stress invaded his entire body. “I don't know. Call Einstein on your house phone. Hurry,” Carter instructed.

Before she could even respond, Carter heard a loud …

BOOM!

The sound of the door being rammed off the hinges echoed through the phone as Carter heard yelling on the other end of the phone.

“On the ground, now! On the ground! Who else is in the house?”

Carter heard the phone drop, and his stomach went hollow.

“Nobody! Just my kids! Two boys, but they're just kids!” Breeze shouted.

“Breeze Rich, you are under arrest…”

Carter went deaf as he heard the officers reading his pregnant sister her rights. He gripped the phone as the screams of his son and his nephew shouted at the officers.

“Who do we have here?” a voice said, finally picking up the cell phone. Carter was livid. The fact that he couldn't do anything had him heated. It took everything in him not to say anything. He clenched his teeth so tight that the pressure made his jaw ache. Carter sat on the phone, listening, as did the officer who had picked up the line. They were at a standoff, waiting for each other to speak.

“Who is this?” Carter finally spoke.

“Agent Rivard, with the IRS. Who is this?” the man asked.

“You know who this is,” Carter responded pompously. Carter knew this game. The DEA couldn't pin a narcotics case against Breeze, so in came the money police, the IRS. They would slap her with tax evasion, fraud, and any other monetary crime that they could make stick. The feds were out for blood, his blood. Breeze's arrest was a sure way to smoke him out of his hole. “Agent Rivard. You should have left well enough alone. I'll see you soon.”

“Is that a threat?” the agent shouted. “Are you threatening me, you son of a bitch?”

“Absolutely,” Carter replied. He ended the call and rushed over to the small safe he kept beneath the bed. In it were numerous passports with different aliases. He grabbed one and then stormed out of the door.

His anger overwhelmed him. His heart beat as if there were thoroughbred racehorses inside of his chest. He couldn't sit in Europe tucked away safely while his family was taking hits that were meant for him. First Miamor, now Breeze. Breeze was the most innocent of them all. If she went down, his son, Money's son—they would have nowhere to go. No, this couldn't happen, and he wasn't going to let it. He hailed a cab, knowing that it would be damn near impossible for him to catch one easily. To his surprise, one pulled up quickly. Carter hopped inside. “El Prat,” he said, telling the driver to head to the airport.

His brow was wrinkled in stress and concern as he stared out of his window. “My man, why aren't we moving? I don't have all day,” Carter said.

The door across from him opened, and a woman slid into the cab. “This cab is taken—”

Before he could even finish his sentence, the woman pulled out a syringe and injected it into the side of his neck. Carter gripped her wrist as his eyes bulged in fear. Suddenly his hold on her loosened and his body went limp against his will. He watched helplessly as a smirk of satisfaction crossed her face. He tried to place her face. Who was she? Was this one of Baraka's hitters? Ma'tee's? He couldn't help but wonder which part of his past had come back to haunt him. As he tried to figure it out, the world around him faded. His heart burned as sweat beads appeared on his forehead.
Damn,
he thought. This was not the way he thought he would go out. The fear in his eyes made the woman burst into laughter. “Relax, baby, you're not dying. I just need you to go to sleep for a little while. Night, night,” she said. No matter how hard he tried to keep his eyes open, they slowly closed. The last image he saw was her red, pouty lips mocking him. Once he was out, the woman slyly leaned Carter against his door.

“Everything all set?” the driver asked.

“All set. It's about time the opportunity presented itself. We've been waiting for this moment. Let's head to the clear port,” she replied.

*   *   *

Carter groaned as he came to. He felt the fabric of a pillowcase over his head. It stifled his breaths as the fabric covered his nose, slightly suffocating him as he sucked in his own recycled air. There were others in the room. He could hear them, struggling, questioning, demanding the same answers to questions he pondered himself. Carter sat stoically as he realized his hands and legs were bound to the chair he had been planted in. Everything was fuzzy. Voices sounded far away. He was still groggy from the effects of being drugged, and he had no idea where he had been taken. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts from the heavy fog that was weighing down his mental. He couldn't think straight. His senses were dulled, but his heart sensed very well that danger was near.

The sounds of other people chatting became more coherent as he came to. He heard at least three different voices. He couldn't pinpoint exactly whom they belonged to.
Where am I?
he thought. Apparently it was the exact same thought running through the minds of the others in the room. It was complete chaos as everyone tried to figure out what was going on.

“Where the fuck am I?” a female voice asked.

“I can't see anything! What's going on?” asked a man.

“Whoever is behind this—untie me right now!” a man said with a heavy Spanish accent.

“Please help!” someone screamed. The screams only made things worse. It was the unknown that haunted Carter.
Am I in police custody?
he thought. The absolute darkness beneath the pillowcase was causing paranoia to creep into his bones.

Suddenly, a man's voice broke through all of the chaos: “Listen! We can't figure this thing out if everyone is talking. So let's all relax and talk this out.”

Who is that?
Carter thought. The man's words settled the room. Carter listened as the man continued.

“I was driving and I got ambushed. Guys in masks jumped out on me and then I remember everything going black,” the man said as everyone listened.

“That's exactly what happened to me, Baron,” a female voice said as she also tried to relieve herself from the bondage.

Baron?
Carter thought, catching the name that the woman had thrown out. He ran it through his mental Rolodex, but drew blanks. This was getting more odd by the minute.