The Demise (3 page)

“Money isn't answering,” Miamor said, her voice solemn, assuming his death.

Carter closed his eyes. Her words were like knives stabbing him as he thought of his brother's fate. Monroe was the only blood brother he had left. It had taken a lot for them to put their differences aside and band together as family. If anyone was supposed to sacrifice himself for the other, it was supposed to be Carter. He was the oldest. He was the strongest. It was his wife who had started this war. Monroe wasn't supposed to succumb to it. He didn't deserve to. Carter wanted to place blame, but it wouldn't help. They both knew the deaths to come in the days ahead were on Miamor's conscience.

Suddenly a rapid knock at the door interrupted them. Silence fell over them as they shot each other a paranoid glance. Carter put his fingers to his lips and then used his fingers like a gun, telling her to strap up. Baraka owned half the casino. Surely he knew where to find them. They would have to lock down the entire property in order to keep Baraka and his goons out. It would be damn near impossible to do that, so they needed to gather everyone, take what they needed, and find somewhere inconspicuous to gather their thoughts. Miamor grabbed her gun and headed toward the door.

“Mia, put down de' fucking gun and open de' door!” Aries hissed. She already knew the routine. Miamor was on edge, which meant she had an itchy trigger finger. It was only a matter of time before she popped off. It was what she did when her back was against the wall.

Miamor breathed a sigh of relief and snatched open the door. When she saw Monroe standing next to Aries, she couldn't stop the tears from welling in her eyes. They weren't necessarily the closest, but she had never been so happy to see him. She placed a hand over her heart in relief. If Money had been killed, Carter would have never forgiven her.

“Look who popped up,” Aries said as Monroe walked inside.

“Good to see you, Money,” Miamor stated.

“Good to be seen. There are fucking Arabs all over the place. I barely got out of that hospital. We've got to disappear for a while. Regroup,” he stated as he rushed over to Carter.

Carter was hanging on by a thread as pain doubled him over in his chair. “Get Zyir on the line. I want to make sure he and Breeze are safe,” he managed.

He was sweating profusely and grimacing in excruciation.

“Is he okay?” Aries asked.

Carter couldn't breathe, not deeply, not enough for him to think clearly. The room began to spin as a burning sensation seared through him, and he fell from the wheelchair.

“Carter!” Miamor whispered desperately as she knelt in front of him, holding his face in her hands. She looked up at Monroe, feeling empty as if she were watching the love of her life slip away. “Money, this is bad. We need a doctor here now!” She sat on the floor and laid Carter's head in her lap.

They had never seen Carter so incapacitated. They were in the middle of a war, and if they were going to survive, they needed their general. He had to pull through—not only for his sake, but for Miamor's as well.

 

C
HAPTER
3

It was quiet; so quiet that thoughts of fear, of chaos, and of destruction thundered loudly inside her head. Ever since the men had disappeared to Saudi Arabia, Leena had questioned her loyalty to the street life. When they had returned, she had pushed her fears to the back of her mind, but she knew one day she would have to address them. Today was that day. Leena wasn't built for the warfare that came with the game. There was an uncertainty of survival every day that she woke up. She never knew what could happen, and the imminent danger that lurked in the shadows of her life terrified her. Although their hands were in the casino business now, she knew The Cartel would never truly be legit. They lived by the rules of the underworld, and Monroe would always be a part of the life. He had been born into it, and the moment she fell in love with him, she had committed to his lifestyle as well. It had its perks, but it was times like these that she remembered the flip side of things—the dangerous side. And now the tables had turned and they were cloaked in darkness from the storm Baraka was about to rain upon them. Leena had wanted to stay by Monroe's side, but instead he had her whisked away to safety. They all had responsibilities. She wasn't a shooter, she wasn't fearless, and she certainly wasn't a gangster, but she was a nurturer at heart. Therefore her job was to make sure that C.J. and Lil' Money knew nothing about the circumstances of duress. One of The Cartel's most trusted goons had been assigned to the task of keeping her and the boys out of harm's way. It wasn't enough to get them away from the casino. Monroe wanted them out of Nevada.

“Where are we going?” she asked as she looked out her window. They had been driving for almost two hours. The boys were asleep in the backseat, but she knew when they awoke they would have questions, and she needed to know what to say.

“Somewhere safe,” he replied shortly. “You might want to get some sleep. Relax a bit. We have a little ways to go.”

Leena settled into her seat, but her mind wouldn't rest. In the last war they had lost so much … so many of their loved ones. She couldn't help but wonder who would fall victim to Baraka. He was twice as deadly as Ma'tee. That fact scared her. The desert blurred outside her window as they drove top speed, heading west. She didn't sleep. She couldn't. Not with the knot twisting in her gut. She wondered:
Is Carter okay? What is Monroe going to do?

There were too many unknowns, and they were filling her with anxiety. She was grateful the boys were asleep the entire drive.

They pulled up to a house in Pasadena, California. “Whose house is this?” she asked, noticing a Cadillac sitting in the driveway.

“A friend's,” he said as he exited the car.

Leena turned around and stirred C.J. and Lil' Money out of their sleep. “C.J., Mo, wake up,” she said, putting on a fake smile. She didn't want them to sniff out her worries. “We're here.”

She exited the car and ushered the boys out of the backseat as the goon got their bags from the trunk. When she turned toward the house and saw who had stepped onto the porch, she sighed in relief. “Polo,” she whispered. She smiled as she placed her hands around the boys' shoulders.

He walked over to her and the boys. “It's like I stepped into a time machine right now. Aw, man,” he said as he admired C.J. and Lil' Money.

“Mo. C.J. This is your uncle Polo,” Leena introduced them.

Polo held out his hand, giving both boys a firm shake. “There's an Xbox in there. Why don't you go make yourselves comfortable,” he said. The boys took off, racing inside.

Polo turned toward Leena. “Everything you need is inside. Groceries, clothes, whatever…”

Leena nodded. “Thank you,” she replied sincerely. “From all of us.”

Leena didn't want to say too much because she really didn't know Polo well. She knew he had been Big Carter's right-hand man, but she had also heard rumors that he had cooperated with the feds. She knew Polo wasn't a threat to them. The fact that she was even in his presence meant Monroe trusted him. Still, she made sure not to say more than what was necessary.

Polo turned to the goon. “Keep your eyes open. Keep them inside. Keep a low profile.”

Her newfound protection nodded, and Polo walked to his car. “Take care of yourself,” he said. “And those boys. If Big Carter and I had done a better job, you all wouldn't be reliving the life that destroyed us. It's history repeating itself.”

She saw emotion in his eyes. “Those boys inside will have a different story. I promise,” she replied.

Polo nodded and sniffed away the emotion before getting in the car and driving away.

“We'd better get inside,” the goon said as he carried her bags toward the door. Leena followed closely behind, feeling like she was walking into a cage.

Seeing Polo made her realize he had a lifetime of regret. She didn't want her son or her nephew to know this life.

As soon as Leena stepped inside, the boys came racing toward her.

“Ma! There's a hoop in the driveway. Can we get a game in?” Mo asked.

The goon stepped up. “Nah, that's not a good idea, lil' man.”

“If we're going to be here, we aren't going to be cooped up in this house. No one knows we're here. They should be fine in the driveway. Let them be kids,” Leena interrupted.

“So we can go?” C.J. asked.

“Yeah, your ball is in the trunk,” Leena said. The goon wanted to protest. She could see him getting ready to buck against her decision, but the piercing look she shot him silenced him instantly. “I'll go out and keep an eye on them,” she said. “Let's get one thing clear. I know you're here to do a job and I appreciate your loyalty to my husband. Those boys don't need to know we're running. So don't lurk and you follow my orders, not the other way around.” She grabbed a crossword puzzle and a pen off the table, then stepped out onto the porch. She took a seat on the swing as she watched the boys play a game of one-on-one. The goon kept his distance as he sat at the other end of the large porch and kept a keen eye on things.

A competitive spirit filled the air as Leena watched the cousins play. For a moment, no matter how brief, she felt peace. The gentle breeze hit her face, and she smiled at the boisterous nature of the boys. This was as close to normal as she would get. She yearned for a carefree existence such as this one.

“Foul!” C.J. called as Mo pushed him hard while powering toward the driveway hoop. C.J. fell hard to the ground. Easily tempered, he stood up and ran over to Monroe. “Foul, man!” he shouted as he pushed his big cousin back.

“Quit crying, pussy!” Mo barked back as he threw the ball at C.J.

Both boys were bred to be thorough, so neither backed down. It didn't matter that Lil' Money was older and stronger; C.J. had heart. He charged his cousin, and the two began to tussle.

“Hey!” Leena shouted as she stood to her feet. The goon moved when she moved, but Leena motioned for him to stop. “I've got it.”

Leena descended the porch steps and approached the fighting cousins. “Stop!” she said harshly as she pulled them apart. “You're family, and family don't lay hands on one another.” The look on Mo's face reminded her of Mecca. Mo's temper was starting to become apparent, and the anger that brewed in his eyes was so familiar that it sent a chill up her spine. If she didn't know any better she would have thought that Lil' Monroe had come from Mecca's seed. “Monroe Diamond the second,” she chastised. “Fix your face. You guys are cousins. You save the tough-guy act for the enemy. Don't ever fight one another, and watch your mouth.” The musical sounds of an ice-cream truck distracted her. “Go cool off, hotheads,” she said as she shook her head. “Get some ice cream.” She looked up to the porch. “Can you grab my handbag from inside?” she asked the goon. He nodded, and she turned to follow the boys to the ice-cream truck. Just as quickly as the two had fought, they made up as they raced down the driveway, joking and clowning on one another. She smiled. They were thick as thieves, and she loved their bond. “These two are going to drive me nuts,” she whispered to herself. She walked up to the truck and rubbed the back of their heads lovingly. “What do y'all want?” she asked. When she looked up at the driver, her heart sank. She could see the malice in his eyes without him ever having to say a word. Call it a mother's intuition. Butterflies fluttered as anxiety took ahold of her. Without thinking twice, she gripped the pen she had been using on her puzzle and jammed it into the man's eye. “Run!” she shouted to the boys.

“You stupid bitch!” the man shouted. Leena turned to flee, but before she could take one step, the back of the truck flew open as three men burst out. They grabbed C.J. first and then Leena. Mo was quicker and had made it out of arm's reach, but when he turned and saw one of the men placing a chloroform rag over his mother's mouth, he went back. He tried to fight the men, but he was no match. They grabbed him, too, and pulled him into the truck kicking and screaming. By the time their hired goon came back on the porch, they were speeding down the street.

“Oh, shit!” he yelled as he came up off his hip with a pistol. He dumped bullets in the direction of the truck, but he hit nothing. The truck bent the corner wildly, and the goon threw his hands up in the air as neighbors began to pour out of their homes. “Fuck!” he shouted as he swung at the air. He knew there would be hell to pay. He had one job and he had failed. Now he had to make the call to Monroe and tell him that his most prized possessions had been lost. Baraka had struck back.

*   *   *

“We have to get him to a hospital,” the doctor said as he re-dressed Carter's chest wound.

“We've been to the hospital, Doc. We can't go back. I need you to fix my brother up right here,” Monroe said.

“There is a lot of trauma from the gunshot. You should have never brought him here. He needs an IV. He needs medicine. Rest. Round-the-clock care. One doesn't simply walk away from a wound like this. There will be permanent damage. He can't catch his breath because one of his lungs has collapsed. He's lucky to even be alive,” the doctor said.

“Y'all talking about me like I'm not in the room,” Carter whispered in a weak tone. They had managed to get him to the master bedroom, and he was laid out atop of the king-sized bed.

“Save your strength, Mr. Jones. Just focus on breathing. I can't do anything for you in this room. There is no equipment, no staff, it's not sterile, it's—”

Miamor was fed up with the doctor's excuses. She walked up on him and put a pistol to his temple. Her pretty painted finger wrapped around the trigger. “You either turn this room into a hospital or I turn it into a morgue. Stop telling us what you can't do and help him,” she ordered.