The Cartel 2

Book 2: Cartel

by Ashley, Jaquavis

Genres: Urban Fantasy

Synopsis

Diamonds are forever . . . or are they? The Cartel runs Miami, and loyalty to their organization runs deep, but when someone breaks the rules, things may be beyond repair. A snitch in the crew has dismantled the notorious Cartel, and now disloyalty threatens to tear the family apart. Young Carter is in the fight for his life, as he faces drug kingpin charges due to the treachery of his best friend, Ace.
Kidnapping, murder, deception, and seduction fill this highly anticipated sequel. Will Zyir find out that Breeze is still alive? Will Mecca be exposed as his brother's killer? Is Miamor dead or alive? Ashley and JaQuavis are back with The Cartel 2. Their twisted tale of deceit will have you on the edge of your seat, trying to figure out what happens next.

Release date: November 1, 2009

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 304

Sample

I’m trapped . . . stuck in between my past and my future, and I don’t know which one to choose or which way to go. I remember everything that happened to me. It’s so vivid in my mind. I can still feel my heart beat rapidly for the love I have for Carter, and at the same time I can feel my temperature rise at the thought of his brother, Mecca. I remember Mecca fucking me up. I can still feel the whip of his chain as it ripped through the flesh on my legs. I can still hear the menacing sound of his voice. How in the fuck he caught me slipping, I don’t know, but I can’t let him beat me. He can’t win, but there’s nothing I can do when I can’t even open my eyes. No matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to wake up. I can’t speak, I can’t move, I can’t do anything, and everything around me is black. I know how I got here, but how the fuck do I get out? For the first time in a long time I’m afraid.

I wish I had my girls with me, because with them, nothing is impossible. With them, we run through niggas like Mecca, collect our paper, and keep it pushing to the next job. But our difference of opinion on The Cartel broke us apart. I did what I thought I would never do. I chose a nigga, Carter, over The Murder Mamas.

I can see the light that so many people talk about before dying, but in my case, it is more like a fire that is waiting to consume me. I’m standing between the gates of hell and my childhood, but they are equal to one another. Either way I go, the pain will be too much for me to handle. My past is something that I don’t want to remember. I forgot about it for a reason. I gave myself amnesia so that I wouldn’t have to relive it, and I left it behind a long time ago. I don’t want to have to repeat it, but I don’t want to die either. I have a choice: I can walk into the light right now and let it all end here. I can submit myself to God’s mercy and face my judgment in that light, or I can face my past and figure out how my childhood affected me and made me into the woman, the killer, the bitch that I am today. Those are my options; face death or face life. That’s a hell of a choice, but I guess it’s my destiny. I’m not ready to meet my Maker. I still have too much to do, and there are so many things left in my life unsettled. There are so many debts that I still have to collect on, and so many that I still owe.

So, I’m going to introduce you to my past. I’m going to let you meet the innocent little girl I used to be before the corruption, the money, the bodies, and the bullshit. Don’t judge me, just rock with my story as I tell it all . . . the ’hood, the bad and the ugly. This is me, Miamor, the life of a Murder Mama.

Sitting in the bottom of my closet, I shook uncontrollably. The stench of piss was strong in the air, and my hands covered my ears trying to block out the screams. I was terrified. My heart beat uncontrollably and I closed my eyes from fear. I wished I could disappear and avoid the tragedy that was my life, but I couldn’t. I relived this nightmare every night.

As soon as my mother left the house, I knew what would take place: The molestation; the screams; the feelings of helplessness. It always happened at the same time. Like clockwork at 1:00 a.m., he came like a thief in the night. No matter how much we avoided it, no matter how many times we begged our mother not to stay the night away from home, nothing ever saved us. She always said no. The bitch made us stay there with him, and even though we cried and pleaded, her answer was always no. If she did not know what was going on, she should have. The shit was happening under her own roof, so I could never give her the benefit of the doubt. Fuck her too! She invited him into her home and unknowingly into her daughters’ bed. He was always there, with a fucking grin on his face. We were trapped, and our fates were inevitable.

My sister, Anisa was the victim, and our stepfather, Perry was the bastard who shattered our childhoods. Lollipops and daisies were never a part of our world. All we knew was pain and corruption. It seemed as though abuse and neglect were the only constants in our lives. All we had was each other, and whenever he snatched Anisa from her bed, I always felt her pain.

“Please stop . . . please, it hurts!” Anisa screamed.

Tears stained my cheeks. I could hear my sister crying, but I couldn’t do anything. I wished that we could switch places; that was how much I loved her. I knew the pain that she went through, and would take it all for her if I could, but I couldn’t. He never chose me. It was always her. She was fourteen, and budding into womanhood early, while I was only twelve and still composed of all elbows and knees. There wasn’t a curve to my body, so he ignored me mostly, but he violated Anisa, which meant he violated me.

I could hear the bed creaking from the other room, the headboard banging against the wall as a constant reminder of the atrocity that was happening behind closed doors. We wanted to tell someone, but who would believe us? Perry was smart. He made sure that he never hit Anisa. He never even left a mark. The sucking he did on her premature breasts was done lightly as to not leave any sign of trespass. We were scared, always walking around on eggshells and feeling like strangers in our own house.

The knocking of the headboard against the wall stopped, and I knew that it was finally over.

I waited in the bottom of the closet just as Anisa instructed me to. She always told me to hide and not come out until she came for me. The closet door creaked open and there stood my big sister. Her hair was wild and her eyes were red from crying. I took her hand and led her into the hallway bathroom. I was used to this routine. She never liked to talk afterwards, and she never looked me in the eye. I knew she was ashamed, but what she didn’t know was that I was ashamed too, because I just sat there and let it happen to her. I locked the bathroom door and ran a tub full of steaming bathwater. Anisa got right in, ignoring the sting of hot water against her bare skin. She hugged her legs to her chest, and I rubbed her hair gently while we both cried silently as she scrubbed her sins away.

The next day when I awoke, Anisa was already out of her bed. I knew our mother was home because I could hear the sounds of Teena Marie blaring throughout the house. Walking into the bathroom, I saw Anisa leaned over the toilet, gasping for air. “What’s wrong, Nis?” I asked.

“Nothing, Miamor. Get out . . . go and get ready for school,” she said. She barely got the words out before she was throwing up again.

“I’m going to get Mama,” I said. I had never been one of those tattle-telling little kids, but I didn’t know what else to do. I could tell from the way Anisa was sprawled all over the toilet that she needed more help than I could offer.

“No!” she yelled, grabbing my arm to stop me from leaving the bathroom. She wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve and began to cry.

“Anisa, what’s wrong?” I asked.

Anisa couldn’t stop crying. The deep sob that escaped her lips was a cry that was too mature for such a young girl. The cry signified what she had endured and the things her young eyes had seen before their time. She lifted up her shirt, and I noticed a slight bulge in her belly. It wasn’t big at all, but my sister was naturally skinny. Her stomach had always been pancake flat, so the bump seemed out of place on her. I wondered how I could’ve missed it. I had seen Anisa naked plenty of times, and I had even noticed that she had gained a little bit of weight, but the thought of pregnancy never ever crossed my young mind. I was naïve and green to the game. For months, Perry had been raping my sister, and neither of us ever thought of the possibility of a baby.

“I’m pregnant, Mia!” she cried. “I don’t know what to do! I tried to tell him no. He wouldn’t stop.”

“We have to tell,” I said.

“Miamor, no! I don’t want anybody to know!” Anisa whispered as she grasped my arm, her teary eyes desperately searching mine as if I could solve this problem. “I have to get rid of it. You have to promise me you won’t say a word.”

I nodded my head, but tears filled my eyes as I watched Anisa lower her shirt. She was pregnant at fourteen by our mother’s husband.

Bam! Bam! Bam! My mother knocked on the door. “I hope y’all ready for school! You better get your asses dressed so you can catch this bus!”

I wanted to open the door and tell my mother everything that we had been through, but Anisa was still gripping my hand. “Don’t say anything, okay?”

As badly as I wanted to tell, I couldn’t. I trusted my sister and was loyal to her. If she wanted me to keep this secret, then I would. I wiped my eyes, flushed the toilet, and sprayed air freshener in the air before opening the door.

We dressed in silence and headed off to school, our souls heavy and our minds on problems that we were both too young to truly comprehend.

Brooklyn born and raised, we kept to ourselves. It was only Anisa and I. We weren’t cliqued up like some of the other bitches in our borough. We had already been jumped on twice behind some beef that Anisa had caught with some girls from her high school, so I learned quickly to stay bladed up. I had seen Anisa put a razor blade in her mouth and carry it around all day without taking it out. I had cut my shit up a couple times trying to be like her, and when they caught us both slipping, she finally taught me how to tuck a blade away in my mouth just in case I ever needed it.

We knew the spots that these girls hung around, and we usually avoided those paths at all costs just to stay out of unnecessary conflict. So when Anisa hit a left and headed up toward their block, I stopped mid-step, not knowing why she would walk right into an ass whooping.

“Nisa, what are you doing? You know if we go that way we’re going to have to fight. You’re pregnant, Nis. We can’t fight them girls off right now,” I said.

“I know. I don’t want to win the fight, I just want to fight,” Anisa said with a determined look in her eyes.

I didn’t understand at that moment what she was getting at, but I soon found out. “What?” I asked in confusion, looking at her like she was half stupid.

“Look, I’ve got to get this baby out of me, Miamor, and I can’t tell Mama. I’m too young to go to a doctor and get an abortion by myself. I know this girl who was pregnant, but she got her ass beat and lost her baby. I got to do this, Miamor. This is the only way. You go the safe way. Get on the bus and go to school. I’ll see you when you get home,” she said. She hugged me and pushed me in the other direction.

Reluctantly, I walked away, confused. My heart kept telling me to go back, but I always listened to Anisa no matter what. I had to roll with her plan. We were both so naïve to think that this homemade method of abortion was the way to go. We had no idea how dangerous it was or the damage that Anisa was doing to her body.

I headed to school, but the thought of my sister fighting alone ate me up inside. After walking four blocks toward the bus stop, I turned around and ran full speed back toward Anisa. It was the first time I had ever disobeyed her. I knew she would be mad, but I couldn’t stand the thought of her fighting without me by her side. That’s how we were. Where one went, the other one followed, and no matter what she said, I couldn’t let her go through this alone. I ran as fast as I could, nearly out of breath when I reached the crowd of girls. I saw the group of girls jumping on Anisa, and surprisingly, she wasn’t even trying to fight back. They were stomping her out under the overpass of the train, and my heart ached as I saw them kicking her repeatedly in her stomach and back.

I pulled my blade without thinking twice. They were so focused on Anisa, that they didn’t even see me coming. “Bitch!” I brought my blade up and sliced one of the girls across her face, then started throwing mad punches to anybody within arm’s reach. Those bitches were twice my size. My little fists didn’t do much damage, but with my sneak surprise I had the advantage. As soon as they realized I was there, it was a wrap. It was one of the worst ass whoppings I’d ever taken, but it didn’t matter. I was there with Anisa. We took that ass whooping together.

The sound of police sirens blaring caused the group of girls to scatter, leaving Anisa lying on the ground and me kneeling beside her with a bloody lip.

“I told you to go the other way,” Anisa groaned as I helped her up. She was lumped up and bruised.

The police officer approached us and hopped out of his car. He escorted us home, where our mother threw a fit and sent us to our room. We both sat impatiently looking at each other, waiting naïvely for something to happen.

Hours passed before Anisa doubled over in pain. “I think it’s happening, Mia!” she whispered, her face contorted in pain.

“What? What do I do?” I asked.

“Aghh! Miamor, I think something’s wrong!” Anisa agonized as she held her lower stomach and crouched down at the side of the bed. A small spot of blood showed through her jeans, but slowly grew to a large stain in between her legs.

“Anisa, what do I do?” I asked. I was panicked. It was the most blood I’d ever seen. It was like her period, but ten times worse, and she was sweating profusely. Her hands were shaking in trepidation.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” she said as she took her jeans off and put them in a plastic bag.

I helped her across the hall and locked the door. As soon as she sat down she opened her mouth in pain, but no sound came out. She stood, and blood was dripping between her legs, her thighs stained in crimson. The toilet was filled with it, and it looked like blood clots had fallen out of Anisa.

“What do I do? What do I do?” I asked, my voice cracking from concern and my eyes filling with tears. I knew I was in over my head and I wanted to go run for our mother, but I had promised, and even at such a young age, my word was all I had. I never broke it for anybody.

“I don’t know!” she said as she was wracked with more pain. Anisa sat on the toilet as her premature body violently miscarried her baby.

I held her hand tightly as if she was bringing life into the world instead of flushing one down the toilet. I couldn’t say anything. It wasn’t my decision to make and it was already done, so all I could do was be there for my sister. She didn’t ask to be in that situation. Perry had put her in it before her time, so I didn’t judge her for wanting to get rid of it secretly.

Anisa was weak and could barely stand, so I helped her to our room and cleaned up the mess. I gave her two of our mother’s pain prescriptions and washed her up before she fell asleep. This was the first time that I was grateful for my mother’s ignorance. I didn’t want her to come in and find out what we had done.

Just as I went to throw away the bloody towel, my mother was coming up the steps. “Where did all that blood come from?” she asked.

“I . . . um . . . I . . . it was from the fight. I got cut and I had to clean it,” I lied.

“Oh, well, that serves you right for fighting in the first place,” she said. “I was coming to tell you and your sister that I’m off to work. Perry will be home in about an hour. Come lock the door behind me.”

I followed her to the door, and once she was gone, I raced back up to Anisa. She was still asleep. I lay beside her and we wrapped our arms around each other. I knew that we had to get out of that house. Even at such a young age, I was aware of danger. I just felt it in the pit of my stomach that things were never going to get better. With Perry around we would never feel safe, and Anisa had just gone through hell just to hide what he was doing to her. I wanted out. I wanted something better for both me and Anisa, and I promised myself that once we broke free, we would never look back.

I awoke when. . .