The Cartel Deluxe Edition Page 13

  Miamor lay cuddled up to Carter. She was so comfortable in his embrace. I could get used to this, she thought.

  “Why are you selling your spot?” he asked her out of the blue.

  “I can’t stay here. I shared this place with my sister, and ever since she died, it just doesn’t feel like home. Everything in here reminds me of her. I miss her.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with missing her, Miamor. Selling your crib won’t erase that feeling.”

  “I don’t want to talk about that,” she whispered. “I just want to enjoy my time with you. Ain’t no telling how long you’ll be around. I have to appreciate you while you’re here,” she said half-jokingly.

  “I’m here as long as you want me to be.” Carter pulled her on top of his body. She lay directly on top of him and rested her head against his chest as he stroked the top of her head. Carter looked down at the beautiful young woman and felt connected to her.

  Carter didn’t know it yet, but she loved everything about him. She loved the way he was rubbing her head. She loved the way he dressed, the confident swagger that he possessed, and the dimple on the side of his face was an added plus. She definitely loved how he had put his thing down on her. Both times they had slept together she had been completely satisfied. She was checking for him in the worst way.

  They lay there together for hours, and eventually Carter slipped into a comfortable sleep. Miamor heard his deep breathing and eased her body off of him. She made sure that he was undisturbed as she tiptoed away from the bed.

  It had been so long since she had seen a man in her bed, and she couldn’t believe that she had allowed Carter to seduce her once again. She didn’t regret it though. Everything in her wanted to get to know the man that lay in her bed, and she was grateful for his presence. She picked up his button-up shirt and put in on. The shirt swallowed her, but she wore it anyway.

  She went into the kitchen and opened her refrigerator to see what she had to cook. There wasn’t much of anything. She and Anisa ate out most of the time, so besides breakfast food and bottled water, there wasn’t much inside.

  She grabbed the phone book and ordered a gourmet dinner from a five-star restaurant that was close to her home. She went out to pick up the food, and when she came back, she set up her dining room and arranged the table. She also brought out a bottle of vintage Merlot from her wine rack and lit two apricot-scented candles, setting the mood for the perfect evening.

  Miamor didn’t want to wake Carter before she showered, so she handled her business and then dressed in a seductive Victoria’s Secret camisole and panty set. The gold fabric looked good on her brown skin. She then put soft curls in her hair and went into her room and climbed on top of Carter.

  “Wake up,” she called out.

  Carter opened his eyes when he felt her nudge him. He pulled her down onto him playfully. He enjoyed the way she felt in his arms.

  “I have a surprise for you.”

  “Oh yeah, show me what you got.”

  Miamor grabbed his hand and pulled him up. She dragged him into the dining room where a full-course dinner consisting of New York strip steak, steamed vegetables, garlic potatoes, and Caesar salad awaited him.

  “You made all this?”

  “Yeah, I can do a little something in the kitchen,” she replied, telling a little white lie. She wanted to hook this man, and allowing him to think that she could cook was a part of her plan. I’ll buy this nigga breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the rest of his life if I have to.

  Carter looked at her with a “quit bullshitting” expression on his face, but was flattered by her attempt to impress him. He took a seat at the table, and they enjoyed the food and drank an entire bottle of champagne together.

  They laughed and chatted like old friends, getting to know each other better, both of them hiding secrets that they couldn’t tell if they wanted to.

  After they ate, Carter removed her plate from in front of her and took it into the kitchen along with his own. “Yo, Mia, where your garbage?” he yelled.

  “It’s in the kitchen closet!” she yelled back. As soon as the words left her mouth, she hopped up out of her seat. “Wait!” As soon as she walked into her kitchen, she saw Carter standing with the food delivery bags in his hands and a smile on his face.

  “Homemade, huh?”

  “I never said homemade. Those were not my exact words,” she defended playfully, knowing she had just been busted.

  Carter put the bags down and wrapped his arms around her waist. “That’s okay. You don’t have to know how to cook, ma. We’ll hire a chef.”

  Miamor laughed sweetly as she hid her face in his chest from embarrassment.

  He lifted her face and kissed her lips gently. “I had a good time with you. I haven’t been this comfortable with a woman in a long time.”

  “Good.” She tiptoed and kissed his lips again. She could feel the night coming to an end and wished she could turn back the hands of time and relive the last few hours again.

  “I’ve got to go,” he stated. He noticed her eyes go from happy to sad in a split second.

  Miamor nodded. “Don’t make me wait another two weeks before you show your face again.” She looked him in the eye seriously.

  “Don’t worry, ma, I won’t,” he replied as he walked into the room and gathered his clothes.

  Miamor walked him to the door, and although she hated to see him go, she didn’t protest. She didn’t want to seem desperate, and she definitely didn’t want to scare him off by being to clingy. She stood hugging her door as he walked out.

  Carter kissed her forehead and said, “Close this door and lock it behind me.”

  “I will.” Miamor waved one last time. She closed the door and locked it just as he had instructed then she leaned up against it, sighing deeply.

  Carter. Carter Jones. He had a hood swagger, a gentlemen’s finesse, and a businessman’s savvy. He had her attention, and she couldn’t wait to see him again.

  The next morning, Miamor awoke to the sound of someone knocking at her door. No one beside her friends and now Carter knew where she lay her head, so she figured that it had to be one of those people. She looked at the clock on her bedroom wall. Damn it! It’s only nine in the morning. Who the fuck is this banging at my shit like they fucking crazy?

  She pulled herself out of her bed and went to answer it. Looking out of the peephole, she saw three people standing at her door. What the fuck is going on? She snatched the door open in irritation. “Can I help you?” she asked.

  Miamor noticed that the woman before her held a white chef’s hat in her hand, and she frowned in confusion.

  “A Mr. Carter Jones has requested our services. He has contracted us to be at your service whenever you call,” the woman explained.

  Miamor couldn’t help but smile. “So you are my personal chef?”

  “Yes. We’ll make you whatever you want at any time of the day. All you have to do is call,” the woman stated with a friendly smile.

  Miamor shook her head in disbelief and then stepped to the side as she let the woman and her two-man team into her place. This nigga is too much, she thought.

  “I’m Rachel, by the way,” the woman said as she extended her hand.

  “Miamor,” she responded as she shook the friendly woman’s hand. As soon as she opened her mouth to speak, her cell phone rang. She rummaged through her Hermes bag until she located it. “Hello.”

  “I just wanted to see if I could stop by for breakfast.”

  The sound of Carter’s baritone brought a smile to her face. “I don’t know. I’m not that great of a cook.”

  “I thought I took care of that problem.”

  “Well, I’m not really dressed. I don’t like to have company over when I’m looking a mess,” she replied, playing hard-to-get. Miamor heard her doorbell ring again and rolled her eyes to the ceiling because of the interruption.

  “You see, considering how you got up out the bed last night to shower and do
your hair before you woke me up, I figured you were high maintenance.”

  Miamor smiled and replied, “Just a little bit,” as she made her way to the door. She was so into her conversation that she opened her door without looking out of the peephole.

  Carter stood before her leaning against her doorframe, his cell phone in one hand and a black designer garment bag in the other. “Now you don’t have an excuse.” He handed her the bag and hung up his cell phone. “Go get dressed. I’ll be waiting for you when you get out.”

  Miamor was ecstatic. She had never been courted in such an upscale manner. Half the time she didn’t even have time to seriously entertain a man, but she was going to make time for Carter. She took the bag from his hand with a bashful smile and unzipped it, revealing a Marc Jacobs original. She had heard that the popular designer was coming out with a new high-end line of clothing, but it wasn’t due out until early 2010. Here Carter was standing in front of her with a dress that hadn’t even hit stores yet.

  How the hell did he get his hands on this dress? Bitches about to hate. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be out in about an hour,” she said, blushing graciously.

  Miamor hopped into the shower and applied her M•A•C cosmetics before attempting to put on the dress. She wore her hair in a bone-straight wrap, with Chinese bangs cut in a slant across her forehead. Spraying Donna Karan’s latest fragrance all over her body, she found herself hoping that Carter would like the scent. It was odd for her to care about what a nigga thought of her, but she had to admit that she wanted Carter to feel her as much as she was feeling him.

  Miamor admired her strapless pale yellow dress that fit her body loosely and ended just below her knee. The silk fabric wrapped around her slim waist and lay seductively around the curves of her body, giving the ensemble an edgy look, while the simplicity of the rest of the dress had an old Hollywood glamor. It was sophisticated and much different than her normal style, but she liked the change. And she had the perfect Manolo stilettos to go with it.

  Looking at herself in the full-length mirror, she had to smile. She was the shit and she knew it. She emerged from the bathroom an hour later and walked back into the living room, where Carter sat waiting patiently for her.

  He looked up at her, and the look on his face told her all that she needed to know. He was pleased with her appearance. She had accomplished her goal.

  “Thank you for the dress,” she said. “I love it.”

  “Thank you for wearing it. I love it too.” Carter grabbed her hand and led her over to her dining room, where Rachel, her chef, presented them with breakfast.

  “You are too much. You know that, right? I’ve never met a nigga like you.” Miamor laughed. Carter was on point in every way.

  “There ain’t another nigga like me,” Carter replied with a smirk.

  Normally conceit appalled Miamor. There was nothing worse than a stunting-ass nigga who couldn’t back up all the shit that he talked, but Carter’s confidence was attractive, and he had already proved that he didn’t make empty promises. She knew that he was an entirely new breed. His game was different than the Down South men she had encountered, and she appreciated his refreshing Flint swagger.

  “You got a passport?” he asked out of the blue.

  “Yeah, I got one. Why?”

  “I want you to come away with me this weekend to Costa Rica.” Carter said it in a nonchalant manner, as if he was merely asking her to go out on a casual date.

  “I can do that,” she replied with a breathtaking smile.

  Carter knew that she was trying to keep her cool, because the infectious smile she displayed gave away her excitement.

  They ate their breakfast together, chatting like old friends, and then spent the entire day together. They shopped arm in arm as they hit the designer stores, and although she was prepared to pay for her own items, Carter covered every expense. She couldn’t believe how perfect he seemed to be. He was the one thing that her life had been missing.

  For so long, everything had been negative in her life. She was all about her business—murder, murder, murder, kill, kill, kill—and had forgotten how good it felt to just live. She had cut off her emotions, because allowing herself to feel anything was a sure way to get herself killed. Carter, however, was becoming the exception to her rule, and she only hoped and prayed that he was worth the risk.

  Chapter Twelve

  “All I need in this life of sin is me and my girlfriend.”

  —Tupac Shakur

  Miamor and Carter, both with an oversized martini cup in their hand, sat on the secluded shores of Costa Rica, enjoying the scenery. The sun began to set, illuminating an orange hue onto the ocean as they sat at the edge of the water.

  Miamor glanced over at Carter and smiled. She was definitely impressed. Carter’s body was intact, and she loved it when a man took care of his body by being in shape. She glanced at his six-pack, and then she looked at the noticeable bulge in his white linen shorts. She smirked, remembering how he’d laid the pipe down the previous night. Carter’s sex game was on point. He never left her disappointed and made sure that she got hers every time.

  Carter noticed her staring and playfully asked, “What you looking at, ma?”

  “You,” Miamor answered sexily, leaning over to kiss his lips.

  Carter examined Miamor’s body and loved the way her one-piece Chanel swimsuit hugged her frame. The fabric could barely hold in her voluptuous ass cheeks, and Carter loved every minute of it. He watched as Miamor reached into her matching Chanel bag and pulled out a Dutch and a bag of Miami’s finest. She licked and split the Dutch like a pro and filled it with the goods.

  “You on this wit’ me?” she asked, knowing Carter didn’t smoke.

  Carter shook his head no and watched as she lit up the “la.” Carter loved the fact that Miamor was so street, so hood, but yet so classy all at the same time. Her Brooklyn accent turned him on. When he was with her, he felt like he was with his partner, because they could relate on so many levels. He knew that either, one, Miamor’s father was a real street cat, or two, she had a serious relationship with a street nigga. Either way, he knew that she had been taught well.

  What Carter didn’t know was that neither Miamor’s father nor any of her exes had been in the streets. She was a street bitch in her own right.

  Carter decided that he wanted to know all about Miamor and thought now would be the perfect time to ask. “So what’s your story?” he asked as he took a sip of his drink.

  Miamor slowly blew the smoke out. “What do you mean?”

  “What do you do? I noticed that you wear the best clothes, and that expensive condo you trying to sell ain’t cheap. How do you get your money? You got a nigga back home cashing you out?”

  “No, ain’t no nigga breaking me off. I make my own money.”

  Miamor hit the la, to buy herself more time to think of her lie. I can’t tell him that I kill niggas for a living, and that my crew and I have caught over forty bodies over the years. What am I supposed to say—‘Yo, I’m a Murda Mama?’ “My father left me a nice piece of change before he died.” She looked into Carter’s eyes, trying to sense if he bought the lie or not. “And he had a lot of properties back home in New York that I own now.”

  Carter looked in Miamor’s pretty hazel eyes and instantly knew that she wasn’t telling him something, but he was determined to find out more about his beautiful mystery woman. His stare was so deep that he made Miamor nervous.

  “Thank you for bringing me here,” she said, desperately trying to change the subject.

  “I enjoy your company. No need to thank me. I needed to get away.”

  “From what?”

  Carter sat up in his chair and looked her directly in her eyes. He had encountered many women in his life, but none compared to the one before him. She seemed to have the complete package. He had seen prettier chicks, even some with better bodies, but Miamor was different. A bit rough around the edges, he was confident that s
he could be trained.

  While every other woman he had ever courted tried to become wifey, Miamor just went with the flow and was comfortable with her status in his life, whatever it may be. There was no pressure with her, and he appreciated the fact that she didn’t sweat him.

  “Take a walk with me,” he said as he stood and reached down to help her up from her seat.

  Miamor lifted her designer shades off her face and placed them on top of her head as she looked up at Carter. “Where we going? You know I’m tipsy, nigga. We’ve been sipping on mai tais all day.” She laughed. “I probably can’t even stand.”

  “I got you.” Carter licked his lips.

  Miamor stood and held his hand, clinging to his arm as she steadied herself. It felt so good for her to just be able to relax.

  They walked through the sand of the darkening beach, the horizon a phenomenal mixture of exotic oranges and reds, setting the perfect atmosphere for an intimate walk on the beach.

  In the States, she could never let her guard down, so to be so far from home was like heaven to her. Me and Nis used to always dream of traveling, she thought. She looked down at her feet as thoughts of her murdered sibling crossed her mind.

  Carter noticed the sad expression take over her striking features. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I was just thinking about my sister. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin the mood,” she said with a weak smile.

  “You didn’t. Tell me about her.”

  “She was the most perfect person ever,” she whispered.

  A wind gusted up to shore from the ocean, and Miamor wrapped her arms around herself. “She always wanted to travel. She would be so jealous that I’m here right now if she was alive.” She laughed, thinking of how Anisa would’ve cussed her out if she hadn’t invited her. “She taught me everything I know, and she saved me from living my life in fear and in pain.”

  “In fear of what?”

  Miamor stopped walking and put her head down as memories of her childhood came rushing back to her. Carter lifted her chin with the tip of his finger and noticed the look of rage going through her eyes.