Tale of the Murda Mamas Page 7

The dude dropped instantly and in the blink of an eye, and behind some beef that I did not even own, I’d caught my second body.

  Flashes of Perry came back to me. I started to relive that nightmare all over again… Anisa’s screams in my ear, the baby she had killed because of him… all of the sudden the man lying before me dying was Perry. The dude was scrambling, holding his stomach and choking on his own blood. Shakily, I stood to my feet, walked over to him, and put the gun to his head. I pulled the trigger again and again and again, until the click of an empty chamber forced me to stop, and his blood splatter covered my shirt.

  “Oh my God! Oh my God!” Anisa yelled out. “I’m so sorry, Murder! I’m so sorry!”

  I could hear sirens in my ears, but I couldn’t force myself to move. My feet felt like they were made of cement.

  “Miamor, help me… he’s shot!”

  I was in a daze. I heard Anisa calling my name, but it wasn’t until I heard Murder call me that I snapped out of it. “Miamor!” he called out sternly. I turned my head, my chest heaving, tears in my eyes, and distress in my heart. “I need you, ma!”

  His shirt was soaked in blood, and Anisa helped him to his feet. He cringed in pain as her hands searched his body. “Where are you hit?” she asked, the sirens getting clearer.

  Murder lifted his shirt to reveal the vest he wore underneath. “It’s just a shoulder wound,” he stated. “Come on, we’ve got to get out of here,” he said with urgency.

  He led Anisa back to her car and put her in the passenger side. She was crying and kept apologizing over and over. “Get in the car, Anisa!” he yelled as he stuffed her inside and closed the door. He then came over to me. The sounds of the police were right around the corner now. I knew they would be here at any minute.

  I looked up at Murder. “I shot him!” I whispered. My hands were shaking. The second murder of my life had not been as easy to commit as the first. This one shook me to the bottom of my soul. Did he have kids? A wife? He was somebody’s son. Did he deserve to die? All of these things ran through my mind in a split second.

  Murder put his hand on the side of my face. “I know what you’re feeling, ma.”

  I couldn’t look him in the face.

  “Look at me,” he said. “You did what you had to do. Now, I need you to get your head together and fast. I need you to get out of here. Take this gun and take care of it for me. Listen to me, Miamor, it’s important.” He grabbed my shoulders and stared at me intensely. “No weapons, no body, no murder. I need you to make that happen. I’m trusting you, lil’ mama. I’ll distract the police away from you.”

  “You’re hurt! What about you? He’s dead. They’ll arrest you,” I said as I shook my head.

  “Just do it!” He pushed me inside the car and hit the top of the roof. “Drive, Miamor. Go now!”

  I skirted out of the dead end and took off down the road as I watched him run back and get into his car. I made a right off of the dead end street just as a police car was pulling onto it. Then, Murder turned recklessly to the left and sideswiped the police car purposefully to get them to follow him.

  “Oh my God! Miamor, they’re going after him! Why did I do this? This is all my fault! That’s not even me, Mia. I don’t even do shit like this!” Anisa cried hysterically.

  “Shut up, Anisa!” I yelled. “What’s done is done. You have to calm down. I have to get rid of this gun, and we need to lay low. I can’t think with you in my ear with all that crying.”

  Anisa sat back in her seat and muffled her cries, while I found myself driving back into the city. I worried about going across the bridge and paying the toll. I was paranoid. If by some chance the police had gotten the plate number on Anisa’s car, then they would be waiting for us for sure. If the car got searched, then it would be a wrap, because the murder weapon was under my seat with my prints all over it.

  When I came to the toll, I felt like my heart was going to explode. I was sweating, my face was swollen from being slapped to the ground, and I knew I looked a mess. The worker didn’t even look my way as she took my money and allowed me to enter New York.

  “Where are we going?” Anisa asked.

  “I have to do something,” I replied quietly. “It’s important.” I found myself driving to Queens, to the pawnshop that Murder had taken me to when I first got out. I was surprised that I remembered where it was, but instinct led me there. He had told me to get rid of the gun. This is the only way I knew how to.

  It was too early for the pawnshop to be open, so we waited. Anisa eventually fell asleep, but I couldn’t. Not after everything that had gone down. I was wide awake and more afraid than I had ever been. The moon disappeared as the sun kissed the city streets and welcomed a new day. Hours had passed, and when I finally saw the owner approach the pawnshop, I jumped out of the car and met him at the front door.

  “I need your help,” I said frantically.

  He looked at me curiously, probably wondering what hell I’d been through since my face was bruised and there was still blood all over me. “Murder sent me. I need to get rid of a gun.”

  The older man nodded and ushered me inside, then locked the door behind us. I put the gun on the counter the same way I had seen Murder do months before.

  “It’s five hundred each gun,” he said.

  “I don’t have any money,” I admitted.

  “I’m not running a charity, girl. Five hundred is my price,” he stated.

  I held the car key to Anisa’s whip in my hand. I held it up for him. “Take the car.”

  “For a five hundred dollar debt you are giving me a brand new car?” the man asked suspiciously.

  “Look!” I yelled in desperation. “I need to get rid of this gun. I don’t give a fuck about the car. How much is the car worth?”

  “I’ll give you ten grand for it,” the man stated. “Fine. Give me $9,500 and make this gun disappear,” I settled.

  He nodded, and I followed him to the basement where the barrels of acid were located. After watching the gun dissolve in the acid, I felt relieved.

  “You need anything else?” he asked, and motioned toward the wall of guns and weapons.

  I nodded. After what I had just done, I didn’t want to be caught slipping. I had no idea what type of repercussions would come from my actions, and I wanted to be prepared. “Give me something small.”

  The old man pulled a small black.25 from the wall. “How does that feel in your hands?” he asked.

  I gripped the tiny handgun and nodded my head in approval. “I’ll take it.”

  I rushed out of the shop to find Anisa waiting anxiously in the car. “Get out,” I instructed.

  “What do you mean, get out? What’s happening?” she looked terrible. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying and she had bags full of worry.

  “I sold your car,” I said.

  “What?” she exclaimed.

  “Nis, this car can be traced back to that murder scene. It’s not worth it.” I split the money I had left with her. “We’ll take the subway back home. We need to wait to hear from

  Murder.”

  “How did you know where to go to get rid of the gun?” she asked.

  I stopped walking and turned toward her. “Murder taught me,” I replied.

  Chapter Six

  (Back to the Cartel)

  Carter sat inside the Diamond Estate… his father’s home… now his home, and sighed in angst from his current circumstance. He had been released from jail just weeks before because the prosecutor’s star witness, Ace, suddenly had a change of heart. Carter smiled, knowing that Mecca and Zyir had came through for him and got him off the hook. Now that he was out, he had more important things on his mind instead of prison. Mecca sat across from him, cautiously watching Carter.

  Both men were silent, each with a different pain in his heart. The war with the Haitians had been won, but at what cost? They both felt like they had given up too much in order to win. Yes, they still had control of the city, but everything that
really mattered in life had been destroyed. Their family had been dismantled all for the sake of power.

  “Where is she, fam?” Carter asked aloud as he opened and closed the black velvet ring box that contained the engagement ring that he had planned to give to Miamor. It had been months and he hadn’t heard from her. As soon as he was arrested, Miamor had disappeared, and although he could deal with the thought of incarceration and he could handle all of the risks that came with the game, he could not fathom the idea of never seeing her again. He could see her face, her smile, her eyes, as if she had been by his side just yesterday. She was on his brain constantly, and as long as he was unaware of her whereabouts, he would not be able to concentrate on anything else. She was important to him… the only thing he had left to keep him sane. She was the woman who was supposed to be his wife and bear his children. How could she just walk away? He thought grimly. The thought angered and saddened him at the same time.

  Mecca stopped himself from smirking. Look at this lovesick ass nigga! he fumed. He was tired of Carter sulking over Miamor. He didn’t feel a need to tell Carter of Miamor’s deception. He had handled that beef personally, and now that she was out of the picture, he was completely satisfied. He had avenged the deaths of his mother and sister. Although vengeance had come at the expense of Carter’s heart, he knew that in time Carter would move on with his life.

  “Nigga, you need to take them blinders off when it comes to that bitch,” Mecca stated harshly. “She left you stinking. You haven’t seen or heard from her since the day you were knocked. She was probably a Fed or something. Forget about her. Grimy ass bitch was playing a role to get you caught up. You took the bait. It happens to the best of us.”

  Mecca’s words made Carter’s heart throb in agonizing pain. The thought of Miamor’s betrayal was too heavy a burden for him to carry. “Maybe you’re right, bro,” he said with doubt.

  “Nigga, I am right. That bitch got you around here fucked up. You a clean nigga. She got you growing beards and shit,” Mecca joked, making light of the situation. “You need to be thinking about keeping the Feds off your doorstep. Just because that snitch nigga, Ace is in the wind don’t mean you’re in the clear. The government doesn’t lose often. You walking free is an embarrassment to them. They’re not done with you yet, so we need to be prepared for whatever they have planned. After your freedom’s guaranteed, the rest will fall into place.”

  Carter nodded, knowing that Mecca was speaking the truth. He was focused on all the wrong things. His life was hanging in the wings, and he needed to be at his best in order to overcome the odds that were stacked against him.

  Mecca stood. “I’m outta here, fam. I’ll get with you later. I won’t be making too many more trips to this side of town coming to check on you. I still got issues left unsettled,” he said, reminding Carter of his unfinished business with Emilio Estes.

  “Keep a body with you at all times,” Carter said with authority. “Don’t be on that Superman shit, Mecca. You can’t go against the Dominican mafia alone.”

  Mecca lifted his shirt with one hand, revealing a.380 snub chrome nine-milli, and a.45 tucked against his rock hard abdomen. “Fuck another nigga! I got my bitches lined up right here,” Mecca replied arrogantly. “They won’t catch me slipping again.”

  Carter nodded. “I hear you. Be smart and be careful,” he said.

  Carter arose and walked around the immaculate mansion. The gray sweats and white T-shirt he wore were very uncharacteristic of him. The fear of the unknown had him out of his element, and he spent his days confined to the house, his thoughts of Miamor driving him insane. He had everything in the world that a man could want-power, money, luxury, but without her, it all held no value. He would easily give it all up to be with her, and had thought that her love for him ran just as deep.

  Pouring himself a glass of Remy VSOP, he made his way over to the picturesque window that overlooked the front of the estate. A cable van sat on the street, undoubtedly filled with federal agents who were monitoring his home, trying to build a new case on him. He wouldn’t give them the ammunition they needed to send him away. Prison wasn’t for him. He’d send them to their graves before they shipped him back to prison. He opened the door and walked outside. He acknowledged his armed workers with head nods as he carried the glass of cognac in his hand. Fifty men surrounded the estate, all fully aware of everything and everyone around them, but no one was allowed to enter his home, with the exception of Mecca and Zyir. Carter made his way to the gate and nodded for his keeper to open it. He walked to the edge of the street to retrieve his daily newspaper. A huge picture of his face covered the front page:

  Drug Kingpin Carter Jones Walks Free.

  The cable truck was not even five feet away from him. He smirked and held up the paper for the Feds to see, then he approached the van. “Good morning, gentlemen,” he greeted when he finally reached the driver’s side.

  “We’ve been made,” he heard an agent whisper from the back. The driver of the van watched him with cold eyes.

  “Of course you’ve been made. Look up and down this street,” Carter said. “Cable vans don’t quite fit in with hundred thousand dollar cars.”

  His arrogance and power intimidated even the highest of the law. He could see that he made them nervous. It takes a wolf to catch a wolf. Carter was one man who would not be easy to get to. They were playing out of their league, and their amateur tactics of surveillance proved that.

  “Step away from the vehicle, Mr. Jones,” the driver commanded.

  Carter smiled at the officer’s attempt to be dominant, but the tremble in his voice revealed his cowardice. “Not a problem, but I would like to see your badge. Since it’s obvious that you’ll be guests in front of my home, I need to be sure you are who you say you are… you understand,” Carter answered sarcastically.

  The federal agent removed his badge and handed it to Carter. Carter inspected it with the same hand he held his drink in, then passed it back. He tapped the inside of the driver door. “Agent Marshall,” he said as he smiled and walked away. Carter had slyly slipped a transparent audio device, no larger than a small piece of tape, onto the back of the agent’s badge, and also one on the inside of the van. Idiot mu’fuckas! he thought to himself as he entered back onto his property and disappeared inside his home. They thought that they were watching him, but now he would know exactly what they were saying. He would always be one step ahead of them now that he had infiltrated their operation. The listening device had a radius of 100 miles, and wherever that badge went, Carter’s ears would follow. I’ll even hear you fucking your wife at night, he thought.

  Carter rubbed the abundance of hair on his face and thought, Mecca is right. I need to get my shit together and stay focused.

  * * *

  Breeze whimpered weakly as a cold sweat drenched her body and chills stiffened her spine. Her light skin was a sickly bluish tint, and she was barely strong enough to lift her head.

  Ma’tee had tried to stop the poison from spreading, but his home remedies were useless, and the medicine he had given her had no effect on her condition. Breeze’s foot was swollen and the skin directly around the spider bite was black. The red streaks going up her leg was a clear indication that the poison was spreading. If she didn’t get medical treatment in a matter of days, she would be dead.

  “Water!” she whispered desperately as Ma’tee jumped at her every beck and call. The tender way in which he touched her revealed his growing obsession. He was crazy over her. In his mind, no one loved her more than him. He would die before he gave her back. Breeze was the only thing he had left in this world, and he imprisoned her so that she would only be his. She was too beautiful for anyone else to see, too delicate for anyone else to touch. She belonged to him.

  He could not see it, but his possession over her was slowly causing her sanity to abandon her. She did not have the strong Diamond will that the rest of her family possessed. Her eyes were empty as if her soul was now gone
. She had lost all hope, and as she looked up at the man who had taken her away from everyone she loved, she cried. She didn’t have the strength to fight anymore. She was his slave in every sense of the word. He had taken her body, her mind, and her spirit, and trapped them in Haiti. Even if she did ever make it out alive, she would never be the same. Things could never go back to the way they used to be. She had endured too much. Psychologically, she was ruined. Emotionally, she was drained. Physically, she was raped. The lovely young woman that Breeze used to be did not exist anymore. Only Ma’tee had the key to set her free, and she knew that would never happen.

  Breeze began to cough violently and bile flew from her mouth, her body desperately trying to get rid of some of the venom that was slowly killing her.

  Ma’tee sat near her bedside and applied ice to her wound and a cold wet towel to her forehead to try and lower her fever. Her temperature was dangerously high, yet she felt so cold that she shivered. He desperately tried to bring Breeze’s health back up to par, but the more days that passed, the worse she became. He wasn’t ready to let her go. He refused to lose her, even to death, so his only alternative was to take her to the only doctor in town. Ma’tee knew that he was taking a big risk by taking Breeze to town, but if he wanted her to live, then he had to.

  He stood to his feet and looked around at all of the Polaroid pictures he had taken of Breeze. They covered the walls, almost entirely constructing his very own wallpaper of lunacy. They were his masterpiece. “So beautiful!” he whispered. The photos chronicled her time in Haiti. Her smileless face and hateful expressions went unnoticed by him. He was delirious to think that he loved her. The misery and fear that he was causing her was evident on her face in every photograph. He went upstairs to retrieve his gun, rummaging through his kitchen drawers until he found bullets to load it with. He was unsure about taking her to town, but his hand was forced. He did not have a choice.