“A real live American boy.”
– Illiana
When Zyir stepped off of the private plane, the overwhelming heat hit him instantly. His baggy khaki shorts and white button-down linen shirt seemed too heavy for the Mexican heat. He unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the crisp white wife beater underneath. His eyes were hidden behind the Homme shades he wore.
The hidden airstrip that they had used to fly in on was undetected by the Mexican government, so Zyir felt secure as he stepped off of the plane. Still, he knew that because his presence in Mexico was completely undetected, if something were to happen to him, no one would even know where to begin looking.
He had wanted to bring Mecca along, because that was the one person he knew would not be afraid to pop off if things got out of hand, but Mecca was a hot head, and could easily blow this deal for them. Because of this, Carter had insisted that Zyir go alone, and even though he went everywhere strapped, he felt that it would be of little use in the foreign country.
“Buenas tardes, señor,” the driver greeted as he held open the limousine door.
Zyir nodded his head to greet the man, and then stepped inside of the plush vehicle. A full liquor bar was set up for him inside, but he chose not to partake. He was there to handle business only. He could bullshit back home.
He attempted to keep his bearings as the limo took him to his destination, but he quickly realized that it was no use. He did not know where he was being escorted, and the fact that he was not in control pushed him out of his comfort zone. Trust would be his only way of getting through this meeting. He would have to hope that the men he was about to meet with were men of honor. If not, he was about to walk into a situation where he was greatly outnumbered.
Zyir watched as the city turned into countryside as they drove along the coastline. An hour later, they pulled up to an estate much grander than anything he had ever seen. The beauty of it was magnificent. He admired the stone exterior. He was brought back to reality, however, when he noticed the armed guards standing post at the gates and aiming their automatic sniper rifles from their high towers. The property was guarded like a fort.
Zyir’s palms began to sweat as he attempted to keep his composure. He removed his pistol and placed it underneath the seat of the limo. He knew that the sixteen bullets from his 9 mm would be no match for the artillery that the guards were equipped with. They would fill him with holes before he even let off a shot. So, he was making the first effort to establish a trusting alliance with the Mexicans by going in unarmed. It was his way of showing good faith.
The guards peered into the car, and once Zyir’s identity was confirmed, he was admitted onto the property.
The atmosphere was not what he had assumed it would be. There were no bikini clad women and no sleazy lifestyle taking place. It reminded him of the Diamond estate. It was a family home, and he relaxed a bit when he stepped out of the car.
“Welcome to Mexico, Zyir,” a man greeted as he emerged from the mansion.
“You must be Felipe,” Zyir responded. “I appreciate the invitation. We have a lot to discuss.”
“That we do, but my wife has prepared a beautiful lunch for you on the back terrace. Let’s eat first. The time for business will come soon,” Felipe stated. He led Zyir through the home and out onto the back terrace that faced the ocean.
“Zyir, this is my wife, Maria, and my sister Illiana,” Felipe introduced.
“Very nice to meet you, Zyir,” Maria greeted.
“A real live American boy,” Illiana stated as she surveyed Zyir, her dark, mischievous eyes looking him up and down as she sipped on a cocktail.
Her dark hair and striking features immediately stood out to Zyir. He had never seen a woman so beautiful. As she stared him down, Zyir knew that there was nothing good about this girl. She was a temptress, and the deep pools that were her eyes were hypnotic. He quickly broke their stare to avoid becoming lost in them.
She was the most exotic young woman he had ever seen. She exuded a confidence and sexiness that he had never encountered before. Zyir was no fool, however. He knew that to do business with the Garza family meant that Illiana would be the forbidden fruit. Wars had been sparked over women, and no matter how exotic she appeared, no pussy was that good. He was always about his dollar.
Not wanting to appear too friendly, Zyir nodded his acknowledgements and took a seat. It was customary for a wife to welcome the guests of her husband, and Maria ensured that Zyir was comfortable. The four ate and spoke as if they were old acquaintances, but Zyir was simply being polite and going through the motions. He was itching to get to the money, but knew that he had to build a rapport before Felipe would even bring it up.
Although there were only four people at the table, Zyir was well aware that he was being evaluated by many more. After much unwanted banter, Zyir finally spoke up. His patience was running real low. I’m not here on a social call, he thought. If we ain’t talking money, then we’re wasting time.
He leaned into Felipe so that the women could not overhear and said, “I’m ready to get down to it. I appreciate your hospitality, but it really isn’t necessary. Time is of the essence, nah mean?”
Felipe put his hand on Zyir’s shoulder. “My man… in such a rush. Sometimes you have to do things slowly in order to do them efficiently, my friend,” he replied. He stared tensely at Zyir, and then snapped his fingers, making one of his housekeepers rush quickly to his side.
“¿Si, señor?” the elderly woman asked.
“Rosa, please take my friend’s glass and get him a fresh drink,” Felipe instructed.
Zyir never broke Felipe’s stare, because there was not a man on this earth who could intimidate him. He was fearless as he sat, one man against what he was sure was an entire Mexican army lingering in the shadows of the massive estate. It was clear that Felipe held the power, and by making Zyir wait, he was sending a clear message that everyone on the southern side of the border moved at the pace of the Garza family, including Zyir.
Illiana watched Zyir’s interaction with her brother and secretly admired him. In no form was Zyir bowing to Felipe, and his demeanor intrigued her. She was not used to opposition. No one ever had the balls to hold their ground against the Garza Cartel, but it was obvious that the reputation was not impressive to Zyir.
The housekeeper came back with a new drink for Zyir and then turned to Felipe and announced, “It has been done, señor. He is not in the database.”
Felipe’s mood immediately changed, and his callous expression transformed into a satisfied smile. “I apologize, Zyir. I had to make sure that you are who you say you are. I lifted your prints off of your cocktail glass and had one of my men run them through your country’s national federal database. All federal agents must have their prints taken. A man in my position can never be too cautious,” Felipe explained.
Not wanting to appear too impressed, Zyir held his cards, but he was inwardly pleased at how thorough Felipe was. “I understand,” Zyir replied.
“Now, if you two will excuse us,” Felipe stated as he stood to his feet. “I think I have wasted enough of this man’s time.”
“Surely lunch with me was not a waste of time,” Illiana spoke up, seduction oozing off of her words.
Zyir smirked and then followed Felipe into the mansion.
By the time Zyir departed Mexico, he had secured a new connect and partnership with Felipe. The Cartel was back on, and with the pull that the Garza Cartel possessed, it was only a matter of time before Carter was free and money flowed again.
As Ace stared out of the hotel window, he could not believe his life had come to this. Hiding out in northern Pennsylvania with no contact to the outside world was not what he called a life. Foolishly, he had tried to backdoor The Cartel and sell bricks of cocaine on the side. He had gotten greedy. Tired of constantly working beneath Carter, he had tried to expand on his own, but there was a reason why Carter kept him in the background of the operation. Ace did not have the makings of a boss, and he proved that when he sold a kilo of coke to an undercover federal agent. The feds could almost smell the fear on Ace, and they took advantage of it from the very beginning. Once Ace revealed his connection to The Cartel, he became a pawn in their game to take down Carter, and like a true snitch-ass nigga, Ace obliged to save his own behind.
The life of a federal witness was not what he anticipated. He was forced to go into hiding until the end of the trial, and the detachment he felt knowing that he had turned on his former best friend ate at him. He was set to testify in court in two weeks, but the closer the date came, the more he wanted to change his story. He knew that things could never go back to the way they used to be, but he had come up from the gutter with Carter, and he knew that if the shoe was on the other foot, Carter would have never betrayed him.
Ostracized from everyone he loved and knew, Ace was living a lonely existence. At least in prison he would still have his family. If he had lived by the code of the streets and stayed true to the game, he would have been able to hold his head up high. He was a man, and no one had forced him to play the game the way he had. In his heart, he knew that he had no honor, and that he was causing the demise of another black man. He wanted to recant the statements that he had made to the feds, but he knew it was too late.
Even if he took everything back, the hood would know that he had flipped on Carter, and they would never forget. The streets had no love for snitches, and he was already a marked man. His only option was to testify and then disappear in the witness protection program. It was his only way to start over and begin a new life.
When we started in the game, neither of us ever thought it would turn out like this, he thought solemnly as he reminisced over his early days hustling with Young Carter.
A knock at the door interrupted his reverie as one of the federal agents entered the room. They were his protection, the only barrier between him and the ruthless team of killers that he was sure Carter had ordered to find him. Ace was sure that Mecca was among the wolves coming for his head. Ace only hoped that they never found him. This was how he would live the remainder of his days, looking over his shoulder every second of every hour as the paranoia ate away at his existence.
“Here’s your food,” the agent stated as he wheeled in a silver covered platter.
“Thanks,” Ace stated as he sat down to eat his meal alone. Halfway through his meal, he grasped his throat in horror as he felt his airway become constricted. He attempted to yell out in distress as his eyes widened and he struggled to breathe. He stood frantically, knocking the table on its side as he flailed around the room, gasping for air. Sweat poured from his brow as his insides burned.
The federal agents burst into the room to find their key witness on the ground. His bloodshot eyes pleaded for them to call for help.
“Call a bus!” one of the agents shouted as he bent over to check Ace’s pulse. He looked at the food on the floor and concluded. “Secure the cooking staff downstairs. It’s the food! He’s been poisoned!”
Ace felt himself slipping in and out of consciousness as the agents rushed into action around him. The paramedics finally arrived on the scene and lifted his convulsing body onto a gurney.
“Please… help,” Ace managed to squeeze out.
“We are going to take care of you, sir,” the paramedic stated. “Try to focus on me. Stay with me. You’re going to be okay.”
Ace focused on the sound of the paramedic’s voice as he was loaded into the back of the ambulance. The man’s words reassured him, but he knew that this would only be the first attempt of many on his life. The Cartel had failed this time-fortunately for him, the federal agents had gotten him help in just the nick of time-but they would not always be around to protect him, and now that his location was known, Ace was more fearful than ever before.
The ambulance sped recklessly through traffic as it rushed him to the hospital. Ace closed his eyes to conserve his energy. It wasn’t until he felt the electric bolts pulsing through his body that he realized something was wrong.
“Aghhh!” He yelled as the paramedics shocked him. The voltage was up so high that the hair on his bare chest smoked. “Fuck is going on?”
Before he realized what was happening, he watched the Mexican man place a gun in the center of his forehead. He did not recognize the men, and the look of confusion was apparent on his face. The ambulance stopped moving, and the back doors were snatched open. He looked up and into the face of the devil-Mecca Diamond. Next to him stood a stoic Zyir.
Felipe’s soldiers removed their paramedic disguises and hopped out as Mecca and Zyir climbed in.
Ace attempted to sit up, but was laid back down by the butt of Zyir’s gun as it cracked the bridge of his nose.
“Zy, man… come on. We’re family. I swear I won’t say shit, fam. You don’t have to do this,” Ace begged as he reached out his hand toward Zyir.
Mecca scoffed in disgust. “This ol’ pussy-ass nigga. Where the fuck Carter get this mu’fucka from?” he asked as he aimed his.357 and blew a hole through Ace’s pleading hand.
“Aghh! Fuck!” Ace yelled in excruciating pain as blood spewed from his wound. He held his injured hand.
Ace knew that there would be no reasoning with Mecca, so he hoped that Zyir would show him sympathy. “Zyir, we came in this together.”
“And you going out alone, my nigga,” Zyir stated coldly. His loyalty was to Carter. Any love that he had for Ace had dissipated when Ace turned snitch. Zyir figured that if Ace was willing to turn Carter in, it would only be a matter of time before his own name turned up on a federal affidavit.
Tired of the “remember the times” love song that Ace was singing, Mecca emptied his clip into Ace, silencing him forever. Zyir then walked around to the driver’s seat and put the vehicle in drive. He and Mecca stood as they watched the ambulance roll through the highway rails and plunge down into the mountainous valleys below.
They turned around and shook hands with Felipe’s men. Their connection with the Garza Cartel was already proving to be valuable. It was Felipe who had located Ace, and because of him, at that very moment, the federal judge presiding over Carter’s case was being paid off handsomely. Without Ace, the feds’ case would be too weak to convict, and when Carter’s lawyer requested a dismissal, the judge would oblige.