South Beach Cartel Read online

  SoHo was different from Harlem, and any other place she’d lived. The area was truly a melting pot with various races, young professionals, and all the cool kids. People walked the streets all hours of the night, hopping in and out of cabs, Ubers, or Lyfts. It was a neighborhood of lofts, art galleries, and a variety of shops ranging from trendy upscale boutiques to chain outlets. The area was also known for the multitude of cast-iron facades and cobblestone streets. Apple’s block was like a scene from Sex and the City.

  The moment Apple arrived at her front door, her cell phone rang. Her caller ID said it was Nick calling. Her heart smiled, somewhat. She answered with a halfhearted, “Hey baby.”

  She walked into the building chatting with Nick.

  Apple loved men who were thorough and street, but she also loved men she could control. She had to be the boss bitch at all times. She’d vowed to never allow herself to stoop low again for any nigga. Between Supreme, Chico, Guy Tony, and Jamel, she had made a lot of mistakes and the best way to guard her heart was to never fully give it to a man again.

  Nicholas Davis was a powerhouse not to be fucked with, but Apple knew she could most likely manipulate him. He was much older than Apple, being forty years old with a respected resume in the streets, while she was in her mid-twenties.

  Nick’s father was Corey Davis, a man who ran with Nicky Barnes, Bumpy Johnson, and Guy Fisher in the sixties and seventies. Corey had gotten locked up in 1977 on conspiracy and murder charges and received a life sentence. Corey named Nick after Nicky Barnes, and Nick was only a couple of months old when his father was locked up for life. Nick had to learn to be a man on his own, and he learned from the streets, so it was inevitable that he would choose his father’s gangster profession.

  By the time he was fourteen, Nick caught his first body when he stabbed a rival drug dealer named Malik Noland in a Harlem alley. A young girl named Stephanie Hawkins saw the whole thing and was ready to testify for the prosecution. Nick was looking at a life sentence in a state prison and becoming even more like his father.

  Nick’s best friend and partner in crime, Amir, wasn’t about to let that happen. Amir tracked the young girl down, and late one night, he climbed through her first floor tenement building window and shot her in the head while she slept in her bedroom. She died instantly.

  The prosecution tried to charge Nick as an adult for the murder of Malik Noland, and then they tried to add charges for the death of Stephanie Hawkins, but their case quickly fell apart and the D.A. had to cut him loose. Nick dodged a serious bullet, thanks to Amir. But there is no statute of limitation for murder, and his case had been dismissed without prejudice, meaning it could be reopened.

  Nick and Amir were extremely loyal to one another, and together, they wreaked havoc for decades, getting fast money and taking lives until Amir got knocked by state police for riding dirty with five kilos in the trunk of his car. He received a lengthy prison sentence and left behind a five-year-old son named Abraham.

  That was twenty years ago, and Amir’s incarceration left Nick on the streets without a right-hand man. But Nick made it his business to visit Amir at least once a month. It was a coincidence that Amir was in the same prison as Nick’s father, and he would visit them separately. Nick also made sure that both his father and best friend were well taken care of inside prison by keeping money on their books.

  ***

  Apple was laying on the king size bed watching Netflix when Nick walked in with a wide smile, a bottle of champagne, and a small, black duffel bag from the scene of his latest and final crime. He had just gotten back from North Carolina and left behind two bullet-riddled bodies in the trunk of an old car.

  Seeing Apple looking delicious in her panties and bra only added to his good mood. He had missed his young thang.

  “This is it for me, baby,” he said.

  “I take it you came off in North Carolina.”

  His smile continued and he tossed the small duffel bag on the bed near Apple’s feet. Curious of the contents, she reached for the bag and opened it, seeing the cash inside. She reckoned it to be nearly sixty thousand dollars, which wasn’t shit in her eyes. Apple was used to being around millions of dollars.

  “I’m done, baby,” Nick repeated. He picked up the duffel bag and dumped the cash all over the bed.

  Apple looked at him deadpan. He had been preaching about retiring from the game since the day she’d met him. Nick had made a promise to himself, his father, and his best friend that he would get out of the game if or when he reached his fortieth birthday. He stood there in the bedroom looking proud, rugged, and handsome. He was six feet tall with a lean and fit body. He was dark-skinned and had intense black eyes that could rouse fear in any man. He had a thick, black beard that he always kept trimmed and shaped-up. He was clad in all black—a hoodie, jeans, and Timbs.

  Nick popped the champagne open to celebrate with his lady. Together, they drank and ate Chinese food that Apple had ordered earlier. Nick was excited about Apple—he was open—maybe in love with her. She was the prettiest thing he’d seen in a long while. She was smart, intriguing, and somebody not to be messed with. Her assertive attitude was a turn-on for him. Nick didn’t like weak women.

  “Where’s Peaches?” he asked as he poured more champagne for them.

  “I dropped her off at her aunt’s place,” she said.

  “Damn, I was hoping to see her before she left. You know she’s my little princess,” he said.

  She smiled. “I know.”

  Nick loved the little girl like she was his own daughter, but they’d agreed that now wasn’t the right time for Apple and him to raise her.

  “I can’t stop thinkin’ about that bitch,” Apple announced.

  Nick already knew she was talking about Citi. It was a common subject inside her home. The contempt for Citi oozed from Apple’s pores. She wore her hate and vengeance for the girl like her own skin.

  Apple, knowing her man was a cold-blooded killer, continued to tell him about her lingering beef and unresolved issues with the girl. “You know how much she took from us!” she exclaimed.

  She wanted to go in, torture and kill the bitch, and keep her life moving. Apple wasn’t going to be satisfied until she executed street justice on Citi and took back what was owed to her.

  However, Nick was reluctant to participate in the street justice Apple yearned for. He was thinking about his retirement from the game. He had put in a lot of work on the streets and racked up bodies and lots of cash. Nick felt his luck was going to run out if he continued in that direction. After seeing his father sentenced to life in prison and then Amir getting caught up, Nick figured that it was time to change up his MO. He stopped hustling and began robbing and killing drug dealers. It had netted him a pretty penny. He had spent a lot of his blood money on the finer things in life, but he also had managed to stash away a healthy nest egg for himself, over a million dollars to be exact. It was enough money to retire on, he felt.

  It took nearly two decades and a lot of dead dealers to accomplish the feat, but to Nick, murdering niggas was light work. He worked alone. He didn’t have an organization with goons, runners, and triggermen. He didn’t have to cook coke, cut it up, or distribute it. He had no partners or underlings to snitch on him, and it was one of the reasons he’d lasted so long doing what he did.

  Nick would take his time to hunt and study his prey. He was a very patient man, knowing that impatience and carelessness got men captured or killed. He would attack his victims when they were most vulnerable, take what he needed, execute them, and then disappear into the night. He wasn’t on anyone’s radar, because to them he didn’t exist. He had no connections to his victims. He worked his own hours, took long vacations to exotic locations, and he had little overhead.

  Apple continued to talk about Citi. She made it clear to Nick that she needed his help in getting her revenge. It was a lot more
difficult for her to carry out her plan on her own.

  “I told you, Apple, I’m done. North Carolina was my last job.”

  “There’s a lot involved here, baby.”

  “I told you before, I just want to take my million plus and invest in my bar and a few other businesses and just watch my money grow.”

  Nick needed to prove to himself and his father that he was more than a killer—that he was smart too.

  “So just like that, you’re retiring from this shit—from who you are?”

  “What you think? I made it this far by being smart, Apple, not stupid.”

  “Not even for me, baby?”

  “Look, I know you hate that bitch with a passion, but this some shit I need to fall back on,” he said.

  “But I’m asking you for your help on this. You’re my man—I fuck and suck your dick good every night, and I expect for you to have my back.”

  “And I do have your back, baby. But I told you that I’m retiring!”

  Apple became irritated that he couldn’t make an exception for her, even after she told him what Citi had done to her and Cartier.

  Apple allowed Nick to table the discussion—for now. Tonight he won the battle, but the war was hers to conquer.

  Nick began kicking off his boots and unbuttoning his jeans. He had hoped that Apple would have done it for him, but he could clearly see that she had an attitude, and now he had one too.

  “So we not gonna watch Netflix and chill?”

  Apple smirked and then rolled her eyes. “No shade, but I got shit to do in the morning.” She was highly irritated but didn’t want to argue and ruin Nick’s high. She could tell that her man was caught up kissing his own ass from his latest and last lick.

  Nick exhaled his frustration. It had been a long day. All he wanted to do was make it back alive, retire from the game, and make love to Apple. And from the sour look on her face he knew he wasn’t getting any pussy.

  What a fucking day.

  “You need to really think about this beef you got wit’ this bitch. My pops always said when seeking revenge, remember to dig two graves.”

  “I’ll fuckin’ dig ten if I have to, and I promise it won’t be me in one.” Apple always was hardheaded, and she hated being told what she couldn’t do. She walked to her mirrored hutch, pulled on a T-shirt, and began wrapping up her long hair. She was making a statement. She glared at Nick as she placed each bobby pin in.

  The ambiance and mood was over.

  “Let this shit go, ma. Take the L and stop lookin’ in your rearview.” Nick knew that he had to school Apple on the game. “I have a code, bae. I don’t act off emotions and ego ’cause I’ll end up in a box or in a cell. My pops and Amir wanted to make names for themselves—wanted their names echoing off city streets and tumbling out niggas’ and bitches’ mouths—and look where that got them.”

  “You and I got two different playbooks. You think ’cause you ain’t do jail time or trap that makes you special? You lookin’ down on me because I won’t walk away and you took the easy way out?”

  “Easy?” Nick was about to lose his cool. Her stubbornness was getting under his skin. “You think it was easy to not set up trap houses and feed the streets and do what’s in my blood? I was born into the drug game at the highest level. No, ma, it was hard as hell and took great discipline to slowly build my stash. It took sacrifice, forethought, and patience. I could have made a million decades ago had I stayed in the game. But I wouldn’t have been able to spend that bread. I would have never met you or had the opportunity to go legit. Think, baby, think. This bitch got ya mind.”

  “No, that bitch got my muthafuckin’ money and I want it back!”

  Nick shook his head. She wasn’t hearing him. “You fueled by failure.”

  Apple swung around. “And you fueled by—”

  Bingo! Apple didn’t finish her sentence. She knew the one thing that got Nick’s trigger finger twitching, and she would use it to her advantage. She redirected with, “You know what baby? Let’s not fight. I’m beat and tomorrow’s a new day.”

  Apple climbed in bed looking unsexy and cold.

  “So no pussy tonight?”

  “I’m on my period.”

  5

  Citi’s long brown hair with blonde highlights flowed gracefully down her back as she stepped out of her custom baby blue Range Rover five blocks from her destination. It felt like today was going to be a good day for her—and her pussy. Pacho’s bail had been posted with the bondsman and his attorney fees had been paid.

  It was a breezy and chilly day, and Citi was dressed for Pacho in tight jeans, an expensive silk Gucci tank that accentuated her tits, and a short Burberry trench coat. She bit her lip as she paced up and down the sidewalk on the side of Pacho’s apartment building, her heels working the cement in anticipation. The only thing she could think about was wrapping her arms around Pacho, hugging him, kissing him, and most important, having great sex with him.

  But Citi had to be extremely careful about Scar being in the area too. To him, she hardly had a reason to be at Pacho’s place. So she was on alert the entire time.

  Finally, a yellow cab pulled to the curb in front of the building, and Citi watched with glee from a short distance as Pacho climbed out. She hurried toward him. Pacho pivoted to his left and was shocked to see Citi coming his way. She was all smiles.

  “Hey baby!” she cried out.

  The sight of her put a bright smile on Pacho’s face. Citi jumped into his arms and they hugged each other tightly. It felt so good to have him in her arms, Citi wanted to come out her clothes right there and give him some, but she had to be patient.

  “I missed you, baby,” she said.

  “I missed you too,” he said.

  They shared a passionate kiss and then Pacho noticed the bruises on her face. “He did this to you?”

  Citi didn’t want to talk about it. She was with Pacho right now and that’s all that mattered to her. She said, “Can we take this inside?”

  He nodded. Pacho ushered her into the building and they soon stepped inside his sparsely furnished apartment with the 50” television mounted on the living room wall and the leather sofa—the ultimate bachelor’s pad. For a brief moment they stared at each other. She was slightly trembling from the weather outside, so Pacho wrapped his arms around her, shaping his hold into a tight and sentimental hug, and the two passionately kissed.

  Their romantic moment soon transitioned to the bathroom, where they peeled away their clothing and took a hot shower together. Pacho’s hard dick drilled deep inside her dripping wet pussy as he fucked her from behind with her hands against the shower wall. She cooed from the repetitive motion behind her, feeling all of him intensely like her body was super sensitive.

  “Ooh, I missed you,” she moaned. “Oh, you feel so good in me, baby.”

  She maneuvered to face him, the shower water still cascading against their naked flesh and making rivulets down their bodies. With the sound of water splashing against the tile, Pacho hoisted his woman into his arms with her legs straddling him and slammed his dick into her with her back against the slippery wall. They kissed strongly and she moaned while feeling his hands explore her naked flesh. He nuzzled her neck and continued his upward thrust inside of her.

  “Ooooh . . . ummm, I missed you, baby,” she cooed.

  After a lasting moment of passionate sex, Citi found herself exploding from an orgasm while still in Pacho’s grasp. Her legs trembled against him and the cries of pleasure echoed from the shower.

  Once clothed and in the living room, Citi only wanted to enjoy Pacho. But Pacho, seeing her bruises, couldn’t keep quiet about their situation any longer. “I can’t take this sneaking around shit any longer, baby. I’m tired of it.”

  “I don’t have a choice.”

  “What you mean you don’t have a cho
ice? I’m your choice. And if you help me murder this nigga Scar, then we can be together without this hiding shit,” he said with conviction.

  It was tempting and Citi had weighed her options. She had a large stable of enemies out there. Pacho was a killer, but Scar was something else—something a lot more menacing. Scar commanded respect and knew how to keep his thugs in line. He was born a body snatcher and enjoyed being one. Citi didn’t know if Pacho was built for life as the head enforcer.

  Citi had double crossed two thoroughbred bitches in the game—Apple and Cartier. These women had gone up against one of the deadliest cartels around and lived to tell about it. The fact they were still out there somewhere spooked Citi. Apple was a bloodthirsty bitch with no fear, and Cartier was smart and ruthless. If shit got thick again on the streets, Citi knew that Scar would become a killing machine for her.

  Sure, she had her brother Cane, who was equally intimidating, but she didn’t want to see anything happen to him. Citi had already lost too much with her other brother Chris doing hard jail time and both her parents dead. If she lost Cane, she would feel like an orphan again. She would be alone, and she didn’t want to be alone.

  Pacho noticed her hesitation. “You fuckin’ love that nigga!”

  She was taken aback by the remark. “What? No! Hell no! I love you, baby,” she said wholeheartedly.

  Pacho didn’t know what to believe, but Citi continued to try and convince him, saying that Scar was creepy and made her skin crawl.

  “Then why not set him up—get rid of this nigga for good, Citi?”

  “Because I need him right now, Pacho. Now is not the time to lose him when my organization has just taken a huge hit,” she argued.