The Cartel - Ashley Antoinette Snell [55]
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. And 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?