“Take off all your clothing,” a black man stated as he walked up and down the rows of girls. Breeze was reluctant, but everyone around her obediently began to disrobe.
“Undress,” Liberty whispered urgently.
“What?” Breeze exclaimed. “No.”
“Everything is easier if you forget about your past. Your place is here now. Just do as they say,” Liberty warned.
Feeling as if she could not sink any lower, Breeze pulled off her clothes. The life and times of being a Diamond heir, her father’s princess, were so far removed that it almost felt like she had never lived it. She could not believe that her life had come to this. Her father had kept her closely for most of her life. He had protected her and guarded her, but instead of helping her, his overprotection hindered her. It had made her vulnerable, and that vulnerability had led her to this place.
She was nothing like her brothers. She was weak. As she stood in the line, tears flowed freely down her dirty face, and she helplessly watched as the man grabbed a high-pressure hose and aimed it at her line. She closed her eyes as she was blasted with cold water like an animal. Through it all, she cried. Liberty held her hand while the little bit of Breeze Diamond that was left was washed away.
“Hold out your arms,” the man stated when he finally put the hose down. Breeze already knew what that meant, and although her mind told her to protest, her body urged her to give in. It had been three full days since Ms. Beth had injected her with her last fix, and already her body was hooked. It craved the drug against Breeze’s will, and instead of fighting it, Breeze gave up. If she was going to have to live like this, she may as well be numb to the pain.
Breeze clung to Liberty as if her life depended on it. Day in and day out they kept each other sane, until one fateful afternoon, Ms. Beth came to the camp where they were being kept. Whenever she came around, an eerie aura swept over the girls. She was the one who had manipulated most of them into coming to Murderville in the first place, so everyone feared her. She was the perfect example of the blue-eyed, blonde-haired devil, and Breeze hated her.
As the girls stood to their feet and waited for Ms. Beth to deliver their daily fix, the room was silent. It had not taken long for Breeze to become a full-blown addict, and her eyes widened in anticipation as she watched each girl get their turn before her.
As Ms. Beth administered the deadly drug, she separated the girls into two different groups. Some of the girls would be taken and groomed for wealthy buyers, but the unfortunate young women would stay in Murderville and work in the brothels. They would be contracted out for private parties and have their bodies sold to those who could afford it. The girls in this group would be common whores, and once they were used up to the point of no return, they would be executed and replaced. This was the group Ms. Beth put Breeze in, while Liberty was one of the lucky ones. She was taken away to be groomed for a high-priced auction.
With no one left to depend on but herself, Breeze submitted to the world of drugs and sex. She was taken to a house with ten other girls and dressed up in sexy garments. She was so high that everything was a blur as the madame of the brothel put makeup on her face and sprayed perfume all over her body.
Lazily, Breeze lay sprawled across the satin sheets as her first client entered the room. Just looking at her, no one would have ever pegged her for a junkie. The only thing that gave her away were the track marks underneath the sheer fabric of the negligee.
The man that lingered over her lusted over Breeze’s beautiful appearance. Under no other circumstance would he ever be able to be with a woman of her beauty.
Breeze was so out of it that all she could do was lie there as the man had his way with her. It was something that she had gotten used to. She had never chosen to give herself away to any man. She didn’t know what it was like to feel a man’s gentle touch. Her womanhood was always taken away, and she was never in a position to say no.
Chapter Six
“Forever Miamor would sleep with the fishes.”
– Unknown
Murder arrived in Miami on a commercial flight with hatred in his heart. He soaked up all of the information from the Murder Mamas about The Cartel and Miamor’s worst enemy, Mecca. With a thirst for revenge and pictures of the entire Diamond family, he was ready to find what was left of Miamor and get at The Cartel. Murder’s hands never stopped shaking throughout the whole flight, not because of nervousness or fear, but because of the itch to get at whoever had brought pain to Miamor.
Murder demanded that Robyn and Aries stay in L.A., so that he could work the way he did best-alone, strategically, and uninterrupted. They all hoped desperately that Murder would find Miamor alive, but deep in all of their hearts, they knew what was to be found.
Murder got his bags and headed to the curb to catch a cab. He was headed to the exact address that was left inside the box with Miamor’s severed hand. Murder’s heart hurt every time he thought about the pain and agony that Mecca had brought upon his favorite girl, Miamor. He carefully studied the picture that Robyn and Aries had given him of the heads of The Cartel. He could pick Mecca’s face out of a sea of people. Although Murder had never seen Mecca face to face, he knew his every facial feature, and it was a face that would be etched in his mind forever.
Every time Murder thought about Miamor’s angelic smile, he had to fight back tears while wishing she was in his arms. It was a love that was unexplainable. Although Miamor looked at Murder as a big brother, Murder looked at Miamor as much more. He knew that she was the love of his life, and he would never be able to win her over, because deep in his heart, he knew she was dead.
He pulled out a picture of Mecca that Miamor had taken while she was preparing to hit him, and he studied it once more. Murder’s hands began to shake as he clenched his teeth so tightly that it seemed as if he would chip a tooth. Just as a driver pulled up on him, he stuck the photo in his inner jacket pocket and caught a cab to his hotel.
Mecca cruised through the Miami streets unable to focus on the road because he kept checking his rearview mirror. He suspected that the tinted minivan was following him for the past few blocks. “What the hell?” Mecca whispered as he glanced in the mirror again and saw that the van had made the same right turn that he did. Mecca, tired of playing the game of cat and mouse, reached under his seat to retrieve his automatic handgun. He smoothly placed it on his lap as he approached the upcoming yellow traffic light.
“Niggas trying to catch me slipping? Not today,” he stated as he eased up to the light and made a complete stop. The van pulled up behind him, and that was when Mecca clicked on. His street instincts took over, and he acted on impulse. He threw the car into park and quickly hopped out of the car, gun in hand.
“Why the fuck are you following me?” Mecca yelled. He had his gun gripped tightly, holding it like a professional marksmen, almost like a cop would do. Mecca quickly crept up to the car, not giving the driver time to make a move. When Mecca got a glimpse of the driver, he instantly felt silly.
A pregnant, blonde white woman was the only person in the car. She quickly threw both of her hands up and froze in utter terror as a pool of tears filled her eyes. She tried to scream, but Mecca was in her grill so quickly that she had no time to let out a sound. He waved the gun in her face through the open driver’s side window.
Mecca saw the terrified look in the woman’s face and instantly felt guilty. He knew that his nerves were making him reckless, and he made stupid choices when he was reckless. It was something that he was trying to change. His paranoia eased up. Everybody’s not out to get you, Mecca thought as he regretted assaulting the soccer mom.