As he looked down at her face, he noticed the change in her. Whatever she had been through, it had drained her spirit. Even through the high from the heroin, he could see the hopelessness in her eyes. He grimaced as he thought of all of the men who had invaded her body, and as she began to scratch herself in her sleep, he saw the tell-all signs of a junkie.
As they pulled up to the airstrip and boarded the private jet, Carter held onto her tightly, as if she would disappear.
Breeze opened her eyes slightly and looked drowsily up at her older brother. “I just want to go home. Please take me to my family. They don’t even know I’m alive,” she whispered, still disoriented and unaware of her surroundings.
“I’m taking you home, Breeze, and nobody will ever hurt you again.”
Zyir awoke to the sound of his cell phone vibrating against his wooden nightstand. He sat up and wiped the sleep out of his eyes as he reached over Illiana to answer it. Carter’s name appeared on the screen, and he answered it immediately.
“Yo, fam, it’s like seven in the morning. You know the streets don’t see me until noon,” Zyir stated with fatigue.
“I’m outside of your building. Buzz me in. We need to talk,” Carter stated. Zyir had known Carter long enough to know when something serious had gone down.
“I thought you weren’t due back from Tijuana until-”
“Open the door, Zy. I’ll explain when I see you,” Carter replied. His tone was demanding, but Zyir knew Carter too well not to pick up on the anxiety that was in his voice.
Zyir hung up his phone and then slid out of the bed to avoid waking Illiana. It was obvious that Carter wanted to discuss business, and he wanted the conversation to remain private. He shut his bedroom door as he exited and buzzed Carter in.
When Zyir opened the door and saw the stress lines on Carter’s forehead, he knew something had gone awry. His red, sorrow-filled eyes told a story all their own.
“I need to talk to you,” Carter stated as he stepped inside. Carter knew how Zyir felt about Breeze, and although her return was a joyous event, he wanted to prepare Zyir for it. He knew that Zyir loved his younger sister, and he did not want her condition to be a surprise to him. Breeze was not the same girl she used to be.
“No doubt, fam. Come in,” Zyir invited as he stepped to the side to allow Carter to enter.
“It’s about Breeze,” Carter started.
“Breeze?” Zyir repeated in confusion. “Breeze is dead. We said our good-byes to her a long time ago.”
“She’s alive, Zyir,” Carter stated as he put his hand on Zyir’s shoulder.
Zyir smacked his hand away. It was the first time that he had ever bossed up against his mentor. His face frowned in pain as he backed away from Carter, bumping into his end table and sending a lamp crashing to the floor. The mere mention of Breeze’s name was a soft spot for Zyir.
“Fuck is you saying, fam? She’s been gone for almost two years! She’s dead. We held the service…”
Carter stood stoically as he nodded his head. He knew that Zyir would take Breeze’s reemergence just as hard as he had taken her actual death. “I know. We were wrong. She was still alive.”
Zyir began to tear up as he put his hands on his head. “Don’t say that to me, man. That means I gave up on her, fam. If she’s been out there all this time, then I failed her. I was supposed to bring her home,” Zyir stated emotionally as he punched the wall in frustration, putting his fist through the plaster and causing his knuckles to bleed.
He put his balled fists to the sides of his head in utter turmoil as he closed his eyes in horror. This was the last thing he had expected to hear Carter say. Wars he was ready to fight, money he knew how to collect, beef he enjoyed to cook, but to hear that the only girl he had ever loved had come back from the dead had him shook. It was the only situation that he was unprepared to handle. It was a chapter that he had closed in his life, and now it was about to be rewritten.
Zyir’s grief reminded Carter of his own. It was the same way he felt about Miamor. He wished that she would magically reappear the same way that Breeze had done, but there was no bringing her back. She was gone forever, and because of this, he hoped that Zyir appreciated the gift that he was being given.
“She was working in one of Felipe’s brothels. He says he purchased her from a woman who runs a human trafficking camp called Murderville. I don’t know what Breeze has been through, but I know that she needs you.”
Zyir looked at Carter in utter astonishment as he collapsed onto the couch. He buried his face in his hands and shook his head from side to side. His brain could not process the information, but his heart had sped up dramatically and felt as if it would beat out of his chest.
“Take me to her,” Zyir stated.
“Take you to who?” Illiana’s voice broke through the conversation and was an unwelcomed intrusion. She wasn’t shy, and she made no efforts to cover her scantily clad body as she stood in front of Carter and Zyir while smoking a freshly rolled blunt.
Zyir ignored her question and refocused on Carter. “I need to see her, fam.”
Carter saw the look of displeasure that crossed Illiana’s face. He hoped that Zyir could see the signs that Illiana was giving off. It was obvious that she wanted more than Zyir was willing to give. The jealous look on Illiana’s face spoke volumes, and Carter made a note to put Zyir up on game later.
“Handle your business and wrap things up here. I’ll be waiting downstairs. Breeze will be happy to see you,” Carter replied.
As Zyir dressed, Illiana stood in the doorway of his bedroom while smoking the cush weed slowly. I know he’s not rushing out to see some bitch when he has me here. Ain’t nothing better than this, Illiana thought arrogantly.
“Who is this Breeze bitch you’re so worked up over?” Illiana asked.
Zyir stopped dead in his tracks and approached her as he buttoned up his Armani cardigan. He stood two inches away from her face as he said, “Don’t ask questions about things that don’t concern you. You’re here to keep track of your brother’s money, so start counting,” Zyir stated, referring to the money that they had sexed on the night before. Without another word, he walked out of the room. Illiana’s feelings were not his concern. He had one thing and one thing only on his mind-getting to Breeze.
“Thank you for meeting me,” Mecca stated as he sat down on the park bench next to Leena and his nephew. She looked up at him and noticed the graze wound on his face. She had known him long enough to be able to tell that it had come from a bullet, one that had barely missed him.
“What happened to your face?” she asked.
“I had a little run-in with someone. Nothing major. I appreciate you showing up, Lee,” he said, changing the subject.
“You said you had something to say,” she replied. Leena was so short with him. She could not let go of the tiny piece of anger she still held onto, and Mecca heard it in her voice.
“You still toting pistols in my nephew’s diaper bag?” Mecca asked, trying to lighten the mood.
Leena ignored his question as she looked out at the children playing in front of her. “What do you want, Mecca?” she asked impatiently.
“I don’t know,” Mecca replied honestly. “I want us to become friends again if that’s possible.”
Leena raised her eyebrows skeptically. “Friends?” she repeated.
“I know that’s a lot to ask for, but it’s the truth. I did what you said. I asked God for forgiveness.”
“That’s good, Mecca. I’m glad you took that first step,” she admitted. She looked into his troubled eyes and said, “I wish you had taken it a long time ago.”
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