“Yeah, I know you’re his son, but right now that’s the least of my worries. Just follow me back to the house. We need to talk.” With those words, Polo escorted the family out of the church, and they darted inside of the limo.
The Haitians had sent a clear message-They were out for blood, and they weren’t going to stop until The Cartel was out of commission.
Chapter Three
“Brother or not, next time homeboy step to me like that, I’m-a rock his ass to sleep.”
– Young Carter
The Diamond family sat in their living room along with Polo and Young Carter. The room was quiet; no one knew what to say. Taryn’s and Breeze’s eyes were puffy because of all the crying they had been doing, the horrific images of their loved one being kicked out of his casket haunting their thoughts.
Mecca’s Armani shoes thumped the marble floor as he paced the room back and forth, totally enraged, two twin Desert Eagle handguns in his hands. The Haitians had shown the ultimate sign of disrespect and was sending a clear message that they were trying to take over Miami. In fact, it was Carter’s decision to not cut the Haitians in on his operation that ultimately led to his assassination.
Polo stood up and slowly walked to the window. He looked in the front and saw henchmen, all strapped, scattered around the house to ensure their safety. With the Haitians merciless tactics, he didn’t underestimate them. He saw the fire in Mecca’s eyes and tried to calm him.
“We have to keep our heads on straight. These niggas are going hard at us. The Cartel still runs Miami, remember that! We have to retaliate to get our backs out of the corner.” Polo removed the suit jacket that rested on his black silk shirt.
“Fuck that! Let’s get at they ass, guns blazin'! I don’t give a fuck no more!” Mecca screamed, a single tear sliding down his cheek.