The Cocaine Princess Part 5 (Cocaine Princess Series #5)

The Cocaine Princess Part 5 (Cocaine Princess Series #5)

by Rio


Part One:



Money, Money, Money, Money, Money Baaaags





Prologue

Five Months Prior, November 1, 2011

“Shut the f*ck up and listen. Bitch, if you ever wanna see your son again—alive, I mean—I need a billion dollars in cash delivered to Gary, Indiana in exactly seventy-two hours. You understand that?”

“Yes, I understand. Can you let me hear him? I need to know that he’s still…..okay.”

“Bitch what the f*ck you think this is, Burger King? Didn’t I just tell you to shut the f*ck up?”

“I’m sorry,” Alexus cried.

The deep voiced kidnapper paused for what seemed like an eternity to Alexus Costilla. She was sitting on the right side of her fiancé, Blake King’s hospital bed at Chicago’s Northwestern Memorial Hospital, rocking back and forth with her iPhone 4S pressed against her ear. Tears were streaming down her breathtaking face. Her hands were trembling as though she was freezing, though the full-length, white fur coat she donned over her snow white Marchesa dress and five-inch, diamond-encrusted, custom-made Christian Louboutin heels had her feeling rather warm.

“Seventy –two hours,” the voice finally said. “I want the cash piled up in the back of a semi-truck, a’ight? No funny shit. If we find any kinda trackin’ devices mixed in with the money, I’m blowin’ this li’l nigga’s head off. You got that?”

Alexus sniffled, “I understand. Just don’t hurt—”

The line went dead.

She turned to Enrique Aleman, her black-suited chief of security. The broad-chested Mexican’s eyes were glued to the screen of his own iPhone. Clearing his throat, he looked at Alexus and stated in Spanish, “The call came from Gary Indiana, on the corner of Fifth and Madison. Phone was purchased from a gas station in Hammond around six this morning. I’m going to head out to Gary, take about twenty men with me.”

“I have the address and phone number to where the phone was purchased,” Attorney Britney Bostic stated. Seated across from Alexus in an easy chair, clad in a dark blue Valentino pantsuit, the twenty-seven-year-old lawyer rapidly typed on her laptop. Her delectable, pie-shaped chocolate-hued visage was smooth and unblemished, with a narrow nose and an infectious smile that hardly ever failed to brighten the spirits of everyone she encountered.

But today it was not working. Probably because yesterday, fifty-five members of the Costilla Cartel – Mexico’s reigning drug cartel, currently headed by nineteen-year-old Alexus Costilla and her sexagenarian father, Juan “Papi” Costilla – had been shot to death and torched in Southampton County, Virginia. Also yesterday, Blake King, Alexus’ nineteen-year-old fiancé had been shot once in the stomach and once in the shoulder by an ex-lover of his. Alexus had saved his life by putting three .44-caliber bullets through the deranged woman’s face.

And yesterday, Alexus’ four month old son, King Neal Costilla, had been kidnapped.

“I’m composing an email to the gas station manager requesting a copy of the camera footage. I’ll wire him five grand and make him sign a confidentiality agreement,” Attorney Bostic told Alexus.

“Let’s just give the kidnappers what they’re asking for,” Alexus said, gazing at the huge twenty-carat white diamond that sparkled prominently on her platinum engagement ring. “I have eight hundred and ninety million in hundred-dollar bills stashed in my vault in Matamoros, and I’m sure Papi has four or five times that stashed all throughout Mexico. All I want is my son back.”

“What I am interested in knowing is how they got your phone number.” Enrique said. “They had to have gotten it from someone close to you.”

“I don’t give a damn about any of that right now. Just find my child,” Alexus snapped. “Pay that man whatever he wants to get my son back. I want that ransom money loaded onto a Boeing 737 and headed here by sundown.”

Enrique nodded his head and left the room, pulling the door shut behind him. His absence did not worry Alexus. She had sixteen more heavily-armed bodyguards in the hallway, and all of them were trained to kill.

Alexus Costilla’s current net worth was $57.9 billion. According to Forbes, she was the third wealthiest American, right up there with Buffet and Gates. Her paternal grandmother, Vida Costilla, had been a stock market titan for many years, a multibillionaire for many more, and a Mexican drug cartel leader since her husband Segovia’s death. Due to the U.S. government’s insatiable need for “illegal” narcotics to keep their lucrative state and federal prisons filled with drug offenders, Granny Costilla had been able to secure a deal with the Central Intelligence Agency granting her full immunity from any drug-smuggling or trafficking charges. All she had to do was continue to flood the United States with tons of cocaine and heroin via her state-of-the-art drug tunnel, which ran from Matamoros, Mexico to Brownsville, Texas.

Granny Costilla had been poisoned to death back in February, and her will left her then forty-eight-billion-dollar fortune—including a television network, a chain of nineteen lavish restaurants, and a billion dollar hotel resort in Cancun—to Alexus her beautiful, young granddaughter.

Now, seven months later and nearly ten billion dollars wealthier, Alexus found herself wishing Granny Costilla had left her fortune to someone else; having this much money was nothing more than an unprecedented migraine. Especially for a teenager. “Mo’ money, mo’ problems” as P. Diddy had famously stated, was truer than people realized.