The Cocaine Princess Part 5 (Cocaine Princess Series #5)(13)

“I hope you all don’t think I have anything to do with—”

“No one’s accusing you of being involved with any of this. But we do have to take precautions, starting with the monitoring of your drug shipments. From now on, each shipment must be scanned before entering this country. We’re installing a camera system in your drug tunnel that’s capable of detecting even the smallest traces of uranium and plutonium. There will also be a blocker—a seven-inch-thick, solid steel wall—placed near the Texas end of the tunnel that we’ll be able to lower and lift whenever we deem it necessary.”

“You cannot be serious,” Alexus scoffed. She stood up and grabbed her hips. “I supply this country with seventy percent of its cocaine; eighty-eight tons of coke every month. Are you telling me that, every week, you’re planning to scan twenty thousand kilos of coke, five thousand kilos of heroin, and twenty thousand pounds of marijuana? Do you know how much of a delay that would cause to my distributors? There has to be another way to go about this.”

“Trust me, our way is the simplest way. It’ll only take four to six weeks to get the cameras and the blocker installed. Then you’ll be back in business.” Bowden stood to his feet. “Construction begins today. It’s in your best interest to call me if you hear anything about that uranium. My number’s the same as the old director’s.”

And with that, Newt Bowden turned and left.

Alexus fixed her eyes on the rippling blue waters of her swimming pool. An atomic bomb? She thought. Is Aunt Jenny really that crazy?

A moment later, Blake perambulated in with King Neal Costilla, their nine-month old son, perched on his hip. Five-year-old Savaria King, Blake’s daughter from a previous relationship, was holding her daddy’s hand as they approached Alexus.

“Fuck was that about?” Blake asked.

“My Aunt Jenny’s a lunatic,” Alexus replied, slowly shaking her head and twirling a curlicue of her long raven hair around her forefinger. “A lunatic with the ingredients to build a nuclear warhead.”





Chapter 7

Blake got in two hours of intense weightlifting in the indoor gym. Then he showered and put on a pair of Louis Vuitton sweatpants, a matching white tee shirt, LV loafers, and a bevy of white diamond jewelry—four identical necklaces priced at $928,000 apiece, a $400,000 bracelet, a $190,000 big face Rolex watch, a pair of 18-carat white diamond and platinum pinky rings worth $4 million apiece, and a pair of glistening, round-cut 10-carat white diamond earrings that he had purchased for $650,000.

He was standing in front of the tall mirror at the rear of his capacious walk-in closet, checking out his blinging reflection and rolling a blunt of Kush, when Alexus appeared in the doorway behind him. He glanced at her, but did not speak. Judging from her somber expression, Blake concluded that she must still be upset over whatever it was the CIA director had told her.

“What are you getting dressed for?” Alexus asked, resting a shoulder against the doorframe. “It’s five o’clock. Dinner’s ready, and my mom wants to talk to you before she leaves. I think it’s about having you as a guest on her talk show.”

Blake chuckled and turned an about face, sweeping his eyes over the expansive, white marble-floored closet. To his left were three aisles of designer clothing; three aisles of sneakers were to his right, and in front of him were three glass jewelry cases that looked like they’d been taken right out of a high-end jewelry store.

“Now she wants me on her show?” he said, setting the blunt on the jewelry case. “I thought she said she didn’t like rappers.”

“She doesn’t. But, you know, everyone’s calling her the new Oprah, and since O finally managed to have a rapper on her show before it ended, I guess Momma feels it’s only right to do the same thing. Plus, we are getting married soon. She’ll have to deal with you sooner or later.”

Blake rounded the jewelry case and walked to Alexus. He placed his hands on her jutting hips and pressed his lips against hers. His strong black hands slipped beneath her mini-dress, and he squeezed her ample cheeks. Pulling back, he gazed into her soft green eyes. “What’s wrong, baby? You still worried over Jenny? ‘Cause I’ll pop that bitch if you want me to.”

“I don’t want my auntie to get killed.”

“Why not? She tried to kill you. Several times, at that.”

Alexus shook her head. “She’s still my aunt. I’ll never condone the killing of a family member. It’s already bad enough that I had to watch Papi blow my cousin Savio’s brains out. I’m hoping Jenny doesn’t find out about that. Lord knows she’ll lose her mind for real this time.”

“That’s what got you upset?”

Skating her fingertips across the chunky white diamonds in one of his necklaces, Alexus sighed despondently. “Our route’s going to be shut down for about a month or two, but our cocaine and heroin shipment came through the tunnel last night, so at least we have something to grind with.”

The Costilla Cartel’s grind was a lot heavier than Blake’s. They had forty Mexican Mafia lieutenants spread out across ten Southern states, and each of them received the same weekly drug shipment: 500 kilos of cocaine, 125 kilos of heroin, and 1,100 pounds of high-grade marijuana. Colombia’s North Valley Cartel was only charging the Costilla’s $2,000 per kilo of cocaine and $50,000 per kilo of heroin. The Costilla’s would then cut every kilogram of the pure heroin into ten kilos—500 into 5,000—and sell them to the Mexican Mafia for $50,000 a Ki. The coke went for $10,000 a Ki, and the marijuana, purchased in bulk from a Mexican farmer for $800 a kilo, sold for $1,500 a pound. In all, the Costilla’s spent eighty-one million dollars every week purchasing their drugs, and they made five hundred and sixteen million—every week.