The Cocaine Princess Part 5 (Cocaine Princess Series #5)(66)

“No thanks to the f*cking CIA,” retorted Papi.

“I think I have a solution.” Flako snorted up another line. “We can drop around forty million to the North Valley cartel, have them build us two submarines. The Medellin cartel has been doing it for years. We’ll be able to move six to eight thousand kilos in each sub.”

Alexus sat down in an easy chair, crossed her thick legs, and slowly ran her thumb beneath the heavy platinum and white diamond necklace encompassing her neck. The submarine plan didn’t sound like a bad idea, she had to admit.

“So,” she asked, “What’s the catch?”

Flako shrugged. “Eight out of nine cartel submarines make it to the coast of California without incident. Pretty good odds, if you ask me.”

“Well…get us eight of them. We’ll do two shipments per week. Hopefully that will be enough to keep us ahead of the Zetas. From here on out, we’re charging everyone eighteen grand per kilo. They can take it or leave it.”

“They can take it or else,” Papi threatened.

The approaching sound of high-heeled footsteps paused their conversation. Seconds later, Isabella Costilla entered the living room with a diabolic grin stretched across her chubby face. A bodyguard followed her into the room, and he was holding an RN-P90 to the ribcage of a strikingly attractive redbone in a red Bulls mini-dress. The girl looked frightened—just as frightened as Bella was happy.

“Look at what I found on Blake’s bed,” Bella said, winding a bunch of the girl’s hair around her fist. “Looks like he’s found himself a slut with a bigger ass than yours.” She was grinning at Alexus, perhaps hoping to discern a tinge of jealousy in her cousin’s face.

And sure enough a hurricane of intense jealousy spun a path of destruction through Alexus’s already torn emotions. But she wasn’t going to allow Bella the satisfaction of seeing her pain, so she put on an indecipherable expression and ordered the bodyguard to lower his weapon.

“I told you Alexus was soft,” Bella said. She opened her mouth to speak again and caught a mouthful of knuckles as the girl in the red jersey dress hit her with an ugly right hook that sent her stumbling backward. She fell on her ass, clutching her aching mouth with both hands.

Alexus cracked up laughing…until Flako stood up, drew a pistol from his hip, aimed it at the girl’s face, and pulled the trigger.





Chapter 42

“What are you reading?”

Startled, Rita Mae Bishop looked up from her Kindle reading tablet and locked eyes with her lover. He was leaning against the frame of her open office door, clad in a gray cashmere sweater and slacks, holding a plastic-wrapped dozen of red roses in one hand and a bottle of Ace of Spades in the other.

“How’d you get in here?” Rita asked smiling affectionately as Fredrick rounded her desk and kissed her softly on the lips. She gratefully accepted the roses from him.

“Janitor let me in,” he said, taking a seat on the edge of her desk. “I told him it was a special occasion.”

“Special occasion?’

“Absolutely. Every second I spend with you is special, isn’t it?”

“Hmm. I suppose it is.” Her smile burgeoned.

“I know it is.” He treated her to another kiss then turned to study the Kindle. “What is this, a love story?”

“Yeah…kind of. My daughter’s been reading these Leo Sullivan novels for a while now. This one’s titled Life. Our film company’s about to begin shooting the movie tomorrow and I’m just going over the screenplay.”

Frederick walked over to the water machine and pulled off two paper cups. “Is he a black author?”

“Yeah, he’s an urban writer. We’re in the process of shooting several films by other urban novelists as well. I’m hoping to get Cash Money to work with us on K’wan’s Animal and Wahida Clark’s Justify My Thug. These two short novels would make great movies.”

Frederick nodded his head thoughtfully. They were at Rita’s office on the top floor of the 86-story MTN Tower on North Wabash Avenue, across the street from the Trump International Hotel and Tower where Fred’s lavish apartment was located. He took a moment to admire the dark Chicago skyline through the tinted floor to ceiling window, and Rita crept up behind him, curled her arms around his waist, and pressed her cheek against his shoulder. She was wearing a form-fitting Valentino dress that accentuated her generous curves, an ensemble that was certain to leave Fred’s tongue dangling over his fuzzy beard.

“How’s everything going over at the record label?” She asked, lightly scraping her fingernails across the soft fabric that covered his chest.

“Business couldn’t be better,” he said, “but Blake’s becoming a horrible CEO. He isn’t even Blake anymore; he’s Bulletface, a full-time gangster. All he does is smoke Kush, throw cash at strippers, and spend his millions on exorbitantly priced cars and jewelry. His older brother Terrance has been handling most of the company’s business. I have to commend Blake for his work ethic, because he’s always in the studio. He just blows through way too much money, and he’s digging himself deeper and deeper into the Chicago gang life. Some guy just jumped on him at the United Center concert. Mercedes’ boyfriend and a few more of Blake’s friends got arrested for beating up the guy who jumped on Blake. Now, instead of making the scheduled appearance at The Visionary Lounge, Blake’s probably driving around with a bunch of guns, seeking revenge. It’s a perpetual cycle of violence with him, and I’m hoping it’ll stop before he lands himself in prison. Or worse, an early grave.”