Free The Cartel 4: Diamonds Are Forever by Ashley, JaQuavis Page A

detective.” The doctor handed the nurse a card. “He would like to speak with her immediately. They’re running her prints now to see if they can gather some information on her.”
    Miamor’s internal alarm sounded off. She was in trouble. If those fingerprints came back, her juvenile records would pop up, giving them her government name. She had committed so many murders over the years that there was no telling how many times she had slipped up. In her mind, she had been so careful, so untouchable when she hit her marks, but all it took was one mistake . . . one partial fingerprint to lead the police directly to her. Every doorknob she had ever touched was now threatening her anonymity. Had she been careful, every time, all the time? Miamor couldn’t be so sure. Miamor tortured herself as she scrolled through her mental Rolodex, recalling every nigga she had ever hit, but the possibilities were endless. If those fingerprints came back, her freedom was in jeopardy.
    She waited until the nurse and doctor left the room before she shot up out of her bed. I’ve got to get out of here, now!
    She reached over and shut off the machines, then ripped the IV out of the front of her hand, wincing as blood tricked down her wrist.
    “Hmm!” she grunted while using all of her might to meander out of the bed and stand to her feet. They instantly gave out underneath her, and she fell hard to the cold tile floor. Miamor gripped the side of the bed, struggling to pull herself to her feet as she kept her eyes trained on the door. What should have been an easy task took all of her effort as perspiration gathered on her forehead. She steadied herself, panting hard as she willed her knees not to buckle. Her legs trembled like leaves in the wind and threatened to give out at any moment. Miamor had never been so weak in her life. The painkillers they had filled her with numbed the pain, but did nothing to erase her fatigue.
    Miamor’s fear was greater than anything she had ever felt. Her back was against a wall, and Mecca had taken all of the fight out of her. She struggled over to the door, using the bedrails as support as she slowly made her way across the room. Her body urged her to quit, but desperation fueled her shaky limbs.
    By the time she made it to the door, she felt as if she had run a marathon. The thin fabric of the hospital gown clung to her sweaty body, and her eyes were wide in alert. Nothing had ever taken so much energy or effort to accomplish.
    The walls of the hospital were the equivalent to death row. She was just waiting around to die . . . waiting for Mecca to get wind of her whereabouts and come finish the job as he had promised. The light in the hallway blinded her as she put her bare feet on the cold tile. Miamor felt the room spin, and she closed her eyes as she leaned against the wall to keep herself upright. Her deep breaths calmed the world around her, and when she opened her eyes a few stray tears slid down her cheeks.
    Overwhelmed, she took a step, avoiding eye contact with everyone around her as she crept along the wall. Nurses and doctors hurriedly bypassed her, too busy to notice that she was out of place. Miamor slid into the first supply closet she found. She rummaged through it silently, taking everything she could possibly need. When she found a pair of nurses’ scrubs folded on the shelf, she immediately changed into them, knowing that they would help her blend in with the other workers.
    Miamor tossed the hospital gown and stuffed gauze, alcohol pads, and a scalpel into her pockets before exiting again. This time, no one noticed her and she fit right in as she made her way slowly to the elevators on her floor. If anyone had looked down, her shoeless feet would have given her away.
    She slid into the elevators and sighed in relief as they shut behind her. Miamor’s body was threatening to shut down, but she knew that if she lost her strength, she was dead.
    DING.
    The elevator doors opened in the