Free Cartel Dreams: A Love Story by Nicety

home. Even though we had slept on the plane we were still tired as fuck. The beautiful ocean view and private white sandy beach killed those feelings. Manuel didn’t take me as someone who would own such a beautiful place and still have money problems. But that’s why I was here, to help him cure those issues. I checked the clock realizing his cousin would be here any minute.
    “Hey baby. I’m gonna go handle that business in a few minutes. You’ll be good here by yourself right?” I asked walking in to see her checking out one of the large bathrooms.
    “Yeah, I guess I can find something to do in this big beautiful house.” Daisy moved closer to me. “So what is it that you do, Quince, or is that a secret too?”
    Our eyes locked. I grabbed her waist pulling her close pressing our bodies together. She was so gorgeous and so innocent. I didn’t want to do shit but protect her and always make her smile. I wanted her to be my everything forever. The shit was actually a little scary but as I placed my lips to hers, those insecurities quickly flew away. I wanted this woman more than words could say. When our skin touched it was like igniting fire for the very first time, each time.
    “I’ll be back, aight?” My hand tapped her ass lightheartedly.
    “Alright, baby. Good luck.” Daisy pecked my lips headed down the hall. “By the way, I’ve got dibs on the biggest room.”
    I couldn’t do shit but laugh. I had a feeling she was going to pull the whole separate room thing. As bad as I wanted her, I knew I had to respect her. She was more of a woman than those other chicks I fucked with. It was hard not to recognize her as a real woman, a pearl to be cherished. Outside a horn beeped short twice. I headed towards the door picking up the large duffle bag I had taken out of my luggage and sat there.
    “I know. You’re gone. Have fun,” Daisy called into the room.
    “Thanks.”
    ****
    His fist beat the skinny dude's face in like it was kneading dough. I was still fucked up from the long ass flight so to walk into this threw me for a loop. It was another thirty minutes to this place and I really wasn’t in the mood for this shit. Gore, Manuel’s cousin and I walked into Raul’s luxury Penthouse suite at the TOWER 360. We had obviously interrupted somebody being taught one hell of a lesson. Raul was one of those dirt rich goon niggas who grew from nothing.
    At just forty years old, he was known in Colombia as the bloodiest man to ever rule the cartel. His average build six-foot stature intimidated everyone he came across. He kept a scruffy beard but his hair remained short and slicked back. Raul was known to only be seen in the finest suits money could buy and would always have them hand tailored. He even switched up his cars every few months to keep the haters guessing just in case someone tried to monitor his every move and take his throne.
    If they did he would most definitely go down fighting though. Murderer was an understatement when it came to this nigga. What he did was more like a blood bath. Even if it was only one person he made sure to spill their blood in every inch of the room to show their loved ones just how ruthless he could be. It was always up close and personal on some slick and quick shit with him. That’s how he let the poor bastard know before they died that he meant business. It was always business with him even when it came down to his two year old twin girls. Raul Santiago was much like my original connect, Mata Amigos except Mata was more ruthless than Al Capone.
    Gore took a seat on the long curvy leather couch in the corner of the room as I made my way up to his huge custom made mahogany wood desk. The city night lights were mesmerizing through all of the bay windows in the room. Raul had brass knuckles on his right hand like he was kneading dough in the nigga’s face on the floor in front of him.
    He shouted Spanish obscenities that made everyone in the room cringe for a minute until