Page 15 of DOM: The Miami King

"And what you want in return?" I asked, in a cold voice. I liked what I was hearin’ but I knew wasn’t shit in this world free.

He smiled again and this time it was sharper. "When problems come, you clean them for me... fast and quiet." He wasn’t offerin’ a partnership. He was offerin’ my young ass blood work which meant body disposals and message deliveries. It was loyalty without paperwork. I thought about it for maybe half a second. Royal Enterprises could only grow so far before the Feds, the rivals, and the snakes started lookin’. I needed a shield bigger than my ambition and El Blanca could offer me that. He was the fuckin’ wall I needed.

I simply nodded just once to seal the deal. It didn’t come with a handshake. However, with a body droppin' forty-eight hours later, the next three years, I became the ghost El Blanca sent when problems needed silencin'. Snitches, rivals, and loose ends, I buried 'em all. It wasn’t no witnesses, no evidence, and no mercy. In exchange, Royal Enterprises exploded. My international shipments were protected. Dirty customs officers were paid off. Front businesses was flourishing under our parents’ names. Luxury cars rolled outta our warehouses like candy outta a factory. Doors were stuffed with kilos, dashboards were lined with uncut diamonds, and tires were packed with cash.

We cleaned money so good, even the banks smiled when we walked in. El Blanca started callin’ me his "young lion… the Miami King." Muhfucka said I was the future and when the old wolves fell, I'd be the one left runnin’ shit. He told everybody about me. But now, the gut that kept me alive since I was a teenager was screamin’ at me ‘cause El Blanca wasn’t actin’ the same. The calls got colder, the demands got heavier, and his orders were less about trust and more about control. The streets were whisperin’ with rumors about older rival Cartels losin’ power to the younger ones, but I blocked the shit out. I prayed like hell that wasn’t the case with El Dorado... the same cartel tryin’ to push into Miami like they owned it.

I stood by El Blanca for years and buried bodies for him. I protected his blood and made myself a shield he leaned on whenever shit got heavy. But loyalty ain’t blind and it damn sho’ ain’t stupid. And my loyalty? It was startin’ to feel like a noose tightenin’ around my fuckin’ neck.

I snapped from my thoughts and stayed posted for another hour, goin’ over protocol with security, double checkin’ the surveillance feeds, and makin’ sure the back-up generators were runnin’ clean. As I got ready to leave, I passed the lounge area where Victoria sat on the couch, quiet. She was watchin’ old fight footage on the TV of heavyweight brawls. She looked up at me when she noticed me watchin’ her.

“You like boxin’?” I asked.

She nodded. “My uncle used to make me watch it. He said it was the best way to understand life. Take hits, keep moving.” She shrugged picking at her nails. When she looked up again, she had that look in her eyes.

I stared at the screen. “You ever fight back?”

She looked me dead in the eyes. “Only when I have to.”

For a brief moment... I respected her. Not trusted, not liked, but I understood. I sat next to her ignorin’ the chaos around us. I could smell her fresh scent fillin’ the room. “It’s more you wanna say… say it.”

She sighed long and hard allowing her eyes to bounce around before she spoke. “If I’m gonna be in Miami, I at least want to be able to have some kind of fun and not sit in a safe house being watched like a little girl. I’m not as fragile as you may think I am Dom,” she said slowly lickin’ her lips. Her eyes shot down to the middle of my jeans.

Had she not been El Blanca’s niece, I probably would’ve fucked her. I shook my head and told her the truth. “You don’t want me, trust me… this shit look good, but a lot comes with me. You’d be round here stressed the fuck out… this ain’t for you. Just chill out and let me figure this shit out.” I told her standin’ up. Her gaze never left mine. I placed my hand underneath her chin and brought my face as close to hers as possible with our lips damn near brushing across each other’s. “I can promise if you playin’ some kind of game with El Blanca, he’ll never see yo’ pretty lil eyes again Victoria… in the meantime, stay put and I got you.” I gave her a burner phone that had one of my encrypted numbers in it already. “If I’m not around, and you need me, just call me.”

With that, I left the house with my chest tight, and head spinnin’. I still had work to do so my next stop was to Royal Enterprises, my Coral Way location. I needed to see who was slackin’. Soon as I pulled up, the iron gates parted slowly, and the cameras rotated. My hittas snapped to attention. I walked in and the scent of leather and success hit me instantly. The Bentleys were lined up on the floor as well as the Porsche trucks lined up with modified trunks. The walls gleamed under the lights. It looked like heaven to the naked eyes but behind all that it was dirty work. I spotted the manager sweatin’ behind the desk. I knew his eyes always hated to see me comin’.

“Shipment from Panama delayed!” he blurted. “It’s a dock glitch.”

I stepped close, grippin’ the edge of his desk. “Bill, ain’t no glitches.”

He swallowed hard. “We’ll fix it. I’ll make a call… trust me.”

“Nah, you’ll make sure nobody talks, ain’t no paper slips, and no ports get flagged again because if the Feds link this location to the Emirates route,” I leaned in and my voice was ice cold. “I’ll torch the buildin’ with you in it and rebuild it in forty-eight hours. You understand me?”

He nodded fast. “Crystal clear, boss.”

I turned and walked out with my fuckin’ blood boiling, and my mind movin’ a mile a minute. I was determined to figure this shit out, even if the snakes were sittin’ right next to the throne. I didn’t give a fuck ‘bout none of that shit.

After I secured everything, I headed to my parents’ house for dinner daring not to respond to their request earlier. I needed us all to arrive at the same time so when O’Shynn and Dominique pulled up a little after I did, I sat in the truck and also waited for Carmen to arrive. I hadn’t heard much from her since I left her this mornin’ but like me, she was a busy woman and busy was good.

My parents’ estate in Pinecrest still felt surreal sometimes. It was like steppin' onto a movie set. From the outside, it looked perfect with tall iron gates, imported stone, and palm trees so green they damn near glowed under the scorching Miami sun. They had three-car garages, infinity pools, and designer dogs barkin’ in the backyard.

However, the foundation of the place was built from dirt, from blood, from moves made in alleyways and strip joints when we ain't have two dollars to rub together. We made this new life for them, and they lived it like they earned it, 'cause they did.

My pop, Marlon Royal, used to kick in doors with sawed-off shotguns and shit when he was seventeen. He hit drug houses, pawn shops, corner hustlers, and anybody who had somethin' he ain't have. Standin’ six-foot-three, his brown skin was dark as Cuban coffee, and his arms were still thick from liftin’ more than just weights. His full beard was now grayed out and trimmed sharp. He was a lil older now, so he moved slow but heavy, like a retired bull still ready to charge if he was provoked.

My ma, Delores Royal, was the queen before we ever had a throne. Standing five-foot-five, with thick thighs and caramel skin that still glowed, her long honey-brown weave laid to perfection. Back in her day, she owned the pole and dudes lined up for her and ran their pockets dry just for a glimpse. They used to call her "Candy D" when she danced at that old broke-down club off 8th Street. Now, she ran three boutique spas. Some businesses were under her name and some were under ours. She still used that sweet smile when cuttin' deals worth more than most rappers' advance checks. She learned that smile in the strip club.

The history was carved into the walls of this house whether guests knew it or not. We didn’t need pictures and shit ‘cause wewerethe legacy. When we walked in, the air smelled like fried snapper, baked mac, collard greens slow cookin' with smoked turkey necks and more. It was real Sunday dinner type shit, the kind that stuck to yo’ ribs and you needed to take a good shit afterwards. Our parents knew that we stayed strapped so them seein’ our guns and shit on us didn’t bother them. Dique busted through first, loud and cocky as always, with his Louis Vuitton track suit flashin' under the lights along with his diamonds.

O’Shynn followed, with her heels clickin'. She was wearin’ latex exposing those long, toned legs. Her hair was laid, and her diamonds on her fingers flashed when she flipped her curls over her shoulder. O’Shynn was one cold ass bitch, and men didn’t stand a chance.

Carmen came next, and my fuckin’ pulse picked up speed just seein' her. I’d never say it though. She walked in slim waisted wrapped in a blood-red dress with her curves lookin’ dangerous. Her eyes were still sharp, her lips looked soft, and her mind was sharper than most dudes could handle.

Pop sat at the head of the table in the massive leather chair lookin’ like a throne. "Y’all look heavy," he said, pourin’ a drink. "Body here, mind somewhere else."

I shrugged outta my jacket and tossed it over a chair. "It’s been a long week."

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