Gangsta: A Colombian Cartel Love Story

By Vivian Blue

Every girl dreams of their life being exciting, except Caroline Angelica Shabazz, who’s just getting used to living a normal life, due to her father’s illegal activities. Now all grown up, Caroline comes home one day to a familiar feeling that she thought was over; a quiet house, a large manila envelope on the coffee table with her new identity, and a note telling her that she had to get out of the house before the FBI kicked in the door looking for her father.

Carolina flees to California, but what she doesn’t know, and will soon learn, is that her fate was sealed before her birth, and it was decided for her to wed Juan Carlos, a Colombian drug lord, as payment for a debt or else her family will die. But then Caroline becomes caught up in a dangerous love affair, with a man by the name of Hector, after Juan Carlos forbid her from seeing him.

When things turn deadly, Caroline does what she knows best, run. Will Juan Carlos track Caroline down in St. Louis and drag her back to California to be his bride? Or, will she remain hidden in the hood under an assumed identity and continue to live as Kayla?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Royalty Publishing House
• Release date: Apr 5, 2016
• ISBN: 9781648404139

Book preview

Prologue

Ihope Daddy has dinner ready. I’m starving . As I stick my key into the door, I have that same funny feeling I always get when there’s no movement in the house. I turn the knob, opening the door slowly. Everything appears to be normal, but there’s a certain sterile feeling to it as I look around the room. I shut the door, then head towards the den. I notice a big manila envelope sitting on the table. Damn! We must have been found out.

Instantly, I kick into survival mode. I grab the envelope, opening it as I move towards my room. As I open the door, my suitcases greet me on top of my bed. Inside the envelope are my new identification card, passport, insurance card, ten thousand dollars in cash, and a note from my father. It read:

Hey Sweetie. You need to catch a flight to Bakersfield, California to stay with your aunt Rosalina. She’s expecting you. Your ticket is in the name Rosalyn Jefferies. Once you get to California, it’s the normal drill. I will contact you when I can. I’m about to be off the grid for a while. You have about thirty minutes to get out of there.

I love you, Papa.

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Damn! I told him not to mess with those people. He never listens to me. I throw the envelope into my purse as I run around the room grabbing certain must haves; my photo of me, Papa and my mother, my jewelry box, my gun case, and my stash. These are the things that I’ve been lugging around since I was a kid. When you’re constantly on the move, you can’t have too many tangible items with you. Papa already packed my computer equipment, and my clothes. Well, the clothes were already packed in a suitcase in the closet. I never know when I’ll have to jump up and leave, so I always have to be ready to go. The life I live as a forger is never dull, especially when your father is one of the most wanted men in America, which I find funny, really. For most of my life the FBI has wanted him, and I’m 24 years old. I’ve always lived a complicated life, because of my father, Elijah Shabazz. My mother died when I was three years old. We were on the run at the time from my mother’s ex-lover, when she fell ill and died. Her name was Carmelita Rojas Shabazz, and my father met her in a small town in Mexico named Colima. He was there doing work for Javier Munoz, a major player in the Colombian drug cartel.

See, my father has several professions. However, his background is in computer programing. He’s a professional hacker, who often did work for drug lords all over the world. If the price was right, he was down for the cause. It wasn’t the money that drove him, because he was quite wealthy with accounts in the Cayman Islands, and the Bahamas. But, the thrills of cracking open the encrypted codes to make those deserving of his wrath pay for their bad deeds, was everything to him. He’s destroyed hundreds of people for well-known influential people. And, he’s passed his craft down to me, his beloved daughter, Caroline Angelica Shabazz.

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We moved to St. Louis, Missouri when I was 14 years old. That was the longest we’d ever stayed somewhere. My father, up until eighth grade, home-schooled me. We were moving around, in and out of the country, so I couldn’t possibly be enrolled in school. I had to take tests periodically, that my father sent in to show that I was being adequately educated. Then, I enrolled in a private school in St. Louis, where I graduated valedictorian of my class. My father, Dr. Elijah Shabazz, was the head of the Computer Science Department at Washington University, where I just earned my Master’s Degree in Computer Science and Engineering, with a minor in Business Management. I had plans to start my own company in St. Louis, and continue to plant roots. My father is always messing things up with my life. Why can’t I be ordinary? Why can’t my life be like everyone else? I want to be married and have babies; beautiful fat babies. I can’t even get intimate with anyone, because my father tells me to trust no one. Throughout my college career, I was screwing my advisor, who happened to be one of my father’s colleagues. He gave me this whole weird fuck your father’s friend to get back at him vibe. But, he was sexy as hell, with his dark skin that looked like soot. And, his broad African features turned me on in a tribal way. He was originally from Kenya, but came to America as a young man to get an education. He was very supportive and giving, if you know what I mean. So, I willingly took everything he had to offer.

Anyway, my dad retired after I graduated from college. He decided he wanted to go back to traveling the world. He was missing plane food and stamps on his passport. But, he was going to do one last job before he left for vacation. Maybe no one’s after him. He may have just wanted to start over with a clean slate, so he’s sending me to set up our new residence. At any rate, I’ve wasted ten minutes thinking about it. I need to grab my shit and get out of here. I’m not even going to wait around to see if someone was coming to knock.

Well St. Louis, I bid you fair well! I may be back, eventually… But, knowing my life, it’s not going to happen. I hope I find a man this time, though. Maybe this will give me a reason to plant new roots in… I look down at the ticket. In Bakersfield, California with my aunt Rosalina, who I’ve never met.

I don’t know anything about my mother’s side of the family. I know she was born in Colombia, and moved to Colima, Mexico because of a man named Javier Munoz. But, the rest is blurry as hell. I just might get some answers about my mother and her past. I know she was a mistress to a very powerful man, and my father took her away from him.

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I grab all of my stuff and head towards the door. I look around the house that held the last ten years of memories for me. I’m going to miss this old house, but I guess sunny skies and warm weather are a good tradeoff for me. I absolutely hate cold weather, so winters won’t be so bad.

Chapter One

Caroline

Iget off the plane, tired and ready to get somewhere to take a shower and lay down. I’m not sure how my aunt Rosalina looks, but I’m guessing she looks like my mother. My father talked about how I favor my mother and her sister, Rosa. But I really have nothing to go off of, except a blurred photograph of us as a family. He has all of the good photos, so my memory is going to have to do. I don’t know how I’m feeling right now. I haven’t had to run in quite some time, and this is hard for some reason this time around.

I walked out into the terminal, looking around at the crowd of people gathered, waiting for loved ones. I notice a woman standing way in the back, looking around as if she was confused. When she turned to face my direction, I noticed her familiar looking face. She looked like a picture my father has of my mother. Her skin is the color of golden sand, and she had long coal black hair that flowed down her back. She was beautiful, like a Colombian Barbie doll. The woman noticed me staring at her, and waved her hand at me. I looked skeptical as I walked towards her.

Are you my aunt, Rosalina? I asked, looking just as confused as she did.

Yes. Call me Auntie Rosa, she replied grabbing me. She held me tight as the strap of my laptop bag began to fall down my body. We stood there for a few more seconds, awkwardly waiting for someone to speak.

My father didn’t tell me anything. He just asked me to get on a plane, and come stay with you for a while, I explained. She smiled warmly at me.

Caroline, I am so happy to meet you. Your father has sent me pictures of you throughout the years ever since your mother died. I have your senior prom and graduation photo, and photos from when you graduated from college, both times; I have those moments. I am so happy to have the opportunity to get to know you, said Aunt Rosa. I was feeling a bit overwhelmed by all of the information she was giving me.

Do you have any luggage we need to get from baggage claim? asked Aunt Rosa.

I have two bags, I see them over there, I said walking towards the roundabout. I grabbed both of my bags and looked up at my aunt, who was smiling brightly at me. I could tell she was genuinely happy to see me. So, I offered up a warm smile, and asked her to help me with my bags.

We rode in silence for a few minutes. I noticed how several of the houses looked like ranch style homes. There were several apartment complexes that had cars parked along the streets. She explained that she lived in a suburb called Rosedale, where the wealthy people in Bakersfield live and play. She owned a women’s clothing boutique that specializes in high-end clothing. She said she goes back and forth to Los Angeles several times a week, picking up items for clients and buying inventory. I was halfway listening, but I drowned her out. I was in the middle of a cluster fuck of feelings and emotions, and all I wanted to do is talk to my father and go to sleep.

We pulled up in front of a large two-story house. The driveway curved in front of the house with nicely trimmed bushes running alongside. There were two large planters, sitting on top of pedestals with flowers flowing out of it. There was an old red Mustang sitting on the far end of the driveway, parked next to a yellow Volkswagen Beetle. The house looked like something out of a movie, but I tried my best not to appear in such awe.

Your father sent that red Mustang for you to drive, said Aunt Rosa. He said he would be calling you this evening to tell you about your job.

My job? I questioned. He didn’t say anything to me about doing a job.

Well, according to your father, you are down here to do some type of computer programming job. A good friend of the family had his security system breached and he contacted your father to have a brand new system setup with some type of hi-tech stuff. He said you know how to do that stuff, said Rosa smiling at me.

Yes, I know how to do all of that stuff. But, I wonder why he didn’t just tell me, instead of making it seem like we’re on the run, I said still looking confused.

At any rate, I’m glad you’re here. I’ve wanted to send for you so many times throughout your childhood, mostly for the summers. But, you guys moved around so much, it was difficult to keep up. Periodic phone calls, cards and letters were sporadic. They would come consistently for a while. Then all of a sudden, things would go dormant.

Yeah, well… we finally moved to St. Louis and stayed there for ten years. I was happy to be staying in one place, consistently. But everyone can’t say that they’ve lived all over the world most of their childhood like me, I replied. Do you have any children?

Why yes I do. I have an 18-year-old, Sofia, and a 15-year-old, Gabriela, Aunt Rosa replied. We walked into the house, and my jaws dropped open. There were marble floors as far as the eye could see. There were gold statues surrounding the grand staircase.

I’ve never seen such grand statues in a house in the United States. I’ve been in palaces all over the world, and I’ve even stayed in a castle. But, I’ve never expected to see statues like this in just a common person’s house. Not to say that you’re common, I tried to clean up.

It’s alright, Caroline. You didn’t offend me at all. My husband is an executive for a large fruit distribution company here in Bakersfield. You should be meeting him some time this evening when he gets home, said Aunt Rosa. I smiled at her, because I remembered my father telling me that Aunt Rosa’s husband was a part of a Colombian drug cartel. We walked through an area that looked like a family room that was connected to the kitchen, then she opened a door that led to outside.

I figured you would want some privacy, so I took the liberty of cleaning up the carriage house above the garage for you. It’s set up like an apartment, and my oldest daughter Sofia thought when she turned 18, she would be able to move into it, Aunt Rosa explained. But, I figured she’d go away to college, so that she could get away from us. Aunt Rosa laughed as she unlocked the door to the carriage house.

This is awesome, I said as we emerged up the steps. It was an open space, like a loft style apartment, and the décor was amazing. It had a full size black rot iron canopy bed with a sheer covering surrounding it. There was a small kitchenette with a stove, refrigerator, dishwasher and a full-size bathroom with an old fashioned tub with a shower. The Mexican artwork on the walls was done in shades of black, red and orange. There was a painting of a bull and matador that took up one side of the room. But, a beautiful painting of a woman that looked like my mother in particular, captured my attention the most. I walked up to it, admiring the artistry.

That’s a portrait of your mother, Carmelita, said Aunt Rosa. A man named Javier Munzo had that made for her. He was the…

… Man that my father took my mother away from. I know that name well, I replied. I can’t take my eyes off of it. It’s beautiful.

Your mother was a beautiful woman, Aunt Rosa replied. I looked back at her.

You’re equally as beautiful. You guys look just alike, I said, putting down my stuff. Everyone tells me how I look like a dark skinned version of my mother. Aunt Rosa smiled warmly at me.

You do look like your mother, she replied. And, your dark brown skin is beautiful. You know your grandfather was just about your color, and he was born in Colombia. From what I understand, some of our ancestors were slaves and brought to Colombia years and years ago. Our people have been enslaved by our own, and used for cheap labor. I turned to face my aunt.

I just want you to know that I appreciate you taking me in at such short notice. My father can be very inconsiderate, and doesn’t care about anyone but himself.

It’s no problem, Caroline. I’m just glad that I finally get a chance to spend time with my niece. I hope this will be a great experience for the both of us.

I hope so, too. Aunt Rosa went into the bathroom and brought out some towels and washcloths.

Here are some towels and washcloths for you. There are clean bed linens and blankets in the bathroom closet if you need them. Our housekeeper, Ann, generally cleans the rooms every three days. If you don’t want her to clean in here, just let her know. The same thing goes for laundry, Aunt Rosa explained.

I think I’ll stick to the cleaning, I said, unzipping my luggage. And, I have an issue with someone else cleaning my underwear, so I think I’ll handle that too. Aunt Rosa laughed.

You sound like your mother, she replied, walking towards the door. You’re always welcome in the main house. We eat dinner as a family around six o’clock. Santiago generally leaves shortly after dinner, so we use the time to catch up on everyone’s day.

I’m kind of jetlagged, so I probably won’t join you guys tonight. I think I’m going to take a shower, and crash out for the night.

That’s fine, Caroline. Just let us know if you need anything. Tomorrow we can go grocery shopping, so you can fill your refrigerator with things you like to eat, said Aunt Rosa before walking out of the door.

I stood looking around the room, admiring it. I noticed two