Authors: Clever Black
THE HOLLAND FAMILY SAGA
NO ROOM FOR MERCY
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, or by any means
without the prior consent of the Author and publisher. Except for
brief quotes used in reviews.
This is strictly a
work of fiction. Any references to actual events, real people, living
or dead, or actual localities, is to enhance the realism of the
story. Events within the novel that coincide with actual events id
copy-written and filed on site at The Library of Congress.
I would like to thank God for blessing me with the talent He has
bestowed upon me, from Him derives my love of writing and telling
stories that reflect all but a small portion of life’s grand
So many people to thank, but I first have to send so much love to
Black Faithful Sister and Brothers Book Club. My first home. What
Dama Cargle, Zaneta Powell, Gabrielle Dobson, Carla Towns, Arabia
Dover and Sandy Barrett-Sims did for a brother will never be
forgotten. Much love ladies!
Treasure Blue, thank you for your kindness and thoughtfulness,
brother. Another highlight on my journey that I will never forget. I
look forward to networking with you more in the near future.
To all the readers throughout the nation, across the pond, (hi Saima)
and those soldiers over in the Middle East, thank you very much for
giving me a chance. I was just a man with a story, still am, but now
I write with you all in mind every time I pull up to my computer.
Knook Barrow, Pat Rice, Renee Gallman-Jones, Rosalyn and Rosalind, (I
mix those names up sometimes, lol) Gina Lucas is bananas with it,
Denise Stokes and Sharon Blount in Building Relationships Around
Books Book Club, Florida, California, Georgia, Alabama, Louisiana, (I
see you Amanda, got you covered cuz-in-law), Mississippi, Arkansas,
Wisconsin, Oklahoma, Nevada, Arizona, Missouri, much love. East
Coast! So many to name, but I send my heartfelt thanks to everyone
aboard The Holland Express. Thank you all very much.
I have come into contact with some interesting people in some groups
on line, one in particular is the rowdy bunch inside Just Read Book
Club, “The Looney Bin”, and it is said with affection.
Shout out to Mary, Monica, and Natoya, Nikkieshia, Blaque
Thetwistedauthoress, Wilkinson, Tajauna—that is one of the most
happening clubs on the internet in my humble opinion.
The list of those I know and have had communications with runs long,
but you know who you are. If anyone has ever had a convo with me at
length, I thank you. I wrote one book, now moving into my seventh and
have several more projects in store that I hope you all will enjoy.
Today? Right now, though? Let us see what No Room for Mercy entails.
Dynamic (of a process or system) characterized by constant change,
activity or progress.
Greetings, family, may you all be in the best of health and ready for
another ride aboard The Holland Express. The definition above is the
word that best fits this installment of The Holland Family Saga.
Here, as you will discover, transformations will take place, the new
will mix with the old and plenty ground will be covered. Excuse the
It is my every intent to keep the train rolling. The last ride was
across wide open pastures, this go around? We enter into dangerous
terrain. The Holland family is prepared for the rough road ahead; you
all, however, are asked to hold onto to your seats. Excuse the
The places I went in my mind to pull up this story, to create this
plot and these new characters that will be joining us, are
innumerable. I hope I have done you all justice, enough justice to
keep the train rolling. All aboard!
They look like small piles of Lego blocks from afar. White, dusty
roofs of houses compressed together and tucked in amongst irrigation
ponds and warehouses surrounded by chain link fences. Churches with
pointed steeples rose above every other structure on the town’s
southwest side, and cars, moving objects that looked like ants from
the sky, scurried up and down the town’s roads in silence.
The rundown soccer field with small dots identifiable as children
jetting about brought a smile to her face, but also brought about a
touch of sorrow. Her brothers were supposed to rebuild it and other
structures, but they never got the chance, having had their lives
taken at the hands of another inside an airport in the city of New
Orleans while she lay comatose in an intensive care unit in Denver,
Colorado. All those things and more was on her mind as the Learjet
she flew in cruised over the city in a slow and steady descent,
touching down on a dirt runway on the city’s far southeast side
and rolling to a complete halt.
The doors opened slowly and twenty-two year-old Carmella Lapiente`
laid eyes upon her homeland for the first time in just under three
years. She’d never planned on staying away for such a long
period, but a home invasion in Memphis, Tennessee back in March of
1999, where she’d taken two bullets to the skull and had three
of her soldiers murdered, had placed her on the road to recovery.
Now, in August of 2001, just over two years after that fateful night,
she was back where she was strongest and the love was the
greatest—her home town of Valle Hermoso, in the state of
Tamaulipas in the country of Mexico.
Valle Hermoso was a small town roughly thirty-five miles south of
Brownsville, Texas. It was a poor town. With a population of 49,000,
its citizens were primarily laborers and farm hands, or soldiers
working for various drug cartels based further south. Valle Hermoso
was a smuggler’s paradise. Corrupt politicians catered to the
will of drug traffickers and went to the highest bidder or did their
bidding willingly under the threat of reprise. The desert town was
the last Mexican outpost for drug traffickers looking to ship their
merchandise into the United States at the Brownsville, Texas
crossing, which lay just a half hour drive north. Christ was in the
hearts of many of the town’s citizens as was evident by its
numerous Catholic houses of worship, but many others worshiped
another god—the god of money—and those who possessed it
were treated as such.
When the doors on the plane opened completely, Carmella Lapiente`
emerged from the belly of the luxurious metal bird just as three
silver Hummer H-1s came into view. “
a lo nuestro, DeAngelo.” (
Back to business,
DeAngelo.) she said as she scanned the entire area while slowly
descending the stairs.
The Hummers slowed to a roll and paused in front of Carmella and
DeAngelo and the front passenger side and rear doors on the lead
vehicle opened slowly and out stepped twenty year-old Kathryn
‘Toodie’ Perez and her sister, eighteen year-old Phoebe
Perez. Toodie and Phoebe were Valle Hermoso natives that had dual
citizenship. They could travel back and forth to America freely just
like Carmella and DeAngelo. They were under Carmella in Memphis and
had been sent to the city of Saint Louis to expand the business just
weeks before Carmella was hit.
Toodie and Phoebe were identical in looks; tall, slender,
light-skinned females with shiny black hair, long, curvy legs, wide
mouths and pretty faces. They should’ve been on the cover of
someone’s magazine instead of pushing weight and holding down
the streets of Saint Louis for Carmella; but gangster was all the
Perez sisters knew how to be and do—and the Perez sisters did
gangster very well. They’d decapitated two rivals in Mexico and
had murdered four potential rivals in America since Carmella’s
absence. They were doing their best to hold the city of Saint Louis
down for Lapiente`, but they had to cut a few deals to maintain their
Toodie walked up and hugged Carmella tightly, backed away and said,
Estamos listos para
volver al trabajo, jefe. Todo lo que necesitas hacer para llegar a
esto hacer estallar otra vez darle nosotros la palabra.”
(We ready to get back to work, boss. Whatever you need done to get
this thing poppin’ again just give us the word.)
nuestra situación en el medio oeste, Toodie
our status in the Midwest, Toodie?) Carmella asked as she gave Phoebe
“We got a connect outta Minneapolis with some Somalis that
allow us to move ounces, but the price we payin’ is holding us
back from pushing the kilo. How soon before you get back to business?
Because if we get things back up and running here, we can flip it
back in America and have everybody buying weight from us.”
“Not long. I have to get some people in line here in Valle
Hermoso first, but it won’t be long in doing,” Carmella
responded as she greeted several more female soldiers, many from her
“Good. We need to get back to moving big weight as soon as
possible. We doing good selling ounces, but we can’t sell the
kilogram because of what the Somalis charge.”
“How much are they charging?”
“Twenty-four for a key of yao.” Toodie answered.
“Why are we dealin’ with ‘em at such a high rate?”
“Because they some muscle. We buy from them and they do hits
for us. I know it’s not the best deal around, but when you went
down in Memphis buyers started flexing and coming short.”
“Why didn’t you go see Dead Eye and Big Bounce up in
Texas, Toodie?” Carmella inquired.
“We did see Texas,” Phoebe chimed in. “But Dead Eye
and Big Bounce had their own problems down in Houston. Nobody out the
crew had muscle to loan. The Somalis came on the scene at the right
time and we made it work as best we could.”
“Everybody was tryin’ to maintain, boss,” Toodie
added. “Besides Saint Louis, we had to hold off other clicks in
Cincinnati and Kansas City. We got spread too thin, so I let the
Somalis handle that for us.”
“The Somalis are willing to kill for us in America. We can use
them,” Carmella said as she looked to the ground in deep
thought. “But we will supply our own product now. I want to
meet with these Somalis so we can discuss a new arrangement. If
they’re willing to help us kill our enemies and reestablish our
position I’ll cut them in on a deal at a fair price. If they
don’t agree to that deal and are unwilling to negotiate we’ll
kill them all.”
“Si, boss. One other thing,” Toodie said as she snapped
her fingers, “they got a crew over in Saint Charles pushing
major weight and they seem strong.”
“Who are they?”
“Coban Benito and Humphrey Gaggi are the lead men. They some
Italians bringing weight in through Chicago is the word on the
street. And they got a strong crew of Italian and Black gangsters
from Illinois supplying their muscle. Don’t know who they are
all yet, but they gone be a problem.”
“So they our competition in Saint Louis, huh?” Carmella
said matter-of factly as she checked her nails. “We’ll
get ‘em,” she responded casually. “Top priority in
America for you when you get back is to set up that meeting. From
there we’ll deal with this organization in Saint Charles.”
“Done deal,” Toodie answered.
The Lapiente` Cartel, which primarily consisted of Mexican females,
had a method of operation much different from their American rivals;
their methods were centered on the complete removal of the
competition through outright murder. Having a closer tie to the drug
trade south of the border, coupled with dual connections in America
and Mexico gave the Lapiente` Cartel an edge that made them a
formidable opponent on U.S. soil. No questions or compromises from
these drug traffickers, any crew that sold kilograms where the
Lapiente` Cartel set up operation either closed shop or boarded ship.
The Somalis in Minneapolis were already willing to climb aboard, and
all need be done was for Carmella to institute the rules on the new
arrangement of things.
This other crew over in Saint Charles were some unknowns to Carmella;
but if they were selling kilograms wholesale, then it was a good
chance they had their own connect somewhere south of the border and
they weren’t going to go away so easily. Carmella understood
she would probably have to go up against a strong crew and take them
down if she were to corner the market in Saint Louis, but it was
nothing new in her line of work. She’d helped her brothers take
down some of the best crews in the Midwest from Kansas City to
Cincinnati—and they’d taken those cities by force by
annihilating the competition.