Songbird

by A. J. Adams

  He was going to tell me about my past. I looked over his shoulder and saw Arturo smouldering, about ready to burst into flame, and I moved towards him, settling up against him. By the way he grabbed my waist and kissed my hair while staring at Miguel, I knew he was establishing possession. If he’d been a dog, he would have peed on me.

  “Miguel, I’ve moved on.”

  “Of course you’ve moved on!” Miguel cried. “But can’t you just forget what happened? It was just a little thing. She meant nothing! You were gone for days, making that run to Madrid, and I was bored.”

  Charming. A man who couldn’t keep his dick in his trousers for a couple of days. He was good looking, smooth and beautifully dressed, but Miguel Fuentes was a total tosser.

  I leaned back against Arturo, feeling his solid chest hugging close into my back and thanked God I’d found him. He was everything I wanted: intelligent, strong, dependable, and fun. We thought the same way, we valued the same things, and as we got to know each other better, he was becoming part of me, and I was becoming part of him. Now there was this blast from the past throwing a spanner in the works.

  “Listen, Solitaire. I didn’t know about London,” Fuentes said quietly. “If I’d known you were in trouble –” he made a strangling movement with his hands. “I would have killed the bastard!”

  That was at least something. “You didn’t hear?”

  “I’ve spent most of the last few months crossing and re-crossing the Sahara. It’s not a place for gossip. By the time I heard you’d run into trouble, you’d made your way out and found a job with the famous Arturo Vazquez.”

  “I got lucky.”

  I must have sounded grumpy, because Fuentes looked appalled. “Jesus, Solitaire, we split up, but we’re still friends, right? Surely you know I wouldn’t have left you to the mercy of that shit, Escamilla?”

  Actually, I was relieved to hear it. At least one person in my past would have stepped up. “Of course, Miguel. Well, I’m fine now, so no need to worry.”

  “Yes, I can see you’re happy here.” Miguel was looking at Arturo. “Solitaire must have told you about us. It’s in the past, right?”

  Arturo nodded. “Sure. Now you came to talk. About Songbird.”

  My stomach dipped at the name. I was transported back to London, thinking that my end had come. I felt that needle going into my arm and remembered how I’d imagined feeling the drug burning in my veins on its way to stopping my heart. I still had dreams about it, something I wouldn’t ever tell Arturo because he felt guilty enough as it was.

  I knew how he felt because he went out of his way to make it obvious to his crew and everyone else that I was in his complete confidence. Although Arturo said he only worked office hours, the truth was that he lived and breathed business 24/7. Quite apart from the working breakfasts and lunches, there were people dropping in constantly.

  From the way business visitors said hello and then looked expectantly at me and paused, I gathered that Arturo’s previous girlfriends had known to take themselves off, but Arturo soon set everyone straight. “Don’t let Solitaire being here bother you. I’ll tell her everything you said afterwards anyway. I have no secrets from her.”

  It meant I had lots of extra respect, and as everyone talked freely, I’d picked up a tonne of information about the business. If I had been Songbird, I could have Arturo and his entire crew behind bars in hours – if anyone had the balls to arrest them, and I doubted anyone in Mexico did. Thanks to his spectacular lessons and open-handed generosity, Arturo was feared and loved in equal measure.

  I should have been happy that Miguel had come with information as Songbird threatened my new home, but I found myself resenting him. I was frightened his presence would spoil the happiness I’d found.

  Arturo’s hands on my waist tightened, and he pulled me in for a closer hug. He’d sensed what I was feeling. “Come through to the office and talk,” he said to Fuentes. “Solitaire, I want you in on this.”

  We sat about and made small talk while we waited for the others.

  “Did you fly direct?” Arturo asked politely.

  “No. I hitched a ride to Houston with Jim Garcia and took a chopper the rest of the way.”

  “Any trouble finding the place?”

  Miguel grinned. “I booked into the Colon Plaza and told the concierge I wanted to see the jefe. He put me in a cab, and we came straight here.”

  Miguel was a smooth talking bugger all right, and it worked.

  Arturo grinned reluctantly. “Stay for dinner. I’ll have someone drive you back.”

  “Thanks.” I sensed Miguel didn’t have a clue that Arturo loathed him. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

  “Likewise. How’s business?”

  “Not so good since Solitaire left me.”

  My heart stood still.

  Miguel grinned ruefully at me. “I didn’t realise how much you were contributing. It took me a week to figure out I’d have to hire three people to replace you, and even then it wasn’t half as efficient.”

  Smarmy bastard trying to suck up to me. I just gave him a look and said nothing.

  Miguel gave up, and he and Arturo talked shop till Kyle, Quique, Pedro Rojo, Rafa and Chumillo arrived. They all looked a bit taken aback at seeing me sit at the table, but none of them said a word. When all the crew were in place, we turned to business.

  “I came for two reasons,” Miguel said. “First, I’m expanding from shipping into supply. Shipping is steady money, but the big money is in distribution. I can get you into new territories. Turkey is desperate for high-grade coke. So’s Iran. I’ve got nice bases set up now in both places, but I need quality product. I’m in the market for some expert know-how, too. I’m talking partnership.”

  Arturo hesitated. He’d been dying to get a foothold in those markets, and he’d been planning to look for contacts through his new British operation, and now it was being offered to him on a plate. For a second Arturo’s jealousy warred with his business sense, and then he nodded. “Sounds good. I’m sure we can come to an arrangement.”

  Miguel was grinning, and I knew he was thinking he’d be rich. It was odd not knowing anything about us, but I had no trouble reading him.

  “The second reason I came is Songbird,” Miguel continued smoothly. “I know he hit you in London, and you should know the fucker got me.”

  “When?” Kyle asked.

  “The first time was in Egypt six months ago.” Miguel nodded towards me. “Solitaire was there. My chief local associate, Abdul Hassan, was picked up by the military guard with a cargo of guns, and he was sentenced to death. Solitaire tried to bribe the judge, but she heard about it too late. By the time she got there, he was already on the block.”

  That explained one of my flashes, but it didn’t bring back anything more.

  “You let Solitaire go to Egypt? Alone? During the Arab Spring?” Arturo’s tone was arctic.

  “I was down with dysentery in Tétouan and didn’t know anything about it,” Miguel explained. “I was furious, just like you, but all she said was that Abdul was one of ours and that we don’t leave any man behind.”

  At the expression, there was a growl from the others at the table. It was the core of Arturo’s ethos, and for Kyle and his security people, it was the eleventh commandment. Of all the things Miguel could have said, this put me solidly in everyone’s good books.

  He didn’t get it, though. “Yeah, I thought it was stupid, too. I liked Abdul, but he knew the risks.”

  “I can’t think what I ever saw in you!” It was out before my brain kicked in.

  Arturo burst out laughing and then quickly pretended it was a fit of coughing. The crew, slick as always, distracted Miguel by asking questions.

  “What makes you think it was Songbird?” Kyle asked him.

  “I didn’t know it then,” Miguel explained. “I thought it was just one of those things. Transport is risky, and sometimes you lose someone, right? But when you got hit in Lond
on, I got hit in Marseilles. I lost four people.”

  “The connection being…?”

  “I’ve got a contact in Interpol who showed me a list of targets. I checked the names. Abdul was on it, as well your English people, my Marseilles people and another four who worked for Red Serge in Madrid.”

  “That was the entire list?” Kyle frowned. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. We’ve both worked with Red Serge, right? But never together.”

  “Did you talk to Serge about this?”

  “No. He got shot last month. His deputy isn’t too clued in.”

  The crew sat and thought it over.

  “I don’t get it,” Pepe Rojo sighed. “Half a dozen of ours in England, one in Egypt, four in France and four in Spain? It’s too small and scattered to be a proper undercover operation. It’s got to be an independent operator. But why?”

  “It thought it was Spiro Christopoulos,” Miguel sighed.

  I remembered the name from my file. When Arturo had taken me in, Kyle had contacted Christopoulos for background on me.

  “Christopoulos was my right-hand man. He knew everyone. He worked in London before he joined me, so he would have known the English. Also, he was the only one apart from me who knew about my French contacts. They were pristine, golden boys as far as the French were concerned.”

  I got a very bad feeling about Christopoulos.

  “God help me, but I took him out a week ago,” Miguel said quietly.

  Kyle frowned. “But you’re here, so it looks like you fucked up.” The way he said it, I knew Christopoulos had been a friend of his.

  “Five of my people in Algiers got picked up two days ago,” Miguel said evenly. “Christopoulos was in West Africa delivering a shipment when I recruited them. There’s no way he had those names.”

  “Jesus,” Kyle snarled. “Christopoulos died because you fucked up!”

  It gave me the shivers. If Arturo hadn’t asked Kyle to debrief me, I would have gone down, just like Christopoulos.

  “I have to find out who it is and take the bastard out!” Miguel exclaimed. “I can’t afford to keep losing people like this!”

  Clearly my ex wasn’t too worried about wrongfully killing his friend. I didn’t like him one little bit.

  “Why come to us?” Arturo asked.

  “You’ve got a huge operation and a database to die for,” Miguel said honestly. “I need your help if I’m to survive.”

  The crew sat and said nothing, but they were all trying to calculate whether it was worth helping Miguel out, or whether it was easier to throw him to the wolves and pick up his operation.

  “It’s cheaper and more efficient to take me on as a partner,” Miguel said dryly. “I’ve got a decade and more of history with my contacts. They might deal with you, but you wouldn’t get the margins I get.”

  There was a sigh, and then Arturo nodded. “All right. Songbird threatens us both, so we’ll help.”

  Miguel relaxed. “What do you need to know?” he asked simply.

  “Did you ever meet Escamilla?” Arturo asked.

  “Never. I haven’t been in England for eighteen months.”

  Kyle made a note, and I knew he’d check it out, but there was little point; if Fuentes had met Escamilla, Arturo’s inside man Fucho would have told him.

  “Who knew about the new Algiers contacts?” Arturo asked.

  “Solitaire and me,” Miguel said. “She was with me when I recruited them.”

  “It’s not Solitaire!” Arturo snapped.

  “Of course not,” Miguel said, but we all knew he was lying. This is why he was here. Despite the soft words, he’d come hotfoot to confront me.

  “It can’t be Solitaire. I guarantee it.” Kyle explained briefly about our ‘heart to heart’.

  When he finished, Miguel sat and thought and then finally shrugged. “I didn’t think it could be. I mean, she was with me for a year. There were a hundred times, a thousand times, when she could have dropped me in it. In fact, Solitaire may not have been able to rescue Abdul, but she saved my ass once or twice. I accept it can’t be her.”

  Arturo relaxed again but I had an uptight feeling in my chest. This wasn’t sounding good. It also hadn’t passed me by that I had been in Madrid when Miguel had cheated on me, and that Red Serge, a Madrid resident, had also lost people to Songbird. I looked unconcerned, but my guts began churning.

  “I guess someone could have hacked into my computer,” Miguel frowned. “I don’t know much about hacking, but I suppose it’s a possibility. Or someone might have been watching us when we went to Algiers. I mean, I wasn’t exactly covert.”

  “Maybe Christopoulos was Songbird, and you have another leak.” Pepe Rojo was riling Miguel, testing his reactions. “No rule against having more than one rat at a time.”

  “It could be me,” Miguel ripped right back. “And this could be a set-up. Maybe I’ll get in close, sell you out, and take over your operation.”

  At that moment I kind of liked him. Miguel had balls.

  “Fuck, no point in ratting us out,” Arturo grinned. “Everyone’s heard about me.”

  “Yeah, we’re famous,” Rafa mocked.

  The atmosphere lightened.

  “We should talk,” Arturo said. And talk they did. All night. At the end of it, Arturo insisted Miguel stay over. “I’ve already had your gear sent over. We can continue this tomorrow.”

  I had to stifle a grin because both Arturo and Miguel then went to considerable lengths to conceal the fact that Arturo had arranged for a girl to keep Miguel company.

  I knew the second she’d arrived because Eva had come to have a quiet word with me. “Jefa, she asks if you will speak with her tomorrow. She has a daughter, very smart, but not enough money for school.”

  “Tell her I’ll see her at breakfast.”

  “Sí, jefa.”

  “Eva, do you know the girl?”

  “Sí! Her name is Bea Lupe. She is very famous. She sings in the jefe’s club, and she’s been on television.”

  “Why is she here then, in this way?”

  “She wants money for her daughter. She used to be in the business, so she asked Rafa for some work.”

  I made up my mind on the spot. Any woman willing to sell herself for her child needed all the help she could get. “Tell her it’s already done.”

  Eva went away, wreathed in smiles. I could have told Arturo I knew, but it was more fun to watch him try and be sneaky. It was so typical of him. He was horribly jealous, and a lesser man would have let me know my ex was about to bonk another girl, but Arturo recognised his emotion for what it was and dealt with it like a man. I loved him for it, but I just couldn’t help but tease him. I was discovering I’m a right bitch sometimes.

  I waited for Arturo in bed and then quietly began winding him up.

  “So what do you think of Miguel?” I asked innocently.

  “He’s okay.”

  “He’s a great dresser.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “Good-looking, too.”

  Arturo growled. “I suppose.”

  “It will be fun to work together.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “Arturo?”

  “What?”

  “You know you’ll have a heart attack if you don’t say something, right?”

  Arturo gave me an evil look. “Solitaire, do you know what you are?”

  I couldn’t help hugging him. “I’m an extremely naughty girl.” His arms were around me, holding me tight. I looked into those warm brown eyes that were laughing with me now. “And I’m all yours, okay?”

  “Really? The fucker has charm,” Arturo grumbled.

  “He’s a lightweight.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Do you –” Arturo stopped.

  “Remember him? No. But I do remember seeing a man executed. I guess that was Abdul.”

  “Yeah.” Arturo’s hand was stroking my hair. “But Jesus, Solitaire. To walk int
o a civil war by yourself? That’s some crazy shit!”

  “I guess it needed to be done.”

  “Promise me you won’t ever do something like that again.”

  “Like you’d let me get away with that.”

  “Damn straight I wouldn’t.” Arturo was rubbing my back, sweeping his hands down my spine. “Want to see how I’d restrain you?”

  “Well, I did mention that I’m naughty.”

  One thing about Arturo is that he has a wonderful way of being inspired by circumstance. I found myself strapped face down over a spanking bench, being punished with a leather covered paddle. I was just about to melt when he stopped.

  “Please, just a bit more!”

  “Tell me again why you like Fuentes.”

  “Because he’s wonderful!”

  It was the wrong thing to say, because he stepped away instead of paddling me. “Is he? I’ll just quit then.”

  “Nooooo!” I was right on the edge, my body vibrating along to the drum that was beating between my legs. “I hate Fuentes!”

  He ran a hand over my bum. “Oh?” His fingers slid down, fingering my clit, sending hot shivers racketing through my body.

  “I loathe him,” I gasped. “Please, don’t stop!”

  “You deserve to be punished,” Arturo mused.

  “Yes! Paddle me! Pleeeeease!”

  Instead he walked to the cabinet and dug in a drawer. “I can think of something better.” He came back, holding a pair of rubber covered clips. He raised me up, reached underneath me, and fitted them over my nipples. The grip was firm but gentle, and when Arturo rested my body against the bench again, I found the slightest movement pinched the metal bars of my piercings. The slivers of pain went straight from my boobs to my belly, setting a fire flaming inside me.

  Arturo stepped back, grinning at me. He was just wearing a pair of shorts and I could see his cock straining against the silk. “Now, tell me again, sirena: who do you want?”

  “You! Only you!”

  “Not good enough,” he said quietly. “You’ll have to convince me.”

  He walked around me, and pushed a small lever underneath the bench. Instantly my body began to tilt, with my shoulders moving down and my hips moving up. The shift put weight on the clamps, and delicious sharp torture began to flood through me, setting my clit throbbing again.