Los Zetas Cartel Collection (3 book series)

by AJ Adams

  I’ll say one thing: I’ve no problem beating the hell out of someone, but to have to hold Solitaire still while Kyle forcibly poured that drink down her almost killed me. Luckily he’s very quick and very practiced. He pinched her nose, forced her head back, and before she could complain or struggle, he was pouring that stuff down her throat.

  Poor Solitaire choked and tried to kick him, and then she was gulping and retching. Everything came up beautifully. It was so quick that Chloe was too late with the garbage can.

  Kyle was holding Solitaire by the knees, preventing her from booting him in the nuts. “Car’s waiting. Hospital’s waiting too.”

  At his words I picked Solitaire up, and I was running.

  The trip to town was hell. Solitaire was hysterical, frightened, disoriented and retching uncontrollably. I held her tight, trying to soothe her, but by the time we got to the hospital, we were both soaked in sweat, tears and terror.

  Bautista wasn’t there, but the old doc who was waiting for us was excellent. He had Solitaire checked out in minutes, and then very quickly had her sedated and on oxygen.

  “I think you were right,” he said to me. “Definitely an amphetamine-like reaction, but I think it’s most likely cocaine. Good job getting her here so fast.”

  “Will she be all right?”

  He shrugged. “All the signs are that it was a low dose. I think she’ll come through in a few hours.” He touched the monitors. “Her heart rate is already slowing down, and her temperature is under control. Those are good signs.” He looked me over and frowned. “You said she had a spiked drink?”

  “Actually, that was me,” Kyle rumbled. He’d been standing by the door, not saying a word, but I had his finger marks on my shoulders from where he’d held me back so the doc could work on Solitaire. “She was fine all night, drinking one or two gins, and then suddenly whammo. I figured someone doped her.”

  “She had a glass of tonic,” I said. “She said it was bitter, but I never thought –” Suddenly the tears were pouring down my face. “Jesus. She could have died!”

  Kyle patted my shoulders. It was Seth, we both knew. That fucker Seth had done it. He’d been standing next to her when she’d poured that drink. The sick bastard had spiked it, from anger, because he was high, or maybe because he was terminally stupid. It would be the last thing he’d done, because I was going to kill him.

  The doc smiled at us. “Well, she has to stay tonight, just so I can be certain she’s all right.”

  “I’m staying too!” I told him.

  “I know that, Mr Vazquez,” he said gently. “Have your people send you some hot tea with lots of sugar. You’ve had a shock, too. Sugar’s good for that.”

  “You know me?”

  “Know you? The man who gave us our MRI machine?” The smile became a grin. “I’m Alvarado. Pedro Acosta Alvarado. Also, my sister’s son is one of your gardeners. You’re a generous employer, Mr Vazquez. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  He nodded and vanished, and it wasn’t till much later that it occurred to me that the one time I did meet someone who didn’t loathe me on sight, Solitaire missed it. It didn’t matter though; she was going to be all right, so I could tell her later.

  While Kyle disappeared to load the place with security, I sat next to my girl and began making plans. I’m sure you can guess what was going to be first on my agenda.

  Chapter Eighteen: Solitaire

  When I woke up, I felt rotten. I was hot, cold and sweaty, and my stomach, throat and face were killing me. I vaguely remembered Arturo holding me like a vice while Kyle shoved something down my throat. A fist maybe. I opened my eyes, and there was Arturo.

  “Sirena.” His hands, warm and firm, were holding mine. “Thank God.”

  I tried to say, “Hi,” but all that came out was a gargle.

  “Wait a second. Have some water.”

  He produced a bottle of iced water from a cooler by the bed.

  I gulped it down gratefully. “Arturo, what the hell happened?”

  “That American hijo de puta spiked your drink.” His voice was calm and even, but his hand was squeezing mine tightly. “I’m so sorry, Solitaire.”

  Typical Arturo. He always thinks he controls the universe or is at least responsible for any shit that happens. I knew exactly who to blame: it was that fucker Seth, and if I could get my hands on him, I’d have his balls.

  “Why’s it your fault?” I sat up and gave him a hug. “Arturo, you look like hell. Crawl in with me.”

  It was the right thing to say. We cuddled up together, and he heaved a sigh of relief. “I was scared to death.”

  “Me too. But I’m okay now.”

  Arturo looked appalled. “You remember it all?”

  I kissed him, on the cheek seeing I was sure I had dragon breath. “The bit where you and that big devil of a brother of yours manhandled me?”

  “Sorry.”

  He really is an ass sometimes. “Arturo, you and Kyle saved my life!”

  “Oh God, sirena! I thought you were going to die!”

  “Not with you around to rescue me!”

  We were about to get hot and heavy when a nurse came in, took one look and ran off giggling.

  “Arturo, take me home, please.”

  I have the feeling that it usually takes ages to check out of a hospital, but Arturo went to work, and we were out of there twenty minutes later.

  When he got me home, Arturo took me straight down to the bedroom in the dungeon. “The sun is shining, the birds are making a racket, and I want you to sleep,” he said as he tucked me in. “It’s dark and quiet here. Now curl up, close your eyes, and I’ll check on you in an hour.”

  I was feeling like hell, so I rested, blissful in cottoned silence, and fell into a deep sleep. Unfortunately, I plunged straight into a nightmare world where Escamilla had me in a cage. I woke up in a sweat, went back to sleep and dreamed about that blond bloke holding the machete. Waking up again, several nasty memories richer, I decided I needed company, not enlightening solitude.

  I staggered into the lift, showered and threw on a bikini. The stripes on my bum were fading, but there were lovely new imprints around my arms. I counted four fingers and a thumb on each. I must have given Arturo a hell of a time the night before, poor bugger.

  When I got downstairs, there was loud music coming from the poolside, so I headed out back. The second I stepped out onto the patio, I knew something was wrong. The crew were gathered around the swing set, looking tense and menacing. Arturo stood in the middle, holding an electric drill. The sight of it tugged at something in my mind, a story I’d heard. Something about Arturo and his sister, Loli.

  I stood there, trying to think what the hell it was, when Arturo said something, switched on the drill, and there was a shrill scream. It was a sound of fear personified, and it went straight through me.

  For a second I was rooted to the ground, and then I was running and screaming, “Arturo, for God’s sake stop!”

  Arturo dropped the drill, went white and tried to prevent me from seeing the figure behind him. It was too late.

  They’d tied Seth to the crossbar of the swing set. He was missing his front teeth, his nose was smashed to a pulp, and one eye was rapidly swelling. There were no holes in him yet – Arturo had only frightened him – but from the hammer and saw on the ground, Arturo was planning on working methodically through his toolbox.

  Given the way I felt, I was happy to see Seth looked like shit. But I wasn’t happy at the thought of what Arturo was going to do. I’d remembered the story now, and I knew Seth was facing a long and extremely nasty death. I’d been thinking of all the horrible things I’d do to him just a few minutes earlier, but now that I was confronted with the reality, it was quite a different proposition.

  As I looked at the bleeding, battered body, I heard retching from behind me. I recognised Salvatore, Julia’s husband. He looked at Seth, at Arturo and his drill, and then nervously pressed a handkerchief to his lips. He
was as white as the monogrammed cotton. I remembered he was a car salesman. This kind of business was clearly out of his sphere.

  “Sirena, this isn’t the place for you.” Arturo was trying to take my arm, willing me to go inside the house. I looked at his eyes, seeing dark fury in them. This was the Arturo who had taken Danjuma by the throat. By his uncompromising face, and the angry eyes and narrowed mouths of the crew around me, I knew this was going to be a problem.

  Arturo had explained his ethos, that he ruled through terror, and showing weakness would signal a free for all. If he didn’t take spectacular revenge on the man who almost killed me, it wouldn’t simply show that he didn’t value me, but Arturo’s enemies would also think he’d gone soft. They would attack his sisters, his nieces and eventually destroy his family. The crew knew this, and from their set faces I knew they were worried about their own families. If everyone were to remain safe, Arturo had to show strength, and his reaction had to be brutal.

  This knowledge came to me without effort, but it took me a second or so to figure out how to stop it. Arturo’s brother-in-law, though, wasn’t on the same page.

  “For God’s sake,” Salvatore cried. “What are you thinking? Arturo, you can’t do this!”

  Arturo and his crew looked at him with derision.

  “I want him dead, and the longer he suffers the better,” I announced. Instantly the crew switched their attention back to me. There was some nodding and a few murmurs of approval. “The thing is, Arturo,” I dropped my voice so only he and the crew nearest us could hear, “Alexa is going to get into a world of trouble over this.”

  “She won’t,” Arturo rumbled. “She kicked him out this morning, and she thinks he’s gone off south by himself. He’ll just disappear.”

  “And that’s the problem,” I said softly. “Boy goes off on spring break with the cartel boss’s cousin and is never seen again.”

  Arturo looked shifty. “We can make up a story of a traffic accident.”

  “Come on, Arturo. You’re not exactly unknown to the authorities. The US cops are going to use his disappearance as an excuse to hassle Alexa, just so they can annoy you.”

  Chumillo and Pedro Rojo were standing close to us, and I could see both were beginning to worry.

  “Solitaire, I can’t let this go.” Arturo’s dark fury was subsiding, but he remained adamant.

  “I don’t want you to let it go. I’m just saying that you have to find another way. One that doesn’t end up with Alexa taking any heat.”

  Chumillo swore. “I could take the body back to San Diego.”

  “Dump it in a car crusher maybe,” Pedro was thinking out loud.

  “As long as it’s messy, it won’t matter too much how,” Chumillo agreed. “A wood chipper would do, too.”

  “Too many bits,” Pedro argued. “We need them to have enough to identify.”

  Listening to them, Salvatore looked sicker and sicker.

  I decided to jump in. “Frankly, I want the fucker to suffer. What’s the sentence in the US for beating up a woman? Or carrying a nice big baggy of coke?”

  They all stared at me.

  “Look,” I said patiently. “If anything happens to him here, Alexa gets it. But if he’s in an American jail, she can say she kicked him out for being an arsehole, and he got into trouble later.”

  “It’s too mild a punishment,” Pedro said decisively.

  “I hear American jails are bloody awful,” I said. “Male rape is a daily event there. Beat the fuck out of him and dump him in jail. You must have contacts who can arrange that. A nice long stretch will get him thrown out of school and prevent him from ever getting a decent job. For a lazy-arsed golf scholarship boy who thinks he’s got it made, it will be a living hell.”

  You might think I should have taken Salvatore’s side, but I was furious, you see. Seth could have killed me and for the sole reason that I didn’t want him to kiss me. If he walked, he’d do it again. What’s more, I wouldn’t put it past the bugger to have already revenge raped, beaten up and otherwise abused women who’d turned him down. Men like Seth consider themselves fully justified for all the pain and horror they cause. Part of me whispered the world would be a better place without him altogether, but I didn’t want to be the one to take him out. And I didn’t want the burden to land on Arturo either.

  Arturo was nodding. “Ruin instead of take his life,” he repeated. “I know what will work,” he said. “Don’t worry, sirena. It’ll go down across the border, it won’t come home to Alexa, and it will send a message.”

  “No drills, Arturo.”

  “No, no, Solitaire! Nothing like that.” Arturo gave me a kiss. “Now, please, go inside.”

  “Just one thing.” I knew not killing Seth would seem a lucky break to some, so I’d make sure people would put any sign of weakness down at my door. Also, I wanted my revenge. “Lend me your drill for a minute, Arturo.”

  He hesitated and then handed it to me. “Press the green button to start it.”

  “Thanks.” I confronted Seth. He looked like shit, but he’d live. I loathed that sick son of a bitch, and I was going to make sure that every time he thought of hurting a girl, he’d remember this moment and back the hell off.

  “We’ve had a chat, and Arturo has agreed that I can make the first cut,” I said cheerfully.

  I must have been convincing because the crew were whistling, clapping and egging me on while Seth struggled and began wailing. “Wait, I didn’t mean it! I didn’t think!”

  “Too late, chum. You almost killed me, and I’m paying you back in full.”

  I turned to Arturo. “Did you say to go straight through the balls or to take them off?”

  “Either way works, but avoid the thigh,” Arturo replied loudly. “There’s a big vein there, and you don’t want him bleeding out.”

  I started the drill and put it close to Seth’s groin. “Here?”

  At my words, the crew were laughing and making bets on whether Seth would pass out. Salvatore turned and retched into Arturo’s flower border. Seth screamed, shat himself and fainted, even though I hadn’t touched him. I switched off the drill. His terror made me feel sick, but I didn’t let it show. This story would go round, and instead of me being a victim, I’d be a player, a powerful adjunct to Arturo. Not just a slut living under his protection, but a person in my own right.

  “I thought he’d be tougher,” I pouted.

  Arturo took the drill from me. “All those gringo fuckers are weak,” he announced. “And now, sirena, back to bed.”

  I carried on the comedy. “Jesus, Arturo! Are you completely obsessed with sex?”

  “Beer,” he said seriously. “I also think a lot about beer.”

  “I’ll have a cold one waiting for you.”

  I walked off, nose in the air, but the second I got into the house, I ran for the loo. I won’t tell you about the next twenty minutes, because it wasn’t pretty. By the time I emerged, feeling awfully sick and shaky, Arturo was standing in the hall, looking worried. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” I walked up to him and felt his arms curl round me. He felt like a rock, and just touching him gave me strength. “What will you do to him, Arturo?”

  He was quiet a moment, and then he walked me to the den, and we settled into one of the large leather sofas there.

  “It’s as you said, sirena: we’ll drop him over the border, beat the hell out of him, line his pockets with blow and arrange to have him prosecuted and convicted. We’ve decided Reeves County Detention is the place for him.”

  “Hell on earth?”

  “Pretty much. He’ll have enough coke on him for a five year stretch.”

  I had the idea that Arturo was leaving something out. “You’ve done something nasty.”

  “I thought you said jail was enough?” The question was rhetorical.

  “There’s no point in trying to avoid answering me. The crew will tell me.”

  “Not if I tell the fuckers not to!” Arturo growl
ed.

  It had been nasty. I thought a moment and remembered the hammer. “He lost his golf swing?”

  Arturo sighed and then gave in. “I was making a point about dancing, but golf won’t be on his agenda anymore either. Knees are fragile.”

  The thought made me feel queasy, but I knew it was only to be expected. Arturo had to make a show of strength. It would have been dangerous not to. “You’re worried I’ll run screaming from the reality of cartel life?”

  Arturo’s eyes were looking directly into mine. “Solitaire, you’ve got a soft heart.” He saw I was about to protest and shushed me. “You made a great case out there, but we both know you didn’t want me to kill him.” He’d seen through me. “But sirena, the story will get out that this was your doing.”

  “The crew will gossip.”

  Arturo stared at me. “You knew?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  He blinked. “By tonight you’ll have cut off his balls and used them for bolas.”

  “Probably. As long as nobody says you’ve gone soft, it’s okay.”

  Arturo grinned at me. “You know, you just keep surprising me.”

  “As long as it’s in a good way.” Something was odd though. “Where was Kyle this morning, and why was Salvatore here?”

  “I sent Kyle home. He was up all night, arranging security at the hospital. I invited Salvatore round for a chat because he’s running around on Julia.”

  “A chat? As in a, ‘If you don’t keep your tackle in your trousers, it will be you on the swings’ kind of chat?”

  “Nah, Julia would have my balls. And he’s the father of my nieces and nephews. All I did was tell him to man up. I told him to either stick to his vows and dump the little stripper he’s seeing or to arrange to set Julia free.”

  Right, and the battered body was just incidental. “You do have a way of making a point.”

  Arturo shrugged. “I don’t usually interfere, but Julia was desperate. I couldn’t say no to her.” He was stroking my hair. “So, couldn’t sleep?”

  “Bad dreams.”

  “You were talking last night about reflections coming to life.”

  “Hmmm.”