Los Zetas Cartel Collection (3 book series)

by AJ Adams

  I’d kept the phone and listened to all the other clips over and over again because I needed that information to keep the UK operation running smoothly, but I hadn’t entered it into the database. You see, even if I’d wiped that bit, Kyle would have spotted something was missing. He’s an ace at that. If he’d seen that clip he would have understood, just the way I had, but I didn’t want him to know that Solitaire had had a moment of weakness. I didn’t want Solitaire to know it, either. I couldn’t bear for her to be hurt. I love her, you see. I love her more than anything on earth.

  We all make choices, and some of them make us sick, but that’s part of what we do. I accept it, and Solitaire knows it, but she’s much harder on herself than she is on anyone else. If she knew that she’d talked, she’d never forgive herself. Worse, she’d never trust herself again.

  I trusted her implicitly. Having seen that clip, I knew Solitaire was solid. I knew she’d give me her loyalty because that is part of her ethos, and the way she put herself into danger in order to lure Songbird proved me right.

  Because she went all out, nobody would ever question her loyalty again. I knew Solitaire was untouchable – unless that clip ever surfaced. I split the phone’s casing, shook the chip loose, bashed it a few times with the heel of my shoe, wrapped it in toilet paper and flushed it.

  Then I went downstairs where Solitaire was waiting for me.

  Dirty Dealings

  By AJ Adams

  Acknowledgements

  I’d like to say thanks to you, the reader who bought this book. Without you there would be no indie authors and I wouldn’t be able to tell my stories. Thank you! I do hope you enjoy reading Dirty Dealings as much as I enjoyed writing it.

  Also, thanks to Amanda, Cathy, Ian, Marissa, Kristi, Jayne, Jenn, Cass, Mike, Angie, Amy, Deb, Raye, Debbie, Sally, Lena, Caz, Sasha, Melissa, Nathalie, Johanna, Drue, Heidi, Marie, Kayla, Nicole, and Kat for helping me get the word out. I could not do this without you! I’m sending you all a copy of Dirty Dealings!

  Hugs,

  AJ Adams

  Demystifying The Spanish

  If you’re curious what the Zetas are saying, here’s a list!

  Pendejo - arsehole, idiot

  Cabron - this is a male goat, but it’s also used in the sense of arsehole

  Pinche... - this adds intensity to an insult. Like “pinche cabron” means “serious arsehole”

  Hijo (de) puta - literally “son of a whore” but used in the sense of “son of a bitch”

  Joto - Mexican derogatory slang for homosexual

  Maricon - Spanish derogatory slang for homosexual

  Capullo - this is the head of the penis, but used in the sense of arsehole

  Cojeme - this is “catch me”, but it’s used in the sense of bloody hell or other expression of surprise.

  Una buena inversion - a good investment

  Pollas en vinagre - literally “vaginas in vinegar” but not as polite, used in the sense of extreme surprise.

  Valedor - friend

  Bruja mala leche - literally “witch bad milk” but used in the sense of “you bloody witch”

  No me jodas - literally “don’t fuck with me” but used in the sense of “you’ve got to be kidding”

  Pobrecita - poor little thing

  Chiquitína - little girl

  Zorra - literally a female fox but used in the sense of “bitch” or “whore”

  Zorruta - a mix of “zorra” and “puta” used in the sense of “nasty little bitch”

  Huevos - literally “eggs” but used in the sense of “balls”

  Chocho - pussy, loser

  Guapa - pretty

  Estoy enchufando - I’m hooking up

  A toda madre - totally awesome

  Cholo - used in the sense of “dude” by South American cartel people but in the USA it can refer to a particular gangster look that involves army trousers, sleeveless tops and lots of prison black ink tats

  Querida - darling

  Amorcita - little loved one

  Corazon - literally “heart” but used in the sense of “darling”

  Verga - Mexican for “cock”

  Coño - a general curse word, used in the sense of “fuck”

  Loba - literally a female wolf but used in the sense of “whore”

  Suegro - father-in-law

  Chiflado - someone who boasts or who is a know-it-all

  Pulpo - literally an octopus but used to describe a man who can’t keep his hands to himself

  Dirty Dealings Table of Contents

  Acknowledgements

  Demystifying The Spanish

  Prelude: Natalia, three years ago

  Chapter One: Quique

  Chapter Two: Natalia

  Chapter Three: Quique

  Chapter Four: Natalia

  Chapter Five: Quique

  Chapter Six: Natalia

  Chapter Seven: Quique

  Chapter Eight: Natalia

  Chapter Nine: Quique

  Chapter Ten: Natalia

  Chapter Eleven: Quique

  Chapter Twelve: Natalia

  Chapter Thirteen: Quique

  Chapter Fourteen: Natalia

  Chapter Fifteen: Quique

  Chapter Sixteen: Natalia

  Chapter Seventeen: Quique

  Chapter Eighteen: Natalia

  Chapter Nineteen: Quique

  Chapter Twenty: Natalia

  Chapter Twenty One: Quique

  Chapter Twenty Two: Natalia

  Chapter Twenty Three: Quique

  Chapter Twenty Four: Natalia

  Chapter Twenty Five: Quique

  Prelude: Natalia, three years ago

  He was stinking drunk. Beer cans littered the table and the floor. There was a stack of cash on the table next to an ashtray overflowing with butts and the remains of a massive, smouldering joint.

  I faced him, showing him the gun. “If you come near me again, I’ll kill you.”

  “You don’t have the stones.”

  He lurched to his feet, stumbling towards me, reeking of beer, hash and sex. Bile choked my throat, and I felt him on top of me again, that foul breath in my face, the pain as he ripped deep inside me.

  He was leering. “Want some more?”

  I pulled the trigger. There was a muted blam, and he reeled back, falling over the back of the chair just like in the films. I stared at the body. It didn’t seem real. Also, I wasn’t sorry.

  For a moment I thought someone would come, alerted by the noise. I held my breath and counted to ten. Nobody came running. Nobody screamed. Sirens failed to ring through the night. That’s London for you. Nobody gives a damn.

  I looked around. I hadn’t touched anything. Even if I had, the place was such a pigsty that they’d find thousands of DNA samples. If they bothered to look. Probably they wouldn’t. Francis Duke was scum.

  I used my coat sleeve to smudge the door handle and left. I dropped the gun in the river on the way home.

  Chapter One: Quique

  I knew something was wrong the moment I spotted the halcones—the spotters who form our street security—duck and hide as I drove up. When Antonio stepped out of the guardhouse by the gate and also looked shifty, I knew what to expect.

  Antonio’s a cocky son of a bitch and not my favourite person. He’s connected, so he has a job for life, but instead of working hard and earning a rep, the lazy bastard always does the least amount of work with the maximum amount of mouth.

  I’d tried to be patient but the week before I’d chewed him out for sneaking off to see a girl, leaving the halcones in his area unsupervised. I should have given him a good beating and kicked him out, but like I said, he’s connected.

  After I ripped him a new one, Antonio had sulked like a pussy instead of taking it like a man. He’d also moaned to everyone he could find, but he’d found few takers.

  “He’s saying you’ve got it in for him,” Gordo told me. “He took it all the way to the jefe, but it got him nowhere.”
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  Gordo and I go way back, so we’re tight, tighter than brothers in some ways. I appreciated him having my back, and I said so. “He’s a loser. We don’t need people like that, especially in security. If he were anyone else, he’d be out—or six feet under.”

  “I agree, it sucks. Just don’t let the pendejo get to you,” Gordo warned me. “He’s poison.”

  That wasn’t exactly news. Antonio had a rep for troublemaking. He had a nasty way of digging up dirt on people and then spreading it about.

  “He can dig all he likes; he won’t find a fucking thing on me. And if he tries to be cute, I’ll put the fucker down.”

  Of course, Antonio knew I wasn’t taking any shit, and as he’d been told to toe the line, he really got his panties in a bunch. He should’ve realised he'd been in the wrong, but the moron thought he’d been disrespected. I would have avoided him, given him time to cool off, and then set him straight because keeping the men in order is part of my job. However, it was his turn to run the security team that guards my home, so there he was.

  From his look, there was trouble waiting for me, and he was enjoying it. I waved a polite hello. In order not to put him on the spot, I was careful not to stop. If he’d said something, I’d have had to kill him, and there was no need for that. I knew what to expect; this was a domestic problem.

  I took the gun out of the glove box, left the car in the drive and went inside.

  “Quique, you’re home!”

  Tina, my wife, came running down the stairs. I looked at the narrow, well made-up face, the chestnut hair that cascaded over her shoulders, and the large eyes, small nose and wide mouth. I’d fallen head over heels for that beautiful face eight years ago. Now she left me cold.

  Tina tried to hang onto me, to delay me, but I pushed past her and went to our bedroom. He was climbing out the window wearing just cowboy boots and shorts. He turned, saw me and screamed, “Wait! I can explain!”

  Tina was clutching me, yelling, “No, Quique, no!”

  Too fucking late, because I’d already shot him. I’d aimed at the heart, but Tina pulling at me spoilt my aim. I got him high up in the shoulder, and the impact was enough to propel him out the window. I looked out and heaved a sigh of relief because the hijo de puta hit the deck instead of my new Beemer. It’s a 4-series coupe, and replacing parts costs a fucking fortune.

  “You killed him!”

  Tina’s wail went straight through me, but instead of pity, I only felt irritation. “What the fuck did you think I’d do? Thank him for fucking my wife?”

  She took a breath, getting ready to scream at me when the cowboy groaned. Tina leaned out of the window, “Run!” she screamed. “For God’s sake, he’ll kill you!”

  She knew me, you see. She stood in my way, struggling for the gun, and by the time I got round her, the fucker was racing down the path. I was thinking he could enter the Olympics when my first bullet missed him by an inch. He accelerated and vaulted over the gate. Forget Usain Bolt, he could give Aries Merritt a run for his money, too.

  He thought he’d gotten away, but I’m a pro. I shook Tina off again, sighted and finally took the bastard out. He’d gotten half way down the street, about half a kilometre from the window, so it was a damn good shot. That’s why I love my Magnum .44: it always delivers much more than you might imagine. Much unlike my wife.

  “Murderer!” Tina was screaming, looking out of the window, making a spectacle of herself in front of the guards and the neighbours. I’d built us a house on the Rio Grande because I like the country, but we’d never lived there because Tina wanted to be in the thick of things. So I’d bought another house in town, a pretty good investment actually, and thanks to that I reckoned we had a dozen witnesses.

  It was humiliating having others in on our personal business. Until now Tina had kept her affairs discreet, fucking around when she was on shopping trips in the States or attending fashion shows in Europe. I’d done my damnedest to keep our troubles quiet, as well, but now the whole world would know.

  I wasn’t worried about the cops because everyone in Mexico knows that informing on the Zetas is a death sentence.

  “I’ll report you! You’ll rot in jail forever!”

  Right, Tina would think she was immune, and maybe she was. All of Tina’s family are connected. In fact, we’d met at a lunch at the jefe’s house—that’s Arturo Vasquez, head of our cartel. Tina’d come with a date, but I’d gotten her number before we sat down, and that night I took her to dinner. I was smitten, bowled over, and I’d proposed a week later.

  Now that love was gone. There had been too many fights, too many men, too many betrayals. It didn’t even hurt anymore that she was doing someone else, but it was the first time she’d done it in our home.

  “Jesus, Tina, what were you thinking? A fucking cowboy in our bed?”

  “Why not? You’re not here!”

  “I was away three days. You could’ve come.”

  “Bolivia? No thanks! I’ve better things to do!”

  I looked at our home, six bedrooms, a pool and a tennis court, kept immaculate by a full-time staff of five. My wife didn’t cook, clean or even make coffee. The heaviest thing she picked up was a credit card. That was something she did frequently. Jewellery shopping was her hobby. Even now, straight out of our bed, she was loaded with ruby earrings, a diamond necklace and several rings and bracelets.

  Tina was addicted to bling, and there wasn’t a month when she wasn’t at me to get her something new. In fact, I had an emerald ring in my bag—an apology for going on a three-day business trip.

  My wife had begun her adventures two years before. I’d found out about the male model, a New York gigolo for chrissake, in a second. I’d forgiven her, gone to the city to blow the fucker away, and then I’d tried to save our marriage. It hadn’t worked.

  I had forgiven her again and again, worked on keeping up the romance, even watched DVDs on better marital sex, and it was never enough. I felt like I was doing all the heavy lifting in our marriage, and it made me mad at her. “You’ve got no focus outside of shopping, Tina. We need to start a family.”

  It was an old argument, made by me, her mother, sisters, aunts and every other relative we had. What the family didn’t know was that we’d been trying since the first time I’d caught Tina cheating. She hadn’t wanted kids yet, but from desperation to keep our marriage going, she’d agreed. Even so, after two years, nothing had come of it.

  Tina stays thin with constant diets that include a bunch of weird supplements, and I suspected that was a problem. Even so, I tried to be nice and used the word ‘we’ carefully. “Maybe we should go and get checked out by Bautista.”

  “I have. There’s nothing wrong with me!” Tina snapped.

  I felt like she’d punched me in the gut. “Are you saying it’s me?”

  Tina shrugged, pouted and then nodded.

  All the air in my lungs ripped out in a single gasp. “Is that what this is all about? Is that why you’re fucking everything in sight?”

  “It’s because I hate you!” Tina yelled. “I’m going to divorce you!”

  For a moment I wanted to protest, to tell her we could work it out, that I’d get checked out or that we could adopt.

  “It’s all your fault!” Tina shouted. “I thought I’d married a man!”

  The words stuck in my throat. We’d had too many fights, and they’d all been the same. Tina would scream, burst into tears, exhaust herself, apologise, promise a new start and then we’d have with a few weeks of honeymoon, followed by squabbles, and then there’d be another man. It had been this way for too long. I was tired just thinking of what was to come.

  The words were on the tip of my tongue, and then I thought again. “Are you sure it’s me?”

  Tina looked away, actually turning her back on me in disgust. “Yes.”

  I was sterile, not a man. It killed me, but I didn’t show it. Because whatever else I am, I’m not a whining pussy.

  “All right,�
� I said to her. “Send me the paperwork.” Then I walked out.

  Antonio was standing by the car, talking on his mobile with his back to me. “Yeah, he caught her in the act! She’s one hot mamacita! Seeing she’s putting it about, think she’d have me?”

  I grabbed him by the shoulder, spun him around and socked him in the gut. I put so much force behind it that I heard his ribs on both sides give. He was out on his feet, so I held him up by the scruff of the neck and punched him again. Blood began to well out of his mouth. When I dropped him, he didn’t even moan.

  Tina was standing in the doorway, eyes wide open with fear and her fist shoved into her mouth. She’d never seen me punch someone before, and I guess it freaked her out. I was too angry to care.

  “Get this fuck out of my house,” I told Tina. “Tell him that if I lay eyes on him again, he’s a dead man.”

  I stepped over him, got into the car and left. The guards at the gate were standing in the road, making bets on whether the cowboy would live. The Magnum had delivered, but the distance meant the bullet had lacked punch. He was lying in the middle of the street and from the look of him, it would be touch and go. I was tempted to run him over, but it would’ve made a mess of the bodywork. The car is a beauty, but it has practically zero clearance. So I drove around him and headed over to my boss’s place.

  My boss is Kyle Suarez, the jefe’s brother. He lives twenty miles south of Nuevo Laredo, right in the country. It always cheers me up to go to his house because it lies all by itself on the banks of Rio Bravo. It’s peaceful.

  “Quique!” Chloe, my boss’s girlfriend, came dancing out, her big blue eyes sparkling with fun. “Just in time! I’m making pancakes, your favourite!”

  She’s a terrific cook, Chloe. She’s also incredibly sharp. “Oh no,” she sighed. “Trouble at home?”