Los Zetas Cartel Collection (3 book series)

by AJ Adams

  “Greedy and stupid, thank God.”

  “Good. In that case, make your plans and bury them.”

  I love working with the best. “Okay, boss. It’s done.”

  “Quique,” the jefe said seriously, “about a personal matter. I understand that Antonio was disrespectful about Tina. I want to thank you for not killing him.”

  For a moment I couldn’t breathe. “Si jefe.”

  “And also for your patience with Tina.”

  “Sí jefe.”

  “It takes real huevos to do what you did. It won’t be forgotten.”

  My mind was racing. The jefe knew everything, and he was thankful for my being patient with Tina and Antonio, his cousins. That meant he had my back. But it also meant everyone back home was talking. If they weren’t, the jefe would have pretended not to know anything.

  “Give it time,” the jefe said carefully. “I know you want to rush back and fix everything, but please, do the London job for me first.”

  Fuck! Gossip had to be bad if he wanted me to stay away.

  “Distance and time give you perspective,” the jefe said slowly. “And in the meantime, Kyle and I have your back.”

  “Absolutely,” the boss agreed. “Everyone knows that the London job is too important to leave to just anyone. We need our best man there.”

  “Right! There’s no fucking way I’m leaving a new territory worth millions to anyone else,” the jefe said loudly. “We need you, Quique. You’re our best, most trusted associate.”

  Tina and Antonio were family but the boss and the jefe trusted me. It was a huge relief. By the time I hung up, I was feeling good about myself again.

  I also had my official line, courtesy of the jefe. Distance and time for perspective would be my mantra. I’d leave Tina to stew. Ignoring personal matters while focusing on business was a strategy everyone would support and understand. And I was going to go in big in terms of business.

  I’d follow the jefe’s advice completely and go English in order to deal with the bruja. She’d said she didn’t want to go through the process of buying a place again, so maybe an offer of a different property, ready to move into, would appeal to her. It would probably involve some fucking around, though. Honestly, I wished for a minute I could just shoot her, but money was the better way—in England, at least.

  She’d hand over the watch soon enough, because by the end of the week the Peckham Knaves would be in serious shit, and we’d be top dog. Once we Zetas move into a place, everyone quickly falls into line. We run a tight ship, and anyone who crosses us ends up dead. It’s part of our business model.

  The girl was a hard case, but she’d see it was better to be friendly with me than to be my enemy. I wouldn’t even have to threaten her. Even better, until we took over, I’d let her run her mouth off. I’d treat it like a running joke, making everyone see that I was enjoying her being sassy. Yes, that was the key. She didn’t really have me by the balls; I was just enjoying myself by indulging a feisty woman.

  Finally, I’d remind everyone of what I do that’s fantastic by slaughtering the opposition, starting with Sooty. It was a plan, and I was liking it. Today was going to be a good one.

  First I dropped in to see Jorge. Mama Jorge was asleep, and the daughter Celia was on duty. “They missed a tiny fragment.” She wiped away a tear. “Sorry. It’s just that they opened him up again. It took just an hour, but you know how it is.”

  I put my arms around her. “Pobrecita! Courage, sweetheart. Now they’ve fixed it, he’ll be fine in no time.”

  “True. I’m being stupid.”

  “What can I do, angel?”

  Her eyes, identical to Jorge’s, narrowed. “Kill the son of a bitch who shot my brother.”

  They’re steel, Zeta women. “Consider it done.”

  I called Sykes and told him I was on my way. Then I took a clean unmarked Smith & Wesson out of Jorge’s safe, put on gloves, loaded it, polished away any remaining prints with my handkerchief and went to finish off my mark.

  From the file, I was considering two possible kill sites: his home and the garage he rented behind his office. Everything else looked too busy, but if he went for a walk, I might take him in a quiet stairwell. I only needed a few seconds.

  London’s streets are loaded with cameras, so I wore all black including a hoodie. Then I stole a black Toyota from a parking lot down the street. Now nobody could point the finger at me.

  I found my mark visiting his mistress. I was just driving up when he walked out the door. Perfect. He was driving an old Jaguar, a very stylish silver XJS. He made straight for his office, parking in his private garage. I parked down the lane, walked up, stepped inside and found him taking a briefcase out of the trunk.

  “Bye, Sooty.”

  I shot him in the head. He was dead before he knew it, and that made me a little pissed; he should’ve suffered for what he did to the kid. But dead is dead. I rolled him into the trunk and took his phone and laptop. Our hackers might salvage some good intel from them.

  I closed the trunk and the garage door. Now it would take them a day or longer to find the body. That meant a vague time of death, which was good for me, and the stench and start of decomposition would appal whoever found him. That would set tongues wagging, along with the message: don’t fuck with the Zetas.

  The jefe would be pleased, and I have to admit, I was humming too. This would be a good day.

  Chapter Eight: Natalia

  I had nightmares that were finally interrupted when my phone rang.

  “Frosty? It’s me, Terry.”

  I’ve given up trying to get people to call me by my name. “Hi Terry, what have you got for me?”

  “Not much, I’m afraid. The Zetas have top class security. I could do it, but I’d need a team of three and a serious upgrade in equipment.”

  That was a bugger. “I think not, then, Terry.”

  “Look, I didn’t get anything, so I won’t charge you for the hacking, but I did do some foraging. I’ve got some newspaper clippings and a bit of insider gossip from the darknet. It’s yours for fifty quid.”

  Any information is better than none, so I took it.

  “Listen, Frosty, I said this last night, but I’m telling you again: stay away from those Zetas!”

  “Okay, Terry.”

  “They rumbled me trying to hack in. I was able to stop them locating me, but I’m telling you, those people are nasty. In fact, I’m half thinking of taking a holiday.”

  Jesus, he really had the wind up. For a moment I wondered if I was the one who was bonkers. But I had the watch. Yes, I was covered.

  “You’re right, Terry. I’ll be super careful.”

  He sighed with relief. “Okay, Frosty. As for the phones, I chased down everything they posted. Luckily the fuckers have no friends, and their profiles were private. I think we’re clear. Hopefully.”

  “Thanks, Terry.”

  “Sure thing. Keep safe, d’ye hear?”

  Grunter called ten minutes later, just as I was dropping off again. “Frosty, love, our mutual friend is lying low. But I’m keeping an eye out, okay?”

  “Sure. I bet he’s skipped town for a few days.”

  “Yes,” Grunter sounded grim. “Not to worry. I find him.”

  “Thanks, love.”

  I’d promised Terry a freezer full of food, so with that and the high turnover at the pub, I’d have to spend the day in the kitchen. I was looking forward to that, but first I had to drop by Millie’s, and that was a less agreeable prospect.

  “I took Delicia to the clinic to be tested this morning. They were really kind, but it was a strain, you know? She’s asleep from a sedative Dr Zoe gave her.” Millie was wringing her hands nervously. “She’s switched off, Nats. Like the light’s gone out of her eyes.”

  More like she’s had her soul ripped out was what I wanted to say but my throat was squeezed shut.

  “Oh Nats! There’s no need to cry, love!”

  And that’s how it
was. I was completely useless, sitting there weeping with Millie fussing over me. I managed to dry up eventually and have a coffee.

  “Has she told you what happened?”

  “She says she doesn’t remember much,” Millie confided. “Dr Zoe says they must have fed her roofies. I must say it’s a relief.”

  I wasn’t so sure. Parts of my own memories were crystal, but there were details I didn’t consciously remember. They came back in dreams, and they freaked me out more than anything else.

  Hands tearing at my bra. The smell of beer on his breath.

  “We talked it over,” Millie said. “Delicia doesn’t want to tell the police or go to court. She’s frightened they’ll haul her over the coals. Also, we don’t want you being questioned.”

  That made me all watery-eyed again.

  “I’ve made an appointment with a rape counsellor,” Millie continued. “And I’ve told Frank, Roger and the rest of them to shove it! They want it hushed up. They say it’ll make us look bad. I told them my Delicia isn’t going to hang her head in shame! We’ll deal with this properly!”

  “You’re so right.”

  “Will you help me see them off, Nats?” Millie’s eyes were beseeching. “They’ll worry me something awful, but if you tell them to back off, they will.”

  “Of course, Millie. Leave it to me.”

  “Delicia remembers being frightened, and then it’s a blank,” Millie was hand-wringing again. “Next thing, she’s seeing you and being carried out.”

  “A good counsellor will help her sort it out.”

  “Yeah. But who did you get to help you? I mean, it didn’t occur to me till just this morning, Nats, but even you aren’t hard enough to tackle that lot in Aylesbury Estate. And there’s no way you can carry Delicia.”

  “I had some help from a friend. But best you don’t ask too many questions.”

  “Why ever not?” Millie blinked in surprise. “He’s a hero!”

  “He’s shy.” Like hell. “And I promised.”

  “Delicia remembers being dumped at the Twittertons,” Millie said grimly. “I’ve told her not to name names, as I don’t want Frank and Roger going there and getting killed, but frankly, I could murder them.”

  “My friend punished them. You won’t see them around for a while.”

  “Good. I hope they suffered.”

  “You can be sure of that.”

  “Will he take care of Larry bloody Sooty Whedon?”

  “I didn’t ask, but I doubt it.”

  “I want to murder him,” Millie said darkly. “But Nats, Bobby’s going to really kill him!”

  And me, I thought silently.

  “I don’t blame you,” Millie was following my thoughts. “I don’t see how you could’ve done anything different.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Remember, it was Bobby who arranged to have Sooty as licence-holder, not you.”

  “He’ll still blame me.”

  Millie hesitated, struggling between wanting to defend him and knowing I was right. “Bobby appreciates what you’ve done for us. He’s just a bit jealous. You know. He thinks men should look after women.”

  More like exploit them for sex and free housework and black their eyes if they dared cross him, I thought privately, but I didn’t see the point of saying so. Millie was totally dependent on the man, and he treated her like a slave but she didn’t, she couldn’t, see it as a problem.

  “Nats, I don’t want Bobby to do life!”

  “Millie, tell him while he’s inside, and make sure he knows that killing Sooty and the Twittertons just isn’t worth it.”

  “You know, Nats,” Millie sighed, “I’d die before admitting this to anyone else, but being on my own has been so different.”

  “Is it better or worse?”

  “Well, I miss him, but I don’t miss his frigging temper! Actually, I’m going to counselling, too. I’m not having my eyes blacked ever again!”

  Bobby was going to be shocked, I thought privately. Millie was learning to stand up for herself.

  Millie shrugged. “Well, I’ll tell him what’s happened, and hopefully he’ll see sense.”

  “I’m sorry, Millie.” I felt awfully guilty. “I wish this hadn’t happened.”

  “You’re a dope, Nats. Put the blame where it belongs!”

  I knew she was right, that it was Sooty who was guilty of raping Delicia, but guilt is illogical. I was flooded with it, but as there’s no changing the past I finished my coffee and went to stock up on supplies. All the time I was in Asda, though, buying quantities of beef, mushrooms, tomatoes and apples, I was half looking over my shoulder, expecting to see Smith, the Peckham Knaves or the Zetas. So much for Millie’s assertion that I’m hard, right? I was as tough as a wet sponge.

  Nobody pitched up, and so I made it safely to the pub, but frankly, I was beginning to think that I should stop pissing people off. I was horribly aware that I was making enemies left, right and centre. Also, I was alone. The family were brilliant at in-fighting, but they just couldn’t cope with the people I was messing with.

  Examining my position, I was on the margin of okay. Sooty would soon be in hospital, and I could probably fend off revenge attacks organised by the Twittertons by telling everyone that they were paedos. Most people, including villains, draw the line at hurting kids, so maybe the senior gang members would order the brothers to take their lumps and decide to call it even. Like file under best forgotten.

  But from what Terry had said, the Zetas were in a different league. Okay, Quique had been properly incandescent and good to Delicia, but he wanted the kebab shop. Telling him to shove it probably wasn’t a great idea, considering who he represented.

  The night before, I’d been tired, and he’d known my response hadn’t been so much final as a whine about being stressed. He’d be back that evening with another offer, or perhaps a bloody great big gun and a threat. Maybe I should do the sensible thing and sell it to him. Also, I’d need to find a new licence-holder for the pub.

  I worried all day, my hands busy cooking steak pies and vegetable soup while my mind tried to figure out solutions. I left Dwayne to man the bar, only popping out over lunchtime to help serve. It was coming up to happy hour, and I was putting lasagne in the oven when Dwayne popped his head round the door.

  “Nats, your ex is here. Trouble, love.”

  “You bitch!” Frank was as drunk as a skunk. “It’s all your fault!”

  Thankfully it was still quiet, but I had no patience with him. “Shut up or clear out!”

  “Our Delicia,” he slurred.

  “Does not need her name bandied about in public.”

  It shut him up for a second but then the reptile brain fizzed back into life. “Sooty. Where’s Sooty? I’ll bloody kill him!”

  “I’ve no idea. Go home, you idiot. You’re smashed.”

  “You’re a frigid cow!”

  Scott arrived and was instantly rigid with disgust. “Come on, that’s enough, Frank.”

  "Oh fuck off, Scott! She doesn't want you, either!"

  I didn’t make the mistake of arguing. I just walked out into the street and the drunken bum followed me as I knew he would.

  “Frank, one more word and you’re barred.”

  “This is my dad’s place!”

  “So stop fucking it up.”

  He took a swing as me, the moron. Of course he was so drunk that he missed by a mile and hit the wall. By then, Scott was standing on the pavement, mouth opening and closing as he tried to process what he’d seen. “I’ll call the police,” he gasped.

  “No, don’t bother.”

  Scott stood there arguing as Frank began to cry. That was his thing years ago, too: aggression followed by maudlin tears. I really wondered what I’d ever seen in him.

  “Why don’t you want me back? I miss you!”

  “Because I’m a frigid cow, remember?”

  I shoved him in a cab, gave the bloke an extra fiver and gave him Roger’s address.
Let his arsehole of a brother deal with him.

  “Natalia, this is no life for you!” Scott went on and on, pursuing me into the pub and blabbing to the other punters. “He tried to hit her!”

  Some shrugged and looked away while others began chuntering.

  “Scott,” I tried to keep my voice pleasant, “you are upsetting my customers.”

  “But—”

  “Shut. Up.”

  “Better do as you’re told,” someone laughed. “Frosty doesn’t take shit from anyone.”

  “Remember how she bashed Frank with a cricket bat?”

  “Yeah! Hey, anyone seen Sooty recently?”

  “What did you do to him, Frosty?”

  “She’s put him in the stew, mate!”

  “Hey Frosty, how about a free drink on the house?”

  This was my moment. “Sure! Dwayne, water all round!”

  It set everyone laughing, and when I treated everyone to homemade kettle chips with salt and vinegar, the place was bouncing again.

  Scott stayed, but his pursed lips and angry eyes told me he was considering himself a watchdog. Every time I came near him, he’d mutter furiously, scolding like a puritan schoolmarm. “I wish you’d find a decent job,” and “You need looking after.”

  That pissed me off. I handle my own affairs.

  My patience was tested further when Roger came rocketing in. “What the hell were you thinking, sending Frank to my place?”

  “It could’ve been as good the morgue, seeing he took a swing at me, but I was feeling generous.”

  “He’s throwing up all over my sofa!”

  “And you left your wife to deal with him? Lovely.”

  “You don’t get to criticise me!” Roger was in full rant. “And what the hell is going on with Delicia? I went round, and Mum wouldn't even let me see her!"

  At that point Quique walked in with a parcel in his hand instead of a gun. He looked at Roger’s red face and my stormy one, grinned and sat down at the bar.

  “Millie is being a mum, and as she’s your mum, too, you should have some respect. You have no right to push her around, Roger.”

  “Delicia is going to counselling! What will people say? You should stop her!”