Los Zetas Cartel Collection (3 book series)

by AJ Adams

  I’m telling you: I just gawped at her. After years if hearing, “Frank would never have done that if you’d mortgaged the flat,” Millie’s statement just blew me away.

  “Yeah,” Roger sighed heavily. “I guess that’s true.”

  Miracles do happen. That was proof.

  "It's not right," Millie continued. "Nats can never hold a licence, and so she can't ever open her own restaurant, either."

  The miracles just kept coming.

  “It’s crazy,” Suzie said angrily. “We have politicians who steal thousands of quid and who keep going strong, but you’re punished for life for nothing!”

  “It’s not just that,” Millie worried. “Nats, you’ve made some powerful enemies. Smith hates your guts, and the Knaves are after you, too.”

  “Smith has gone his length and can’t touch me anymore. As for the Knaves, the Zetas will help with that.”

  “Because you and Quique have a thing?” Roger asked diffidently.

  “The Zetas will help because we pay them to hold the licence.” I was firm. “It’s business, so if Bobby wants, he can just keep running the Black Horse when he’s out.”

  “Surely he’ll just sell?” Roger said.

  “It’s all he knows,” Millie said helplessly.

  “But Nats, you’ve put in so much work into the pub,” Suzie was looking guilty. “You’ll just walk away?”

  “Run, actually,” I said cheerfully. “I want to go on a month’s holiday, and then start my own business. Catering, I think.”

  “The Black Horse will be your first customers!” That was Millie.

  “I’ll talk to the others,” Roger offered. “I’ll get them off your back.”

  “Thanks, love.”

  “You know, Frank is cut up about what’s happened. He really wants you back.”

  “It wouldn’t work, Roger. Too much has happened.”

  “Well, I’m sorry,” Millie sighed. “I wish it had been different.”

  It was getting too depressing. “Listen, Halloween is in a few weeks. Maybe Bobby will be out by then, but if he’s not, we should do something fun to cheer up Delicia.”

  After that we got to planning the most spectacular holiday ever, which cheered us all up. Roger then went and spoke to Frank and the male cousins, while Suzie and Millie tackled the girl cousins. The troops fanned out, speaking to the in-laws and distant cousins. It took a couple of days, but suddenly I was popular again, the way I had been when I’d first married Frank.

  God, it was heaven! I floated in and out of work, cooking up a storm, enjoying being the old me again. Just as well, really, because with being back in favour, everyone was banging on my door like in the old days.

  “Nats, little Danny is having trouble at school, and I’ll blow my top if I go. Will you tackle the old cow who teaches him?”

  “Frosty, can you go over my business plan and advise me?”

  “Nats, I need a new bathroom, and the council won’t give planning permission. Can you do what you do and fix it for me?”

  Most of it was simple to sort out, but the planning permission meant calling in Floyd Garrison. He’s the greasy type who goes into politics because he’s dodgy but too scared to take up regular thieving. He also pretends he’s straight, which is even more annoying.

  “Planning permission? Well, I’m not sure.”

  “They’ve done the paperwork, but the committee is too busy fact-finding in Hawaii to get round to stamping it. All I need you to do is to ask them to put the application on the top of the pile.”

  “Well, erm…”

  I pushed a brown envelope towards him. “For expenses.”

  It vanished with one swipe of the greasy paw. “I’ll see what I can do. No guarantees, though.”

  Cheeky sod. “Friend, when you take the money, you deliver results.”

  He drew himself up in hurt dignity. “How dare you!”

  The regulars, sniffing out a drama, were delighted. We’d not had any fun for a fortnight at that point. Scott was watching, disapproving in silent disgust, but the rest were enjoying themselves.

  The counsellor was spitting mad, “You can’t speak that way to me!”

  “Actually, Floyd, I can. When you take money under the table, you’re selling yourself. And there’s a word for that.”

  “You bitch!”

  Of course that’s when Quique walked in. “Hey, bruja!”

  “I heard you were arrested!” Floyd was fuming. “I’m not at all surprised!”

  Quique slid onto a barstool as I dealt with the prat. “It might be you in the slammer if I tell people how you sell your name for five hundred quid.”

  “Hey, that’s a good deal!” Quique was grinning. “Valedor! We should talk!”

  But the valedor was stalking out.

  “He won’t help,” Mo prophesied.

  “He’s a disgrace!” Scott fumed.

  I put a pint in front of Quique. He was looking relaxed for once and pretty yummy in the dark suit, this time paired with a blue shirt and dark tie. He’d been somewhere formal. He smelled good, too, clean and fresh yet tangy.

  “Frosty, will Floyd deliver?” Sly was frowning.

  “Sure he will. If he doesn’t, the gravy train stops.”

  “Ay-yay-yay, you should work for us!”

  Sly was thinking it through. “I’ve got a load of paperwork problems. Maybe I should talk to him.”

  Scott was appalled. “Just hire a lawyer!”

  “Floyd would be faster and cheaper.”

  As he and Sly began wrangling, Quique smiled at me. The look turned the dark eyes warmly brown. “I know it’s late, but would you like dinner?”

  It was tempting.

  “Or we could go dancing.”

  I suddenly remembered how he’d laughed down at me when I was moaning away. I could feel myself flush, and the bugger knew exactly what I was thinking. I could tell by the grin.

  “Quique, I wish I could, but I’m working.”

  God, how I wish I weren’t! But with the place quiet again, Dwayne was back on day shift, covering for me while I cooked, and then I was taking nights.

  “That’s okay. I’ll wait, and we can go to Soho after.” He was smiling, his brown eyes friendly. “They’ve got shows, too, if you want to put your feet up.”

  Irresistible. “Yes, please.”

  It was just a date, but those two little words were to change my life forever.

  Chapter Seventeen: Quique

  After two days of heaven on earth with Natalia, I went to work and hit the ground running. It was just business, and if I’d known I was making life-changing decisions… but I’m getting ahead of myself. I didn’t know, so I just went to work.

  First thing I called Foster, our cop connection. “Get Natalia Truelove’s purse and phone back to her.”

  He called back fifteen minutes later to announce he’d found it. “Smith’s furious,” he told me. “He’s swearing revenge.”

  Those little burn marks on her sides came back to mind. So did the sight of her laughing as she went down on me. I called Rovero. “Keep on Natalia. Don’t let her out of your sight. And if Smith turns up, call me immediately.”

  “Yes, jefe.”

  Hearing his growl I knew she’d be okay. Rovero became a halcone when he was ten, killed his first man at twelve and was solid through and through. Although Natalia was a capable woman who’d shoot anyone stupid enough to fuck with her, I wanted to be sure she was safe.

  I went to see Jorge, and when I got to the office, my watch was waiting for me. She’d put it in a velvet bag, but there was no note. I guess the return was a message by itself. Seeing it, I was glad I’d put Rovero on her.

  “I see you’ve made friends,” James was lounging in a chair, as curious as a cat. “Is it true she was taser-tortured by the cops?”

  “Yes.” I must have growled, because he shook his head. “That’s a bad thing. So Rovero says you took her home?”

  “Yeah.”
/>   His eyes widened. “You did her? I thought she was a lesbian?”

  “What the fuck are you saying?”

  I just exploded, and James instantly backed off, hands up in the air. “Sorry! Fuck! Sorry, I didn’t mean it!”

  Fury was rushing through me, but I controlled myself. After all, I had been badmouthing Natalia myself. James didn’t know I’d been a complete asshole.

  “I’m sorry,” he was talking fast. “I misunderstood.”

  “Nah,” I patted him on the back. “It’s my fault. As you can gather, the situation has changed.”

  “Absolutely, I get it!”

  “By the way, can you write me up a divorce?”

  James was bristling with interest. “Sure.”

  “Good.” I handed him the agreement I wanted. “She gets the house in town. And an allowance till she remarries. Simple, so it won’t take long, right?”

  “Quique, you poor, deluded bastard.” James was happily superior. “Write it like this, and as long as she doesn’t remarry, she and her lovers live off your dime for life.”

  “Fuck that!”

  “Yeah. Let me take care of this.”

  He’s a good man, James.

  Then I began making plans for exploiting our new territory. We’d destroyed the core of their organization, and now it was just a matter of cleaning up and putting our people in place. I was feeling like the jefe, and I blessed Natalia for giving me myself back again.

  We took out a few more Peckham Knaves outfits and then offered the ones left standing a deal: work for us or take a walk. When they realised the walk meant along the bottom of the Thames while carrying a slug of lead in the head, they decided to switch teams. The English are smart that way.

  The next step was getting the money flowing. That hadn’t been part of my job before, but logic said that streamlining everything and sorting out duties was the right way to go.

  I got the crew together again. “You all have your specialties at national level, but we need to diversify our skills. I’ve given each of you a small piece of the territory. Money comes out of the main pot for now. We’ll figure out a fair division in two or three months.”

  I was leaving it to Jorge as a sign of my respect. Everyone was nodding and smiling, excited at having their own turf. It was working out great.

  I remembered something else Natalia had said. “Move the dealers a block away from the schools. And come down hard on any muggers. We want a clean image.”

  “Like The Godfather?” James was grinning.

  “Absolutely. Be helpful when you can. Offer services. There’ll be people needing licences, permits, tickets fixed, that kind of thing. Use James when you need to.”

  Of course, we had some challenges to our new position. Big mistake on their part!

  Matu reported the first attempt. “One of my dealers just got hit. A thousand pounds worth of E.”

  “Got an ID?”

  “Some guys called Loopy Wright and Squeezer Cratty.” Where the hell do they come up with these names? “They hang out in the Operating Room.”

  Coordinates flashed up on my screen. “Meet you there.”

  The Operating Room was a small pool hall. While I waited for Matu, I counted a dozen men inside. Back home everyone would be heavily armed, but here they’d have knives. At most there might be a gun or two.

  Matu turned up with three extra men. “Lookouts,” he explained. “They’ll give us time to work.”

  They took up their positions and then he and I went inside.

  I didn’t bother taking out my Magnum. No point when there are weapons all over the joint.

  We walked in, and I punched the man nearest the door in the throat. As he went down, I took the pool cue out of his hand and kicked back, hitting another in the solar plexus. The pool cue worked well, the butt breaking noses and ribs efficiently.

  With Matu doing his share, it took a minute to put everyone down. We looked over the bleeding, moaning crew, searching for our targets.

  “Okay, Loopy has a heart tattooed on his right arm. Squeezer has acne.”

  Matu got Loopy straight off. After breaking a pool cue on his ribs, he finished him off with a kicking. Old-fashioned and messy but great for sending a message.

  Me, I fucked up. I had a zit fest by the collar and was about to smash his face in when he squealed, “I’m Baynes! Squeezer’s over there!”

  I punched him in the gut. “I guess you live then.”

  Squeezer looked just as bad when I dragged him to his feet. I mean, serious pizza face. Even so, I made a note to ask next time before delivering justice. It’s too easy to make mistakes, right?

  I thumped him in the gut a couple of times and then punched him in the face. Squeezer went out fast, because the last punch broke his neck.

  I kicked the man nearest to me. “Listen up, hijo puta! Spread the word. Anyone who fucks with us gets taken out.” I kicked him to enforce my point. “Got it?”

  He screamed in a quiet way that told me he did. So I kicked him again while Matu spread the message on his side of the room, and then we left.

  I looked at my watch, and just seeing it on my wrist again made me smile. I’d call in and check on Natalia soon. Maybe she’d be up for another date.

  An unscheduled early delivery of twenty luxury BMWs from Germany had me at the docks, so I didn’t make it, but I did call Rovero.

  “She’s sorting out her nephew’s college application and a cousin’s business plan,” he growled. “She’s like our jefe; there’s people in and out all day, asking favours.”

  It was some accolade, especially coming from Rovero, because he doesn’t have much time for women. “That’s the bruja for you. Keep her safe, okay?”

  I would have gone to see her, but I got a call from the Rathkale Rovers, the rival cartel we’ve a truce with. “We just want to touch base. Meet us for a drink at our club?”

  I took along Matu and Lencho. “James, it’s probably okay, but just in case it turns ugly and they take us out, you need to stay here. If shit happens, call headquarters and hold the fort till they send troops.” It’s important to be practical.

  “You can rely on me.”

  It wasn’t a trap, and after a night of Mescal shots and warm beer, we ended up at a great club, boozing it up with a round of Russian girls. They were lookers, and mine, named Natalia oddly enough, was stunning, but I found myself thinking that the English Natalia had been more fun.

  So when the others took theirs home, I dropped mine off at her place. It was in the middle of nowhere, and I got lost. It was too late to see if my Natalia was free, so I ended up in bed alone. It should have told me something, but it didn’t. Because I’m a pendejo about some things, I guess.

  Anyway, with the territory settled, I fixed the property deal. I’d laid out the plan, and the jefe had made the money available.

  Twenty million pounds.

  Saying it made me sweat. It had been a fuck of a lot easier to run into that flat where they were holding Natalia’s niece. Not knowing if there was a platoon in there that would cut me down meant fucking up would lead to death. Losing the jefe’s money because of a business deal? Well, that would shame me, and that was the real killer.

  I called Sykes and told him what I wanted. “Seven property owners, so I want separate appointments, an hour apart, in the order I told you. We need two suites in a fancy hotel, on different floors so they don’t meet.”

  “Yes, Mr Ramas.” Sykes was so nervous that I could feel him sweat over the phone. “I have all the paperwork ready.”

  I didn’t sleep much, and I was at the Dorchester Hotel two hours before the first appointment. By the time the first owner pitched up I’d worn tracks in the carpet, but I acted cool.

  “Sell to me and you can buy a nice new place on the Spanish coast,” I told him. “Here are three properties you could have with money to spare.”

  He thought for just two seconds as he stared at the sunlit villas and nodded. “I was plan
ning to retire in two years, and the missus wants some sun. It may as well be now.”

  We signed, and I nipped one floor up to talk to the next man who took a kickback in return for a quick sale.

  I’m telling you: every sale went smooth as silk, and it was all due to giving them what they secretly yearned for. I saved three mil on the projected price, too. At fifteen per cent, the jefe would be delighted—unless I got the surveyor reports wrong.

  I had engineers down there before the ink was dry. Then I chewed my nails to the quick as they explored and tested. If it hadn’t been for Matu dragging me to Essex to watch a kickboxing match, I would have been climbing the walls. By the time we got back, I got the good news.

  “Well done, Mr Ramas!” Sykes had been scared shitless, too, and his voice was trembling with relief. “Your predictions were spot on!”

  I said a prayer and then informed the crew. “We’ve done it! We own the place, lock, stock and barrel. We’ve got a power base. From here on, we go bigger and better. We’re going to make a fucking fortune!”

  After tequila all round, I went to visit Jorge. He was weak as a cat and as white as the hospital sheets, but the eyes were fiery again. He was bouncing back.

  “Brilliant job, Quique. Man, you kicked ass!”

  It was generous of him, because I knew he thought he’d missed an opportunity. I was the same way when I stood down from a big mission once because I’d broken an arm. It pissed me off for weeks. My colonel got me over it by getting me to lead a new team after I got out of hospital.

  I’d thought about it, and so I brought along a map. “Jorge, I was just carrying out your plan. This is as much your work as mine.” He waved that away like I knew he would. “Listen, there’s another area you may want to take over, on the Essex end of the Thames. It would give us a sea port.”

  “A sea port?” The dark eyes were speculative and uncannily like the jefe’s. “Now there’s an idea!”

  I left him looking cheery and promising to be back in the office soon. Me, I finally checked in with Natalia.

  The Black Horse was quiet, back to its usual business. The regulars were in place, including Angus the dog. Natalia was behind the bar, and as always, she had her ex and the stuffed shirt drooling over her while she was ruling the roost. That night the bruja was ripping some local politician a new one.