Twisted (A Zeta Cartel Novel Book 5)

by AJ Adams

  It was still early, a Sunday morning, and Persia was fast asleep. Her hair was spilled all over her face and she was hugging my pillow. She was a joy just to look at. Also, the more I had her, the more I wanted her.

  With a sigh, I tugged the covers over her. Although my family were safe, well away from the troubled area and surrounded by an army, I was too uptight about what was going on back home for fun and games. Not being there was killing me, even though my head told my heart there was nothing to be done.

  A hot shower and coffee put me in a better frame of mind. But checking the news, I saw that the war in Texas had caught the eye of British morning television. Lencho and Paco would sleep till midday, they loved their lazy Sundays, but James was an early bird. He would also have seen the news. So, I went to visit.

  "I need to be at work." James lay flat on his back in bed, leg and side propped up with pillows.

  "The doctor says another week," his girl admonished him. She ignored his protest, made sure he was comfortable, and then quietly sat in the next room.

  "She babies me," James grumbled. The wound looked good, but the doc hadn't removed the tube yet. Apart from that, there were circles under his eyes. He was weak as a kitten but he wasn't having it. "Coño, there's nothing wrong with me."

  I sat down by the bed. "Yeah, you look terrific."

  Of course, he blew me off. "We're at war on two fronts," he lectured me. "You won't get even the simplest backup from home now that this shit is going down. You need me."

  "Don't be a fool. The jefe has Texas under control, you saw how he beat them back. Two bombs! They won't walk away from that."

  James knew better than argue about the jefe. But, being a lawyer, he had a comeback. "What about the seaport?"

  "It can wait. At the moment, we're running Kowalczyk out of town." I took in the drawn face and sympathised. When I'd been shot, I'd felt like shit too. Luckily, I'd come prepared. "My orders are that you stay right here." I handed him a sheaf of papers. "Also, I want your opinion on these."

  James took them eagerly. "Equine management? Horses?"

  "Yeah. It's a standard contract. Seeing we will be owners, I thought we should get in front of the technical details." With relief, I saw James' eyes brighten. This was work he could do – without moving.

  "I get races and injuries but what are stud fees?" James scanned the pages. "Joder! Horses get paid to fuck?"

  "Yeah, and there's a scale for success that will astonish the Curzon Street girls. I think you will have to do some research."

  He smiled. "I once won a bet at the Hipódromo but otherwise, I can barely tell one end from the other."

  "But you fuck like a stallion." I got up to go. "Get reading and give me an education a week from today."

  "Yes, boss." The words were formal, but the tone wasn't. My friend was smiling at me. "Thanks, Jorge."

  Knowing I'd done something right helped, but when I got back to my place, Persia was watching the Texas coverage on breakfast tv. She'd not been in any of our meetings, but she had picked up enough to see the truth. "That's your jefe, isn't it?"

  I couldn't deny it. "Yeah, they're having some trouble."

  Persia got to her feet, her voice gentle as she put a hand on my arm. "I'm sorry. Is your family there, Jorge?"

  "No, they're safe in Mexico."

  It didn't fool her. "Twenty miles over the border."

  "They're fine."

  It came out snappy but Persia just nodded. Glancing over her shoulder, I saw the reporters were digging deep. The press had a field day with the photos: Gonzo slumped over the wheel of his car and Diego lying face down in a pool of blood on the street. They'd pixilated the only survivor's face, but it was easy to see they had beaten Lina purple.

  "Don't look, Jorge." Persia scooped up the remote and switched channels. Then she turned to me, asking gently, "Are you going home?"

  "No, my work is here."

  She didn't reply; she just gave me a hug. Her warmth went right to my heart. For a moment, I melted against her, feeling as if I'd come into a safe haven. But habit and reason surged: she was warm and exciting but not open or trustworthy. She had too many secrets.

  "Do you want to talk, Jorge?"

  The understanding tone almost tempted me. "No, I'm fine." I moved away from her, worried I'd break down and whine about my worries like a kid.

  The copper curls were tossed back firmly as she took the rejection. "With Kowalczyk going loony, I can't tell you how grateful I am that my family are abroad. But I still worry."

  "Hmm."

  She gave up on the moment. "Your office is closed. What are your plans for today?"

  My mind was a blank. We worked long hours, but Sundays were the exception. There was a duty watch, but today was Paco's turn.

  "There's a brunch," Persia informed me. "We're invited."

  "I'm not hungry."

  She rolled her eyes. "Jorge, it's at Tazanna's. Brunch means fruit and yoghurt. If you're lucky, there will be scrambled eggs."

  "Sounds like a party." But actually, I was cheering up. Tazanna was fun. "Are your other socios going?"

  "Yes, and we've got friends over from Moscow's top modelling agency," Persia grinned. "We'll be low on food but there's bound to be vodka."

  It sounded more and more like my kind of party. "We'll pick up some smoked salmon and champagne on the way."

  "Fancy!"

  "And we'll take a limo." Because boozing at lunchtime just invites too much trouble and there's never any parking in town, anyway.

  "Ooh, glam!"

  She was devious but her joy in the little luxuries of life was genuine and infectious. I felt myself cheer up. "Go get dressed, fresa, while I call for a car."

  As I handed her safely into the Cadillac, blessing the darkened windows and the anonymity of limos, I got a text from Chin. He'd intercepted some email from Gold Ticket and it was excellent news.

  "Kowalczyk is in trouble with his PR company. The celebs who came to Ascot are moaning the fight damaged their image. They're threatening to sue."

  "I'm not surprised," Persia said. "But his freeloaders will be around."

  "Yeah, but he'll know he's losing it." I wanted him off balance as I was planning to take another slice of his territory. "I want him thoroughly shamed. Make sure the socios gossip. Everyone likes an eyewitness account."

  "No way," Persia answered instantly. "I don't want Kowalczyk going after them."

  "He won't."

  Her chin came up and her eyes flashed. "He might."

  I was exasperated. "Why would he?"

  Persia gave me an old-fashioned look. "You got pissed off with me for laughing at you. What's to say Kowalczyk isn't the same kind of nut?"

  I was steaming. "That's not how it was!"

  "Sure," she drawled. "What was the word? Oh yes, 'misplaced'."

  I felt it was below the belt. Throwing my apology back in my teeth, too. I didn't let her rile me up, but I was damn mad, I'll tell you that for nothing. I know, talk about having my head up my ass. She was right, of course, and I was wrong. But that's how it was.

  When we arrived at Tazanna's. we were still frosty with each other. Persia made me hand over the hamper, "you bought it, not me" but she cheered up when the girls squealed as one and hauled her into their midst.

  Tazanna's apartment was packed, and from the slim forms and good bones, her friends were all industry people. They were great on the eye, but with all the conversations centred on fashion and celebrity gossip, I felt out of place.

  After nodding along as a girl with pink hair talked of the Kardashian divorces and smiling with a busty blonde about Kylie Cosmetics, I was relieved to see Ferdy Firth arrive.

  He made a beeline for me, braying, "Great party, isn't it?" He was loud and happy, already pixilated. "Did you hear? Kowalczyk has been warned off."

  I hadn't, but it was good news. "How did you find out?"

  "The steward is a chum. We were at school together."

  The
y would be. "You're much better informed than me." I'm not shy with flattery. "Do tell."

  Ferdy loved it. "They rushed through the dope tests. Both his horses tested positive for synthetic adrenaline."

  Rovero had done a great job, but I pretended shock. "That's a real shame. I love to win but cheating at sports is just low."

  "Exactly! Usually it takes weeks for the Horseracing Authority to get into gear," Ferdy confided. "But as Kowalczyk decked the steward, they called an emergency meeting last night. While we were partying, they voted to ban him for life."

  Masking my elation, I tut-tutted. "Shocking!"

  Ferdy was bursting with gossip. "But guess what? Someone's already bought Flying Eagle and Flying Star!"

  I savoured the moment. "Is that out already? You're more clued in than the Rampage."

  There was a quiet moment of utter surprise. "Wait, it was you bought Kowalczyk's horses?" Ferdy asked in awe.

  "Yeah."

  "Ohmigod," Ferdy laughed. "Kowalczyk will do his nut! First, you take his girl, and now you're taking his horses? And all because he called you a loser?"

  Exactly the message I was sending. "No way! I just wanted some horses, and his were available."

  "Right," Ferdy didn't believe me for a second. "He hates you with a passion. How on earth did you get him to sell them to you?"

  "He may have thought the trainer who offered him the money was an agent for an unnamed senior politician."

  Ferdy gasped. "You used my uncle's trainer?"

  "I want the best, and he recommended his man."

  The braying laughter flowed loud and clear. "This is fun, Jorge. You are a very devious fellow."

  Hopefully, he'd never know how devious. Ferdy loved practical jokes but he wouldn't enjoy knowing I'd set him up with Dolores.

  Luckily, Ferdy did not know what I was thinking. "I have to thank you for introducing me to Persia and her friends," he sighed. "I never imagined seeing so many glorious girls in one place."

  The apartment was stacked with beautiful women, but I had eyes for just one. Persia wore a simple green shift, but it turned her eyes emerald and her hair to flame. She was easily the most stunning girl in the room, probably in London.

  She was talking to Isa and one of the Russian beauties, her clear tones floating over to us. "I once bought some shares in Estée Lauder because I thought a cosmetics label was a safe investment. But I didn't know you had to pay lots of fees and taxes. I lost money."

  At that, my attention was caught. Estée Lauder was a sterling investment. Even with agent commissions, she couldn't have lost on the deal.

  "Oh lord, I'm hopeless with money too," Isa confessed. "I buy government bonds."

  "Are those guaranteed to make a percentage?" Persia asked. "Or are they like stocks that go up and down?"

  I couldn't help but stare. I knew that Persia owned both bonds and stocks. She had to realise the difference.

  "I like gold and property," the Russian girl said. "They're long-term, low risk buys."

  "You are clever," Persia sighed. "I wish I understood money. But every investment I make tanks practically instantly."

  It just knocked me for a loop. Persia had a massive, successful and diverse investment portfolio. She'd lied to me, but why would she be lying to her girlfriends? It made no sense.

  She had her back to me. She couldn't know I was there. I pricked up my ears and listened carefully.

  "I miss having an agent," Persia added.

  "It's a shame Paula retired," the Russian girl agreed. "But you have your brother."

  "Yes, of course." But Persia's voice was flat.

  "Oh. Problem?"

  "He's not here," Persia sounded miserable. "Because of the ruckus, he closed the restaurant and took Mum and Dad abroad."

  "Don't worry, zvezda moya," her friend encouraged her. "We've all been there. Those fake pornos films are just dreadful. I remember when -"

  I didn't hear the rest of their conversation. Surely, she hadn't been telling the truth. I couldn't have been that mistaken in her. My gut churning, I downed the Buck's Fizz in one.

  "Jorge, sweetie!" Tazanna took my empty glass and put an arm around me. "Thank you for the champagne," she purred. "How about some fruit? I have kiwis, strawberries and peaches."

  "I'm good, thanks." But I had to know. "Tazanna, I don't want to ask Persia, but how is she off for money?"

  "Dreadful!" Her answer was instant and too filled with pity to be anything less than truthful. "We lent her a little cash, just to tide her over."

  Joder. My heart sank. "I thought she had savings?"

  "We think she's going bankrupt," Tazanna's dark eyes locked on mine. "Persia makes no bones about the things she'll do to help her career, but only total disaster could make her deal with Kowalczyk."

  "I see." I did, and I wasn't liking it at all. "Her brother manages her finances?"

  "We're not certain what's going on." Tazanna looked around, ensuring we weren't overheard. To be safe, she tugged me into the kitchen, over to the table filled with plates of cut fruit and pots of low-fat yoghurt. "Persia's terrible with money so Colin handled it. But he's been weird these last few months. We think there's a problem with the restaurant," she confided.

  Exactly what Persia had told me, but I'd thought it a lie.

  Tazanna handed me a fresh glass of champagne. "Persia's relationship with her family is complicated," she sighed. "You know she's adopted, right?"

  It was news to me. Pinche pendejo that I was, I'd seen pictures of them all in the files but it hadn't even crossed my mind to ask why she looked different. I'd focussed purely on the money.

  "Persia adores her mum and dad, and Colin is a god to her. There's nothing she won't do for them."

  It was getting worse and worse.

  "But she had a rough start," Tazanna confided. "Apart from losing her birth mum, there was a horror boyfriend when she was a kid. Persia won't talk about it but that video he made of her was the least of it. Whatever that shit did to her still haunts her."

  Images of Persia screaming as I beat her, and falling to her knees as I zapped her, flooded in. Shame consumed me.

  "She's been let down so often that she's afraid to let anyone get too close," Tazanna confessed. "We're all so happy that she finally found you, Jorge."

  She couldn't have hurt me more if she'd stabbed me in the heart with a fruit fork.

  I'm ace at hiding my feelings, but Tazanna sensed I was rocked. Of course, she had no idea she was talking to a pinche hijo de puta monster. She thought I was a decent human being. "Persia's a very private person, and she won't involve us in her troubles," she said softly. "But you two are so close. Can you talk to her? And help her?"

  "Yeah, sure. Count on it."

  As we moved back into the party, I talked and drank and danced as if nothing had happened, but all the while, my mind was turning over the events of the last few weeks.

  In the cartel, it's standard practice to hide your wealth. We've got offshore accounts and backup foreign citizenships just in case. I'd taken Persia's situation as the usual course of business. Now it came home to me that someone had used her name to stash away a fortune. The whole situation reeked of a scam. Worse, it had fooled Persia into selling herself to Kowalczyk.

  While I ached for her, I was also conscious of my own shame. Being bamboozled was a real hit to my pride. I tried to tell myself it had been a genuine error, but every time I looked at the fresa, dark emotion squeezed my gut.

  I swear nobody could tell what I was thinking, but soon enough, Persia cut me loose from the pack and cornered me. "Hey, Jorge." She was frowning a little. "You're not bored, are you?"

  "No way! I'm having a blast," I lied.

  Persia looked around the room. "I used to adore these parties," she whispered. "And while I still love all the people, I have this weird disconnect. As if I've been in a different life."

  That was my fault. "You've had a tough time, fresa." I put my arm around her without thinkin
g. "You okay?"

  She leaned into me, "Sure, I was just worried about you."

  Why she cared was beyond me. I was about to spill, when I took in the anxious eyes. Persia did worry. She couldn't help it: she cared for her friends, her family, and even me. She had heart.

  The understanding shut me right up. There could be few people with the access needed to turn this girl into an unsuspecting victim. My money was on the brother, the prissy, uptight righteous Colin, but the parents, the people who'd adopted her, might also be involved.

  I didn't say a word because my newfound humility pointed out I'd been wrong all the way down the line. But mostly, I was silent because if it were true, it would kill Persia.

  I'm a bastard, an out and out bad fucker, but I didn't have the heart to tell her, not now I understood what she was. Caring, self-sacrificing and brave. Persia had given her all for her family and she'd done it without regret or complaint. I'd never known a woman like that.

  Her hand was in mine. "Hey, you sure you're okay? You haven't heard more bad news from home, have you?"

  "No." Instinctively, my eyes went to her rear. That was a mistake; guilt ran rampant. "But Persia, after all I've done, why do you care?"

  "Wow!" The hazel eyes were wide with interest. "You can feel guilt?"

  "Bruja mala leche!" That was out before I could think. "No! Yes. Well, maybe."

  "Good!" She pounced instantly, pleading, "Will you help me explain to my family it's not me in those videos?"

  "Okay."

  Persia gasped, "Really?"

  "Yes." It came from the heart, that guilt fuelling the need for restitution. It was damn inconvenient given the war I was fighting, but I owed her.

  "Thank you!" Persia's relief blasted away the churlishness. "They think I walked out on them and made those films for money," she sighed. "If I can let them know that I didn't, maybe they'll forgive me."

  "You did nothing. What have they got to forgive you for?"

  Her eyes were dark with misery. "For fucking Kowalczyk."

  She'd sacrificed herself and they'd turned their backs on her. It made me mad as hell. I'd figure it out, set it all straight, and hope to God that I was mistaken about her family. After all, I'd been wrong about her all the way down the line. The guilt flared. If I could have kicked myself in the balls, I would have.