Twisted (A Zeta Cartel Novel Book 5)

by AJ Adams

  "Persia! What are you doing here?" Colin asked surprised. "I thought you were at Zeta Towers."

  "I got a text that said you were back. I had to come." I was babbling with nervous guilt. "Please, don't throw me out!"

  My brother smiled. "Of course not."

  I was hanging around his neck a second later. "I was so worried! I hate fighting."

  He was hugging me back. "It was my fault. I was upset. I apologise."

  I breathed again. "I'm sorry, too. I said some awful things." I sat at the table, desperate to set everything right. "How are Mum and Dad?"

  Colin shut his laptop. "Fine. I had a long talk with them. They want you to come home."

  "They do?" I was snottering away. "Dad, too?"

  My brother shrugged. "He's not happy, Persia. But you're his daughter."

  "Where are they? I thought you'd all gone abroad?"

  "We just went to France for a few days." Colin was moving his papers, putting them into a file and stacking his laptop on top. "They're at home. Why don't you go and see them?"

  It was all going to be okay. The relief was overwhelming. "I will. But Colin, I didn't walk away or make those videos." I dropped my voice. "I told you the truth,. There's a war between the Zetas and Kowalczyk." I crossed my fingers. "I got caught up in it by mistake." Because I couldn't find it in my heart to dump Jorge in the shit. "It was all a huge misunderstanding."

  "It's an unholy mess," my brother sighed. "I guess I just flashed back to the time they bullied me in school."

  That just blasted me. "I'm so sorry, Colin. I never knew."

  He smiled. "That wasn't your fault."

  I was happy to be forgiven. "Colin, I'd never do anything to hurt you, or your business."

  He pressed my hand. "I know. I'm sure it will be fine."

  "About business, Jorge thinks Kowalczyk may have overcharged us."

  Colin frowned. "What do you mean?"

  "Well, you know how it all seemed to add up so quickly?" I was dead eager to share. "Jorge said it didn't make sense, so I asked him to look into it."

  "There's no need," Colin said briskly. "It's over now. Let's just forget about it."

  "There's more," I said quickly. "He thinks there may be a problem with the accounts. He -"

  "What the hell do you mean?" Colin snapped.

  I was totally taken aback. "Nothing. I mean, I'm just couldn't understand what was going on, and Jorge is a business whizz. I asked him to look at the books."

  "How the hell did he -" Colin started. Then he shook his head. "Never mind. It's nonsense."

  I couldn't understand it. My brother should have been worried or curious, but he seemed angry.

  Colin took my hand again. "Persia, come on, love. You know you're hopeless about money. There's nothing wrong with the accounts. Trust me."

  Not wanting to mess up again, I caved. "Of course, I trust you."

  "I love that you try to look after me." My brother hugged me. "I have to talk to the staff. I'll be back in two ticks," he smiled. "And I'll ask Mum and Dad to join us for lunch, okay? As a family."

  I nodded but frankly, I was seeing him through a haze of tears. It was all going to be all right. The nightmare was over. My family were taking me back.

  My eyes were running like taps and I had no tissues in my bag. Groping for a serviette, I knocked over a little flower vase. "Hell!" I picked up the laptop and file, hastily rubbing off the water drops. Too hastily, because the folder gaped, and the papers cascaded over the table. "Double hell!"

  Picking it all up, my eyes fell on my name. It was a letter from Lloyds Bank saying I qualified for an executive account. Except, I didn't bank with them. A block of ice settled in my stomach. Fingers trembling, I picked up another document. It was a receipt, signed with my name, for £5000, dated the day before.

  My heart was filled with horror, but my fingers were working away. Receipt after receipt showed me invoicing and receiving money. Nestled among the paperwork, I found a little red notebook labelled 'Home Delivery'. It was all laid out in Colin's neat penmanship:

  Royal A 7g £30

  Leb 28g £50

  MDMA 6 tabs £60

  Royal Afghani, Lebanese and MDMA. Even I knew that meant hash and ecstasy.

  As I looked back on events in a new light, all the air in the room vanished and my knees turned to jelly. Colin had sent me to Kowalczyk, claiming Delicious was in trouble because of my decorating extravagance. But the restaurant was thriving, and those bikes were delivering more than carryout.

  This is what Jorge had seen. Recognising an operation just like his own, he'd deemed me rich, crooked and a fellow player. He'd been right about the business, but he'd focused on the wrong person.

  The significance of the questions he'd asked me that morning hit me. There'd been no debt and moneylenders don't take trade. Plus, Colin had been abroad, yet he'd known I was at Zeta Towers and not with a girlfriend. I felt sick to my stomach.

  "Persia?" Colin came breezing out of the kitchen, carrying a cup of tea. "Herbal," he said happily. "I think you'll love it." Then his gaze fell on the red notebook. At once, all expression was wiped away. "Ah."

  "I guess I wasn't meant to see this." My voice came from a million miles away. "How long have you been selling drugs, Colin?"

  "Come on, Persia," my brother said softly. "This isn't the place or the time. Let's go home and sort it all out."

  "Is that what Kowalczyk wants?"

  I asked him straight up, and I was watching carefully, so I saw Colin's smile harden into a sneer. That anger was rushing out again. Suddenly, I had the sense he was a stranger. He looked like Colin, strong and decent, dressed in properly pressed Chinos and a white shirt with blue stripes, but the eyes were chips of ice.

  My brother put down the cup of tea. "So," he said pleasantly. "You're finally figuring it out, are you?"

  He hadn't been unhinged by his restaurant being targeted; he'd lied to cover his tracks. The knowledge was a knife in my gut. "How long have you been dealing?"

  "Since school," Colin sounded detached, bored even.

  Tears ran down my face. "You sold me," I cried.

  "Kowalczyk found out I was using Delicious as a cover. He said he'd shop me unless I gave him a share of the profits," he shrugged. "Trading you was a better option."

  "How could you? You're my brother!"

  "With the amount of traffic you've seen, it didn't seem important."

  Searing pain at his betrayal overwhelmed me. I couldn't breathe, couldn't speak.

  "It was fun winding you up," Colin smirked. "You're so gullible, Persia. So needy."

  The squeaky-clean image jarred with the gloating tones. It nauseated me.

  "Kowalczyk was certain you'd rumble it was a setup. But I knew better," Colin continued. He put on a falsetto voice, fluting, 'Don't worry, brother dear! I'll save you!' It really was funny."

  "You fucking bastard!" My agony turned to rage. "You minging bag of shite!"

  "Persia?" Mum and Dad were standing in the doorway, looking worried. "What's going on?"

  Colin swept the folder away instantly. "Persia's upset and not making sense." It was unbelievable. The monster vanished. This was my brother: warm, concerned, sincere. "I think she's on something."

  "Oh no," Mum gasped.

  "It's not her fault," Colin soothed. He was a consummate actor. His quiet outrage was perfect. "It's that damn Mexican. He got her hooked. Cocaine probably. Or smack."

  "Oh God," Dad sighed. "Not more trouble."

  I dashed the tears from my eyes. "I'm bloody well not on drugs!"

  Mum and Dad looked at Colin, and when he just cast his eyes up and sighed, I could see they believed him straight away. For a moment, I faltered. But they had to know the truth.

  I was crying as I told them. "Colin said we were in debt. But it was a ruse, a sick game to push me into Kowalczyk's bed." I couldn't even look at Mum. I concentrated on Dad. "Colin's restaurant is a cover for selling dope."

 
"She's insane. We should hospitalise her." Colin looked angelic. "She needs care."

  My eye fell on the red notebook. "I think not." Colin tried to jump away, but I was too fast for him. I thrust it into Dad's hands. "See for yourself."

  "See what?"

  "Just look."

  Dad knew straight off what the entries meant. I could see the knowledge dawn in his eyes. "Oh."

  Mum saw too. "What is it, Gavin?"

  "It's nonsense." Amazingly, Colin just talked on. "She picked up that notebook and instantly decided I was England's Pablo Escobar. But honestly, I've never seen it before."

  "Really?" Mum wanted to believe.

  "Absolutely." Colin had his arm around her. "A customer must have dropped it. Persia's just got the wrong end of the stick."

  "No, I didn't!" I was standing up for myself. "Dad, you recognise his writing, don't you?"

  "There's no name." But Dad's hands were shaking and there was a blue tinge to his lips. "Anyone could have written this."

  "I'd be crazy to deal drugs," Colin said easily. "Come on! They would lock me in jail and throw away the key."

  Of all the things he might have said, that was the cleverest. The mere prospect of their golden child behind bars froze Mum and Dad.

  "This can't be true," Mum shuddered. "It's a nightmare."

  I felt her pain. "I'm sorry. I couldn't believe it either."

  It had turned our world upside down but at least now we knew the truth. I had the floating sensation of being a child again, in trouble and uncertain about the right thing to do. I looked instinctively at Dad - and then I couldn't breathe.

  Dad was handing back the ledger to Colin. He put a hand on Mum's arm, "It's like Colin says. Anyone could have dropped this." He glanced at me, swallowed, and then lifted his chin and forged ahead. "As for the rest, it's hearsay."

  The ground just disappeared from under my feet. "W-what?"

  He was holding on to Mum, guilty but defiant. "There's no proof," he repeated.

  "But I told you what happened. Do you have any idea what I went through?"

  "Stirring up trouble won't change anything." Dad didn't look at me. "And we've had enough mud thrown at us."

  I just gawped at him. The pain was indescribable. "You know what he did but you're choosing him over me, anyway."

  "Another scandal will kill us and it won't fix the past," he muttered. "Enough is enough."

  I could not take it in. "Mum?"

  She looked from her husband to her son. For a moment I thought she'd faint. Then she took Dad's hand. "I love you, Persia," she quavered. "But Colin's our son too."

  She didn't need to say more. The pain vanished, leaving just emptiness. "I see," I said quietly. "I guess that's it, then."

  Colin had his arms around both of them now. Hugging them close to his side, he looked me straight in the eye, evil radiating from him. "Bye, Persia."

  I found myself standing on the pavement, literally adrift. A sense of utter abandonment gripped my soul. I was cut off from the people I loved, from the anchor that gave my life meaning. The light hurt my eyes and I couldn't feel my feet on the ground.

  Trying to get a grip, I was vaguely aware of a car racing towards me. It was aiming right at me, the sun dazzling off its pristine bodywork. A flashback of Colin going into the kitchen, phone in hand, I'll ask Mum and Dad to join us for lunch. Without emotion, I recognised the lie. He'd called Kowalczyk.

  The hit was back on and it would come in the shape of a traffic accident. I didn't care anymore. As the car roared closer, I shut my eyes and waited for death.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jorge

  We lined them up against the cellar wall, all four with rapidly blackening eyes and two with broken noses. They'd gone down fighting, which showed they had courage, but they were kids, about seventeen years old, so no match for us. Recruited from street gangs and put to work as dealers, they had little experience. Their eyes were round with fear at the sight of my Magnum.

  Lencho appeared at the top of the cellar stairs. "Found him." He kicked his man down the steps. "The pendejo was hiding in the dumpster."

  The street boss was about thirty, fat and moustachioed. He looked like a walrus and he bounced when he hit the floor. I didn't like the look of him. "You're Masher. You run this crew."

  "Screw you!"

  I put a bullet in the back of his head and turned to the kids. "I do not tolerate disrespect." Their shock told me they were appreciating my point. I waved my gun at them, "Who's his deputy?"

  "Me, sir." His knees were knocking, and he had a bad case of acne. But he stood up like a man. "Tommy Q, sir."

  "Respect. That's good." I counted to three, knowing he was between pissing himself and throwing up. "We're taking over. You got a problem with that? "

  "No, sir!"

  I took in the frightened eyes. They'd seen dead bodies before, they'd grown up in the streets, but they weren't hardened to where they were immune to murder. They'd need a lot of teaching and support but they had the right attitude. I eyed up the new leader. "When there's trouble, do you hide like that piece of garbage did?"

  Tommy straightened. "No, sir!"

  Deliberating as if I were thinking it over, I pretended to come to a conclusion. "We're always looking for good men." I waited for him to appreciate my respect. "Tommy Q, you in with us?"

  "Yes," he eyed Lencho, adding, "Boss."

  "Good." I clapped him on the shoulder and gestured to the next kid. "What's your name?"

  "Bender, boss. Bender Jones."

  I grinned to let him know he was doing good. "Boss, huh? You want to come on board with the Zetas, Bender?"

  "Yes, boss."

  He had a broken nose and a black eye. I handed him my handkerchief, "Tip back your head. The bleeding will stop soon." My tone said I respected him.

  His hand shook as he took it. "Thanks, boss."

  The other two, Screwy O'Hara and Trembler Carpenter, hastened to assure me they too wanted in on the new team. When I holstered my gun, their collective breath of relief almost made me laugh out loud.

  I had their fear, now to get their loyalty. I raised Tommy Q's chin, turning his face left and right. He had a black eye that was puffing up dramatically. "Man, that's some shiner," I complimented him. Then, casually, "Hey Lencho, your work, right?"

  "Yeah," Lencho knew what was required. "He came at me. I had to put him down. Hard."

  "Joder!" The kid was sweating, unsure of what was coming. "You took a punch from Lencho and you're not in hospital. Kid, you got some balls!"

  Tommy Q glowed with pride.

  Paco came in on the act, saying seriously. "They're good, boss. I punched that Bender down twice. He wasn't giving up, either."

  We all admired Bender.

  Screwy had a bloody nose too. "You're supposed to take it on the chin, man," I kidded him. Then, elbowing Trembler. "You took one in the eye and another in the gut, right? Fuck me, that was one hell of a thing. I'm impressed."

  They stood there, grinning half sheepishly half triumphantly. They'd lost the battle but my respect had reassured them. They could chalk up failing to their former leaders and maintain their pride. As their new boss, I'd shown them fucking with me would get you killed. Now to give them a little more direction.

  I stood before them. "We'll work hard, be a team and together, we'll make a fucking fortune."

  The gun and the killing had scared them, so they welcomed the promise of good times to come with relief. Stick followed by carrot always works.

  "Okay, go upstairs and wait," I directed my new dealers. "You'll be getting your orders within the hour." Then, to Bender who was holding out my handkerchief. "Keep it."

  While Lencho walked them up, Paco and I dealt with the walrus.

  "That went great." Paco rolled the body onto some plastic sheeting. "This slice by slice is working out."

  "Yeah." Our takeover had been effortless. With Kowalczyk stuck in the cop shop, and his enforcers at the bottom
of the Thames, we'd added the block to our territory without as much as a broken bone on our side, while taking out four of his people. We'd planned on just removing the walrus but three of Kowalczyk's senior halcones had been visiting for a game of poker. I guess their luck ran out.

  We carried the body out the cellar door, adding him to the pile stacked in a garbage truck. Rovero was standing by to drive to a wood chipper we'd set up in a quiet dock by the river.

  "The fish will feast," Paco smiled.

  That closeness we used to have was back. I was about to reach out, when my phone rang. Seeing Amit's name, my breath tightened. This was trouble. "Jorge, I don't want to interfere in your personal business, but your girl just walked out and took a taxi. She told the driver to go to Chingford."

  "Joder!" There was only one thing that could pull her out of the safety of the Towers. Either her family were back - or a Kowalczyk killer had used it as a lure. I kicked myself for not warning her. "Thanks, Amit. I owe you."

  "Trouble?" Paco was alert.

  I was about to catch him up, when the realities of my situation blasted into mind. When my cousin discovered I'd broken his rules, I'd pay the price.

  "Jorge, is there a problem?" Paco frowned. "What is it?"

  In the cartel, the jefe is king. Nobody defies him. If Paco helped me break the rules, he'd pay. No excuses, no exceptions. And no hiding behind that 'I was just obeying orders' crap. In our business, personal responsibility matters.

  I would not take him down with me. "No problem. I need to go, though."

  "You sure?" That was my friend speaking. Paco's nose told him there was trouble.

  "Joder, stop questioning me!" It broke me, speaking that way to him. But I had to protect him from my shit.

  Paco's concern vanished. "Sure, boss."

  For a moment I wavered. But then I pulled myself together. I would not hurt my friends. The right resolve was obvious. From this moment, I'd step back from the team and stick to business. At least when I went down, they'd not be tainted. "You and Lencho keep it together for me, okay?" Because I wanted him to know that despite it all, he had my trust.