Twisted (A Zeta Cartel Novel Book 5)

by AJ Adams

  But getting to the ones with flatmates was an obstacle, until I had a brainwave.

  "You're kidding," Lencho gasped as I told him.

  But Rovero grinned. "Fenomenal, patrón!"

  An hour later, I was wearing blues and flashing a badge. "A photo of an altercation was published online." I put on my best English accent. "We are investigating."

  The man couldn't push his friend out fast enough. "Told you posting that shit was trouble!"

  "It wasn't my idea," the addict moaned.

  As his disapproving pal slammed the door shut behind him, I smiled. "Actually, we're offering a reward for information."

  The addict cheered up instantly. "Really?"

  "Yes. Just follow me, sir."

  It was easier than leading a lamb to the slaughter. He followed me meekly to the back lane. Minutes later, his lifeless body was in the dump truck.

  Although it was a simple job, taking out two dozen people can't be done quick. It took us all day and most of the evening to finish. But finally, the last man went into the chipper.

  Lencho patted the engine cover with a satisfied smile. "You know, a German called Peter Jensen invented this back in 1884?"

  "You're shitting me!"

  "Yeah, it surprised me too."

  I watched the bloody sludge hit the water. "Well, the German's do have that slogan, 'Vorsprung durch Technik'"

  "I bet Jensen wasn't thinking of us when he built this," Lencho grinned.

  "Well, I'm grateful. Technology is certainly giving us a jump on progress."

  We'd done an excellent day's work but when we got back to town, I stood in the penthouse lift, trying to see an upside. The team hadn't seen it yet but my gut was roiling because we were heading for disaster.

  Persia was up, waiting for me, even though it was past three in the morning. One look and she knew it was trouble. "What's up, love?"

  I wasn't telling. She'd been a rock but there was no fucking way I was admitting to two dozen homicides. Even my tough girl would find that hard to swallow.

  As that thought crossed my mind, the full impact of my problem hit me. The slaughter would stop Kowalczyk but it wouldn't win the war or get me my seaport. Despite my best efforts, the game was over. In my world a draw counts as a loss. It was over. There was no more hope for escape.

  "Jorge?" Persia had an arm around me. "Come on, hot shower and then supper."

  I'd lose her. My dream girl. I might lose my life too. Ironically, that might be a blessing. Life without her would be a living hell, anyway.

  Between exhaustion and terror, I lost track. Persia must have taken charge because when I snapped back into the present, I was drinking an excellent glass of red wine and eating a cheese omelette.

  "Better?" Persia asked.

  "Yeah." I wasn't telling her. There was no point. "It was a long day."

  She sat opposite me, her hand curled around her tea. "Don't try to hide it from me, love. We're a team, remember? And this is real trouble. Have the others realised this war can't be won now?"

  "What?" I couldn't believe my ears. "How did you figure that out?"

  She rolled her eyes. "Manpower has been your number one concern. And in the last 24 hours you've lost key people, including street bosses and enforcers. That's income and fighters. Also, Paco's benched and James is still out too."

  She'd seen what my team had failed to grasp. "I've been racking my brain since this started, but with these numbers, I have no options."

  "Is it bad, Jorge?"

  The words ripped from me. "It's the worst. I've lost." To my horror, I was shaking. "It's over."

  She was up in a flash, hugging me. "That's exhaustion talking."

  "It's not. I've failed. I screwed up everything." The truth was like a knife. "My pride hurt you and started this."

  "We agreed you and me are quits," Persia said firmly. "And Kowalczyk kicked this off because he was jealous of your success."

  "I should have left it, just burned down his house or something. They told me a war was a bad idea. I was arrogant, convinced I was a winner."

  "But you are!" She pressed my hand. "Don't forget, love, it's always darkest before dawn. Every hero has a moment like this."

  "God, I'm no hero!"

  The ravishing eyes sparkled. "Dark hero, then."

  "The worst thing is that I will lose you." My worst fear was out.

  "Bugger that for a game of Soldiers," Persia exclaimed. "You're not losing me."

  "But -"

  "No buts! Come on, we're going to bed." She tugged me to my feet. "It's late and neither of us is thinking straight."

  "I don't think I can sleep."

  Her evil smile warmed me. "Who mentioned sleep?"

  She took me to bed and turned me inside out. "You go on top, love. Let me have it hard and fast." I exploded inside her and sank into oblivion seconds later, immersed in her love.

  I woke up to Persia waving a coffee under my nose. Behind her, the sun was shining through the window. "Ohmigod, what time is it?"

  "Ten thirty," she informed me. "Paco and James say all is well. I said we'd meet them and Lencho at eleven."

  "Cojeme! Half the day is gone!"

  "You needed sleep. Now you're properly rested, we will figure out our endgame."

  I was in and out of the shower, buttoning up my shirt, when it occurred to me. "We?"

  "Damn straight," Persia handed me a tie. "I was up at six and I've been thinking. I got screwed by Colin because I was too close to it all. It made me blind to the obvious truth."

  I put on my watch and grabbed my jacket. "Yeah. So?"

  "Kowalczyk has done nothing right," she reminded me. "He's a crime boss who makes every mistake in the book. He started a war when he didn't need to, made no allies, couldn't coordinate his people, or even protect his home."

  "Right. He's a useless fuck." But I was seeing what she was driving at. "It doesn't take an Einstein to make money dealing. But it's interesting that he got as far as he did."

  "Interesting or perhaps significant," Persia mused. "I think you should circle the horses, go over everything and see what you've missed."

  A faint glimmer of hope stirred. "Maybe you're right."

  "Pooh, no maybe about it." Persia tossed her curls. "Come on, Jorge. Let's get to work."

  The team were waiting in the office, whiteboards set out, ready to hit the ground running.

  "How's our plaza?"

  "All's quiet," James said happily. "Better than quiet: business is moving along and the attacks have stopped." He didn't look at Persia as he added carefully, "It would appear Kowalczyk can't get anyone to take him up on his offer."

  My girl looked him right in the eye. "You were attacked and took countermeasures. It's all over Twitter."

  Our message had been simple and direct: Paco had reissued Kowalczyk's selfies with the faces crossed out and RIP written on the bottom.

  "You needed to," Persia sighed. "Because you can't afford to be targets."

  James didn't answer, old habits run deep, but his silence was a question.

  "I'm sitting in because you need me," she explained. "We must get rid of Kowalczyk and I'm the one who knows him best."

  At that, the team relaxed. Persia glanced around and sat down. Time to get down to business.

  "Okay, let's start at the beginning," I picked up a whiteboard pen. "Kowalczyk is Polish, and he started his career as a blackmailer. He overreached himself, targeting a politician's wife. He fled to Russia, couldn't hack it, and ended up here."

  "Definitely an immigrant success story," Persia grinned. "Before he picked a fight with you, Jorge, he'd made millions."

  "Right, now let's see how he built up his business."

  We went over it, examining his progress year by year. What we got was questions rather than answers.

  "It makes no sense," James said eventually. "He started strong, but he got to a certain size and then stopped. He's not a boss, he's a playboy."

  "The othe
r weird item is that he's had several encrypted calls," Lencho mused.

  "His drug connection? They're probably paying for extra security."

  "We broke that one, it was an old-style code," Lencho reported. "These are different. We've traced them to Russia, Moscow."

  Persia perked up. "Oh, he got a call once from a Russian." She told us about that day, acting as if she'd been in his office out of choice. But I knew differently. I was steaming when she took my hand. "Focus, love."

  "Right." I'd kill him later. "So, he got a call from Moscow, asking about a party. And Kowalczyk talked about his business."

  We pondered the information.

  "Hmm, not Bratva," James said. "Because we'd know. And a partner would have sent soldiers."

  "A businessman, looking for some social influence?" I suggested. "We could look into it."

  "I wish I'd remembered earlier," Persia sighed. "I just thought he was hiding it from his minders. You know how Poles hate Russians."

  "Well, Kowalczyk spent some time in Moscow. He might have picked up a few clients who inject cash for introductions. Or businessmen who want to make some extra cash. Trading product is lucrative," I pointed out.

  As we talked it over, it seemed more and more as if the calls were unimportant. I could feel the discouragement settling over me like a black cloud.

  "Let's not throw in the towel just yet." Persia was checking her phone. "There's a lunchtime update on most papers," she explained. "Let's see if there's any more information."

  We all checked our phones.

  "Crap," Persia sighed. "Colin did an interview. I thought I'd shut that down." She scrolled through. "Nothing about me," she said relieved. "It's mostly about his new menu but he's mentioned Kowalczyk as a valued customer, always generous and popular with the staff."

  We all pondered that lie. "I don't see how it's relevant," I said eventually.

  Persia's phone beeped. "It's Laura. She says Kowalczyk's just bought a new yacht," she sighed. "And there's another mega party planned."

  It was insane. For the price of a six-figure ship, he could have bought mercenaries and taken back some of his territory. "Are you sure?"

  "Certain, because Laura got an invite."

  That was another oddity. He'd blackmailed her, harvested her connections and yet, when she'd run out of cash, he'd not exposed her. Instead, he was inviting her to a party.

  "Laura says he just told her to be there," Persia frowned.

  "What the fuck is he up to?" Paco exclaimed.

  "Yeah, who the hell puts parties before business?" Lencho wondered.

  "Well, there is a rumour that Laura will land a job on morning telly," Persia reflected. "Kowalczyk is publicity hungry so perhaps he thinks it's worth hanging on to the connection."

  We were three hours in and we had nothing.

  "All we know for sure is that he loves the limelight," Paco sighed. "He wants it so much, that he cancelled a hit on Persia."

  "Yeah, he won't do anything that makes him unpopular," Lencho agreed.

  "He even milks Persia's brother for PR," James pointed out. "Except they're friends, right?"

  "Actually," Persia said slowly, "there's no love lost."

  "So why the glowing article?" James frowned.

  "Kowalczyk probably blackmailed him into it," I said morosely. "Image is all he cares about. He's got a selfie stick permanently welded to his hand."

  "Oh, good grief," Persia suddenly exclaimed. She stood up, examining the whiteboards. "Wait," she said excitedly. "What if we got it all wrong?" She pointed at the facts. "Kowalczyk had a network, lots and lots of dealers, so we figured he was a crime boss. But what if his business is really extortion?"

  "We know he has side deals, but it doesn't pay much," I said. "Especially when he doesn't even push for payment. I mean, Laura gave him cash, but she didn't sell off her assets, did she?"

  "But this isn't about money," Persia breathed triumphantly. "It's about power and information." She punched the board. "Extortion, parties, the limelight, lots of drugs, sex tapes, and an encrypted call from a mystery man in Moscow. Surely it can't get any clearer?"

  I looked at her, at the boards, and suddenly it all came together. "Cojeme! Now I see it. What the fuck?"

  Then we all sat back, struck dumb. But now we saw it, the facts were undeniable. As plain as day.

  "Holy Lady of Guadalupe," I could barely breathe. "What the hell have we gotten ourselves into?"

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Persia

  After our discovery, I felt way too far down the rabbit hole for comfort, but Jorge was alight with purpose. From his barely suppressed excitement, that twisty mind was on maximum warp.

  The crew were sitting at attention, dark eyes focussed, intent on what was to come. I'd wondered about their war pow-wows but now I was up front and centre in one, it made me queasy with nerves. This wasn't fun or exciting. If we lost, it would be our deaths.

  Still, pride overriding sense, I straightened my spine and pretended awesome cool. I also quietly sat on my hands so that nobody could see they were sweating and shaking.

  Jorge was leaning back, energy and drive blasting away. "Right, we make a big song and dance about an incoming shipment," he announced. "Paco, you moan in public that we've not got the manpower to protect it."

  "Where will it come in?" Lencho asked.

  "The factory," Jorge decided.

  "Just like last time?" Lencho said. "Won't Kowalczyk have that layout down pat, seeing we killed off Baros and his sicarios there?"

  "Exactly," Jorge said evenly. "He'll think I've fucked up."

  "But with us being low on staff, we're leaving ourselves open to attack," Paco frowned. "It's too hard to defend."

  "Actually, we're walking away from the shipment," Jorge announced.

  It was total chaos.

  "From ten bricks of coke?" James exclaimed.

  "Boss, with respect, have you gone totally loco?" Paco asked.

  "Maybe," Jorge grinned. "Let me explain."

  When he finished, there was a stunned silence.

  "It's insane," Lencho sighed.

  "But it may work," Paco hesitated.

  "Yeah," Lencho agreed.

  "It's fucking wild," James said thoughtfully. "Think Kowalczyk will fall for it?"

  "Hell, yes. He won't be able to resist," Jorge said authoritatively. "He'll send every man he has to the factory. Then, thinking we're stuck in a battle, he'll lure Persia into a trap."

  Suddenly, I felt like a sitting duck. Or perhaps a tethered goat. It was not a happy thought.

  "What if he shoots her?" James worried.

  "It's too dangerous," Paco decided.

  "I agree," Lencho said tensely. "This is no job for a girl."

  "We have no choice." I shut them all up. "You're short on manpower. If you sit here spinning your wheels, we can't finish Kowalczyk. That means the war drags on, Jorge's rep can't recover, and you won't get your seaport."

  The Zetas didn't like it but they knew every word was true.

  "We must do this," I repeated. "If we don't, we fail."

  "It's completely crazy. Totally unprecedented," James groaned. "What are we doing?"

  "Winning," Jorge said briskly. "It sounds out there but I've covered all the angles."

  The crew were silent, thinking it over.

  James broke first. "It's nuts," he sighed. "But I'm in."

  "Me too," Paco said.

  "Same here," Lencho agreed.

  "Great. You know what to do. Set it up." Jorge was cool but the second the door closed behind them, he strode around the office, hands in the air, declaring, "Persia, they're right. This is insane. We're calling it off."

  "No, we're not."

  "But what if we're wrong?"

  "We're not."

  "But what if I fuck up?"

  I got up and put my arms around him. His heart was racing, and he was rigid with nervous tension. "You won't."

  He hugged me back, his lo
ve flowing over me. "Persia, this is crazy shit. How can you be so cool?"

  "With you watching my back, I'm not worried at all." I kissed the steel jaw, quilted with strain. "We need to spread the rumour of the mega delivery that is freaking out the crew, right?"

  "Paco will do that."

  I punched him playfully on the arm. "I meant, take me for a drink!"

  "Tequila coming up!"

  While I trusted Jorge completely, I was dead scared too. My legs wanted to run but my head told me this was our best chance – actually, our only chance. It was time to stand and fight.

  How soldiers prep before going into battle and not do a runner, I'll never understand. As I got ready to go out, my hands shook so much that I poked myself in the eye with my mascara and my lipstick ended up on my chin. As for eyeliner, I gave up on that entirely.

  Deep breaths and happy mantras made no difference. However, I pretended to be chill as we drove to Bubbles, and I said hello to all the regulars as if I didn't have a care in the world. Secretly though, I was shivering with nerves.

  The crew turned up as I was downing a second tequila. Usually that would have me flying but fear proved miraculously sobering. I put down the shot glass and before I quite got it together, they were hugging me, seeing right into my heart.

  "Preciosa, we call it off," Paco.

  "Sure. We make another plan," Lencho agreed.

  "Absolutely." James was all over it. "It's no problem."

  Their care had me in tears. "You're the best." But I knew we had no alternative. "I'm doing it. I'm just a bit nervous." Like I was a breath away from throwing up. I dropped my voice. "You're always in fights. How do you boys cope?"

  "Blondes," James said earnestly. "I fuck my way out of a funk."

  "I go for a run and when I get back, blood pumping good, I sink a double shot and crash," Paco confessed.

  "For me it's a lucky routine," Lencho shared. "I'm not kidding. I have lucky shorts, a lucky gun and even lucky socks."

  It was a relief. "I never would have guessed. You all act so cool under pressure."

  "We're trained from young," Jorge admitted. "Papa used to tell me, 'Dive in first. You can be scared after.' It's stuck with me. I'm okay before a fight but after, I get the shakes."