War (Wrong Book 4)

by Stevie J. Cole

  I drop my gaze to my phone in front of me. "Everything okay?"

  "Oh, si. If having one of your moles feeding you false information like it's a pile of sugar-coated shit is okay, then I'm bueño." He kicks the chair again.

  I sigh and look up at him. "Gabe, calm down. Sit." I get up and go to the liquor cabinet, taking out his favourite bottle of brandy and a glass. I place it on the breakfast bar and sit again.

  "Now, I'm truly sorry about your fence post," he says grabbing the bottle and twisting off the top. He doesn't use the glass; he just places the rim to his mouth and gulps it back. He finally sits at the bar and hangs his head, tapping his fingers over the countertop. "We've looked everywhere and we can't find their filthy drugs." He shakes his head. "We need the fucking drugs so they don't have any more money. Putas..." While Jude has been making deals to cut supply from the American side, Gabe and his guys have started working on stealing drugs shipped from this side of the border. It makes sense, take their money and their means of making more money.

  "They must know who your moles are, so we can't use them. Blowback is handling the American side of things; you blew up their factories...."

  He lifts the bottle again and wipes his mouth before he sets it down. "I blew up their factories more as a shit on their face. It only takes a few days to get new one's up and running."

  "But they have to ship it..." I tap my nails over the worktop. "It has to cross the border."

  "My men have pulled over trucks of fertilizer, shaving cream, avocados, poultry." He slams his fist down. "Nada. I don't know where they're hiding it in. Next I guess we'll need to do cavity searches on their whores." He shakes his head.

  I sigh, frowning down at a coffee ring stain on the white marble. Cavity search. Carrying drugs in the body of a human...or animal... I can't help but smile. "Gabe, why would a drug lord buy a ranch?"

  His gaze drifts over to me. "Oh, the sneaky fuck."

  "I was with Jésus when he bought a ranch about an hour outside of Juarez. I asked him about it at the time and he simply said that he was a business man."

  "Do you remember where the ranch is?"

  "Yeah, I think so."

  "Where's Jude?" He pushes up from the stool, a wide grin set on his face.

  "In your office," I say, jerking my head towards the door.

  "Bookie!" he shouts. "Get your redneck ass out here, we're going to a ranch."

  **break***

  I bat at my leg when I feel something crawling up it. "Fucking. Bugs!" I shudder. "If I get a tick from this grass..." The thought makes me want to gag.

  "You are something..." Jude mumbles.

  "Jude, I swear to god." I slap at something else on the back of my neck.

  We walk through shoulder high grass as we approach the iron barn. It’s the only building for miles around. Gabe's men file around us, clutching their rifles as we stalk towards it. Jude is right behind me breathing down my neck, of course. If he had it his way, I'd have been bound and gagged in one of the trucks the second I showed them where this place was. I told him: dogs die in hot cars.

  Gabe holds up his hand and everyone ducks down. Jude grabs my arm and wrenches me down so hard I end up sprawled between his thighs. "Really?" I hiss. He quirks a brow.

  "Look at those sick bastards," Gabe whispers, pointing at the guards standing on the other side of the barn. He nods at Jude and they both raise their guns, aim, and fire. There a small pop from the silencer, and seconds later both men fall to the ground.

  Jude grabs me, dragging me behind him as he sprints towards the barn. He throws me up against the side and turns his back on me, shielding me with his body. I have to roll my eyes. Reaching for my gun, I pull it from the waist of my jeans and flick the safety off. The next few seconds are a blur. Bullets chink off the metal side of the barn, whizzing past in all directions. I have no idea where Gabe is, so I simply stay with Jude. Out of the corner of my eye I see a guy round the corner to my right. Jude is facing the other way, so I press my back against his, lift my gun, and shoot the guy between the eyes. Jude whirls around, placing his arm around my waist as though he's about to yank me out of the way.

  Silence. The shooting has stopped, and we're both still standing, which is all that matters.

  "Ese, come look at this shit." I turn around and catch Gabe jog back around the corner of the barn. I move around Jude and follow Gabe, stepping over the bodies of fallen Sinaloa men. The barn doors hang open, and as soon as I step inside, I'm assaulted by the smell of cow shit. There are boxes and boxes filled with what look like little rubber bullets piled around the room. I pick one up and inspect it.

  "Genius,” Gabe says, grinning. “It's genius.” He takes the bullet from me and holds it up. "Using cows as drug mules…would have been better had it actually been mules used as drug mules, but…” he chuckles to himself.

  "That's the drugs?" I point at the stack of boxes.

  "Not enough," Jude says.

  I glance over to the side of the room. Two of Gabe's men stand either side of a guy on his knees, the tell-tale snake tattoo of the Sinaloa covering his forearm.

  Jude sighs as he walks up to the guy and crouches in front of him. "Where's the rest of the coke?"

  The Sinaloa member grins, showing blood stained teeth before he spits on the dirt floor and curses in Spanish.

  "Alright," Jude grabs his chin and forces the guy to look at him, "you're going to die..." He glances up at me. "I feel like a broken record sometimes, you know..." His attention goes back to the guy. "Like I was saying, you're going to die, but I can make it quick or I can drag it out because I've got all fucking day." He grins, and the way his dimples pop makes me swoon a little.

  The guy remains silent. Throwing my head back, I groan. "He's not going to say shit, Jude. Just kill him already."

  "Woman, would you let me work." He grabs the guys face and shoves fingers in the man's eyes which causes him to scream and writhe. "Tell me where the drugs are you piece of shit."

  Again, the guy says nothing, just cries out in pain. They're tough, these cartel members, but it's not like we haven't done this before. "Look, Jude, I have mosquito bites in places only you will ever know about. It's hot, it smells like shit in here. Kill him!"

  He glares at me, but I spot the slight curling of his lip, the shadow of a smile. "Don't test me, Tor. Not now."

  "You really shouldn't," Gabe whispers. "Besides, I like to watch a good torture every once in a while."

  I huff out a breath and bend down, yanking a knife from the inside of my boot. Moving behind the guy, I grab a fistful of his hair and yank his head back. I smile and wink at Jude, ramming the blade up against the guy’s throat and drawing a line of crimson blood across his skin. He starts begging and pleading with Jude to save him from the crazy puta.

  Jude shrugs. "I have no control over her. Come on now, just tell us. Maybe I can talk the crazy lady down."

  He hesitates. "Waste of my fucking time," I say, lifting the blade high in the air, aiming for the soft spot between his shoulder and throat. He blurts something in Spanish and Gabe holds his hand up, halting me.

  Jude stands up with a smile. "Now, was that so hard?" He lifts the gun and shoots the guy right between the eyes. He falls to the side, his face landing in a pile of cow shit. I glance down at the blood splatter all over my white tank.

  "You can't just wait for me to get out of the way?" I shake my head and walk off. The scent of blood and cow shit is all but choking me.

  "Working my nerves, woman," he shouts. "Working my damn nerves."

  I flip him off and I walk outside, dragging in a lungful of the dusty, desert air. At least we know where the drugs are now, and that means we're one step closer to destroying the Sinaloa. One step closer to the end, and one step closer to freeing Cayla.

  32

  Jude

  A take the last drag from my cigarette before flicking it out the window. Gabe's hunched over the steering wheel, staring through the windshield of th
e parked car.

  "I'm kind of upset, ese, you know?" he says, his eyes never leaving the road.

  "About..."

  "I wish I'd thought to use cows." Sighing, he shakes his head. "So smart."

  I stare at him for a second. There's actual disappointment on his face because he didn't think of ramming coke down a cow's throat. I pat his back. "Well, you can't always win." I mean, what the hell do I say to that?

  In the distance, a cloud of smoke drifts into the blue sky. Gabe straightens up. "Ah, that's our truck, ese." He almost sounds giddy. I grab my gun, check that it's fully loaded, and cock it before I open the door and climb out into the miserable heat.

  Gabe pushes his door open and rounds the front of his car with his gun in hand. The truck comes barreling down the road and we both raise our guns and fire. The windshield shatters and the tires screech as the truck jack-knifes across the road. It runs off onto the shoulder, a cloud of dust kicking up around it before it comes to a complete stop.

  We both sprint across the road toward the truck. I step up on the ladder with my gun raised, peeking in to make sure the driver is dead. He's dead all right. Two bullet holes in his head, one in his chest and his eyes wide open in that thousand-yard death stare. I jump down and make my way to the back.

  Gabe's kicking at the lock, his face red. He gives it one more kick and the latch flies off before the back ramp falls, hitting the ground and kicking up a flurry of dust. He grins as he peers inside. "Ah, ese..." he rubs his hands together like a mad scientist before he walks up the ramp and yanks open the metal gate. Cows moo, and I shake my head as I follow him into the trailer, closing the gate behind me.

  “What are you…” I stop midsentence and stare at Gabe. He’s circling a cow with a syringe in his hand. He plunges it into the cow's neck and jumps back. It kicks and shoves around for a few seconds before it staggers to the side and topples over. The other cows scatter to the back of the trailer, bumping and jostling each other to get out of the way. Gabe smiles and drops to his knees before pulling a glove from his back pocket and snapping it onto his hand. He grabs the cow's tail and lifts it up.

  "Gabe," I say. "That's a surgical glove."

  "And?"

  I hold my hands up and take a step back. I know damn well those drugs aren't going to be anywhere near that cow's asshole yet, but he wants to get cow shit all over his arm, that's his business. He stares at the cow for a second before glancing back at me. "How do you shove your arm up a cow's ass, ese?"

  "Why the hell do you think I know anything about this?"

  "You're American. From Alabama..."

  I roll my eyes. "Just shove your hand up in there."

  He takes a breath, crosses himself, then rams his hand up the cow's asshole. "Oh, ese..." He takes a deep breath. "This is..." He moves in a little deeper, "this is disgusting. It's warm and..." He freezes for a second to compose himself.

  "Want to throw up?" I ask.

  "Where is the coke?"

  "Probably in a little deeper." I check my watch. "I mean, probably wasn't ready to shit it out for at least twelve more hours."

  Gabe uses his free hand to tug his sleeve up. He's elbow deep now, a sweat breaking out on his brow. He growls and removes his hand, yanking the glove off. I eye his forearm. "You got shit on your arm."

  He throws the glove to the ground and paces. The cows scatter again. "How the hell am I supposed to get the coke out?"

  "Shoot the cow and cut it open?"

  He snarls his lip and shakes his head. "I'm not shooting a cow."

  "What the..." I slam my palm over my face. I cannot, for the life of me, understand this fucker's reasoning. "Then get in the truck, drive it to your fucking house, and wait on Blue Bell here to shit it out."

  He pats the cow on the hide. "Her name's Daisy."

  "Whatever."

  "Then I'll have the cow mules.” He grins. “Fuck the Sinaloa."

  How in the hell do I end up with all these insane fuckers?

  33

  Tor

  I’m leaned over the balcony watching a gardener parade one of Gabe's new cows through the courtyard. Gabe watches on, tapping his finger over his lip with concentration. Jude walks out onto the balcony and wraps his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder. "What is he doing?" he asks me, pointing down to the courtyard.

  I laugh. "I have no idea."

  "I worry about him sometimes."

  "Any reason why that particular cow seems to be favourite?" I ask. He has three truckloads of cows now, but this one has a bloody stable up at the house.

  "Well, I think he feels bad for shoving his arm up its ass."

  I laugh and turn to face him. "Your friend is crazy."

  "I evidently attract crazy." He pinches my side, and I squirm in his hold.

  "Ese!" Gabe shouts. I glance down and see him hopping up and down beneath the balcony. "Ese, they called for a meeting. Little pussy Sinaloa fucks."

  Jude's eyes lock with mine, his expression triumphant yet full of apprehension. As hard as we've worked for this, it's the end of the road. We aren't making it out alive, we know that. We've planned for this. Jude brushes his knuckles over my cheek, and I close my eyes because I don't want him to see my turmoil.

  "It's gonna be fine, doll. We're doing this for Cayla." He presses a soft kiss to my lips that makes me want to crumble.

  I nod. "I know." I force a small smile onto my face.

  I should be happy. We did it. We took the Sinaloa's money and their drugs. We killed half the dirty cops they had on their pay roll, we've stolen their main supplier, their clients. In a matter of a month, the Sinaloa cartel has gone from an empire to a shit show, but the fact remains: their leaders are still in play. There are still many who are loyal to them, and that means they can get up off their knees. We need them down and out permanently. And that is where Jude and I come in. That is why this meeting is so important.

  "I'll get the details off Gabe," Jude says.

  "Okay." He starts to move away, but I grab his arm and stop him. His eyes lock with mine. "I love you."

  He pulls me close and kisses me long and deep, the kind of kiss that bleeds through your very soul and makes everything else fall into the background. "I fucking love you, doll," he murmurs against my lips before he pulls away and leaves the room.

  34

  Jude

  The sun is quickly setting behind the desert when I walk out of the warehouse and bolt the door. This is basically my tomb, the place where I will die. And that's a strange fucking feeling. We've arranged to meet with the Sinaloa, in theory, to discuss their surrender. I know they aren't surrendering shit and I'm not relying on that bullshit. Gabe and I both know this is a trap, but I have a trap of my own.

  It takes me thirty minutes to get back to Gabe's which means I don't have much time.

  Making my way to the front door, I dial Ronan's number and listen to the phone ring, the line click.

  "Yes," Ronan says.

  "I don't fucking trust you."

  "Again," he sighs, "you wound me."

  "I'm going to die. I'm going to die so you can get whatever the hell it is you want—"

  "Power," he says. "And what greater cause is there to die for, American?" He laughs. "Let me guess, you would say love."

  "I need to know that you will hold up your word."

  "Of course I will."

  "Send her to Gabe."

  "You want me to send your daughter to the Juarez cartel?" He laughs.

  "Gabe will make sure she gets to the people who will care for her. Again, I don't fucking trust you and I know damn well you want Gabe to run Juarez for you." I sigh. "If he doesn't get Cayla, you will never have Juarez."

  "Well, that seems a bit rash, but whatever you want."

  "Send her to Gabriel." And I hang up the call. It's not in my nature to trust people, especially slimy shits like Ronan, but in the situation I now find myself in, it's all I can do. Now, I just need to talk to Gabe.

/>   I open the front door and make my way through the house and out onto the back patio. The sun’s disappeared and the sky is fading from pink to light blue as night sets in. Gabe's sitting on the retaining wall, leaned over his knees and smoking as he stares out at the horizon. He glances up at me.

  "If something happens to me and Tor,” I say. “I need you to promise me you'll get Cayla."

  He straightens up and takes a deep drag from the cigarette, the glowing end casting shadows over his face. "Si."

  "You got the papers Tor asked for?"

  He glances at me and sighs. "Of course."

  "Do not do business with Ronan until you have her, and then you give her to Marney. He'll get her to Lizzie, and then they'll disappear."

  A stern scowl sets on his face. "You have my word." He crosses himself. "On my Madre's grave, I promise you, I will get your little girl to safety if anything happens to you."

  "Thank you." Sighing, I sit down.

  "You ever wonder what it's like for normal people, ese?" he asks.

  "What do you mean?"

  "All those people," he points at the city lights in the distance. "The people who go to work and come home. The ones who are oblivious to this shit we live in?"

  I scrub a hand over the back of my neck. "I never did until Cayla." My chest tightens. I miss her and hope that everything works out like it needs to. I just want to know she's safe. No matter what.

  "I hope that fucking Russian is pleased with himself." He pushes up from the chair. "I have to get the men together. You coming?"

  "Yep."

  This where the real plan comes into play. One mistake and it all goes to hell.

  35

  Tor