by AJ Adams
Chloe’s eyes snapped wide open.
“Here?” Arturo asked. He was thinking that he might make some extra cash on the side for using his influence to spring them.
“Regretfully not.” Rimjob knew Chloe was listening. He spoke softly, knowing that the other two were friends of hers and that hearing they were in trouble hurt her. “Frankly, I’ve washed my hands of them. If they’re stupid enough to get caught, I’m certainly not going to help. There are plenty of others. I’ll have someone round in a few days.”
“Absolutely!” Arturo was grinning. “And you can stay around for a nice long visit, huh?”
“No man left behind.” That was Chema. He raised his beer to me. He was remembering the time we were in a tight spot in Zacatecas. I’d just moved down here, and Zacatecas was my first field trip. We’d been called to a conference, ostensibly to try and sort out some of our problems, however, it had been a trap, and they’d started shooting as soon as we arrived. I’d been expecting trouble, I’m always expecting trouble, so I had a team in place, ready to provide cover.
We lost two, but everyone else got out. At least, that’s what we thought. But when we did a quick count, we realised Chema was MIA. He’d been on the roof, but we couldn’t see if he was still there, because the building was in flames. When we backed up a mile and got a good look, we could see he was still there. They were dropping bloopers all round him, and he couldn’t do a fucking thing about it, because he’d taken one in the hip. I went back in and got him out.
When I’d first come down, there’d been some resistance to having me join, but after that, everyone accepted I was here to stay. The man before me hadn’t been too particular about teamwork. He was a big picture guy; if the job got done, he didn’t care how – or who got hurt or lost. I changed that. My people work as a team, and we don’t leave anyone behind. Not ever. Not on my fucking watch. Even if you’re dead, I’ll get your body back so your family can say a proper goodbye. And I’ll make sure your widow and kids don’t have to worry about money, either.
It’s an attitude that pays off. My people know that I manage their risks and that their families are always safe. That generates a lot of loyalty.
Anyway, Chema never says anything, but he sends me a case of tequila on every anniversary of that day. Which, by the way, is next week.
“No man left behind? For a mule?” Rimjob shrugged scornfully.
Chloe quivered, and I thought she was frightened again, but when I looked at her, her eyes were narrowed, and her hands were balled into fists. She was mad as hell.
“You’re such a wanker, Raj,” she said loudly. “What you really mean is that you don’t have the connections or the cojones to deal with the problem. You’re just a low-level scumbag from East London. No class, no balls, no brains, and certainly no clout.” She eyeballed him for a moment and then added, “You look a right ponce in that shirt, too. Did your boyfriend buy it for you?”
There was an instant of silence. I broke it by laughing. Chema translated hastily for those who didn’t understand it, and an instant later, everyone except for Arturo was roaring. My brother was shaking his head, trying to pretend he was outraged at having one of his guests insulting another. But I knew he was enjoying himself.
Chloe looked at me. “Sorry,” she whispered. But she wasn’t. I could see she wasn’t.
I kissed her, and she grinned at me.
Rimjob got to his feet, white with rage. “You think you’re safe,” he hissed. “But do you know what he does?”
“He’s a Marine,” Chloe said cheerfully. “He doesn’t talk about it, but he’s a war hero. I’ve seen his medals.”
Rimjob tossed her his phone. “This is what he does.”
It was a picture of my handiwork the week before. The crucifixion job that I mentioned earlier. Chloe swallowed and went white.
I really shouldn’t have taken her to Arturo’s party.
Chapter 8: Chloe
I couldn’t believe it. I heard the fear in his voice, and when I saw him look at Kyle, I could see the fear in his eyes, too. All those years I thought he was the devil himself. And what is he? Rajanikanta Chowdhury is just a big girl’s blouse! A big cowardly wank biscuit. Except he’s not so big. Kyle is like a million miles taller. And stronger.
After all of those years of terror, the scales fell from my eyes, and all the terror that was bottled up inside me evaporated. I looked at he-who-is-no-longer-He (OK, let’s call him ‘Raj’ because I don’t want to have to write that or ‘motherfucker’ all the time) and I saw him for what he really was. Raj is just a poncy nance, a jumped up barrow boy. All that opera and ballet and dressing up in silk shirts is just him trying to impress people. He scared the shit out of me when I was a kid because he was bigger than me and stronger, but now I could see he was just a bully.
So when he made that crack about abandoning Pepper and Tania in some godforsaken hellhole jail somewhere, I just let rip. It was amazingly satisfying. I’m never ever going to forget how his face turned white and then red or how Kyle and the others laughed at him.
It did knock me back a bit when he shoved that gruesome image at me: the one of the bodies nailed to a wall, the one with loads of blood splatter, the one that looks like a horror film poster. But when Kyle just laughed, I decided that Raj was shitting me.
Kyle is a tough son of a bitch but he’s not a monster. Raj, on the other hand, is a fiend incarnate. God knows how many girls he’s tortured. I only know of three of us, but we’ve all heard there were others. From the gossip, most were sold to brothels. I think some might have killed themselves, too. I know I was suicidal for years.
Of the three of us, Tania is like me. She’s gotten over a lot of it, but she never goes near men, and there’s still a bit of the crazy inside her. Pepper didn’t exactly start off normal. She was some paedo’s pet and she’s still half crazy as a result, poor cow. Raj used her, abused her, and instead of throwing her into a whorehouse, he started lending her to his dealers as a sex slave. A sort of special favour. One of them must have used her as a mule, and she’d been caught.
For a moment I wondered what it would take to kill Raj. He was still bigger and stronger than me, but if I could get my hands on a knife, or better still, a gun, I could snuff the bastard. I liked the idea.
I knew Kyle strapped a knife in a leather sheath to his forearm every time he left the house. He also tucked a knife into his boot, and I’d seen him pack a small gun into an ankle holster a couple of times, too. The man was a walking arsenal.
I put a friendly hand on his arm and smiled at him. He’d stopped laughing and was taking a sip of his beer while listening to his brother placating a seriously incandescent Raj.
“Women, huh? I never listen to them! Tell me about your operation. Your headquarters are in London? I hear you’ve got a good line in art. Can you get me some of those Russian icons? Do you know Boris ‘Icon’ Yerkovich, the dealer in Krakow?”
So Arturo wanted to know about wank biscuit’s business. No doubt he wanted the inside scoop on his network. Kyle hadn’t said a word, but I don’t exactly walk around with my eyes shut. I knew he and his brother were in the middle of a war, and if they could tap into Raj’s network, they’d have more territory, more market, more money and more power.
Normally when people talk about war, they think about the fighting in Afghanistan and Somalia, but the truth is that there is a world war going on. Everyone in the business is at each other’s throats because there are billions at stake. I mean, look at me! I’ve couriered goods worth millions all over the world. There have been times when my luggage could have been exchanged for a fancy house in London – and the lifestyle to go with it. With so much money on the table, people will do anything to get theirs.
I was new to Mexico; this was only my second trip, but all the guidebooks warn that this is not a safe region for tourists because of the cartel turf wars. Thanks to Ricardo, I had firsthand experience of how brutal the players were. If Arturo had h
ad his way, I would have been one of the many who just disappear. I bet no inspector plods had come knocking to ask him about Ricardo, poor silly, stupid sod that he was. Also, although everyone was acting like this was a normal family party, we were sitting in a compound that was guarded by a private army. As I said earlier, I’d never been to a family gathering before, but I bet they don’t have guards with machine guns in England.
Looking at Arturo, it occurred to me that he would not be pleased if I somehow got to Kyle’s knife and planted it in Raj. I knew now that Kyle was on my side, but I wasn’t totally sure that he’d back me up if his brother demanded I pay for killing Raj with my life.
While I was thinking, my subconscious sent my fingers exploring. The second they touched the soft leather of the knife sheath, Kyle looked at me and shook his head. He was still smiling, but I knew he knew - if you know what I mean.
“You can’t take him out, Chloe.”
His voice was low and calm.
“I just want to take out the rubbish, right?” I whispered. That’s a pun. I thought I’d slip that in.
“No.”
Kyle spoke quietly as usual but I was listening carefully, and I reckoned his voice was a bit flat. I also spotted a slightly grimmer than usual look around his mouth. I decided it meant he wanted Raj dead, too. That cheered me up. Kyle wouldn’t do anything now, but I reckoned that I just had to be patient. He’d get round to it soon enough. It was a nice, warm, cosy thought.
Maybe I could help things along too by telling Kyle everything I knew. We’d talked a bit about my work but Kyle hadn’t pushed for details because I was too scared, I think. Anyway, now I would spill the beans, sing my little heart out and feel all toasty in the knowledge that Raj’s days were numbered. Maybe my knowledge would also make me more valuable. Being less disposable wouldn’t hurt, either.
While I was wondering how to make the most of what I knew, Kyle finished his beer. “Come on, pitufa, time to go home.”
That word again. I had to know. “What’s a pitufa?”
For a moment he looked perplexed. “It’s that sexy girl who lives with those little blue men.”
“Blue men? Like the Scots?”
“They’ve got little white hats.”
Not the Scots. Unless… “Are they sailors?”
“No. It’s a cartoon.”
“Smurfs!” The dark one, the one who kept muttering hueco under his breath, was grinning. “They’re called Smurfs in English.”
I’d seen adverts for the film.
“I’m tall for my height,” I told Kyle while I poked him in the tummy with a finger. It was like poking a rock but he pretended it hurt.
I was feeling kind of punchy. Reaction, I guess. This was my ballsy self, the courier who could smuggle anything, anywhere. Kyle knew about that me because he’d read my dream book - the bastard, I told him that was private! – and even though he’d told me to cut the submissive crap, and I was doing my damnedest to do so, I still had moments where he’d speak, and I’d automatically sag at the knees. Maybe now I’d get over that, too.
I put my mouth by his ear and whispered, “I can fill you in on fuckface’s business.”
“Later.”
Maybe that’s why he was taking me home so early. It was just after 11PM, and it looked like the party was just starting, so it seemed a bit odd to be going now. Maybe Kyle thought that now I was over my fear of Raj, I’d give him his network, and he was dying to hear what I had to say. Or maybe Kyle thought Arturo would do better with Raj without me sitting here and insulting him.
Either way, I didn’t mind. I was aching for revenge, and telling Kyle exactly how to steal Raj’s business seemed sweetly ironic. I also thought that while we were talking, I would have a go at persuading Kyle that Arturo should kill Raj as an example to people who come here to deal with their enemies, too. By the way Arturo was looking at Raj, I could see he didn’t like him. If I could get Arturo mad enough, maybe he’d lose the rag and top Raj.
People talk about revenge being sweetest when it’s cold, but if you ask me, any temperature is fine. That’s not a joke. A pun, yes, but I meant it.
Kyle was learning forward and speaking to his brother. He kept his voice low so I couldn’t hear exactly what he was saying, but I have no doubt he was sharing the glad news about my offer.
I looked at the others who were sitting at Arturo’s table. Although Kyle had said it was a family party, I guessed they were also the senior people in the cartel. I recognised two from the pack, but the others, including the little one who knew about Smurfs, I hadn’t seen before. They had all laughed at Raj when I’d chewed him out but now they were talking to him, macho to macho because they knew Arturo wanted to keep him sweet.
Raj was acting cool, but he couldn’t help glaring at me. I could see he was abso-bloody-lutely furious and dying to give me a beating. I crossed my eyes at him and stuck out my tongue. Childish, but it was fun.
It wasn’t just me acting big because Kyle was there. When I saw Raj for what he was, he just lost all power over me. If he hit me now, it would be because he’s bigger and stronger than me. I’d not just stand there, taking any punishment he dealt out. No, I’d fight, and I wouldn’t give in. Never again. I was really, truly free of him. I can’t tell you how good it felt to know that. I felt like I was filled with laughing gas. I wanted to go home, explain exactly how to sock it to Raj, and then fuck Kyle silly all night long.
I could see I’d have to wait, though. The way Kyle was murmuring, I could tell that Arturo wanted something from him before we went. Kyle leaned back, took his phone out of his shirt pocket, and told me to sit tight while he made a call.
“I need to pee,” I told him. I’d drunk like a gallon of Coke and I didn’t trust my bladder to hold over the ride home. Home. Now that was an odd thing to think about. I’d never had a home before. I daren’t hope that I could stay there forever, because Kyle was bound to get fed up with me sooner or later, but maybe he’d want me to come and visit from time to time. You know, for booty calls. It was a sweet idea.
So while Kyle made his call and Arturo wooed Raj, I went off to find a loo, wrapped in a haze of happiness. The mansion must have had a dozen bathrooms, all with gold plated taps, I bet, but there was a little summerhouse behind the pool that the guests used, so I joined a queue of kids and women and thought about how lucky I’d been to meet Kyle.
“Think you’re clever, slut?”
It was Raj. He’d left the table, and snuck round the summerhouse so that Kyle wouldn’t see him making a beeline for me. My stomach flip-flopped out of sheer habit and then steadied again. He couldn’t touch me anymore.
“Bugger off, Raj.”
I could see Kyle look up, spot Raj and get up. I shook my head and grinned at him not to bother. It was sweet of him to want to rush over and protect me, but I honestly wasn’t afraid anymore. Kyle looked, shrugged and sat down, but I noticed he kept an eye on us while talking on the phone. It was kind of nice being watched over like that. It made me feel all special.
Raj glared in Kyle’s direction and then turned his utterly non-scary baleful eye on me. “Just wait till you find out what he’s really like.” Raj was hissing with anger. Not like a snake but like a leaky kettle. “You know nothing about him.”
I knew that ignoring him would drive him wild so I shrugged, yawned and moved along with the line. I really wanted to pee.
“Did he tell you he worked in Gitmo?”
For a moment I didn’t know what that was. Then it twigged: Guantanamo Bay.
“He specialises in Unconventional Warfare. That’s torture to you.”
I couldn’t help it. I gulped.
Raj was smiling now. “Your new best friend is an enforcer. He crucified those people. He’s an expert at sending a message.”
“So what?” But I wasn’t happy, and the bastard knew it.
“You think you’re safe because you’re fucking him?” His voice was dripping with poison. “He killed
his wife. Murdered her. They call him Mixcoatl after some old god who drank blood. You’re going to be next, slut. And I bet it will be very, very nasty.”
I really didn’t like what I was hearing. Not one little bit. But I’d be buggered if I let poxy, bloody Raj see it. An idea struck me. I looked over his shoulder and smiled my best big welcoming grin. Kyle was still sitting in his chair, talking on the phone, but Raj came to all the wrong conclusions and bolted like a frightened rabbit. It was awesome.
After my pee, Kyle took me home. As we blasted through the warm evening air, the excitement and the vibrations on my pussy got me so wound up that we didn’t even make the bedroom. The second he’d wheeled that bloody great big bike of his into the garage, I cornered him by a workbench, and started tearing his clothes off.
For once he wasn’t wearing a black shirt and black jeans. As soon as Arturo told him it was a family party, Kyle had picked out a dark blue shirt and white chinos. With the grin and the casual gear, you would have thought he was just another American hunk until you took a second look, and you’d see he was just like that bloke in the film we’d watched a few nights before: Brad Pitt in ‘Fight Club’. Yeah, Kyle was like that. All sort of super smooth on top and all muscle underneath. But dark instead of blonde. And much better looking.
I had his shirt unbuttoned in a second flat and was working his chinos over his hips the next second when he picked me up and parked my bum on the aforementioned workbench. Good word that, aforementioned. Just thought I’d point it out.
I squalled, trying to wriggle out of my jeans so we could get to it.
“Hey, what’s the rush?” Kyle was laughing as he pulled my tee off over my head.
“I’m celebrating! Come on, Kyle, fuck me!”
“I like the way you think,” he grinned.
He whipped off my bra and started kissing me, rubbing his fingers over my nipples as his mouth explored mine. Then his hands slid behind my back, rubbing my spine and shoulders with long sweeps as he kissed my neck, licked my collarbone, and slowly worked his way down to my tits, nuzzling and sucking until I could feel a pulse beating between my legs.