Los Zetas Cartel Collection (3 book series)

by AJ Adams

  I found myself standing next to him, bristling protectively. “Quique is being sensible, and I was giving him a hard time.”

  Gordo grinned. “You do that a lot?”

  I didn’t like the way he said it, so I snapped back instantly. “I’m a bitch. Luckily for me, Quique’s the patient type.”

  “You test him often, right?” Kyle settled down in a chair and looked up at me, smiling. He was actually quite good looking. For a devil, that is. “So, did you decide to teach your father-in-law a lesson?”

  “No!” It just ripped out of me. “Of course not!”

  “Well then, we’d better find out who did.”

  Quique was explaining, “I asked them to help, Natalia. This can’t be fixed just by you and me. It needs teamwork, and these men are the best.”

  At this, my heart just flooded with gratitude. The way he looked out for me just overwhelmed me. I couldn’t do more than look at him because I would’ve wept again, but he knew because he smiled, a sweet smile that made his eyes shine.

  “We’ll get to the bottom of this, bruja.”

  Everyone sat down, and I got my first look into how the Zetas went about their business. It was an eye-opener all right.

  “We’ve established a timeline,” Kyle told Quique. “CCTV was out in the block around the bar all night and the next day. There was a technical glitch. What we do have is fifty-eight people entering and exiting the area within the time the medical examiner put the death. We’ve identified forty-seven of them.”

  Everyone had tablets, and Quique let me see his. They went through all the identified faces, each with a name and file. That took me aback. I hadn’t known Mo’s last name was Khudiadadzai or that Mike was bonking Mrs Davidson on Tuesday afternoons when her husband was off playing squash.

  They had everyone’s sheet, too, including dismissed charges and even outstanding parking tickets listed. Smith wasn’t a patch on this lot.

  “How did you get all this?” I asked, amazed.

  “Police files mostly,” Kyle lied smoothly.

  “Right, like they know who’s doing who!”

  “I had your pet hacker Terry fill me in on all the locals,” Quique informed me. “It’s just protocol, but it’s turned out useful.”

  Protocol my bottom! He’d been digging for dirt. “On everyone?”

  “Ay bruja!” From the sudden deadpan look, Quique had been investigating me, too.

  “Where’s my file?”

  Gordo immediately showed me his tablet. It was weird seeing my mug shot along with my details laid out like that in black and white.

  “Pinche pendejo!” Quique snapped.

  Gordo instantly put it away. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I wasn’t thinking.”

  It had been a shock, but I could see the usefulness of it. It also explained how the dresses in the closet had fitted. Someone had looked at my file. A thorough lot, the Zetas.

  “Natalia, you’re tired,” Quique was in full protection mode. “Have a nap while we work.”

  I wasn’t having that. “I need to do this. It’s my future that’s at stake.”

  He was going to quibble, but I gave him my best hard stare, and he caved. “Okay, bruja.”

  We went through all the files, including Frank, Roger, Pat and Donald, who’d all been there that night. There was all kinds of shit in the files, from an account of the fight at Bobby’s release party to Frank’s cigarette ventures and Donald’s year as a pot dealer when he was a kid.

  “When you were convicted, did you know your father-in-law was your husband’s partner?” Kyle asked.

  “No. I found out about a year ago. Frank got smashed and spilled the beans.”

  “It’s motive.”

  “Right. When I found out, I was running the Black Horse. I got so mad that I destroyed his business.”

  Those silver eyes were looking right through me. “You must’ve been pissed.”

  Americans, right? He meant angry, not drunk. “Actually, it didn’t surprise me. He and Frank were hand-in-glove on all sorts of dodgy deals. At that point, I just didn’t care about Bobby anymore. I saved his business for Millie and Delicia.”

  “So you could have decided to take him out. It would leave the club as a nice inheritance for the widow and kid.”

  Quique was growling. “She didn’t do it!”

  There was a tense silence. From the careful, neutral expressions around me, I gathered that dissing the boss was a no-no. Quique knew it, but he wasn’t backing down. He looked like a Rottweiler, all dark and determined.

  This wasn’t right. I put a hand on his. “It’s okay. He’s just saying what Smith will argue.”

  “I don’t think she did it,” Kyle said carefully, “but we need to cover all the angles.”

  There was a second or two of strained silence, and then Quique sighed. “I know.”

  He followed it with a blast of Spanish. Whatever Quique said, it was acceptable, because everyone was nodding. Then there was some to and fro, after which the grilling continued but with Quique asking the questions.

  “Querida, you’ve got to be sensible. If we find out who did it, everything else can be fixed.”

  Having seen the files and ruthless efficiency, I believed him.

  “Who might have done it? And include your family.”

  I thought about it. “Bobby isn’t very popular, but nobody hates him. He fights with everyone, including Frank and Roger, but he adores them, really. Millie, well, they have their ups and downs, but I just can’t see her doing it.” I couldn’t help adding, “And you can see Delicia and Johnathan aren’t on the tapes.”

  But I’d forgotten an important point.

  “Any idea who the other eleven are?” Quique handed me his Tab.

  I looked but nothing came to me. The eleven mystery figures were all wearing long coats or hoodies. Also, unlike the telly, real CCTV footage is kind of grainy. It was like trying to identify Jedi warriors.

  “One of them might be Scott. I met him in the street.” I thought back to that night. "That's weird! I walked past him, up the stairs and then I was attacked."

  "And yet, he wasn't the one who found you," Quique mused. "A passing car called it in when they saw you roll down the stairs."

  "So where did Scott go?"

  Kyle went through the police statements. "He says you were upset, that you snapped at him and that he went for a walk round the block. By the time he returned, the police were there."

  "I did snap at him, so he might have stomped off in a snit."

  We looked at the CCTV again.

  “Which one could be him?”

  “Sorry, not a clue.”

  Quique was looking at Terry's notes. "He never married. It seems he had a girlfriend, but she was a thief."

  "Yes, Liz something. At the bank."

  Quique flipped through the papers. "It was Scott who turned up the evidence."

  "Joder!" The Zetas were shocked. "Imagine snitching on your woman!"

  But I could see what Scott had been thinking. "He's awfully straight. Scott would see it as doing his duty."

  "He's a prick," Pepe Rojo said. "Did I get that right? Prick?"

  "Oh yeah!" And I meant it, too. It's one thing to stop a thief but to turn them in, well, I don't think I could do it.

  "Well, I don't see him doing this, but let's watch him anyway," Quique said.

  Then we looked at the prison records. By all accounts, Bobby had a rep for fighting, but as the men he'd fought with were still banged up, that didn’t lead anywhere, either.

  “Quique was worried because someone tagged your door?” Kyle asked.

  “Just kids, I think.”

  “Hmmm, maybe.”

  “CCTV stopped it,” Quique frowned, “so we got nothing.”

  The Zetas went over everything, in Spanish mostly, sometimes pausing to ask me a question, and by the end of it all I could see they had a big fat nothing.

  I knew it was stupid, but I’d been hoping again
st hope they’d figure it out. When they stopped, and I realised they’d come up empty, I was feeling rotten and not just because sitting up was messing with my breathing. Like Dorothy, I wanted to go home, only I had no ruby slippers.

  “Something will shake loose,” Quique assured me. “It’s always this way. First there’s a million possibilities, and they gradually narrow down.”

  “Sure, I get that.”

  “Also, they usually talk,” he told me.

  “I guess so.” I agreed but didn’t believe it. After all, I had no impulse towards confession when it came to the Twittertons.

  “We’re all over it,” Quique was serious, reassuring me. “Now, corazon, you look terrible. Go lie down in the shade and rest.”

  Quique was determined, and as there was nothing more to say, I did as I was told. Actually, it was a relief, because every breath I took came with a touch of flame.

  I lay on a large recliner under a tree by the pool, watching little yellow and blue-bellied birds splash on the top step in the shallow end, wetting their beaks and preening their feathers.

  Slowly the peace of the place seeped into me. I heard the murmur of the crew as they talked shop, enjoying the sound of the rolling r’s and occasional ay-yay-yay! From the laughter, they were catching up on the gossip.

  The peace was shattered by the screech of car tyres, a slamming door and the clicking of heels on marble.

  “Pinche cabron!” A voice snarled.

  I opened my eyes and took in a skinny girl with big hair and lots of makeup. She was making straight for Quique, snarling as she went. “Hijo puta!”

  It was just a guess, but she didn’t seem happy. Nor did Quique. The one-man army looked poleaxed.

  Chapter Twenty-One: Quique

  I could see straight away that coming home wasn’t going to be easy. Making the deal in London had made the jefe a happy man, but while I’d been away, Antonio and Tina had been working their damage. I’d managed to shut Tina up, but I’d let it go on too long. My reputation was in tatters, worse than I’d imagined even in my blackest nightmares.

  The first inkling was a text from the boss, “Do not, repeat, not, engage with Antonio.”

  The second was a stream of texts and calls from friends and family, all saying the same, “Welcome back! Hey, keep your cool, okay?”

  When the boss came to the house, which was unusual in itself, and he brought Pepe Rojo and Gordo, I knew it was a public sign of support from the way he greeted me. Yes, I was being fucked.

  “Quique! Man, it’s good to have you back! I know you’re still on vacation, but I had to come and tell you how pleased Arturo is. Que huevos! Fantastic job!”

  Considering they’d walked in while Natalia had been reaming me, I wasn’t surprised to see the other two grinning at me.

  What did make me smile was the bruja putting up her hackles. “I’m a bitch,” she said coolly. “Luckily for me Quique is the patient type.”

  I could tell the boss liked her, but he’s a pro, so he naturally checked her out. She was fine, I mean the woman is steel, but I knew she was suffering deep inside, and before I realised it, I was telling the boss to back off.

  “She’s been through too much,” I told him. “The way you’re going at it, she’ll end up in hospital.”

  He’s not used to that kind of talk, but he saw reason. “You’re vouching for her?”

  “Absolutely. This is a straightforward woman. If she’d decided to blow away her suegro, she’d have done it right and admitted it, no problem.”

  The boss paused, considered and then shrugged. “Okay, you debrief her.”

  We went over it, and it didn’t come to much, but I wasn’t worried. We deal with complex cases all the time, and mostly it comes together pretty quick. It’s not because we’re smart; it’s because someone talks. Pros can’t resist gossiping, and amateurs get the guilts and fall apart.

  I thought we’d get some info soon, and as my girl was still hurting, I sent her to nap by the pool. That’s when I caught up with how bad my situation was.

  Gordo filled me in quietly. “Antonio is seriously pissed. Watch your back, Quique, he’s a nasty piece of work.”

  “What’s he saying?”

  “He’s putting it about that you’ve no balls.”

  My stomach flip-flopped. Tina had told. She’d fucking told! Luckily, I said nothing.

  “He’s jealous because of your London success,” the boss grinned at me. “Shit, you take care of business better than I do! A twenty million dollar deal, for fuck’s sake!”

  So Tina had kept her mouth shut. I breathed again. “So what’s he saying exactly?”

  “He says you’re pussy-whipped.”

  Shit. Of all things, the fucker picked that.

  “Of course nobody believes it,” Gordo lied, “but he’s saying that you let Tina walk all over you, and now you’re under the thumb of the English bruja.”

  It was clever, because I’d been telling everyone about Natalia dissing me.

  “The hijo puta put it about that you were turning down hookers in London,” the boss growled, “on orders of your new girl.”

  I’d kill him. That would fix it.

  “Quique, I want you to ignore it,” the boss ordered me. “Antonio is pissed because you put him down. He’ll get over it.”

  “If he’s talking, he’s here, right?” Within reach of my Magnum.

  “He’s in Dallas, but he pops round regularly.”

  “To see Tina.”

  I should’ve killed him when I had the chance. Now the pendejo was fucking my wife, and everyone was laughing at me, saying I was a goddamn maricon. Antonio would be making sure of it.

  “I’m sorry.” The boss was, too; I saw it in his eyes. “Divorce is a bitch.”

  “What’s Tina saying?”

  “Nothing. She moaned a bit at first, but in the last few weeks she’s not said anything.”

  That at least was a relief. If only I’d shut Antonio down, too. Oh well, I’d just take care of business now.

  “We’ve got your back,” Pepe Rojo assured me. “Just keep your cool, okay?”

  I would. I’d be ice as I pulled the trigger.

  “You can’t blow Antonio away,” Gordo warned me.

  “Yeah, I know.” One second is all it would take. “I understand.”

  The boss is the boss because you can’t fool him. “Quique, listen to me. Jefe’s orders: you’re to stay away from Antonio.” Those silver eyes were serious. “Antonio’s got orders, too. Arturo reamed him a new one, personally. He knows this is a crock of shit, and he’d take Antonio out if he wasn’t family.”

  “That’s good to know.”

  “We don’t want to lose either of you.”

  “Absolutely.” I was lying.

  The boss talked, Pepe Rojo talked and Gordo talked. I agreed to it all, not really listening. You know, I think I would’ve gone out and killed the fuck and been blown away myself by the jefe in revenge, except that Tina turned up.

  She blew in, her Mercedes coupe churning the gravel in the drive, and stormed through the house, high heels clicking. She was wearing black, a colour I never did like on her, and she was wearing too much makeup. It made her look hard, and by the thin line of her unsmiling lips, Tina was pissed.

  The boss was rigid, expecting trouble, and I could feel the others teetering between horror and interest at the prospect of a showdown. Me, I was surprised to feel nothing except irritation. Tina always timed her scenes for maximum impact by delivering in front of an audience. In the past I’d hated it, but now it was just exasperating.

  So when she ground to a halt, tossing her hair and swearing at me, I just sighed. “Hi, Tina.”

  She opened her mouth and shut it again. I looked over my shoulder, thinking she’d spotted Natalia, but she was looking at Maria, the one with the baby bump, standing in front of the bedroom window, tugging at the curtains.

  Tina gazed in stunned surprise, coming to all the wrong conclusi
ons. “You brought a woman here?”

  I took advantage. “Why not? We’re over, remember?”

  Tina looked at Maria, completely nonplussed.

  I knew she was thinking the doctors had been wrong. It was a gift from heaven. For a moment I was stunned, too, but then I got a grip. When in battle, take any advantage and run with it. “I know it’s tough, but we’ll get over it. I sent you the divorce papers. Take a look and get back to me. The faster we end this, the quicker we can move on.”

  “So you can have a whore? You bastard! Hijo puta! Maricon!”

  It wasn’t easy to take that, but I knew she was screaming from frustration, thinking she’d lost her ace in the hole, so I did nothing. Tina realised she wasn’t having her usual effect on me. She didn’t know what to do, so she shut up. Then, totally routed, she turned on her heel and left.

  Pepe Rojo exhaled. “Joder, Quique! How you can just sit there! The things she called you!”

  I remembered the line that had worked so well in London. “It’s the best thing. Women are hormonal. You can’t reason with them when they’re upset.”

  The boss stood up. “Quique, that type of self-control is what we need from you now.” He slapped me on the back. “It will blow over. As your boss and your soon-to-be ex cousin-in-law, I’m asking you: please be patient.”

  He gets me, the boss. With that kind of request, what can you do? “Okay, okay, okay! I don’t kill him!”

  “Thanks.” Silver eyes were smiling at me. “Take a few days to get settled back in. Anything you need to clear your bruja, just ask. It’s yours.”

  They trooped off, and I was left, worrying.

  I’m ace at blowing people away, but I’m not political. I’d seriously underestimated the damage Antonio could do me. Now I realised I was up to my neck in trouble, because Antonio wouldn’t stop. He might shut up for a week or two, but then he’d be trying to bury me again.

  Also, once Tina realised I had nothing to with Maria she might talk, especially with Antonio pushing her to cause trouble. Tina would be furious about Natalia, too.

  Yes, I was fucked. You’re nothing without respect, and pretty soon I’d have none. I had to fight back, but as killing was out, I wasn’t sure what to do.

  “Quique,” Natalia was struggling up from the lounger. “What’s up, love? You look stricken.”