Author: AJ Adams
Category: Humorous
Go to read content：https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/aj-adams/page,20,480082-twisted_a_zeta_cartel_novel_book_5.html
"The race is in two days, so get it done by tomorrow."
Rovero nodded again, "Si, patrón."
He was a halcone as a kid and had moved up the ranks to senior sicario. Barely literate, his value lay in his ruthlessness, cunning, and absolute loyalty. He'd come from Nuevo Laredo at my cousin Arturo's request and had been unfailingly respectful. But that title, patrón, old-fashioned and deeply significant, was new.
He was off before I could speak.
"Jorge?" Persia stood framed in the doorway. "Is it okay if I have some visitors?"
She was so captivating that I wondered if O'Connor was right. Perhaps Kowalczyk had roped her in as a business partner at first, but had then fallen for her. Putting out the deepfakes had been business, he'd struck to protect himself. But the hit made no sense. She was already neutralised, so killing her brought him no advantages. It could only be personal.
"Earth to Jorge." Persia popped a hip and posed. "Lost in pretty me?"
"Definitely." She was a beauty but some women use their looks as a weapon and Persia York had built her career on them. Add nerves of steel, an inventive mind and enough attitude for an entire cartel, and the conclusion was clear: this woman was a player, as strong and cunning as a Zeta. She was lethal, and I had enough trouble. I was determined not to fall for her.
"Is it okay? Can I have some friends over?"
"Checking in with your socios?"
"My partners? Well, kind of," she shrugged. "I've no clothes, so the girls are putting together an emergency kit."
She still pretended innocence and poverty. That bugged me but the pathos of the model with nothing to wear would play well with the public, so I agreed instantly. "Get them to meet you at Bubbles. Be sure they include a nice dress and a hat. The day after tomorrow, we go to Ascot."
"The races?" Persia frowned. "Is this about Kowalczyk's horses?" When she saw my pointed look at the open door and the office staff beyond, she shut the door. "What are you planning, Jorge?"
"It's a surprise."
She was wringing her hands. "Swear you won't hurt them."
Amazing. Tougher than steel and yet, soft about animals. "Fresa, they will be in prime shape. But don't call your bookie."
She smiled. "I don't bet and I don't have any money, either."
Even watching her closely, I couldn't detect the lie. She was the picture of innocence. I was a little jealous, to have that kind of skill is extremely valuable.
I shouldn't have felt it, it's sensible to keep your business as private as possible. "I forgot you were broke."
The sarcasm didn't escape her. "Oh, are we on that again?" she sighed.
Right, if she wasn't giving an inch, I'd push too. "Want a loan?"
Her suspicion was crystal clear. "Under what terms?"
"The usual. I'll lend you £1000, and you pay me £2000 at the end of a month."
Her eye-roll was answer enough. I decided her attitude didn't make me mad. Frankly, it was easier. At least I wouldn't fall for her. Yes, that's what I told myself. Pinche idiota! If only I'd just seen the truth. But I didn't even think of asking questions.
"I'll tell the girls to meet me at Bubbles," Persia changed the topic firmly.
If she wasn't going to give, neither would I. So, I acted cool. "Good. Now, I've got some people coming. Sit on the sofa, shut up, and keep out of the way until I tell you."
Her expression hardened. "I'm getting pretty fed up of being treated like a bubblehead skank."
"If you don't like it -"
"Oh, just shut it!"
I was pissed by her attitude but as she sat down and flipped open her phone, and I had a raft of people waiting, I let it slide.
Like I said, we Zetas need to launder a load of cash, and so we have a big business base. Over the months I'd been in charge, I'd firmed up our foundations by buying small businesses and investing in others. It being the end of the month, I had our senior managers and associates scheduled for catchups on turnover, bonuses and cash-flow.
The first in the door was Andy McDougal, manager of Kwik&Kleen, our laundry shops. We love those because it's a cash-based business, ideal for cleaning your whites and your dollars.
After checking the books, I mentioned, casually, "You may have heard we've got some issues."
Andy glanced at Persia, who was busy sketching, and she instantly looked up and smiled. It was one of those mega ones and he was rock hard.
"Persia has some problems with her ex, and he's gone a little loco." I gave the same story I'd told O'Connor, ending with, "If you've any problems, tell me, okay?"
"I've seen a lot of extra security," Andy ventured.
"We're just being careful."
It went over well, and then I had the same conversation with the teams running our delivery service, car hire service, temp agency, and various market and mobile food stalls.
Between that and staying on top of James' work, I was busy, but I was super happy to receive a text from Dolores, saying she and Lord Grandville's nephew, Sir Ferdy Firth, had been arrested, cautioned and released.
This was my big move to undermine Smith and get my seaport. Determined to have no witnesses, I sent Persia off to sit in the main office. Dolores sailed in twenty minutes later, Firth trailing in her wake. "Jorge! The most awful thing!" Dolores was enjoying herself. "I'm so embarrassed!"
"It was entirely my fault." He had a nose like a Borzoi and the same shaggy mane. "Ferdy Firth, sorry to barge in like this, Mr Santos, but we're in trouble and Dolores says you can save the day."
"Call me Jorge." I shook his hand and waved them to sit down. "Tell me, guapa. How can I help?"
"We were arrested!" Dolores wailed.
"No!"
Ferdy fessed up instantly. "Last night I hired Dolores. I paid her up front. But I was a bit pissed, and I labelled the transfer For Sex."
It was hard not to laugh. Dolores had set it up beautifully. "Oh, dear."
"It was my fault, I thought it was funny," Dolores moaned. "The bank flagged it and they raided us!"
"The cops here rarely bother," I pointed out.
"We had rather an extensive session," Ferdy grinned.
"There were four of us," Dolores explained, "so they're accusing us of brothel keeping!"
"I'd pay a fine," Ferdy said easily. "But they mentioned jail time."
As Dolores moaned and played her part, I acted the fixer. "I see. Show me the paperwork." I read through it, looked serious, and finally nodded. "Let me make some calls."
While stepping away discreetly and pretending to make a call, I spotted Persia hovering outside, a pencil held over her sketching pad but with her ears wide open.
I put away my phone and addressed my visitors. "No worries. It's fixed."
"How?" Ferdy gasped.
Acting humble made it sound better. "I told them you were repaying a personal loan and that the text was a joke. And as you paid Dolores, not the other girls, they're short on evidence."
Ferdy goggled. "And that's it?"
"Plus a threat you'd challenge the bank's right to snoop. It would tie them up in legal knots for months. Much easier to drop it."
"Thank you so much!" He was pumping my hand. "What do I owe you?"
I waved the offer away. "For a phone call? Nothing."
"You're a gent."
Dolores kissed me. "A darling!"
Persia didn't agree. She slid into the office after they left, observing, "You set him up. Dolores works for you."
"You've got a great imagination."
"What are you plotting, Jorge?"
I was dying to boast, but I remembered she'd not let me into her own secrets. "Absolutely nothing, fresa."
Her friendly interest vanished. "Fine," she said coldly. "Have it your own way."
For a moment I almost talked. But sense and caution winged their warnings. It was a pity, there was a lot about this woman that appealed to me, but it wouldn't do to trust her with cartel secrets.
The triumph at n
etting Ferdy Firth vanished. With a sigh, I got back to my paperwork. There was a mountain of it, and by the time I finished, the office was deserted.
"Everyone left an hour ago," Persia observed.
"Right. I need to check in with security."
Amit reported all was quiet, and Lencho and Paco had installed our dealers in our newly expanded plaza. As setting up a new pecking order is always fraught with tension, there'd been several fights. But as it was just broken bones and non-fatal stabbings, we were all good.
Looking over my diary and to-do list, I decided it had been a productive day. The only thing I hadn't gotten around to was filing paperwork for the seaport, because the information they asked for was tricky in terms of legalities. Too tricky for me to mess with.
With a sigh, I resigned myself to putting it off. Also, I realised I'd not visited James yet. "Persia, I'll be back in half an hour."
James was watching reruns of the Sopranos with his nurse cuddled up next to him. "Hey, boss!" He was all smiles. "Thanks for the soup."
"James, you malingering son-of-a-bitch! I come here to see a sick man, and you're in bed with a beauty."
"I'm doing research," he grinned. "We've got to get into construction. Also, why isn't our office in a strip club?"
"I see you're feeling better." But he was pale as milk and he winced as the girl slid off the bed. "Hey, you taking your pain meds?"
"Sure. They're great!" James switched off the TV and blew the girl a kiss. "Guapísima, make some of that amazing tea for me?"
I knew what he was up to. "James, we're not talking business." I pushed the remote back into his hand. "Everything your staff can do is being done. The rest can wait."
"I'm okay. I'm back at work tomorrow."
"You'd be in the morgue the day after." I was firm. "You lost a shitload of blood. You stay in bed five days. Doctor's orders. Then, and only then, we see how you are."
"Jorge," James dropped his voice, "you need me. Even with the inch by inch takeover, there's the paperwork for the seaport. Only I can do it."
He was absolutely right, and it was killing me I'd have to wait. But I would not let him worry about it. "James, you impatient capullo, it doesn't matter if it waits a week. It means we can concentrate on Kowalczyk." That reminded me. "Hey, let me fill you in on the plan for his horses."
Five minutes later he was laughing. "Joder, that's nasty! I love it!"
"Good. It's Ascot, so you can watch it unfold on tv." Then, before he could say another word, I called back his nurse. "Guapa, you take care of him, you hear me? And call me the second he needs anything."
Persia was watching the Sopranos too, her feet up on my coffee table and a cup of tea in her hand. "Is Bubbles like Tony's strip club?"
"Come and see for yourself."
Persia got up reluctantly. "What if Kowalczyk's hitman is waiting?"
"Leave it to me."
She hesitated and then smiled. "After seeing you in action, I guess you can take him."
"Damn straight."
She threw back her shoulders, which gave me a nice eyeful. She knew it and winked, "Let's trash him."
It had been a long day, and I wasn't looking forward to an evening of spin. "Just stick to the script."
Bubbles was packed. I drove right to the front door, tossed the keys to the bouncer, and piloted Persia inside before the waiting crowd could recognise her. Paco was already at our table and when I saw the girls who were sitting with him, my jaw dropped.
"Persia!" White blonde hair cascading down to her ass, and eyes bluer than the Mexican sky.
"Honey, where have you been?" Legs longer than a racehorse balancing curves in an ebony silken package.
"We've been so worried!" Red hair, creamy skin, and freckles that yearned to be licked.
We had some glorious girls on our books but these were spectacular.
Paco was grinning like a fox trapped in a henhouse. "They arrived half an hour ago. I think I'm in love."
They surrounded Persia and every eye in the club was on them. By the drool from the men, there was more wood than in Selva Lacandona. "With which one?"
"All of them," Paco sighed.
"If James finds out, we'll have to cuff him to his bed."
"My thought too."
Meanwhile, the girls were exclaiming over Persia.
"Are you okay?"
"Poor sweet. We were so worried about you!"
"Come on, let's get you dressed."
"These are my socios," Persia smiled. "Isa, Orabelle, and Tazanna."
"Jorge, the rescuer," Tazanna hugged me right away. "Persia told us all about it."
I ignored Persia's ironic eye-roll and kissed them all, Mexican style. "Welcome to Bubbles."
As they led her off to the ladies, Lencho arrived. "Ave María Purísima! Are they real?"
Paco handed him a bracing tequila. "Persia's friends are lingerie models."
Lencho tossed back the shot. "Don't tell James. We'll need to tranq him if he hears about this."
We sat at the table, cluttered with Perrier and Evian, aware of every envious eye on us. I pretended not to notice, but I was enjoying myself. By the way Paco and Lencho grinned, they felt the same. I guess that's the cartel blood talking; we act discreet because it's sensible, but it goes against our nature. We like the world to know we're winners.
So, we were enjoying ourselves and when the tribe came back, presenting Persia, "There, isn't she beautiful?" I felt my breath catch.
She wore a simple tan tunic that made her hazel eyes pop. Gold strappy heels and a rope necklace with a shell dangling from it evoked images of mermaids. "Guapísima!"
Persia grinned and before I could say a word, the girls were sitting down and tearing Kowalczyk to shreds.
"We never understood what you saw in that Pole, honey."
"He never appreciated you, or the work you did for him."
"And posting that nasty fake porn was too much!"
"That scum bucket, what was he thinking?"
Persia held to the line. "It was a shock. I flirted with Jorge but I didn't expect Kowalczyk to go bananas."
Isa shook her head. "Persia, we all saw those nasty little bruises. That creep was always pinching you."
I was looking right at her, and to my surprise, Persia was poker-faced. It was that same blank expression I'd seen when she'd zoned out on me.
"He was bad news, sweetie," Tazanna drawled. "The kind who smiles in public and beats you behind closed doors."
With certainty, I understood that was exactly what Kowalczyk had done. I didn't like the implications. As a well-paid socio, Persia should have merited respect.
"You deserve better, love." That was Orabelle.
Persia shrugged. "I'm okay."
"Your bruised arse says different."
"Yeah," Persia pounced instantly. "You have to be a right bastard to do that, right?"
My turn to be poker-faced. Lencho and Paco didn't say a word, but they knew who was responsible. Luckily, the socios saw me as a hero, got the wrong end of the stick and blamed Kowalczyk.
"We're not prying," Orabelle said carefully. "But I hope you're done with Kowalczyk."
"You needn't worry," Persia said instantly. "I told you, it was just a job I took on."
The girls were silent a moment, sharing secret thoughts in the way good friends do.
Persia's chin went up. "You know I'm a slut. If adding me into the mix sweetens the deal, I'll do it."
"No, you're not!" Isa cast back. "Your body: your rules."
I'd wondered why Persia hadn't called her friends right away, and why she'd been relieved to get their messages. Now I knew.
"Put out or get out," Tazanna sighed. "It's bloody everywhere."
"True," Orabelle and Isa nodded.
There was a small tight silence.
Then Lencho sighed. "I wish girls wanted me enough to offer me cash."
"Bet they'll pay you to stay away," Paco cracked back.
It bro
ke the tension.
"Here's to not judging." Tazanna raised her Perrier, and toasting us all, including me, "We're smart and we're strong. Together, we can do anything!"
I drank my tequila, but I wasn't happy about the thoughts crowding my mind. The fresa was weapons-grade tough, but in her position, she shouldn't have had to put up with pinche naco like Kowalczyk abusing her. That wasn't business; it reeked of coercion.
Talking about it in front of the company wasn't possible, so I didn't ask. Also, Persia was smiling but her chin was up, a sure sign she was tense. Behind her, Mambo Blue were about to start their first set. I got to my feet, saying to Persia, "Let's dance."
As experience had shown me Brits have two left feet, I took her in my arms and prepared to have my toes shattered. But when the first notes of 'Bailando' floated out, she moved with me in perfect step.
"You can dance!" I was really shocked.
Her eyes sparkled as she swung her hips. "Salsa classes are a great workout and fun too."
I'd meant the night to be a public relations exercise, but I had a blast. Persia dropped her sniping, and she turned out to be funny, smart, and interesting. Her friends weren't just beauties, they were also excellent company. And, like Persia, they all moved like silk on the dance floor.
Time flashed by and it was almost midnight when I stepped into the gents. I checked my phone automatically, noting the all clears from Amit, our senior sicarios, and our top halcones. The lack of action confirmed my hunch: Kowalczyk was too low on manpower to push back. My plan was coming along great. Knowing it, my pride soared.
But another notice jumped out at me: the eyes on the fresa's investment account noted activity. She'd transferred £50,000 to a property agent. A down payment for yet another apartment. From the time stamp, I calculated it had been just after I'd offered her a loan.
So, she was loaded, which meant she'd been with Kowalczyk voluntarily. Because with that kind of money, she'd either walk, hire a pro to take him out, or both.
I told myself it didn't bother me. It was just business. I could use her for my schemes. And, my good sense pointed out, as the fresa was a prize all by herself, and came with lingerie models who could dance, it was pretty fucking good.