The Bonus: The Zeta Cartel Novels, #1

By AJ Adams

Chloe is a seasoned drug courier who finds herself in the wrong place at the wrong time. Facing a lingering and painful death at the hands of the Zeta cartel, Mexico's most brutal organised crime syndicate, she persuades their enforcer to claim her.

Ex marine and dark ops expert Kyle Suarez is chief enforcer for the Zeta cartel. Ruthlessly efficient, he is feared by his enemies. When he claims Chloe, he simply expects to enjoy a well-deserved and disposable bonus.

Has Chloe made a huge mistake, or will her choice prove her salvation - and his?

 

The Bonus is a compelling tale of vengeance, murder, cartel violence and finding love in the darkest of times. It is the first in the Zeta Cartel novel series, and can be read as a standalone.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ellen Whyte
• Release date: Jan 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9781386781509

AJ Adams

AJ Adams writes twisted love stories set in the violent world of the Cartel, Camorra, Belial's MC and Prydain. All AJ Adams novels are self-standing and although some feature the same families, you need not read them all - but it would be awesome if you did. If you enjoy these novels and want to stalk, please know that AJ is the pen name for Ellen Whyte. Ellen married her best friend and moved to the tropics where they are living their own Happily Ever After. When she's not writing, she's cooking and pandering to her rescue cats Target, Swooner and Tic Tac.

Book preview

Chapter One: Kyle

The girl scrambled madly, trying frantically to maintain her balance. They’d stripped her, tied her hands behind her back, looped the hangman’s noose over the tree branches above, and stood her on the slick surface of an ice block the size of a refrigerator. If she could keep still, the melting ice would vanish slowly underneath her, and she’d strangle little by little. One slip, and she’d hang herself.

Clearly Arturo was indulging in his favourite game. He’d let her suffocate, slap her back into consciousness, pass her around for a gangbang, and if she survived the night, set her up again. She might survive two days, but the odds were she’d be dead by morning.

Arturo is a sick bastard. He claims his games put the message out that he’s not to be messed with, but he gets a kick out of it. They’d love him in Gitmo. He’d fit right in.

You talked with him?

Arturo was sitting on the terrace, planted in his favourite rattan peacock chair and drinking an iced Dos Equis. Arturo has a lot of enemies, so he lives in a compound guarded by a small army. As he rarely leaves his home, he has created a small paradise for himself: a mansion with a dozen bedrooms, a formal garden, a rose garden, and a family style backyard, complete with swimming pool and barbeque pit. We were in the yard, but despite the blow-up crocodile that was floating in the pool, the entertainment was adult.

The men were gathered around the girl, hooting and hollering. As a rule, they stick around in case Arturo needs something, but they don’t hang with him on his terrace. As his brother, I have my own chair, also rattan but with a low back. I like to see what’s behind me, even if it’s a solid wall. Paranoia is part of my business.

Arturo reached into the mini-bar and pulled out another cold one for me. It was a typical scorching afternoon. Even the flies were too hot to move.

And? he asked me impatiently. What did he say?

"You were right. He talked. Not to the Federales, though. He was negotiating with the Gulf cartel."

Arturo swore foully. You’d never guess he was a Princeton graduate; most of the time he talks like a grunt. How bad is it?

He never got past the first stage. He gave them nothing they didn’t already know.

Certain?

He wasn’t in any condition to lie. The velvety smooth chill of the Dos Equis was heaven. I’d get drunk tonight. The job had taken twelve hours, and it had been gory, too. Even after two showers, I still felt as if I had blood in my hair. I needed a break.

Just him?

He involved his woman. I took care of her, too.

Arturo sighed. Shame he brought her into it.

Hmmm.

Disloyalty is a disease, Arturo frowned. You made sure their deaths send a message?

He knew there’s no way in hell I’d do a job half-assed, but he still asked. He takes nothing for granted, does Arturo. He’s the ultimate micromanager.

To punish him a little, I drank down the rest of the ice-cold beer, tossed the bottle in with the other empties and didn’t answer. The girl teetered on the edge of the block. Incredibly, she seemed to consider jumping off it. It would be quicker than anything Arturo had in mind, but from the way they’d tied the noose, and the length of the drop, it was unlikely she’d break her neck.

Hey! I asked you a question! Arturo nudged me in the ribs. Did you make an example of them?

I crucified them.

"Madre de Dios!" Arturo crossed himself.

He was called Jesus; it seemed appropriate.

Arturo paused for a scandalised moment and then burst out laughing.

I waited until he’d finished. They had a kid. She’s four.

Arturo pulled a face and sighed. It’s a terrible thing to kill a child.

Yeah, he would think that I’d taken her out. She’s visiting her cousins for the weekend. When her mother doesn’t show up to collect her tonight, they’ll investigate and find the bodies.

Arturo heaved a sigh of relief. Ah! Excellent! She still has family. She’ll be cared for.

Typical Arturo. He’s not married, and he doesn’t have kids, but he acts the benevolent patriarch. It’s just play-acting. If he got into a jam, and he thought it would give him an edge, Arturo would traffic that four-year-old in a heartbeat. And that’s why I enjoy working for him; Arturo never makes mistakes. He doesn’t have a sentimental bone in his body. That’s a good thing, because a soft heart gets you shot in the head.

You deserve a bonus! Arturo was in an excellent mood.

A squeal followed by a roar of appreciation made us both look up. The girl had jumped, and now her body writhed frantically at the end of the rope, desperate for air.

Her arms and legs were tanned, but the rest of her was milky pale. She wasn’t local, and she didn’t work for us, yet she must have crossed Arturo in some serious way. Arturo is vicious, but he doesn’t act unless you give him reason, and even then, girls usually get off with a beating.

Who is she?

She came with him. Arturo indicated a lolling form hanging from the crossbar of the swing set that stood by the pool. Arturo had set it up the second his first niece was born, and now its solid metal frame was coming in useful in ways the manufacturer had never imagined.

From the blood splatter and the electric drill lying nearby, Arturo had had quite an entertaining morning. I didn’t recognise the figure either. Who’s he?

Some kid from town. He tried to buy product with these.

Arturo tossed a roll of dollars my way. Just one touch was enough. The printing was piss-poor, and the paper was ordinary stationery quality. Now I understood why Arturo was sending a message: it was counterfeit. Fucking idiots. A three-year-old wouldn’t be taken in by this shit.

The girl’s face was dark red. She stopped struggling. Another thirty seconds, and she’d be beyond Arturo’s reach. And believe me, you’ve got to be out of this world entirely to be sure he can’t get to you, especially now that I’m working for him. I can track anyone, anywhere, anytime. It’s one of my many skills.

Seeing she’d been brave enough to take the leap, I would keep my mouth shut and let her go out quick. But Arturo is nobody’s fool. Suddenly aware that his fun was about to come to an abrupt halt, he yelled a warning.

Instantly, everyone standing around rushed for the rope. I guess none of them wanted to fuck a corpse. Like the morons they are, though, they tugged at the knot and forgot to hold on to the end. The girl spilled onto the ground, landing on the far side of the ice block.

Before they could reach for her, she surged back to life. With astonishing resilience, she snapped her body, shed the noose, and took to her heels. Man, that girl could run!

It was a pity that her hair was all over her face. She had no idea where she was going. She slammed into the compound’s wall, doubled back, evaded the grabbing hands by pure luck, and then headed straight for the terrace, finally cannoning into me.

I instinctively put my arms around her and planted my feet on the ground. She’d been moving at a hell of a lick, and the chair creaked horribly and rocked with the momentum, but it held steady. Arturo always buys quality stuff.

Dear God, please help me! Don’t let them kill me!

Her hot body, slick with sweat, pressed against me. Her face was in my neck, her legs wrapping around mine. She couldn’t use her hands, but she clung like a limpet. She smelled of sweet, flowery soap. An old-fashioned scent. Lavender maybe. Or rose. I’m not a gardening man.

Terrified they’d drag her back, she was whispering desperately in my ear, her voice hoarse, her tone pleading. "Habla Ingles? Take me home with you. I’ll be yours! I’ll do whatever you want!"

Instantly, my cock hardened. The girl froze for a moment, then rubbed against me, promising, enticing. "Chingat!"

I gripped her arms with instinctive anger.

She gasped. "Oh crap, no! Not fuck you, I mean, fuck me! You understand? Oh Jesus! Amor. Joder."

She was babbling now, frightened I wouldn’t get her offer. As if I could think of anything else but having her. I could see the pale white skin of her swelling breasts tipped with sweet rose nipples, taut with terror. I felt them through my shirt as she writhed against me. She rubbed against my cock lasciviously, making her message clear in a language every man on the planet would understand instinctively. I’ll do anything you want. Just take me home with you. You won’t regret it, I swear.

She spoke with an unusual, light, lilting accent. Not an American. Or a Canadian. Not Australian, either. English, probably.

The men crowded round, laughing, catcalling and demanding to have their toy.

"C’mon, chismoso! Give her back!"

Yes, we had her first!

She figured it out; their message was a universal one, too. You want me! Her voice cracked desperately in my ear. Come on, take me to your place.

She kissed my neck, but I could feel tears. She was crying. I grabbed a chunk of her hair and pulled her head back. Wide spaced dark blue eyes, a small nose that would have been pretty if it weren’t dripping, and an oval face framed with shoulder length black hair. Although she was clearly terrified, she tried to smile. She had guts.

Frightened by my silence, she moved slightly, riding my rock hard cock that was threatening to tear out of my jeans, and setting her breasts jiggling right in front of my eyes.

I couldn’t help it: I dipped my head and licked a nipple. The girl gasped and pulled away, but as everyone around us roared in laughter and yelled obscene encouragement, she shuddered and deliberately leaned towards me, offering herself.

I can show you a good time, she whispered.

It was just too tempting. I sat back, holding her slightly away from me so I could see her body. The ripe, luscious hips and the sweetly dimpled thighs decided it.

I looked at Arturo. He was grinning like a bastard, and when I said, You mentioned a bonus... he burst out laughing again.

He’s pretty generous, Arturo. When we were kids, he was always the first to share his toys.

Chapter Two: Chloe

Iwas shit scared he’d throw me to the pack, so when he stood up and walked me round the side of the house, away from everyone else, my legs went all shaky. If he hadn’t been gripping my arms and holding me up, I would have fallen over.

He took me into a rose garden. I’m not kidding. It was full of pink, white and red flowers, and it smelled like a perfume shop. Sweet. Considering the fucking awful shitty situation, I think that’s pretty ironic, right?

There was a little pagoda in the centre. It had a pointy roof, just like the ones they have in Thailand. It was weird seeing one of those in Mexico, but at least it wasn’t a Mayan temple with a sacrificial slab.

When he shoved me inside, the sweet smell of cedar suddenly surrounded us. It took a minute for my eyes to adjust, but then I saw that although the outside was right, the inside was wrong. Instead of candles, incense and offerings, there was a little love seat in the centre.

I thought we’d be using that, but he just pushed me inside and stopped. He still hadn’t said a word, but when he reached to unbutton his jeans, I guessed he was taking me up on my offer.

You know, I really thought that part of my life was done and dusted. When He kicked me out and told me I was going to be a courier, I thought I’d never have to do anyone again. Ever.

There was that time when I sucked off Davy Jones Michael, a grifter who was doing me a massive favour, and those months I had to fuck my way out of prison in Battambang, an aptly named place, all things considered, but those were special cases.

In three years, I hadn’t been near a man. Not once, thank God.

It was a complete screwup because I should not even have been there. If the deal hadn’t been delayed for 24 hours, and if I had run into a regular dealer instead of that moron, I would have been safe and sound in a hotel, minding my own business.

But no! Everything that could have gone wrong had gone wrong, and so there I was, back on my knees again and pretending to be gagging for it when really I was just gagging.

It just wasn’t bloody fair. Still, better this than being tortured and killed.

People say I’m stupid, but I’m not. I knew I was in trouble, and I expected it to involve the abuse of my person. I didn’t like the idea, but I’d survive it. I have plenty of experience, and so I’d be all right. Eventually. Probably. Except for a couple of fresh scars. So when the boss man, the jefe, gave the order, I didn’t resist.

They had fun stripping me, and when they set me up on that freaky block of ice without fucking me, I figured that was only the first step of the game. It was simple to see they would let me half throttle myself over the course of the afternoon, and then they’d cut me down and have a nice gangbang. Well, nice for them; not for me.

But it slowly dawned on me that the situation was much worse than I thought. From the look of the jefe, who sat in the shade by the house, he expected to enjoy the game over and over again. That was bad enough, but then some of pack threw down cash, definitely betting on how long I’d survive. That’s when I realised nobody figured on my walking out of there.

That’s why I jumped. I didn’t think I’d escape, but I figured that taking the leap would break my neck. I’d be dead, but at least I’d ruin their game for them.

It’s a funny thing, but when I was sixteen, I dreamed of killing myself. Back then, I was too scared to do it. I also thought that there must be a time when life got better. This time it took me just a few minutes to decide. I’d knocked around the world too long to be optimistic anymore.

Life sucks, and if you can’t make lemonade, you take the leap and enjoy the thought of fucking up someone else’s plans. That first bit’s a proverb; the second bit of wisdom is all my own.

But my attempt to take an early exit gave me a shot at surviving the clusterfuck. I’d do him, persuade him that taking me home for a fuck fest would be even more fun, and then I’d work on him until I could get away. When he was asleep, maybe.

I had to make this good, so when he pushed me to my knees, I just closed my eyes and went for it. I expected that sour smell you get from unwashed cock, so when I tongued his balls, you could have knocked me over with a feather: the man smelled of peppermint!

I opened my eyes and realised he must have come straight from a shower, because he still had little splodges of talc on his thighs. It was an enormous relief. Now I could put in my best effort without throwing up or gagging.

When I licked his balls, lapping them slowly with my tongue, he groaned and put his hands in my hair. I’d forgotten how they all do that.

The last time I’d been on my knees, there were three of them. That was back in Battambang. They’d been rough, too hasty to even appreciate my slut act, and had yanked at my hair as they shoved themselves down my throat. This one just used me for balance. I guess he was going weak at the knees, just like I had earlier.

I sucked the base of his cock and then flicked my tongue into his crack. He gasped, and his fingers tightened. That move always goes down well. Get it? Goes down? It’s a pun. And a pretty good one too, considering the circumstances.

Anyway, seeing as he’d just washed, I made a big production out of it. I tongued his arsehole nice and slow, and then moved back to his balls, all the while making little noises in my throat to show him I was having a fantastic time.

I put on ‘Liebestod’ in my head – the one from ‘Tristan und Isolde’ – and moaned along to it. That was just my little joke. It means ‘love death’ and it’s the bit where Isolde is singing over Tristan’s dead body. I was implying that I’d love to be crooning over his corpse. Mafia goons aren’t usually into opera, except for the Reds, they love the stuff, so I reckoned I’d get away with it – and I did.

My act went over so well that he groaned. He was definitely enjoying himself. I licked his shaft, slurping and nibbling like it was a Cadbury Flake. Then I popped my mouth over the tip, licking up a drip of pre-cum before going down on him and taking in as much as I could. I sucked gently and then went back to laving his shaft. I’m a big tease, I am. It’s why the boys love me.

I was getting an eyeful of his tackle, but I’d been too afraid to have a good look at the rest of him. All I knew was that he was dark, with light eyes. Also, he had muscles like rocks. When I’d made my sales pitch, it was like cuddling the Incredible Hulk.

By the way he towered over me, he was over six feet tall. He was built in proportion, and with all the excitement his knob had swollen to the size of a house. From the way it rubbed against my face, it was dying to find a home in my throat.

I’m an obliging girl, so I opened my mouth and took him in again, making my best and sluttiest moaning noises. The tip of his knob bounced off the back of my throat, but there was a big bit still