Cartel KIllers

Copyright © 2023 Peter Ralph This is a work of fiction. Characters, corporations, institutions and organisations in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously without any intent to describe their actual content. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions By payment of required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this book. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented without the express written permission of copyright owner. 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Cover design, typesetting and layout by WorkingType Design CONTENTS Book 1 Debbie Houghton Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Book 2 Rio Rancho Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Book 3 Murder Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Please Review Free Download Josh Kennelly Gripping Crime Thrillers Other Crime Thrillers By Peter Ralph BOOK 1 DEBBIE HOUGHTON CHAPTER 1 I WAS ON MY way home from Madison Square Garden after watching my young Cuban friend Noslen Garcia win the world lightweight title. I was walking at a brisk pace when my cell phone rang. Without looking at the screen, I said, “I’m on my way, honey. I’ll be with you in twenty minutes.” There was a pause, and a female voice said, “I’m not your honey.” “Oops, I’m sorry. Who is this?” “You don’t know me. My husband was in Afghanistan, and when he returned, he was a wreck. He’s fallen in with a bad crowd, and I’m afraid for him. A friend told me you have a problem-solving business that helps vets.” “Did have.” “You don’t help those in trouble anymore?” I swallowed. That was the last thing I wanted to hear. “I’m a bartender,” I said. “I have no one else I can turn to. Will you at least listen to me?” “Okay. Why don’t you start by letting me know your name?” “Debbie Houghton.” “Where are you from, Debbie?” “Rio Rancho.” “New Mexico?” I asked, breathing a sigh of relief. I knew roughly where it was; even on a private jet, it was too far. “Yes. It’s seventeen miles from Albuquerque.” “Halfway across the world.” She paused for a moment. “Your website says you’ll travel anywhere.” I silently cursed. I’d asked Georgie to take down the website, but she must have forgotten. I wondered if it was an intentional oversight. “I closed the business,” I said. “The website shouldn’t still be on the net. I’ll have it removed.” “You don’t help those in trouble anymore?” she asked again. “Why don’t you tell me about the crowd your husband’s got involved with and why you’re worried? I mightn’t be able to help, but perhaps I’ll know someone who can.” I thought I heard a sniffle before she said, “Josh, I was married to the best husband and father a woman could ever hope for. We have two daughters, Abigail and Emma, and they love Matthew to bits, or at least they did. Now they barely see him. He’s still asleep when they go to school and stays out drinking late into the night. He takes little interest in how they’re doing at school. I can remember when he helped with their homework and played with them. Last month he bought a Dodge Charger on credit when we were already deep in debt. I think that damn car is all he cares about now. He–he’s–” I heard distinct sobbing and said, “Take your time, Debbie. There’s no rush. Tell me what happened when Matt returned from Afghanistan.” “I’m sorry. He did two tours and came home virtually unscathed. What he saw and endured in Afghanistan seemed to have little impact. Some of his friends suffered horrendously from PTSD, but he was the same doting husband and father he’d always been. When he returned from his second tour, we discussed the future and whether he’d stay in the army. He was keen to move to Texas and take up a training role at Fort Hood. I was relieved he wouldn’t be putting his life on the line anymore, and the girls were looking forward to getting their dad back. He was back about three months when the brass asked him to do one more tour. Without discussing it with me, he agreed to go. Matthew said he felt he owed it to the country and the army, so he signed on for a third tour. I told him I didn’t want him to go, and we had a terrible argument. Two weeks later, he was gone. As he hugged the kids and kissed me goodbye, he said, ‘Don’t worry, honey. You know how lucky I am. I’ll be back before you know it, and the brass has guaranteed me a training position at Fort Hood. We’re going to grow old together.’ After six months, he called to say he was coming home early, and I thought, yes, he is lucky, and so are