Title: WHEELS UP: A NOVEL OF DRUGS, CARTELS, AND
SURVIVAL
Author: Jeanine Kitchel
Publisher: Independent
Pages: 294
Genre: Thriller
Layla always wanted to run the family business. But is she willing to kill for it?
When her notorious drug lord uncle is recaptured, Layla Navarro
catapults to the top of Mexico’s most powerful cartel. Groomed as his
successor, Layla knows where the bodies are buried. But not all the
enemies. She strikes her first deal to prove her mettle by accepting an
offer to move two tons of cocaine from Colombia to Cancun by jet. Things
go sideways during a stopover in Guatemala whe Layla unexpectedly
uncovers a human trafficking ring. Plagued by self-doubt, she must fight
off gangsters, outsmart corrupt officials, and navigate the minefield
of Mexican machismo. Even worse, she realizes she’s become a target for
every rival cartel seeking to undermine her new standing. From her lush
base in the tropics, she’s determined to retain her dominant position in
Mexico’s criminal world. If she can stay alive.
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Chapter 1
Yucatan Peninsula, Mexico
Present Day
If they weren’t running on empty and destined to crash, it might have looked
lush to her, even beautiful. Without fuel, the engines starved into silence, she heard only the whooshing sound of the aluminum plane as it cruised over mangrove swamps and fast-approaching mahogany trees. All thoughts of her hasty departure from Guatemala to escape Don Guillermo’s wrath had vanished along with any hopes of safely landing in Cancun. They were going down. Layla gripped the armrests, dropped her head between her knees, and prepared for the worst.
associate arrives soon. We need privacy. Close the restaurant,” she ordered.
“Your manager knows.” He nodded, pocketed the bill, and turned towards the kitchen. Layla walked across the worn wooden floor to a corner table in the back. She took a deep breath to steady herself before sitting down. Things would escalate into a full-scale argument once Carlos reached the table. She could already hear him scolding, “Bosses keep to themselves, especially in public.” When Carlos had a bad day, everyone had a bad day. He could easily vie for title of most miserable man on the planet. Too bad the sex was so good. Hijole! He had the body of a male model but two sizes larger, with café au lait skin. So handsome, but so disagreeable. Granted she shouldn’t have given that gringo the time of day, but tequila made her bold. Layla
opened the menu, waiting for her bodyguard’s interrogation to begin. Carlos
banged a cheap wooden chair against the table before sitting down. “What the
hell do you care about Chicago? It’s not Madrid, not even Barcelona! That guy was boring! Are you so starved for conversation you have to talk to a gringo?”
business, even your uncle. But I didn’t listen. I thought it would be that one
drunken one night stand, and now I’m fucking chained to you because of this
goddamn job!” His powerful hands clenched into fists as he rubbed them over his knees. “If only I could’ve left you in Guadalajara. But I’d have never made it out of the city before taking a bullet from your uncle.” That was accurate: You didn’t quit the cartel, the cartel quit you. She looked at the menu, avoiding eye contact, glad the waiter hadn’t yet returned. “Should we order?” He glared
at her. “Are you acting like this conversation isn’t happening? Do you want me
to walk out of here, meeting or no meeting?” Best not to test him. He’d do it, and then she’d be without a bodyguard. The drone of his voice, the bullying, started to sink in. Chinga! She had no trouble working the cartel mob, but Carlos ran her. He was as overbearing as her two brothers. Reynoldo who should have been running the cartel had died trying, and Martín, her other brother, wasn’t up to the task. Now with one brother and two cousins dead, Layla found herself atop the Culiacan Cartel. She looked up and said in as soothing a tone as possible, “Carlos, let’s not fight, okay? We’re here for business. I need you with me. You’re not only the man who protects me. I love you.” She did love him, though his bad attitude and barking complaints—usually aimed at her—were tiresome. He shifted his perfectly-proportioned body forward, staring at her with eyes she’d been lost in a hundred times. He surprised her by grabbing her hand, a little harder than necessary. They never touched in public. “After this meeting, we’ll talk about you and me.” He scowled. “I don’t know why you drink so much—and with strangers.”
backpedaled. “Carlos…” He gave her a cold look but couldn’t hold back his opinion. “Routes for coke or pot.” The meal went smoothly. Layla pushed an enchilada around her plate and watched Carlos demolish an order of chilaquiles, three tamales, and a couple chicken enchiladas. As he piled it in, a rare calm settled over him. He was well into his second beer when Clay walked into the restaurant. Layla saw him first, but Carlos looked up the moment Clay crossed the threshold. As a bodyguard, Carlos’s instincts were flawless.
rose from the booth. “A pleasure.” He spoke in Spanish. “I’ll be close by,” he
said to Layla. “Have a seat.” Layla slid over to allow room for Clay. Not much had changed about the northern grower since she last saw him—still that laidback air even though he controlled the lion’s share of Canada’s pot sales.
are fine, but flying’s faster and we can carry more. Plus I’m dealing directly
with FARC. Gotta hand it to ’em. For a guerrilla army in the Colombian jungle,
they know how to run those cocaine fincas. And we can get better prices from
them than anyone’s gotten before.” He took a swig of beer. “Interesting,” she said without emotion. “How will you manage those good prices?” “A combined order with you.” He paused and waited for her reaction. She said nothing. “The
airport manager’s on board,” he said, “Already allowed some of my flights
through.” She leaned back against the worn naugahyde booth, settling into the game of cat and mouse. “What kind of planes?” “A Gulfstream and a DC-9.”
gave him a cool smile. “If I didn’t know better I’d think you were spying on
me.” “Layla,” Clay said with a chuckle. “I’m just trying to keep up with you.”
night while Layla closed her eyes and imagined the impact of bringing in new
business on her own. In a four hundred billion dollar global industry, she
could begin to stake out her territory. “By working with us, FARC will see Clay as a real player,” she confided to Carlos. “Basta! Always business!” Carlos said, still in a huff. Layla composed herself before responding. “Yes, it is. Business that allows you to drive a new Escalade, wear expensive suits and five thousand peso boots, and drink Don Julio and Dom Perignon. Let me remind you: My uncle’s in prison and he’s left me in charge. Get used to it!” She leaned against the window, pulling as far away from Carlos as possible. Always fighting. She turned her attention to the darkness outside. It was a lonely two-lane road, not used much even in the daytime. Though she couldn’t make out the mountains that surrounded them she knew they were there. They rode in silence, absorbed in separate thoughts. Carlos concentrated on dodging potholes. Layla contemplated moving powder with Clay. The rules were changing and in this game they all had to stay ahead of the curve. She was anxious to run the idea by El Patrón. But they had a long drive ahead.
journalist, escaped her hectic nine-to-five life in San
Francisco, bought land, and built a house in a fishing
village on the Mexican Caribbean coast. Shortly after settling in she opened a
bookstore. By this time she had become a serious Mayaphile and her love of the
Maya culture led her and her husband to nearby pyramid sites throughout
southern Mexico
and farther away to sites in Central America. In the
bookstore she entertained a steady stream of customers with their own Maya
tales to tell—from archeologists and explorers to tour guides and local
experts. At the request of a publisher friend, she began writing travel
articles about her adopted homeland for websites and newspapers. Her travel
memoir, Where the Sky is Born: Living in the Land of the Maya, and Maya
2012 Revealed: Demystifying the Prophecy, are available on Amazon. She has
since branched into writing fiction and her debut novel, Wheels
Up—A Novel of Drugs, Cartels and Survival, launched May 2018.
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I read something similar to this recently. It was very good, but the gal didn’t survive. I was okay with that since she was a cold blooded killer.
Have a fabulous day and weekend, Jody. Big hugs and tons of love. ♥