“That’s not going to happen, but I can tell by the look in your eyes that maybe you did see my friends after all. So, we can do this a couple of ways.”

“Yeah?” Rodrigo shifted his weight.

“Yeah. Option one, the sensible one: you tell me what you know and I give you this fistful of dollars. Option two, the one I don’t recommend: you and your glee club try to roll me for the money and all end up breathing through tubes for two weeks.”

Rodrigo flicked his fingers as if strumming an invisible guitar and the six other men stood up in unison. “I like you, you’ve got cojones. But you are one against seven and you are not carrying a pistola.”

“Let me enlighten you, while you’re still able to speak. Three of your seven are looking as nervous as turkeys at Christmas, so you can’t rely on them.”

The six men shuffled closer.

“Balls but no brains,” said Rodrigo. Two of his men laughed at his joke.

“Let me finish option two. You and your boys get to take a trip to the local emergency room but not before I break your wrists and ankles. Believe me when I say that you will tell me what you know about those kids, one way or the other.”

Rodrigo faltered. He paused, his eyes flitting between Danny and the closest of his gang. A switchblade snicked open. Another man brandished a hunting knife with a saw-back blade.

Rodrigo spoke again. “Put the money on the bar and get the hell out of here while you can. You piss me off and we’ll skin you alive and bury you out in the big green.”

“I hope your boys can use those blades, because I’m going to take them away and stick them in some very sensitive spots.” A humourless smile crept across Danny’s face. “Just remember I tried to be nice but you wanted to do the tough guy dance.”

As the six men moved towards their target, something akin to a force of nature exploded through the door with a roar so bestial it froze the gang in their tracks.

“KILL ’EM ALL!”

14

Carlos Larriva had watched the interchange between the lost gringo and Rodrigo with mild curiosity. He’d felt the tension shift in the room as Rodrigo gave them the signal, his fingers making that familiar strumming action. Carlos had left his knife in the glovebox of his truck, but he’d stood up all the same.

But a bare-chested giant of a man had burst through the flimsy door of the bar, tearing it free from its hinges. The cords on the giant’s neck stood out as he roared with berserker fury. “KILL ’EM ALL!”

The gringo at the bar kicked out sideways, catching Rodrigo full in the chest. As he landed he curled into a tight ball on the floor, wheezing for breath.

Then the giant was among them.

Diego screamed as the marauder grabbed him by the arm and the testicles. His switchblade clattered to the floor, forgotten like a child’s discarded toy, as he was picked up and his body slammed into the wall next to the ruined door. The whole bar shook from the impact.

Carlos watched in disbelief as the gringo at the bar brought his left foot up in a motion so fast it was a blur. The knife that had been in Mateo’s hand a second earlier spun end over end and bounced off the wall at the far side of the bar. The gringo’s right foot whipped across Mateo’s face, spreading his nose into a shape it was never meant to be. Another kick snapped between his legs. Mateo folded at the waist and pitched head first onto the floor.

Three men down in as many seconds.

Santiago, his face red with fury, picked up a chair and swung it at the giant’s head. The big man ducked low and rammed a fist hard into Santiago’s stomach. The chair catapulted from his grasp as a second punch ripped up from below, catching him under the chin. The sound of breaking teeth was unmistakable.