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The girl got to her feet, yelling in Spanish, “Stop hurting him! Don’t shoot him again!” Then she ran toward the Mexican, her fists clenched.

The Mexican was laughing at Squires, taunting him. He was motioning with his hand for the giant to keep coming. With every step, though, the Mexican took a step backward, staying just out of the giant’s reach.

Behind Tula, the redheaded woman was enjoying herself, calling, “V-man… Hey, Vic! Try to shoot him in the balls. See what kind of marksman you are!”

The rifle the man carried, Tula noticed, had two barrels. So maybe the rifle was a shotgun, although Tula wasn’t sure of the difference. Was the V-man carrying the gun in the crook of his arm because both barrels had been fired with one shot?

If so, Tula believed the giant might survive because his spirit was still strong despite the blood that now soaked his pretty blue shirt. The girl could tell because Squires was saying to the Mexican, “Is that your best shot, chilie? That the best you can do, douche bag?” his voice flinching with pain at each step but his eyes aflame, focused on the V-man.

Suddenly, it was as if the Mexican was done having fun, because he took two fast steps backward. Then he pointed the shotgun at Squires’s pelvis, saying, “I want to do this slow, jelly boy. Maybe shoot off your penga, that’ll make you smile for the camera. Then I’ll use the knife.”

Still grinning, the V-man looked toward the redhead as if seeking her approval… but then his expression changed. His attention shifted to Tula, who, still running and only a few strides away, screamed, “No-o-o-o!” a word that she had transformed into a sustained shriek.

The resonance of a young girl’s scream is fine-tuned by eons of adaptation to repel attackers, particularly human males. The V-man winced, his ears aching, and his awareness of Harris Squires was momentarily jammed. Then he had to stick a hand out to stop Tula, who crashed into his thigh, her fingernails flailing, as she tried to sink her teeth into the man’s arm.

Victorino’s Latin King soldiers had been pillaging the RV. But two of them were now sprinting to help as the V-man hollered, “Ouch, goddamn you!” Then: “Get this little bitch off me!”

Victorino swung his open hand at the girl’s face but missed. “Damn brat!” he hissed, then swung again and connected hard. Tula went sprawling, her nose bloody.

An instant later, the V-man’s attention returned to Squires, who was suddenly towering over him, his right fist drawn back. Victorino noticed just in time to roll his face away from the sledgehammer impact, a glancing blow that would have crushed his face. Instead, Victorino backpedaled several steps, still holding the shotgun, then went down hard on his butt.

Squires kept coming, the grin on his face grotesque because of the blood. But then the giant wasn’t grinning anymore because the V-man’s soldiers, Chapo and Zopilote, tackled him from behind.

Chapo had a small crowbar in his hand-he’d probably been looking for a secret stash inside the RV. And he began hammering at Squires’s back and butt with the bar to immobilize the man.

Victorino was dazed but still coherent enough to yell to Chapo, “Cripple him, but don’t kill him! Leave him for me!”

Then, standing, testing his balance, Victorino had to yell again, warning Chapo, “Watch out for the little cougar!” because the girl had a rock in her hand and was sprinting to help Squires.

Frankie intercepted the girl, though. She did it on the run, even with a drink in her hand, sweeping the skinny child up with her muscles, then swinging her around as if playing a game.

The redhead was still in a playful mood, the V-man could see it, which provided him an optimistic boost. So far, tonight hadn’t been nearly as much fun as he’d hoped. On the drive to the hunting camp, he’d pictured how it would go in his mind, first impressing the redhead by killing Squires with a flourish, then the two of them getting it on in front of the camera, being real sexy-dirty with the cute little chula.

But this chula was a street cat, not a whimpering child like most. And jelly boy had proven he had balls after all, almost humiliating him in front of Frankie.

Shit -Victorino was looking at his wrist where the girl had bitten him to the bone-the puta would have to pay for this. He’d make an example of her. Not kill her-a girl her age was too valuable-but maybe tie her up and use a razor like the Muslims did. Cut her body so she’d never be able to enjoy a man even when she was old and not getting paid for it.

Yeah, get it on camera. Victorino was wiping blood on his jeans as he pictured how it would go. Give the redhead a private warning by letting her watch him use the box cutter on the girl, then show the video to new chulas when they arrived in Florida desperate enough to do anything for money.

Tell the new girls: See what happens when you disobey the V-man?

But that would come later. After he and the redhead had enjoyed themselves a little, just as planned.

It would happen.

Victorino felt his confidence returning as he watched Frankie touch her fingernails to the little virgin’s throat and whisper something into the girl’s ear.

The chula had been screaming but instantly stopped, her face paling as if she was about to be sick.

It caused Frankie to beam at the V-man and brag, “You’re an idiot when it comes to girls, know that? To make a spoiled brat behave, you have to understand it’s all an act. Screaming, not putting out, whatever. It’s because they want something. Figure out what it is, then threaten to take it away. That’s how you handle a puta. Just about any girl, if she’s cute at all. They’re all the same.”

Frankie laughed into the chula ’s face, adding, “Aren’t you, darling? Aren’t you?” Then looked at Victorino, smiling. “I think the two of us are gonna get along just fine. You ready to have some fun?”

Spooky, the V-man decided, the way the redhead said that. They’re all the same. But kind of sexy, too, like Frankie was different from other women.

And maybe she was. But the bitch was already insulting him in front of his soldiers, calling him an idiot in her superior way. Which had to stop.

Victorino watched Frankie brush the girl’s hair back very gently as if playing with a doll, then he turned his head and told Chapo and Zopilote in Spanish, “Tie up jelly boy, we’ll deal with him later. Then search his truck. The tall gringa and me want some privacy for maybe an hour, with the girl. Find the money wherever jelly boy hid it. Then get the gas cans out, soak everything so the whole fucking place goes up when we’re ready. Afterward, I’ll give you the redhead as a present.”

In reply to their surprised expressions, he added, “ Seriously. Have yourselves some fun with those big chichis of hers tonight because tomorrow, maybe next day at the latest, I’m cutting them off.”

What Frankie whispered into Tula’s ear was, “Listen, you spoiled little bitch. If Harris dies tonight, it’s your fault. So shut your mouth… or God’s gonna blame you for killing your new sweetheart.”

It shocked Tula that a woman with eyes as black with fog as Frankie’s could speak of God in such a knowing, confident way. And also that the woman was able to look into Tula’s heart and recognize the sudden affection she felt for Squires.

Never in her life had a man done so much to protect her. Not since her father had died. The giant had not only tried to save Tula, he had continued to fight for her safety even after having been shot, then beaten. It squeezed the girl’s heart now, seeing him lying on the ground, bleeding and humiliated, after risking so much to help her. She wondered how many bullets were in his body and if he was dying.

He is our warrior, the Maiden said into Tula’s mind when she stopped struggling against the tall woman’s muscles. He is our knight. You must do whatever you can to help him.

As if reading Tula’s thoughts, the redhead surprised the girl again by saying, “Harris is kind of cute, isn’t he? Like a big stupid animal who’s eager to please. Trust me”-the woman laughed into the girl’s face, her breath foul with smoke and alcohol-“I know exactly what you’re thinking.”