GRINGA (74 page)

             
He
reaches into the Jeep
,
yanks
out
Rocky
who is still moaning
and
throws
him
on
the ground.
Rocky lies in foetal position, blood oozing from a shoulder wound.

             
Troy
grabs
Digger
and jerks him out
off
the Jeep
too
.

             
Digger gets on his knees. ‘Please ….please …’
he begs.

             
Troy
pokes his head into the
Jeep and
gives me a questioning look.

             
I nod vigorously.

             
He reaches over and yanks the duct tape
off
my mouth.

             
‘Ouch!’ My eyes fill with water.

             
He removes a knife
from his belt
and hacks at my
ropes
.

             
I
scramble
out of the Jeep and look at Diago.

             
He looks at me and motions his head towards his Jeep.
He’s eyes are shining and
glazed – the way
he
looked when
he first tried to kill me.
             
He appears to be in killer mode and I’m
afraid of him right now
.
 

             
Without a word, I hurry over
to Diablo’s Jeep
.
I
crawl
in
side
and try not to think about what is taking place outside. But curious and unable to look away, I peer into the dark.

             
I watch
Diago
step
behind Digger, yank back his head and slit his throat with his knife.

             
I stuff my fist into my mouth
to muffle my scream
.
Oh God! How could he do that? Diago is an animal. I hold my knees and start to rock. ‘Oh God! Oh God!’

             
But I feel compelled to look out the window again and I do. I see
Troy
holding Rocky’s head with one hand and a knife in the other. Rocky’s head lolls.
Troy
releases Rocky who falls to the ground. He stares at Rocky’s lifeless body for a moment then wipes his knife on the grass.

             
I sink back into the Jeep and continue rocking. I need water. I need air. I need to go home. Back to LA. Now!
             

             
The door to my Jeep open
s
and
I jump. It’s
Ricky, one of Diago’s men
. He
hops into the driver’s seat.
As he adjusts the rear view mirror, our eyes meet. ‘Nobody crosses Diablo,’ he says in a threatening voice.  

             
I think of the FBI and I quickly look away. Will this be my fate if I’m discovered?

             
‘I drive you home now,’ he says and steps on the gas pedal.

             
As we
pass Diago and
Troy
,
Diago looks up
at me.
I quickly avert my eyes –
I just can’t stand to
look at him right now.  

             
The ranch is silent so I assume that most of the men are unaware of all the drama outside the ranch. 

             
I race into the shower and wash away all the blood that’s caking on me. Then I get out of the shower, lightly dry myself and crawl into bed with my towel. It’s too much effort to dress. I just want to sleep, to be rid of this violent night.

             
Naturally, sleep evades me so
I
hop
out of bed and pac
e
.
After a while I get one of Diago’s cigarettes and light up. I sit on our balcony and take deep drags, burning my lungs in the process.

             
Before it’s finished, I lig
ht up another one, even though I’m
feeling lightheaded.

             
The old Diago, who I haven’t seen for a while has resurfaced tonight.
He still lives on.

             
As for
Troy
– I underestimated him. He
’s
equally ruthless to kill
so casually.
I could never look at him the same way again.

             
As
I’m
smoking, Diago drives up
and
looks at me
. I look away. 

             
He walks up to me, removes the lit cigarette from my hand, my fourth
,
throws it on the floor
and
crushes it with his
boot
.

             
I stare silently at him
, feeling repulsed by him.
He silently reaches for my hand. I yank it away. He stares at me and frowns. I hold his gaze.

             
He grabs my arm and roughly jerks me to our bed.  

             
We lie silently in the dark with an unusual amount of bed space between us tonight.

             
After about an hour, I turn and look at Diago and see only the whites of his eyes.

             
We stare at each other for a moment.

             
‘You’re a barbarian,’ I whisper, ‘a fucking rabid dog. You’re a …’
 

             
He
reaches over and grabs my throat with one hand. He points his finger at me and says, ‘You cross me, you die.’  

             
I lash out with my foot and catch him on the shin. I don’t know why I did that. I don’t know why I’m so mad at him. Maybe I’m really mad at myself for causing so much trouble. It just seems to follow me.

             
He stares at me in surprise then rips of my towel and climbs on top of me.

             
‘I kill for you,’ he says. ‘Anyone else do that for you?’

             
I don’t answer.

             
He nudges my thighs apart his knees.

             
And suddenly, I find myself tugging wildly at his shorts. I can hardly believe how turned on I am right now. Gone is my revulsion and disgust for him. I slam back and raise my naked hips for thrust.

             
There is no lovemaking, it’s just plain fucking. Rampant, loud, unrestrained and I shudder before him, faster than I ever did in my life.   

             
Strange and conflicting behaviour on my part. Sick, even perverted.

             
Could I be morphing into one of them?

*
             
*
             
*

It’s two months since the killing of Christa’s sons and life is slowly returning to normal. A better kind of normal though because now that
Christa and her family are out of the picture, I see
a marked change in Diago. He
’s cheerful and communicative. No longer is he that dark, foreboding presence that sends everyone scurrying the moment they see him.

             
I believe that Christa and her sons kept the beast in him alive. Now that they
are
dead, the beast is sleeping and I hope
to … well, let’s just hope it
stays
that way
.
However, I haven’t forgotten what a ruthless killer he can be. 

             
As for me, I change my mind-channels every time I think of the killings and the FBI. They’re really quiet so I am more than happy to let them be.

             
‘I wanna have a fair in
Siempre
,’ I say one evening during dinner.

             
‘
A “
fair
”
?’ 

             
‘
Yeah. L
ike
,
a huge party and everyone attends – all the villagers, the young ladies ...’

             
‘“Young ladies”?’ Ricky says, his fork suspended in mid air. Yes, they’re using forks these days.

             
I smile.
‘But you
will
pay for it, Diago. There’ll be music and
… and
dancing
…
and prizes and all your men will attend
. There’ll be no
flame-throwing
though. Your men will
be there, having fun and getting to know the villagers.
Mingling.
’

             
Eyebrows dart up around the table.
“‘Mingling?”’

             
Diago
just
shrugs
.

             
‘Everyone will shave and wear nice clothes.’

             
Diago snorts.
“‘Mingling”’.

             
I turn to look at him, ‘I’ve never danced with you before, so we’ll slow dance
,
cheek-to-cheek.’