GRINGA Read Online Free PDF Page A

to get ripped to shreds, gringa, ’ one of his men says .
                  Oh, I believe him. I really do. 
                  I look past Diablo and see my family ’ s horrified faces. E laine’s hands are across her mouth, while my dad gapes with hands on top of his head. As for Austin - he looks the colour of fresh cement, while Paris chews furiously on her talons, her shoulders locked into a hunch.  
                      From the corner of my eye I see Carvil, a village elder get on his knees and place his forehead to the ground, probably to pray for my soul that is heading for hell anytime now.
                  To my absolute astonishment, Diablo slowly lowers his gun, his eyes fixed on mine.
                  The older woman   Christa, who must be his mother, steps forward and shoves her gun in my cheek.  
                  That hurts. Did she not see me slap him?
                  ‘ I am going to turn you into a tea strainer,’ she says, a sinister smile on her face.
                  They have tea strainers in Mexico ?
                  Dia blo snaps at her in Spanish . R eluctantly she lowers her gun, her eyes hard and blazing.
                  ‘ L et me shoot her, Diablo ,’ she says. ‘Please. ’
                  ‘ Si , shoot the gringa, Diablo,’ the younger woman says. This must be the slutty sister, Santana . Slowly, she circles me and taps her riding crop on her palm. Her eyes are narrow, her nostrils flaring. ‘She got no respect.’  
                    Diablo shoves me away and steps back . A murmur r ipples through the crowd. Diablo’s behaviour seems to be confusing them. It confuses me more. He stares at me as if this is the first time he’s seeing me.    
                  Carvil is still on the floor, ear to the ground, probably waiting for the sound of gunshots. When nothing happens, he hops to his feet and looks questioningly at Diablo, as if to say: ‘What you waiting for?’
                  Don’t really blame Carvil . Who wants a family of vengeful cannibals lurking around Siempre because of some insolent gringa?
                    To everyone’s surprise, Diablo slowly backs away, his eyes still fixed on my face.
                  What does this mean? Am I out of danger? Does he plan to return with renewed vigour and rip me apart like his mother promised to?
                  Christa steps forward and smiles at me. A wave of relief washes over me . At least she’s no longer mad at me. Maybe I’m out of danger after all.
                  Anyway, s he looks far too young to be the Demon’s mother. If I have to guess, I’d say she’s 40ish, stylish, attra ctive. H er jet -black hair is s licked into a low chignon. Her skin is olive and smooth , her face caked with foundation. Her scarlet lips are full and pouting, her eyes, hard and black. T ight-fitting sweater with low - slung jeans tucked into brown, mid-calf boots. Large silver hoops dangle from her ears each time she moves.
                  Still smiling, she removes a large atomiser from her saddle bag and sprays me. Great – she’s sharing her favourite fragrance with me – maybe it’s her way of apologising. I exhale and suddenly I’m feeling really hopeful. 
                  She turns around and spray s everyone around her. The villagers smile and exchange see-we-were-worrying-for-nothing looks.
                  Laughing, Christa runs through the crowd and sprays everyone in sight. Really, she is so damn generous with her … Channel No 5 ? Well, it has to be something expensive. After all, she is a drug dealer - she must have dough.
                  I sniff the fragrance on my clothes and frown. Strange, it smells really familiar and not at all like Channel No 5 or any