There are still six men left, and I can feel the panic crawling off them. “Come out, with your hands raised and gun on the floor, or Ill start killing these bitches!” one of them shouts, his voice echoing. I sigh, roll my shoulders, and do as he says. I drop my gun on the floor and step out with my hands raised. The six men stand before the group of girls, keeping them safe from stray bullets. The knowledge that they’re only doing so to ensure the product isn’t damaged rather than giving a shit about hurting them burns hot in my chest. “Come on, the fun was just starting,” I croon, a smirk pulling my lips up. “Shut up!” the man spits. He’s a Mexican man with a shaved head, tattoos covering him from head to toe, and wearing clothes that look like they haven’t been washed in weeks. And look at that—quite the gnarly scar on his forehead. Goddamn. It looks like someone took a bread knife and just sawed at his head. This must be dear ol’ Fernando. Just who I was looking for. Fernando’s eyes are wide with fear and based on the crack pipes sitting on the table behind him, I’d say most of them are high off their rockers. Not so good. They get trigger-happy when they’re tripping on whatever substance they injected into their tired veins. And I got six of those happy fingers on triggers. “Who sent you?” Fernando shouts, emphasizing his question with a wave of his gun. “T sent myself,” I answer dryly. Why do they always think I’m working for someone else? I don’t work for anyone but myself. The man holds his gun above my head and shoots it off, attempting to scare me. See? Trigger happy. I don’t flinch. Instead, I take the time to look at my surroundings better. There’s a table to my left, littered with guns, ashtrays, empty beer cans, and another crack pipe. Perfect. “Don’t make me ask again, cabron,” the man says, his finger caressing the trigger. “You Fernando?” I ask, keeping my body as still as ice. The man’s brows jump in surprise, and I see the paranoia leaking into his eyes from here. He’s not going to be much help like I had hoped. He’s buzzing too hard. “How you know that, huh? You following me?”