Read Gringa - in the Clutches of a Ruthless Drug Lord - 2 for Free Online

that he doesn’t want me hurt, gives me a different perspective on things and I overlook a lot of his bad behavior.
    Concerned about scars on my back, I’m swimming again in the rock pool, hoping the salt water will aid healing. Maybe even reduce the scarring. I swim every day from 2 to 3 PM.
    Maria and Rosa assist by applying some foul smelling potion daily - supposed to help minimize the scars.
     
    *
     
    There is great excitement at the entrance of the ranch. Men scurrying off to the entrance, gardeners throwing down the pruning shears or whatever they use, and hurrying towards the entrance. Maria, Rosa and I follow them to see what the commotion is all about.
    We spy three sexy senoritas, dressed in the shortest of shorts and skimpy halter tops talking to the men. The men stare with pie holes agape as the Senoritas explain that they are lost.
    ‘Helpless females,’ I sneer.
    ‘ Putas ,’ Maria says.
    ‘Prostitutes,’ Rosa adds.
    I shake my head at the sight of the men fighting each other to help out the Senoritas. Some of the men invite them in for refreshments and the senoritas accept. The men shove each other out of the way to get a better glimpse of their assets. Or, calling a spade a spade – of their tits and asses.
    ‘Well, I’m off to the rock-pool,’ I say. Of course, nobody pays any attention to me and my cheerful goodbye.
    The ladies wave me off and continue their disparaging remarks about the sexy ladies.
    The water is lovely and as I float on my back in the pool, I think about Christa – she’s left her mark on me for life. I really despise her. She’s evil and she gave birth to evil.
    Suddenly, to my absolute horror, men, at least fifteen of them, point guns at me, shattering the stillness of the day with their screams. ‘FBI! Put your hands up!’ they chorus, moving towards me, flashing badges and an assortment of firearms.
    American accents!
    For a moment, I freeze, unable to comprehend any of this. What the hell have I done now?
    I have a few unpaid parking tickets in Los Angeles that I’ve been meaning to take care of.
    A female agent inches closer weapon in hand. ‘C’mon on out, ma’am,’ she coaches. She has a profound Southern accent.
    Relieved that they’re American, I relax a little and reach down to adjust my bikini bottom. They go nuts. ‘Keep your hands were we can see them!’
    Fuck! All I want to do is adjust my bikini so that I don’t walk towards a village full of men with half my ass showing.
    ‘Okay! Okay!’ I cry. ‘I’m coming out. Jeez!’
    Terrified, I hold up my hands and wade out of the water, feeling terribly self-conscious that I’m so scantily clad in front of so many men. Worse, my scars are so visible - I must look like a red and white zebra from the back. Even worse, I’m topless!
    ‘Can I at least get my bra and towel?’
    I have never had – let’s count – one, two, three ... thirteen! Thirteen guns pointing at me before and I’m scared. Whatever crime I committed must have been really heinous if they’re sending thirteen FBI agents with amazing larynxes after me.
    The female agent brings me both.
    ‘Thank you,’ I say and drape the towel around me.
    ‘What ... what’s this all about?’ I finally ask, squeezing water out of my hair. ‘I’m an American citizen ...’
    One of the men steps forwards and introduces himself. ‘I’m Special Agent Blake Depp,’ he drawls.
    Depp’s tall, lanky, with sandy colored hair and cobalt-blue peepers. His voice is gentle and apologetic.
    Maybe they’ve heard about me being taken prisoner by Diablo, and maybe they’re here to rescue me from him. Hope ignites in me.
    ‘We need to talk to you about Diablo.’
    ‘Ah. Diablo … he took me ... eh ... like, I didn’t want to come here ...’
    Depp nods. ‘We’re aware of your situation, Payton. Your father filled us in. Diablo, well, he’s facing a number of charges, including murder. Two policemen and intelligence tells us that he’s