Paula turned back, her eyes pleading with him. "Don't, Daddy. Don't do it. He isn't worth it."
Elliott put his finger to his lips and motioned for her to get moving. He watched until they went around the corner, then he went to the end of the hall and pushed open the door Paula had said was Pico's. The shades were drawn, making the room darker than the hall, but Elliott recognized the piece of shit that could walk and talk like a man. He moved silently and cautiously to the bed, seeing that Pico was not alone. The form beside him was that of a girl so young she had only the beginnings of breasts and a fine down covering her pubic mound. Both were asleep.
Moving to the girl, wanting to get her out of the room, he put his hand over her mouth and shook her. She looked more Indian than anything else, though she was probably part Negro, judging from the color of her skin and her kinky hair. Her eyelids shot up, her large eyes staring up fearfully at him. He put his finger to his lips. The fear in the girl's eyes lessened. Still holding his hand over her mouth, Elliott helped her from the bed and led her into the hall.
"You won't yell, will you?" he asked, praying the girl could understand English. She shook her head. He removed his hand, holding his breath. When she didn't make a sound, he asked, "Do you want to get out of here?"
She nodded.
"Go down to the main room," he whispered. "Wait for me there."
She nodded again, smiling broadly as she went quietly but swiftly down the hall and around the corner.
Getting out the switchblade, Elliott tiptoed back into the room. Pico hadn't moved once, nor did he stir when Elliott bent over him. He put his hand over the sleeping man's mouth, holding the switchblade close to his ear as he snapped it open. Pico stirred then, his body squirming as his eyes jerked open to gawk disbelievingly at Elliott's threatening face. But he said nothing and didn't try to pull away, for Elliott had the point of the knife pressed – businesslike – into the hollow of his throat.
"One sound and you're dead!" Elliott hissed.
Pico groaned softly, his body going limp as his eyes grew large with fear.
"Do you know who I am?"
Pico shook his head as best he could with the point of the knife gouging at his throat.
"I'm Elliott Strickland. You abducted me along with my wife and daughter in Juarez more than a year ago."
Elliott felt sick as he saw stark fear filling Pico's eyes. He pulled the knife point away, bringing the cutting edge of the long, wicked blade into position at the front of Pico's gulping throat. But he couldn't do it. It was cold-blooded murder, and no matter how much Pico deserved to die, Elliott couldn't bring himself to slit the worthless throat. He held the blade tightly against his moist skin, reaching down to the floor and picking up Pico's discarded shorts.
"I don't want to kill you. Do as I say, and I'll turn you over to the police. But I will kill you if I have to. If you make one sound or resist me in any way, I'll cut your evil heart out! Do you understand?"
Pico nodded, closing his eyes.
"Open your mouth wide," Elliott ordered.
When Pico did, he stuffed the soiled shorts in to prevent him from calling out.
He grabbed his wrist and twisted his arm, forcing Pico out of bed with the pain he caused him, jerking his arm behind his back and shoving him from the room and down the hall.
The pubescent girl was sitting at the bar, waiting patiently when Elliott came into the main room pushing Pico along in front of him.
"Keel heem!" the girl shouted. "Keel heem!"
"Be quiet!"
"No! Pico mus' die! Keel heem!"
To no avail, Elliott tried to calm the girl. She acted like a demon had suddenly taken possession of her, screaming at the top of her lungs as she darted behind the bar and came out brandishing a large butcher knife. She rushed them, clawing at Pico's chest as she slashed his throat from ear to ear with one deft whack.
"Come on!" Elliott yelled, grabbing her wrist and letting Pico slump to the floor as he hurried her toward the exit.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs, coming toward them fast and heavy. Elliott dragged the nude girl along, hurrying her toward the door which Garza had left standing open. They were in the doorway when the first shot rang out. Elliott cringed at the pain in his shoulder but kept running for all he was worth, limping as he always did now because of his jump from the plane.
The girl crumpled as the second shot sounded, falling with a thud onto the concrete steps. Elliott lost his grip on her wrist, stopping immediately to bend down and pick her up. Another shot rang out, this time coming from outside. One of the bouncers grabbed his face and fell screaming in the doorway.
"Come on, hombre!" Garza yelled. "Hurry!"
Elliott scooped up the injured girl, the pain in his shoulder nearly blinding him as he staggered toward the idling car. Then he was inside and slamming the door shut, the car roaring and spinning rubber as it sped away.