Paco shook his head. He got off the footstool and paced towards the kitchen. ‘That pendejo you’ve been fucking coming here to pick you up?’

I stayed silent.

‘Or you meeting him at your little hotel? Cos if he comes up here looking for you, I’ll be ready for him. Then you’ll fucking talk.’

‘He’s not coming here. He’s not picking me up.’

‘In that case, I will go down to that little hotel and Imma bring him up here to you, and Imma make you watch as I pull his guts out of his body.’

‘FUCK YOU!’ I shouted in his face.

‘No, no, no, Sweetpea. Fuck you. You’re in Paco’s house now. And you will lick shit from my shoes if I tell you. Eat your sandwich.’

And me, being me, hoyed it Frisbee-style towards him, missing him completely but creating a satisfying crash against the wall, sending corners of bread and shredded lettuce outwards in a mini-explosion.

‘There she is,’ he grinned. ‘There’s my Sweetpea.’

‘FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING CUNT!’ I shouted again, flinging my shoe at him. And then another shoe. And then a sofa cushion, which was a really shit thing to throw but there was nothing else within reach.

‘You ever hear that expression “We have ways to make men talk”?’

I tugged at the cuff with all my might, yanked at the fender to loosen it but I was stuck there good.

‘Well, I have ways to make you talk.’

I prayed earnestly to a god I didn’t believe in that Raf didn’t show up at the gates, looking for me. He had no idea what I was up to my neck in.

‘YOU TOUCH HIM, I WILL—’

‘You won’t do anything, chica, because I have a gun and a machete and you are a girl chained to a fucking pole,’ he said, high on his own hysterics. ‘But if you tell me where Tenoch has gone, I will think about letting you go. All I want is my money. You tell me where that is, you go free.’

‘I DON’T KNOW WHERE HE IS!’ I screamed finally. ‘I DON’T KNOW WHERE HIS MONEY IS. I DON’T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT ANYTHING! HE DIDN’T TELL ME JACKSHIT!’

Paco checked the time, sighing dramatically. ‘You’ll talk. Soon enough.’

My head was in a tailspin – how long would I have to sit there, protesting my innocence, trying to wriggle out of the cuff before he believed me? What else could I do? Every time he left the room, I was practically breaking my own wrist to get free but it was just getting sorer. All hope was lost.