Half an hour later, I was sat on the wall outside Andrea's house.

The driveway had filled with trucks and dozens of men, walked back and forth all with machine guns strapped over their chests and a determined look in their eye.

In between making orders, Andrea glanced over to me and looked me up and down before thrusting the clipboard he was holding to the man next to him and coming over to me.

"What's going on?" I asked as he sat beside me on the wall.

"You'll see," he said. "All in good time."

Of course, that was the answer. It usually was.

"Come," he announced, standing up and holding out his hand. "I want to show you something."

I looked up but didn't move. He raised an impatient eyebrow, maintaining eye cold contact and I eventually stood up. Instead of taking his hand, I walked passed him which of course only amused him.

"By all means, lead the way, Blanca," he said. "To the garden."

I walked through the house to the back garden with Andrea following me. Luciano was sat on the patio, sharpening a stick with a knife. He looked up at me and smiled before lifting the stick up to his face and examining the sharp point.

There were three empty beer bottles on the table which Andrea then grabbed before balancing them on the wall at the edge of the patio.

"You ever shot a gun, Blanca?" he asked.

"No," I said.

He smiled before taking the gun that had been strapped around his chest off and holding it out.

"Take it," he said.

He held it in both hands, the black metal gleaming in the sun and the weight of it tensing his forearms. After a little more encouragement, I finally took it from him and stood motionless, completely unsure of what to do.

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