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Juárez, Mexico
‘Do you ever stop eating?’ Rios asked, picking at a small plate of nachos.
‘When you’re on patrol in Helmand, you get used to eating when you can,’ Pope replied, biting down on a burrito, his face mere centimetres from the plate.
‘Well you sure don’t miss a chance,’ Rios said, watching the dishevelled, late-night streets of Juárez, with their open-front bars and mishmash of stores .
Rios reacted at a backfiring scooter, her hand moving fast to the pistol on her hip. She relaxed as the bike chugged by, ridden by a topless kid.
She removed her hair band and re-tied her ponytail, wiping the sweat from her brow with the flat of her hand. The outskirts of her hometown were arguably more deadly than the epicentre of the city. And a woman with her reputation had to be on h
