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"Slap—Slap—" When Wumao was propped up by two men in suits, another man in a suit delivered a hard slap on each side of his face, causing Wumao to 'puff' out a mouthful of blood. The man slapping had a strong arm; after two slaps, not only were Wumao's eyes seeing stars, but his teeth were also loosened, filling his mouth with blood.
"I'll ask again, where is he? Where does he live?" Bud Trujillo asked from the car, taking a drag on his cigarette.
"I don't... don't... don't know, you... you... motherfucker, if you have the guts, smack me to death." Wumao was a man with balls, so he would rather die than bend.
Although he was just a small fry who came to the city from the countryside to work and had nothing, he had a stubborn streak, and this wasn't something that could be beaten out of him.
Bud Trujillo flicked his cigarette ash: "Hit him again..."
"Slap—Slap—" Again, two more heavy slaps, and this time, Wumao spat out three teeth.
