The Power of the Dog (Power of the Dog, #1)

by Don Winslow

They must be at a dump because Flaco smells garbage. And it must be morning because he can feel faint sunlight on his face, even through the black hood. One of his eardrums is ruptured, but he can hear Dreamer pleading, “Please, please, no, no, please . . .” A gunshot explodes and Flaco don’t hear Dreamer no more. Then Flaco feels a gun barrel brush the side of his head, by his good ear. It makes little circles, like its holder wants to make sure Flaco knows what it is, then he hears the hammer click back. Flaco screams. A dry click. Flaco loses it. His bladder lets go and he feels the hot urine run down his leg and his knees give out and he crumbles to the ground, squirming and twisting like a worm, trying to get away from the gun barrel at his head and then he hears the hammer go back and another dry click and then a voice says, “Maybe the next one, little pendejo, eh?” Click. Flaco messes his pants. The federales whoop and holler. “God, what a stink! What you been eating, mierdita?” Flaco hears the hammer click back again.