The Cartel (Power of the Dog #2)

by Don Winslow

“A pocho,” Forty says. “So, Chuy, do you think you have what it takes to work for the Zetas?” “Yes.” “Well, you’ll have to prove it,” Forty says. Chuy looks around the room. Five other Zetas are standing around, looking at him. Then there’s another man, sitting on a wooden chair, his hands tied behind his back, dried blood at the corners of his mouth. “You see that man?” Forty says. “He owed us money that he didn’t want to pay. He wanted to pay it to someone else. Do you understand?” “Yes.” “Now he has to pay,” Forty says. Forty takes the pistol from his holster and puts it in Chuy’s hand. “You ever shoot a gun before?” “Yes.” “You ever kill anyone before?” Forty asks. Chuy shakes his head. “You will now,” Forty says. “If you want to work for us. If you don’t, well, m’ijo, you’ve seen what you’ve seen, do you understand?” Chuy understands. He either proves he can kill someone or someone else comes in and proves it on him. “I don’t think the scrawny little shit can do it,” Forty says to the others. Chuy isn’t sure either. Like, it’s one thing to fire a gun into the air, another thing to… Esteban whispers into his ear, “Gabe did it.” Chuy lifts the gun. It’s heavy, solid, real, and he points it at the kneeling man’s head, looks into the man’s eyes and sees the terror as the man begs and pleads for his life. The trigger is heavy, harder to pull than with the gun he found in the brown paper bag. “If you don’t do it,” Forty says, “you’re a punk. A bitch.” Chuy fires. Puts the m...