“CALL IT OFF!” I shot a bullet past his temple. “CALL IT OFF!” Another bullet past the other ear.

“Don’ shoot!”

“OFF NOW OR THIS TIME IT’S YOUR FUCKING HEAD!”

He finally started making overtures to the beast, calling him by his name, Fuego, cooing at him like a parakeet. Although Fuego was still pissed, he was disoriented from being slammed by flying furniture.

I was still holding on to Renaldes. “Put him in a closet!” I demanded.

“Get off—”

I zinged another shot past his ear. “EL PERRO IN THE CLOSET! NOW!”

At last my demand sank in. Pepe bent down, almost falling on his face under the burden of my weight, but somehow he managed to grab Fuego’s collar and lead him into a closet. As soon as the pit bull was secured behind the door, I jumped off, and at the same time, my father grabbed Renaldes by the throat. He pushed him down onto a tattered couch and tightened his grip. Renaldes’s face started turning a very unhealthy red. With his right hand, Decker motioned for his weapon. I gave it to him and he shoved it into Renaldes’s mouth. I do believe Pepe pissed in his pants.

I realized that my own mouth was open and closed it shut. I had never seen this side of my father. I must have looked as shocked as Koby did when I took down El Paso. Behind the closet, Fuego started barking again—loud and angry, ordering a rematch with my father.

Renaldes was struggling under Dad’s bulk, but he was clearly outmatched. Pepe had some muscle definition but was on the short side—smaller than I was. He had a shaved head and dark eyes, which were popping out of their sockets. He had been wearing a terry-cloth robe when we barged in. Now it had opened up, revealing a chest inked with tattoos—a devil, a snake, a spider, et cetera, et cetera, yawn, yawn. It was hard to say anything about his complexion because he was bright pink from pressure and fear.

Decker pulled the gun out of Pepe’s mouth and placed it on his forehead. He whispered, “You went after the wrong person, amigo.”

He choked out, “No se—”

“Shut up and listen!”

“Por favor—”

Decker tightened his grip. Renaldes was literally about to explode. “I said, shut up and listen!”

He was on the verge of passing out. I brought my hand over my father’s fingers and pried them open, just enough to loosen his grip and give Pepe some air. Decker didn’t even realize I was doing it.

Decker spoke low and slow. “Someone shot at a cop last night. Someone in a bronze Nova with stolen plates. Now if you’re straight with me, guess what, Pepe? You’ll live. If you give me bullshit, you’ll die. Muy fácil. La verdad o la muerte. Comprendes, amigo?”

The man’s head bobbed up and down. The dog was now thumping against the closet door. I looked around the room, then pushed the coffee table in front of Fuego’s escape route. I pounded on the door to shut the beast up. It worked for a moment, but then Fuego continued yelping.