Cuco’s pov;
The following day, I resumed my search for the rest of the pesos member, deciding that we were going to bring back the pesos gang.
One man told me that he’d buried his gun somewhere and swore never to dig it up again.
“Go get it,” I said. “It’s time.”
He did.
I couldn’t reach some of the men and assumed that they wanted to stay buried.
My arm still burned where the bullet had grazed me, but I didn’t let anyone see it slow me down.
On the third day, the day I told them to meet up, I went to the bar early and stayed there. I knew that there was the risk of the Toros member seeking us, so I had spoken to the owner of the bar who was an old friend of my uncle’s to rent it out to us for the next few hours.
I continued sipping whiskey while I waited for them. I didn’t turn a
