Mark drove fast. Too fast. His fingers gripped the wheel so tight his knuckles were white, his jaw locked with tension. I didn’t say anything. I just sat there, staring at the road ahead, trying to push down the uneasy feeling in my gut. A name. That’s all we had. A name of someone working with Cholo. And Mark was driving straight to him. I shifted in my seat. “Mark, are you sure this is a good idea?” He didn’t take his eyes off the road.

“It’s our only lead.” That wasn’t an ...