My fist hits the table and the cheap piece of junk falls apart. Moon has his compound locked down tight and the Frontera Cartel is breathing down my neck to deliver myself on a silver platter. It won't happen. The only positive is that neither Moon nor the cartel have any idea where I am.

Goose is smarter than I gave him credit for and is making himself scarce because of my mood. The need to kill someone is eating at me and even though I need him, when the rage hits and I can't ...