Soloman checked his phone for what felt like the thousandth time. Hell, it probably was the thousandth time. He knew there was nothing. He had the volume turned high. He would've heard immediately if info guy had sent another satellite image of the speeding Charger or a text with directions. He glanced over at Roman's phone. Nothing.

He clenched his fist and checked the urge to punch the dashboard. It wasn't the Mustang's fault they were an hour behind Manuel. He fucking ...