CHAPTER FIVE
ALVARO MARICRUZ SETTLED the wrench onto the oilcloth he had draped over the side of his burgundy, 1968 Chevrolet Camaro SS. He had the hemi under the hood rumbling smoothly under his fingertips and he smiled. Nothing like the power and thrum of a perfectly tuned engine to make a guy’s day.
Alvaro was known in the Barrio as a wizard with engines. It was one of two real skills he had. The other one he’d put on hold for a while, until he’d dealt with what had happened a few days earlier.
He stepped back and rubbed his hands with a cloth, his brown eyes sliding reluctantly to the forward panel on the driver’s side, which still bore evidence of the previous weekend’s crash. He knew he should have fixed the dent already. But something kept him from erasing all evidence of the inc
