Daniel loved fuckin’ amateurs, them being so easy to kill, but the bangers had so many people around the house, they were cramping his style. He continued downhill to the next street, then climbed into his van. Sign on the van was for something called Hero-Rooter—CALL A HERO TO SAVE THE DAY! DRAINS CLEANED AROUND THE CLOCK! Daniel had picked the van because there were no windows in the side panels and the vehicle would blend in anywhere. He had left the driver in a Dumpster behind a Nigerian restaurant in Long Beach. Tobey was irritated. “Why’re we wastin’ time?” Cleo was annoyed. “Fuckin’ around, around?” Daniel said, “Shut up. I’m tryin’ to think.” Daniel had followed the Mexican and his dumb-ass banger entourage from the airport, so he knew the Mexican was inside with the cook and the waitress. The Bolivians had come through big-time with their tip about the Mexican, but reaching his targets had turned out to be a problem. Daniel circled the block up to Sunset, planning to cruise through the alley beside Azzara’s house, but that’s when he saw the tall dude sliding out of a red Jeep Cherokee.
