Chapter One

      What the hell am I doing here?

      If his grandfather hadn’t lost his mind, Aaron McKade wouldn’t be stuck in Monday-morning bumper-to-bumper Los Angeles traffic. Instead, he’d be managing the West Coast branch of the family business—McKade Import-Export, an office that served as an agent for companies seeking Latin American markets for their products.

      Perturbed with the recent turn of events in his life, he clenched his jaw and studied his surroundings—his new place of work. Santa Angelita, the South Central Los Angeles barrio, was worlds away from the affluent Bunker Hill District where he lived in the famous Bradshaw Building.

      Rows of Spanish-style stucco houses painted in vivid blues, greens and purples lined the side streets, giving the residential area energy…hope. A few homes showed off neatly trimmed lawns and masses of fuchsia bougainvillea, but most of the dwellings required major renovations—and some even a wrecking ball. Sensible compacts or junkers sat parked in one-car-garage driveways. The BMWs and Lincoln Navigators of the drug dealers were nonexistent, and the small bikes and toys cluttering the yards suggested more and more young families were moving into the barrio.

      The commercial boulevards, on the other hand, struggled to survive. Boarded-up buildings covered in colorful murals depicting religious scenes and festive celebrations, along with vacant lots, broke the line of nail-care salons, auto parts shops and storefront churches comprising the core of the business district. He hadn’t seen one chain supermarket or drugstore in the past eight blocks, only liquor depots and a mom-and-pop market.

      The light switched to green, but traffic remained at a standstill while commuters boarded a city bus a block ahead.

      What had Pop been thinking? Aaron loved his grandfather more than anything, but now wondered if dementia had finally gotten the best of the old man. Patrick McKade had dropped a bomb during last week’s phone chat. The conversation had switched from the Yankees spring-training schedule to a more alarming topic. “Aaron, I neglected to teach you a very important lesson—responsibility,” his grandfather had said.

      Responsibility. The word made Aaron shudder.

      “Son, it’s my fault that you’re immature. I should have demanded more from you.”

      Aaron’s gut had tightened with humiliation, hurt and resentment. Immature? He was thirty-three years old!

      The bus pulled away from the curb, belching black exhaust. Traffic inched forward as Aaron studied the map spread across his lap. Riker Avenue had to be somewhere in the vicinity. Frustrated, he shoved the directions aside and glanced up just as a little old lady stepped in front of the truck. He slammed his foot on the brake, wincing when the seatbelt bit into his shoulder. The front bumper stopped a foot