Alejandro stood against the rear fender, holding a white accounting ledger sheet folded in thirds.

“Where did you get this name?” he asked, thrusting the folded paper at my face.

I leaned against the bumper and kept my voice low.

“What name?” I asked.

“The accounting department pulled a ten-year ledger history for our plaza office lease,” Alejandro said, his thumb pressing hard into the paper.

“There’s an unverified land guarantee attached to the third clause with the name Varela on it.”

I touched the thin gold band on my right index finger and held his gaze.