"I could ..." I paused, lost in thought. If I did hunt down the pair of fake missionaries and give their personal data to Rafael, he would ice them for sure. Or frag them up so bad they’d wish they were dead. Rafael had a lot of anger in him. Usually he channeled it into his sports—he played on an amateur Urban Brawl team—or else blew off steam by blasting his motorcycle through the toughest turf he could find. But in defense of his grandmother and his honor, he’d get himself into trouble for sure. And probably into the slam.