The coffee shop is rather busy, but that’s actually a good thing. When everyone’s off in their own world, nobody’s going to notice me as I settle onto a stool at the bar top in front of the big window. From here, I can see the world outside go by.
It’s your typical weekday morning, with men and women in suits mixing with college students in much more relaxed outfits. There’s the occasional worker in a uniform of one kind or another, a delivery driver, a postal worker, or even the occasional restaurant worker adding distinct bits of color to the mix. Everyone flows by, only aware of themselves, their own agendas and plans, oblivious to each other and their surroundings for the most part.
It’s honestly fascinating, though I feel so outside of that type of existence.
I take a sip before setting my cup down with the coffee shop’s logo facing the street and then subtly watch as a man at the bus stop across the street gets up to head to the shop. He enters, orders, and comes over to sit down next to me. Taking a sip of his drink, he groans. “Getting so hot out there, I’m going to have to switch to some vanilla iced latte shit like I’m a sorority girl named Madison.”
“Nah, black coffee only. No substitutes.”
All the proper security protocols complete, Hunter gives me a glance. “Wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon, Connor.”
We’ve traded code and counter code, so he’s able to speak more freely, though we’re still, and always, aware of our surroundings. There’s a reason we use this particular chain of coffee shops for these meetings. They like to use polarized windows for privacy, which give us not only a view of the outside but ghostly reflections of the shop around us.
“Couldn’t be helped. I need your input on something.”
Hunter looks at me in surprise, his brows jumping up before they furrow. “My input?”
I grunt, thinking maybe I shouldn’t have called for this meet and greet. But more than being a resource that provides me with a place to stay when I need to lie low and occasionally help me with gigs when it’s a two-man job, Hunter is about the closest thing I have to a friend. And though this is well beyond the scope of our usual conversations, I’m hoping he’ll be a good sounding board and help me think with my head instead of my dick.
He recovers his usually stoic expression and offers a second run at a reaction. “What do you have? Hit me with it.”
That’s more in line with what I expected him to say, but I take a slow sip of my coffee, enjoying making him wait. “I met someone.”
His insulated cup claps against the Formica bar top, his eyes going wide as he stares at me in shock. “You what?”
“It gets worse.” I look out the window, purposefully focusing outside because I don’t want to see the reflection of his reaction. I already know what it’s going to be, anyway. “I met her on a job. The dinner.”
“Son of a bitch, Connor,” he hisses, sounding not only angry but disappointed. “You fucking know better than to do shit like that! What does she know?”
“Nothing,” I sigh. “Remember I told you there were some complications?” In my peripheral vision, I see him nod. “She’s one of them. I needed a bag and grabbed the closest one I could remember. It was hers, and I didn’t know it, but her laptop was in it.”
“So what? She can cry it out and go buy a new one. Or you can make a secret donation if you feel that guilty,” Hunter says coldly. “There’s no going back.”
“She’s my neighbor. She knows it was me.”
Hunter sits up straight at that, facing me fully after looking around the room. I know he sees what I see . . . every exit, every person having their mid-morning caffeine hit, and every risk factor in the room. But as far as danger goes, there are only two possible threats . . . him and me.
“You’re serious.”
“Dead fucking serious,” I tell him. “You put me right next door to her.”
“Fuck me. Of all the . . .” Hunter trails off, pinching the bridge of his nose. But he recovers quickly. “Well, what does she really know?”
“Nothing about the job. She thinks I’m a petty thief who stole her laptop, that’s it,” I reply, and Hunter relaxes