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happened, and sometimes he didn’t talk to his handler for months. It was an in and out job, easy-peasy with no mess, no problems.
    The longer he sat, the more uneasy he felt. Unlike most days, he actually needed the coffee to get going this morning. His head ached, almost like he’d gone out drinking though he hadn’t. Davis forced himself to focus. He believed he was doing a convincing job of playing the coffee snob, so that wasn’t why he felt off. Living in Seattle had taught him to be a connoisseur of coffee, or at least be able to mimic those people who thought they were highbrow coffee consumers. His observational skills weren’t in question. He had learned long before joining the Army, or the CIA, how to watch without watching. His father had taught him how to be observant without looking like he was observing anything in particular. Duff had taught him a lot, too much really, which was why he had issues in the Army. Not big problems, but the tiny inconsistencies had made it impossible for him to stay in the military. When the CIA had asked him to join their fight, he’d jumped at the chance.
    Close to ten, a guy stepped up to his table looking sexier than any man had the right to be. His jaw was dusted with a shadow of stubble that looked messy in a well-groomed type of way. Davis was a sucker for guys that sported facial hair. Hell, he was a huge sucker for guys who successfully pulled off the artful ungroomed look this guy owned.
    “Was your coffee acceptable?” The man asked as he brushed a cloth over the table and picked up the plate from in front of Davis.
    “It was quite good. Your accent, I can’t place it.” This man hadn’t served him earlier, and Davis hadn’t seen him inside the café when he’d purchased his coffee and muffin. Maybe this sexy man had shown up for work recently, but he hadn’t come in the front door. Davis was still watching the building as he chatted with the man, unsure if the guy was a distraction or a plant. It was too coincidental that this man would show up at this moment.
    A tingle started at the base of Davis’s spine. His internal Oh Shit meter went off, and Davis knew he was in trouble. The dude had distracted him, purposefully throwing him off balance.
    Though Davis had left the military a few years ago, he hadn’t neglected the physical training he’d grown accustomed to. Davis ducked just as a bullet smacked the pavement behind him. With a shove from his left leg, he flipped up and scurried behind a potted plant, keeping his butt low. Before moving, he’d instinctively grabbed his computer backpack. He tugged it over his shoulders as he rested, forcing his mind to stop spinning so he could concentrate. The sexy waiter had scurried off quickly, not looking back as he ran down the street away from the danger. Someone had paid him, Davis just wondered who.
    The ceramic on the other side of the pot shattered, sending shards scattering over the pavement. People shrieked, and took off running down the street and away from the chaos.
    This was what he’d hated about being in a war zone. Bullets flying at him always made him feel weird. Davis squared his jaw and tightened his abs before he tucked and rolled forward, coming up beside a column. He hustled behind it, shifting to the backside of the huge post, gaining protection from the next shot.
    Eventually, the cops would show, which would be terrible if he were still here. “Fuck, this sucks.” He assessed his position, realizing he was screwed. The guy across the street had him. Davis stared at the glass wall in front of him, searching the wavy reflection of the building across the street, the one where the bullets were coming from. After a few seconds of searching, he found the guy in the window, his face obscured, his head covered. Davis couldn’t tell if the person was a man or a woman, blond or dark hair, facial hair or not. His stomach turned as another shot was fired. He needed to move. There would be too