My foot still pins his gun hand.
His fingers still clamp around my wrist, keeping my weapon angled toward the wall.
Two seconds until the attendant looks our way.
One.
We break apart at the same instant—guns vanishing into holsters, postures resetting as if we’ve been here, calm and harmless, all along.
By the time the attendant reaches us, Alejandro is leaning back with an easy smile—one of those disarming, devastating ones that makes strangers trust him and enemies hesitate.
She switches to English the moment she sees us. “May I get you anything from the café?”
Alejandro begins to answer he’s already ordered when another attendant arrives behind her, pushing a cart.
Two coffees.
Two breakfast croissants.
Ham, egg, and cheese for him.
Egg and cheese for me.
He smiles politely as he takes the coffees.
Then he glances at me—and the smile turns wicked, like he sees the “eat shit and die” written all over my face.
Fuck him.
I take the coffee anyway.
He pulls a small folding table from the armrest and sets his down neatly, then reaches back for the two plates. He slides his onto the table, then holds mine toward me like a peace offering.
“Five minutes,” he says softly. “That’s it.”
I study him, looking for anything—tension around the eyes, tightness in the jaw, the tiny muscle that used to twitch when he lied. I used to be able to read him effortlessly. I thought I could.
I had no clue that the day he kissed me goodbye on that beach, he planned to go rogue. To kill without sanction. To ignite a powder keg between two volatile nations. Todisappear.
He waits.
Alejandro has always been more patient than I am.
“Five minutes,” he repeats, “and you have my permission to slit my throat if I say anything you don’t like.”
“What if I didn’t like that?” I say in a quiet threat.
His smile widens.
Not mocking. Not cruel.
Certain.
He leans back, knowing damn well I’m going to take the deal. And the breakfast.
I grab the plate and he savors his small victory with a sip of the hot coffee before he says, “Well, well. If it isn’t Saint James.”
Saint sits across from me, eyes still bright from the chase. She hasn’t touched the sandwich. The coffee sits untouched too. No surprise. She probably thinks both are poisoned.
