"Since when did you start eating breakfast?"The words are meant to dissuade her.
But she waves her hand in the air and wanders over to the kitchen and sits at the table, eyeing me over her coffee."Things change.Take me out to breakfast before the meeting.We’ve got time."
Is she trying to give me a heart attack?She should be prepping, and we should be keeping our heads down until it's time to leave.
For whatever reason, the words leave my mouth before I can stop them."There's a place a few blocks away.Quick.Quiet."
She shakes her head."I want beignets at Cafe Du Monde.And I want to hear the buskers in Jackson Square."
I stare her down for a moment.Either she’s really smart or really stubborn.Right now, I’m not sure if it matters.She’s pivoting the whole plan with a smile and a cup of coffee.And she knows exactly what she’s doing.
Fine.Beignets it is.But if we’re doing this, we’re doing it my way.
Adena
By eight, Jackson Square is already alive—artists setting up their easels along the iron fence, a saxophone wailing somewhere near the cathedral, and tourists with cameras slung around their necks wandering toward the river.
The weight of Mercy presses against the small of my back, a constant reminder under the casual denim and cotton.
Jagger's carrying too.The same piece hidden under his jacket at the restaurant last night.An FN Five-seveN—powerful enough to pierce body armor, compact enough to disappear under the lightweight blazer he's wearing despite the heat.
He's trying to appear relaxed, leaning back in the metal chair with one arm draped over the back of mine, but he has the look of a man waiting for something to go wrong.
His eyes never stop moving—tracking the mime near the cathedral steps, the couple with the stroller passing too close to our table, the kid on the skateboard weaving through the crowd.His jaw is set tight, and there's a tension in his shoulders that no amount of casual posture can hide.
"Eat," I say.
His eyes shift to mine."Not hungry."
I break off a piece of beignet, powdered sugar coating my fingers."You remember when I told you about El Paso?"I keep my voice casual, girlfriend-to-boyfriend."When they brought in four of us and gave us thirty minutes to reproduce a DEA evidence tag?"
He goes completely rigid.
"Two of them couldn't get the microprinting right.One got the hologram close but missed the UV thread."I meet his eyes."Mine was perfect.They ran it under a microscope, tested it with every wavelength scanner, even tried the iodine test.Passed everything."
I shift my chair closer and lean into him, softening my voice."I've got this.I promise."I break off another piece of beignet, powdered sugar drifting onto the table."Now stop looking like you're waiting for trouble and open up."
His jaw tightens, but something shifts in his eyes—maybe annoyance, maybe he gets that I'm playing the role.He lets me slide the piece into his mouth with my fingers, playing the part.
"There," I say, brushing sugar from his lip with my thumb."Chew.After this is over, I want to take my bike out."
His smile is slow, dangerous."Think you can finally beat me, Tiger?"
I pick up my café au lait."I always win.You just conveniently forget."
"Right."He picks up a beignet and jams it into his mouth, eyes never leaving mine."Keep living in that fantasy."
I smirk and lean back in my chair, letting the corner of my mouth tilt up.“That’s what makes it fun.”
We finish breakfast and drift into the square, Jagger’s hand slipping into mine like it’s the most natural thing in the world.The heat is climbing, the breeze off the river cutting it just enough—but not enough to explain why my pulse jumps.
Piano music floats across the square, accompanied by a crooning male voice, both of which I've heard way too many times coming from the men's barracks at Jericho.
Jake's set up near the cathedral steps, Ray-Bans hiding his eyes, white T-shirt already clinging to his shoulders.His fingers move across the portable keyboard like he's got nowhere else to be, and a small crowd has gathered.A couple of tourists drop bills in his open case as he playsWhat A Wonderful World.
I slow my steps, angling closer.This is supposed to be routine—a quick visual check-in, nothing more.Let Jake see we're fine, that the cover's holding.
I don’t get the chance.
