I licked my lips, the cheap, burnt taste of diner coffee lingering on my tongue like an unpaid debt. Through the grease-smeared window of The Silver Spoon, a dive of a diner that smelled of rancid lard and ancient floor wax, I kept my eyes locked on the dirty white license plate of a nondescript Ford sedan parked across the street.
I tapped my fingers against the keyboard of a sleek, absurdly expensive silver laptop. I didn’t actually remember where I’d acquired it. Well, that was a lie. I’d swiped it from Ash’s second-floor library right before I walked out. He had so many gadgets lying around that he probably wouldn't notice its absence for a fiscal quarter, and besides, I considered it a tax. A father’s tax.
Right now, the laptop was the centerpiece of my disguise. I’d bought a pair o
