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1243 Words
The clatter of gloves against pads echoed through the nearly empty gym.
Ramsi wiped a bead of sweat from her temple, breathing steady, muscles still humming from the last round. Sage tossed her towel over her shoulder, grinning like she’d just watched a private show.
“You know,” Sage said as they headed for the lockers, “if I didn’t know better, I’d say you actually enjoyed scaring that guy.”
Ramsi shrugged, grabbing her duffel. “Scaring him or taking him down?”
“Yes.”
“Efficiency,” Ramsi said flatly. “Fear is a side effect.”
Sage laughed as they stepped out into the evening air, the city already buzzing. “Come on, ghost. Coffee. I need something strong enough to revive my soul.”
They pushed into their favorite café fifteen minutes later—warm air, low chatter, the comforting hiss of the espresso machine. Ramsi clocked exits out of habit while Sage beelined for the counter.
“What’s the strongest thing you make?” Sage asked brightly.
The barista blinked. “Uh— our dark roast espresso?”
“No,” Ramsi cut in calmly, setting her duffel at her feet. “Stronger.”
The barista glanced between them. “We… don’t really—”
“Quad shot,” Sage said. “No syrup. No sugar. No foam. Whatever blend makes people question their life choices.”
Ramsi nodded. “And if you have something that tastes like regret and poor decisions, we’ll take that.”
The barista stared. “I—are you trying to stay awake for three days?”
“Two,” Sage said. “Minimum.”
A pause. Then, “…Okay.”
The door chimed behind them.
Dominic Moretti stepped inside first, presence controlled, gaze already sweeping the room. Enzo followed, quieter, sharper, cataloging details without appearing to look at anything at all.
Dominic’s attention snagged on the counter.
Two women. One relaxed to the point of dangerous. The other grinning like chaos had a pulse. The barista looked faintly afraid.
Ramsi sensed the shift before she turned—weight entering the room, balance changing. She glanced sideways just as Dominic’s eyes flicked up and caught hers.
A beat.
Recognition? No. Assessment.
She turned back to the counter without reacting, unbothered, as if powerful men walking into rooms weren’t worth tracking unless they proved otherwise.
Sage leaned in, whispering, “Did you feel that?”
“Yes.”
“Tall, dark, murder-adjacent?”
“Chicago,” Ramsi murmured.
Behind them, Dominic murmured something low to Enzo, eyes lingering a fraction longer than necessary on Ramsi’s steady posture, the way she didn’t fidget, didn’t rush, didn’t perform.
Interesting.
The barista slid the cups across the counter like they might explode.
Ramsi took a sip. Considered. “Acceptable.”
Sage beamed. “See? Regret.”
They turned, finally facing the room—and that’s when Ramsi spotted him.
The past, grinning and walking straight toward her like he hadn’t learned a damn thing.
“Casey?” he said. “Casey Reed?”
Sage froze mid-sip. “Oh no.”
Ramsi didn’t blink.
“Hey,” he continued, lowering his voice, leaning in. “I know things got messy, but—maybe we could—”
“No,” Ramsi said calmly.
He blinked.
“You couldn’t keep it in your pants,” she added, sipping her coffee. Then, evenly, “That’s probably why your truck caught on fire.”
Sage choked. “Oh my God.”
The man went pale, backing away without another word.
Across the café, Dominic watched the entire exchange in silence.
No raised voice. No threat. No hesitation.
Just control.
His mouth curved, almost imperceptibly.
Ramsi returned to her coffee like nothing had happened, unaware that somewhere between espresso steam and unspoken violence, a king had noticed a ghost.
And ghosts, once seen, were rarely left alone.
Dominic didn’t look away.
He sat back in his chair, espresso untouched, gaze fixed on the two women as if they were a problem he hadn’t decided how to solve yet. Across the café, Ramsi and Sage claimed a small table near the window like it belonged to them—unhurried, unbothered.
Ramsi set her cup down, reached into her bag, and pulled out a slim laptop. No hesitation. No scanning around like she was worried about being seen. She opened it, fingers moving with quiet confidence as the screen lit her face.
Sage leaned over, peering at it. “You know, normal people come to cafés to relax.”
Ramsi didn’t look up. “Normal people don’t get paid to fix other people’s mistakes.”
“Rude,” Sage said, sipping her coffee. “I fix your mistakes.”
Ramsi’s mouth curved slightly. “You once deleted an entire folder labeled ‘Do Not Touch.’”
“In my defense,” Sage said brightly, “it was emotionally intimidating.”
A soft huff of laughter escaped Ramsi before she could stop it.
Across the room, Dominic’s brow lifted a fraction.
She laughed quietly. Not often. Not performative. Like it surprised even her.
Enzo noticed.
“You’re staring,” Enzo murmured, voice low, eyes still on the window reflection. “That’s new.”
Dominic finally took a sip of his espresso. “They don’t belong here.”
Enzo glanced over openly now, assessing. “Neither do we.”
Ramsi typed for a moment, then paused, tilting the screen slightly away as Sage tried to peek.
“Hey,” Sage protested. “I’m your partner.”
“You’re nosy.”
“I’m invested.”
“You’re a liability.”
Sage gasped. “I literally saved your life in Prague.”
“By tripping a man down the stairs.”
“Strategic gravity.”
Ramsi shook her head, lips twitching again. “You’re impossible.”
“But charming.”
Dominic watched the exchange like a chessboard revealing itself piece by piece. The ease. The trust. The way Ramsi’s body angled subtly toward Sage even while working—protective without being obvious.
“She’s ex-military,” Enzo said after a moment. “Or intelligence. Look at her posture.”
“Mm,” Dominic agreed. “And the other one’s the distraction.”
Sage laughed again, louder this time, drawing a few glances from nearby tables.
Ramsi leaned back, folding her arms. “If you spill that coffee on my keyboard, I will end you.”
“Promises, promises.”
Enzo’s mouth curved. “They’re comfortable.”
“Too comfortable,” Dominic replied. His gaze flicked briefly to the door, then back to Ramsi. “People like her don’t relax in public unless they think they’re invisible.”
Ramsi glanced up then—not at Dominic, not directly. Just… around. Her eyes swept the room once, quick and precise, before returning to her screen.
For half a second, her gaze brushed Dominic’s.
No surprise.
No fear.
Just acknowledgment.
Dominic’s fingers stilled on his cup.
“She saw you,” Enzo said quietly.
Dominic nodded once. “Yes.”
Across the café, Ramsi leaned closer to Sage and murmured something that made Sage grin wickedly.
“What?” Sage whispered.
Ramsi’s eyes stayed on her screen. “We’re being watched.”
Sage’s grin widened. “By who?”
Ramsi took another calm sip of coffee. “By someone who thinks he’s very good at it.”
And across the café, Dominic Moretti smiled—for real this time.
- Writer
