Sage didn’t seem to notice he was lining things up in a neat, tidy row.
Law did.
“You judging me?” Law smirked.
“I’m worried about you,” Sage said solemnly, tipping his chin at Law’s cup. “That is a cry for help.”
Law snorted, biting back a grin.
They lingered there, stepping out of the way, but not moving fast. Killing time.
Sage’s phone vibrated.
The techie’s hand moved—then stopped. He didn’t look at it. Something in him went quiet. Not frozen. Not stiff. Just… still.
Law registered the hesitation. And the stillness that followed.
Behind them, someone laughed too loudly. A grinder screamed. Milk steamed. The floor tugged faintly at his boots. He let his attention widen, sweeping the space—front door, reflections in the darkened windows, the places people forgot to watch.
Still normal. Still busy. Still harmless.
Black sat at a corner table pretending to read something on his phone, posture loose enough to sell it. Students kept throwing glances at the big, attractive man. Black had sex appeal in spades.
Winter had claimed a stool by the window, coffee untouched, gaze angled toward the quad outside while he casually talked with a few students. People gravitated toward Winter—the guy had that way about him. He stayed vigilant, though, keeping watch while blending in with campus casual. With his lean frame and good looks, he could get away with it.
Memphis wasn’t anywhere Law could see, which meant he was mobile—exactly where he needed to be.
At the far wall, Micah blended in, jacket slung loose, face unforgettable but fitting the student vibe perfectly. At twenty-six—almost a year older than Sage—both young assassins nailed the college look.
Sage tipped his head, studying him. “One day,” he said, “I’m going to make you try something with actual flavor.”
Law glanced slowly sideways. “That a promise?”
Color crept up along the line of Sage’s jaw beneath his ear. His mouth curved in a quick, darting smile—gone almost as soon as it appeared—before he turned back to the counter, attention snapping into place like it belonged there.
Outside, laughter echoed across the quad. A door opened. A door closed. A woman with a sagging brown bun, wrinkled pink shirt, and tan pants stood beside them, studying the menu. Not close—but close enough to notice.
Law lifted his coffee, the cup warm against his fingers.
Nothing about the moment felt like a job.
That was the point.
Law scanned the half-empty tables, looking for one to claim, when the woman beside them cleared her throat.
“Visiting your son at college?”
Law met her gaze without expression, unhurried as he took in her bright smile.
“I’m not his son,” Sage answered her smoothly, sliding an arm through his and holding on tightly. “We’re together.”
Law ignored the sudden rush of heat at the younger man’s touch—but more than that, he wondered why Sage felt the need to correct her.
The woman gaped, her sagging brown bun bobbing as she flushed bright red before hurrying away.
“Wait!” Sage called after her, “you’re gonna miss the good stuff.”
“Behave,” Law growled, angling them out of the flow of traffic and guiding Sage toward the half-empty tables before they became the next spectacle.
