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He's working.

I follow the direction he's facing.

My eyes move over the tables of college students, two women with laptops, an older couple sharing a muffin, and the man drinking black coffee.

My gaze stops on the ordinary-looking man who was watching Alibi. And me.

My stomach gives a strange little twist.

I glance at him again.

The man is no longer watching Alibi. He's looking through the window. Not directly at Roman.

But something about the way his eyes move makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

Oh. I turn away. My pulse picks up. This is the guy.

I don't know how I know that either. But I remember the stakeout. Roman sitting in his truck, watching a house. I’d seen the man walking down the street. It was brief, dark, and at a distance. But it’s him.

Shit.

I tighten my hold on Alibi.

This isn't funny. It isn't a game. And for once, curiosity doesn't win.

Roman told me to stay out of it. I didn't listen the first time. But I'm listening now.

“Actually,” I say to Gracie, “make those to go.”

She glances at me. Something in my voice must give me away because her smile disappears. “You okay?”

“Yep.” I make myself smile. It feels wrong, but I hope it’s convincing. “Just remembered I have to do something.”

Gracie studies me but turns toward the espresso machine.

I don't look toward the window again. I don't look at the man. Instead, I pull out my phone.

Me: I think your boring guy is in Bramble.

The response comes so fast my phone barely has time to dim.

Roman: Where are you?

I swallow.

Me: Also in Bramble.

Roman: Leave.

Me: Already planning on it.

Another message appears.

Roman: Don't look at him.

Too late.

Me: Okay.