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“Second,” he said again, raising his voice over her cackling. “He doesn’t hang around. He drinks his coffee, and then he leaves.”
Charlotte placed the order she’d finished on the pick-up counter, shouting the customer’s name before turning back to Gavin. “He orders a tiny latte, sits with his back to the wall, and stares at you while he drinks it.”
Scrunching his brows, Gavin moved to the sanitizer bucket and pulled the towel out of it, wringing out the excess liquid. “He doesn’t stare,” he grumbled as he started to wipe down their work area. They’d had a steady stream of customers this evening, but it was slowing down. That’s one of the reasons he liked the evening shift better than the morning. Not only was he absolutely not a morning person, but the evenings in the coffee shop were much more laid back than the crazy rush of people trying to get their caffeine fix before they headed to work in the mornings.
“I wonder what kind of shifter he is,” Charlotte said, refilling the cups and lids from the stock they kept below the counter.
Gavin stood up straight, towel dangling from his hand. Secretly, he’d wondered if Atlas was paranormal, but he hadn’t said it out loud. Not even to Charlotte. “You think he is?”
She shot him a side-eyed look. “He definitely is.” She lowered her voice a bit. “I just can’t tellwhatexactly.”
As far as Gavin knew, no one else at the coffee shop knew Charlotte was a witch. In her own words, she wasn’tuber badass or anything, but she did always have a sense about things that had proved true, time and time again. “And you don’t think he’s dangerous or anything, right?”
Charlotte stopped what she was doing and glared at him.
He cringed. “Sorry. That was rude. I’m sorry. I just…he does stare sometimes.”
“I’ll forgive you just because I know you’re not actually an ass.” She tilted her head, obviously thinking through her words. “He is dangerous.”
Gavin frowned. He knew that somehow. He’d felt all kinds of things when Atlas was there and looking at him, but in danger had never been one of them.
“Not to you,” Charlotte said, quickly, catching the look on his face. “Or me.” She huffed. “Let me start over. He’s good. Righteous. But he’s also dangerous. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s a cop or works for the Paranormal Council.” She shrugged. “He just has that feel.”
Gavin could imagine that. What he couldn’t imagine was why the giant, apparentlydangerousman was interested in him. Rolling his eyes at himself, he went back to wiping the counter. Who said that Atlas was interested in him? Maybe he thought Gavin looked shady and needed to be checked up on.
The bell above the door rang, and Gavin looked up. A man he’d never seen before approached the counter. He was stocky with light red hair and matching scruff on his face. Charlotte called out a greeting, but the man ignored her, never looking away from Gavin.
He dropped the towel he’d been using back in the bucket and walked toward the register. The man watched him every step of the way.
“Hi, what can I get you?”
Pursing his lips, the man glanced at the menu but immediately brought his gaze back to Gavin. “Coffee. Black.”
“Sure.” Gavin rang up the coffee and took the bill the stranger handed him. All the while feeling the burn of the man’s eyes on him. It didn’t feel the same as when Atlas looked at him—friendly, appreciative. He imagined this must be what it felt like to know someone was looking at you through crosshairs.
Charlotte poured the man’s coffee and set the cup on the pick-up counter.
The man picked it up, never once looking anywhere but at Gavin, and moved toward the door. Gavin breathed a sigh of relief when the man finally turned and reached out to push the door open, but before he stepped out, he looked over his shoulder. “Thanks, Gavin. I’ll definitely be back.”
The hair on the back of Gavin’s neck stood up. Atlas may have been dangerous, but this man—who hadn’t actually done a damn thing—was terrifying.
2
Atlas hadn’t even pulled away from the curb when his phone started buzzing in his pocket again. With a sigh, he turned the bike back off and got his phone out. Lark’s name flashed across the screen. He frowned. Why would Lark be calling him back when they were all supposed to be heading in for the meeting?
“Lark? What—”
“Have you left yet?” Lark cut him off, voice hard. He only ever sounded that way when shit was about to go down.
“No, I just got on the bike. I ran into Derek. He said they’d had a tip that a hate group was planning something in this area.”
“Shit,” Lark said before he took an audible breath. “Look, Atlas, you’re not going to like this. The target is Gavin. He’s a carrier.”
Atlas’s head snapped up, wide eyes focused back on the coffee shop. He was off the bike in half a second and running back to the shop.
“Atlas? You still there?”
“I’m here. I’ll get Gavin.”
