The bell above the café door chimed as Detective Mariah stepped inside, the scent of roasted beans wrapping around her like a familiar embrace. She always told herself it was the coffee that brought her here, but her eyes betrayed her, drifting instantly toward the counter.
There she was. Elena. The barrister with the soft smile and sharp wit, the one who always remembered Mariah's order before she even opened her mouth. Today, Elena's hair was pulled back, a few strands escaping to frame her face, and the sight made Mariah's chest tighten in a way she'd never admit out loud.
"Detective," Elena greeted, her tone warm, teasing almost, like they had their own private game every time Mariah showed up.
Mariah leaned on the counter. "You make it sound like I only show up to interrogate you."
"Do you?" Elena shot back, lips curling as she slid the steaming cup toward her.
Before Mariah could answer, the TV above the counter shifted to breaking news. A grainy sketch filled the screen....a man's face, sharp eyes, cold expression. "Police continue searching for the suspect in a string of kidnappings across the city. Authorities warn he may be targeting women in public spaces..."
Elena frowned, leaning closer to the screen. "Creepy. Looks like half the men who pass through here."
Mariah chuckled low, but her eyes narrowed, studying the image with a detective's instinct. "Creepy's one word for it. Dangerous is another."
For a moment, their shoulders brushed as they both watched the broadcast...Elena pretending not to notice, Mariah savoring the closeness while forcing her attention back to the case.
Then the bell chimed again.
A man stepped inside, hood pulled low, posture stiff. Something in the air shifted—Mariah felt it in her bones. He moved with purpose, but not the kind that belonged in a coffee shop. He scanned the room, and when his eyes landed on Elena, something dark flickered beneath the shadow of his hood.
Mariah's jaw tightened. She didn't need a sketch to recognize danger.
Elena, oblivious, leaned back toward Mariah and whispered, "What's the bet he's already planning his next crime?" She smirked, joking...not realizing her words might be truer than either of them wanted.
Mariah tilted her head, playful. "So... you working late tonight, or do I finally get to steal some of your time?"
Elena arched a brow, pretending to busy herself wiping the counter. "Steal? That sounds very criminal for a detective."
"Depends who I'm stealing it from," Mariah replied smoothly, eyes locked on hers. "There's that new bar down on Seventh. I hear it's got the best cocktails in the city. Maybe I should test that theory....with company."
Elena smirked, lips curving in a way that made Mariah forget about cases and crime scenes. "And let me guess... you were thinking of me as the company?"
"Of course," Mariah murmured. "Who else would survive my interrogation style?"
Elena laughed, soft and genuine, and for a moment it felt like the world had shrunk down to just them...the charged looks, the unspoken want.
But a few tables away, the hooded man had gone still. His head tilted just slightly, like a predator catching the sound of prey. He watched Elena's smile, tracked the easy way she leaned closer to Mariah, and though his face was hidden, his intent was not.
Mariah didn't notice his subtle attention yet. All she saw was Elena biting her lip, weighing her options.
"So what you're saying is," Elena teased, "I should let the detective take me out tonight... in public, no less. Risky move."
Mariah smirked, leaning closer across the counter. "You like risky."
The hooded man's jaw flexed. He gripped his coffee cup so tightly the lid bent inward with a soft crack. Every giggle Elena let out was a blade twisting in his chest. Every glance she gave the detective was theft.
She's mine, his thoughts snarled, though his face never gave him away. The detective was temporary. She would fade. But Elena...Elena was permanent.
He slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out a folded scrap of paper. He scrawled something jagged, quick, with the broken ink of a pen he'd chewed raw. Then he slid a wad of cash over it...far too much for a single untouched coffee and tucked it neatly under the saucer.
Mariah, still lost in Elena's eyes, didn't notice. Not yet.
Elena only glanced at the pile of bills as the man stood and moved toward the door, muttering something under his breath that didn't quite sound like words. Her brows knit together for a second, but then she shook it off. A generous tipper was always welcome.
The bell above the café rang as he left, and the glass door swung shut.
Mariah leaned closer, lowering her voice to a whisper just for Elena. "So... tonight, Seventh Street?"
Elena smiled, soft but daring. "Tonight."
But behind them, under the saucer, the note waited—ink still wet, words twisted like the mind that had written them.
