Page 62 of What's Left of Me

Gabe and Angel talked about their plan once they got to the café and what they’d do. I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea, but they didn’t sound even a little afraid, and maybe they were used to this stuff and I was nervous for no reason.

When they arrived at Sogni di Caffeina, they waltzed in without a care in the world. Angel made sure to turn his body enough to get the whole layout.

One employee was cleaning tables, and two others were behind the counter. There was no way of knowing if anyone was in the back, but they both said they’d keep returning until they covered all the workers there.

“Good afternoon, what can I get you?” The first barista was a woman, so I already knew she was a no-go.

“I’ll have a regular coffee with a pump of vanilla—medium, please,” Gabe ordered.

“Very good, and you, sir?”

“Uh, large coffee, black.”

She nodded, told them their total, and went about making their orders. The other barista behind the corner was turned away from us, but Angel got his attention.

“This is our first time coming here; what are the best desserts?”

The guy faced them and pursed his lips. “Hands down, the lemon scones are my favorite.” He had a southern twang to his voice, and it was easy to discount him.

“Not him, definitely not southern.”

“Unless he’s disguising his voice because he’s figured out that’s how Phoenix is identifying him,” Four said from his perch in the corner. After he’d finished with the armory, he’d come in and plopped there.

“Good point.” Noel hit a few buttons and zoomed in on the guy’s eyes. “What do you think?”

“They’re brown, so no.”

“Not him,” I heard Nick say, so I knew he was talking to Angel and Gabe.

Once Angel and Gabe had their coffees, they moved to the table closest to the guy cleaning them.

“Excuse me.” Gabe got his attention.

“Yeah, what can I do for you?”

“I was wondering if there was a bookstore near here?”

I listened to the man’s voice, but it was nasal and high-pitched. “Nope.”

“Shit. So he’s not there, or he’s in the back,” Nick released a frustrated breath before letting Gabe and Angel know that no one had fit the profile.

Once they were clear of people, Angel spoke softly. “We’ll stay awhile and see if anyone comes from the kitchen or changes shifts.”

“I think it may be the manager,” Four said out of nowhere, and all of us turned to look at him.

“Why do you think that?” JJ asked.

“Well.” He shifted and gave us his attention. “Whoever Adonis is, he got access to the embalming stuff. Do any of these baristas look like they’d have the ability to do so? I think the guy who owns the café is who you’re looking for. This café brings in close to a million a year in profit, which is insane. The owner is rich, and while Phoenix didn’t recognize the Zaffys as The Broken-Doll Killer, that doesn’t mean they aren’t aware of who he is. If he’s paying them for the fluid and they know what he’s capable of, why would they sell him out?” He gestured at the monitor, where the three employees were standing around and talking. “You need to start looking behind the curtain.”

“Shit.” Noel sighed. “That makes so much fucking sense.”

“How’d you know how much the café made?” Matt grinned at Four.

He lifted a shoulder. “I googled.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Noel

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