Chapter 2

I dressed carefully that morning. My best black suit, the one that made me feel powerful in court. If I was going to face Zeph again, I wasn't doing it in yesterday's wrinkled blazer and coffee-stained shirt.

The coffee cart was in the exact same spot when I arrived at 7:45. This time, there was no line. Just Zeph, alone in his little silver box, methodically arranging paper cups.

He looked up when I approached, and I caught a flicker of something in his eyes. Surprise? Relief? I couldn't tell.

"Back again?" he said.

"Apparently." I crossed my arms. "I want to try something different today."

His eyebrows raised slightly. "Okay."

"I want a dirty chai tea latte with oat milk, half the syrup, extra hot, with a double shot of espresso and cinnamon on top." I paused, watching his face. "Can you handle that?"

It was a ridiculous order. Complicated and specific and exactly the kind of drink I'd invented during our second year together when I was stressed about the bar exam. The kind of order only someone who knew me really well could possibly remember.

Zeph stared at me for a long moment. Then, without a word, he turned around and started working.

I watched him move around the cart. His hands were quick, confident. Chai concentrate, oat milk, the espresso shots. He didn't hesitate once, didn't ask for clarification. Every step was exactly right.

When he turned back around, he was holding a perfect cup. Steam rising from the small opening in the lid, a light dusting of cinnamon visible on the foam.

"One ridiculous stress drink," he said quietly.

My throat tightened. "You remember."

"I remember all the important things."

The way he said it made my chest ache. Soft. Almost tender. Nothing like the cold professionalism from yesterday.

I took the cup with shaking hands and lifted it to my lips. The first sip was perfect. Exactly the way I used to make it at home, exactly the way he'd learned to make it when I was too tired to get out of bed during finals week.

"Thank you," I whispered.

We stood there in awkward silence. I should leave. I should take my coffee and go to work and pretend this whole thing never happened.

Instead, I found myself really looking at him carefully.

"You look like hell," I said before I could stop myself.

He laughed, but it wasn't a happy sound. "Thanks. You look good."

"Don't."

"What?"

"Don't do that. Don't be nice to me when you're clearly..." I gestured vaguely at him, at the cart, at everything. "What are you doing here, Zeph?"

His expression closed off again. "Working."

"This isn't your job."

"It is now."

I wanted to push harder, but something about his tone warned me off. Instead, I looked around, really taking in the area for the first time.

The coffee cart was positioned at a weird angle. Not facing the main foot traffic like you'd expect, but angled toward the cross street. Like he was watching something specific. And the customers from yesterday – now that I thought about it, they'd all been men. Business types in expensive suits.

"This is a strange spot for a coffee cart," I said casually.

"Is it?"

"Most vendors want to catch the morning commuter rush. This corner gets less foot traffic."

Zeph's jaw tightened. "Maybe I like the quiet."

I was about to respond when my phone buzzed. Work. Right. I was supposed to be at the office twenty minutes ago.

"I have to go," I said reluctantly.

"See you around."

There was something final about the way he said it. Like he was saying goodbye.

"Zeph—"

"Have a good day, Iz."

I backed away from the cart, still holding my perfect coffee. My mind was spinning with questions, but I forced myself to turn and walk toward the courthouse.

The morning flew by in a blur of case files and court preparations. I had a new domestic violence case that had just landed on my desk – Sarah Chen versus her husband Michael. The usual story: years of abuse, finally escalating to the point where she'd pressed charges.

I was halfway through the police report when something caught my eye.

Michael Chen. Occupation: Business owner. Company: Chen Coffee Enterprises.

I stared at the paper. Coffee business. In Seattle.

It could be a coincidence. Seattle had hundreds of coffee-related businesses. But my prosecutor instincts were pinging hard.

I pulled up the company records on my computer. Chen Coffee Enterprises owned twelve mobile coffee carts throughout the downtown area. All of them positioned at what the website called "strategic business locations."

My phone rang, interrupting my thoughts.

"Izzy Pemberton."

"Ms. Pemberton? This is Detective Martinez with SPD. I'm calling about the Chen case."

"What about it?"

"There's been a development. We need to meet."

An hour later, I was back on Pine Street, walking past Zeph's coffee cart on my way to meet Detective Martinez at a nearby café. I tried not to look, but I couldn't help myself.

Zeph was serving a customer – another man in an expensive suit. They were talking in low voices, and something about their body language seemed off. Too familiar. Too intense for a simple coffee transaction.

As I passed, Zeph looked up and met my eyes. For a second, his expression was unguarded. Worried. Almost scared.

Then he leaned across the counter and handed the man his coffee.

"Be careful, Izzy," he said quietly as I passed. "Some things are more dangerous than they look."

I stopped walking. Turned around. But he was already focused on his next customer, acting like nothing had happened.

I glanced around and noticed someone else watching the scene. A woman in a dark coat, standing by the bus stop about thirty feet away. She wasn't waiting for a bus. Her attention was fixed entirely on Zeph's cart.

My heart started racing.

Detective Martinez didn’t give me much—just more questions and a vague warning to "stay alert."

I left the café with a folder full of dead ends and an uneasy feeling that wouldn't let go.

Back at my desk, I tried to focus on work, but my mind kept drifting to Zeph, to the woman by the bus stop, to that look in his eyes.

At lunch, I made a decision.

Professional curiosity, I told myself as I grabbed my coat. That's all this was.

I grabbed my coat and headed back to Pine Street.