Chapter 6 · Diver Has a Face

The coffee shop smells like burnt beans and someone's vape pen.

Celine's standing by the pickup counter when the door chimes and a guy walks in wearing a gray hoodie and wire-rim glasses. He's looking at his phone. She wouldn't have clocked him except the barista goes stiff and pretends to wipe down the espresso machine.

She knows that tell. Someone just walked in who doesn't belong.

The guy orders a black coffee. His voice is quiet. Polite. He pays cash, which nobody does anymore, and turns around scanning the room.

His eyes land on her.

He freezes.

She's supposed to be the one doing the ambush here. She sent the message an hour ago—found your tag in Mom's file, Diver, I need a meeting or I go to the feds. She didn't expect him to show up this fast. Didn't expect him to look like someone she used to know.

Actually, no.

She knows exactly who he looks like.