The soft hum of voices and the darkly sweet scent of coffee blended into a comforting warmth as I stepped into the coffee shop. It was late in the afternoon, but the place was still purring with activity—college-aged folks set up with laptops, small groups of friends, a bookworm here and there.
It was the perfect setting for my meeting.
Especially since Ethan sat in the back corner of the coffee shop, perched at a tiny round table behind a massive cup of coffee. He was almost unidentifiable in civilian clothes, nary a badge or patch in sight.
I couldn’t help but wonder if he carried a gun.
Still, I slid into the seat across from him, nodded my greeting. “Ethan.” Oh how I wanted to use his proper name. Matteo.
“Aldo.” My brother’s gaze tracked across my face, curious and wary. “I
