What’s Included

Oliver

August

Here’s the thing about being a hitman: you experience the world very differently than everyone else. Something as mundane as walking into a new coffee shop on a Friday morning can have your mind whirring with possibilities.

We look normal—me, Elliot, and Rhett, that is. But underneath our sharp suits and our cover of being investment bankers, we’re lethal. It makes me wonder about everyone else in this bustling little shop. Students studying in one corner, friends catching up in another.

Or so it seems.

But the truth is, you never know who someone is at a first glance. You can only make your best guess.

Elliot nudges me while we wait in line. “You good? You’re awfully quiet this morning.”

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine.” I shoot him my signature grin. It is a little odd for me to not be more talkative, but I’m in a rare introspective mood this morning. There’s a lot to think about.

How far we’ve come.

How far we still have to go.

My hopes for what the future will look like.

And, of course, who else in this coffee shop is pretending to be someone they’re not.

A laugh fills the shop, light and sweet. My eyes are drawn to the woman taking orders behind the counter. She’s probably no more than a few years younger than us, and her eyes are sparkling with delight at the little kid in front of us who’s swiping her mom’s credit card.

The sight sends a pang through my chest. Yet another reminder that things aren’t always as they seem. That even when life is just beginning to look up, you can have some of the most important things stolen away from you in a heartbeat.

Thankfully, the feeling dissipates quickly when the woman behind the counter beckons us forward. We’ve lost a lot, and a lot has changed. But one thing that’s always stayed the same? A beautiful woman, even if she could kill you, is still beautiful.

I don’t think the pretty barista behind the counter has murder in her blood, though. But I suppose there was a time when I thought the same of myself.

“Morning,” I say as I saunter up to the counter. “Having a good day so far?”

“A pretty busy one,” she replies as she grabs a sleeve of cups to refill a near-empty holder.

I take a peek at her name tag. “Well, Wren, I hope things slow down for you.”

Her expression is surprised, but she covers it with a warm smile. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Now, what would you recommend for someone with a sweet tooth?”

“Hmmm. Our caramel cappuccino is pretty popular.”

“I’ll have that, then. Maybe with extra caramel?”

“Sure,” she says with a little laugh, punching in my order.

Something about the way her smile widens has me standing a little taller. Food service is hard and miserable work. Knowing Wren’s morning just got a little bit better—and knowing it’s because of me—causes satisfaction to slip into my veins.

“And are you three ordering separately or together?” Wren asks, her eyes flitting between the three of us.

“Together.” Elliot steps up to the counter. “If you could add two black coffees, please?”

“Sure thing. That all?”

Elliot nods. She tells us our total, and Rhett pulls out his card and swipes silently. As he does, Wren cranes her neck just a little to get a better look at his hand.

“I like your tattoo,” she says, her expression shy. “It’s nice.”

Rhett freezes, his eyes snapping to hers. I doubt he’s intentionally staring at her like he’s trying to scare her, but I think he’s succeeding in doing just that. The man doesn’t know how to be anything but intense.

“What he’s trying to say is thank you,” I tell Wren before slinging my arm around Rhett and guiding him away from the register.

Behind us, Elliot mutters a quick apology before catching up with us. “Where should we sit?”

“How about right here?” I nod to the little bar at the counter. There are three stools—the perfect amount for us. And, as an added bonus, it keeps us close enough that maybe I could strike up a conversation with Wren.

Rhett doesn’t seem too happy about it, but upon further inspection of the shop, he relents. There aren’t really any open tables.

“I’ve got one of the black coffees here,” Wren says before setting it on the counter. “We have more brewing, and it’s almost done, and then the cappuccino will be right up.”

“Take your time,” I tell her. “We’re in no rush.”

While she gets everything ready for the other drinks, I do my best to watch her discreetly. She really is pretty—the kind that makes it hard to look away. God, I don’t want to be a creep, but she seems so nice, too.

Not that it matters, a voice in the back of my head reminds me.

I ignore it.

Sliding the mug in front of Rhett, Elliot says, “For you.”

Rhett frowns. “Ell, you—”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind waiting a few minutes.”

“You’re sure?”

Nodding, Elliot slips a hand onto Rhett’s leg. “Positive.”

I lean forward so I can see Rhett. “He’s tricking you.”

“Tricking me?” Rhett shoots me a disbelieving glance.

“He’s pretending to be nice and let you have it, but really, this way, he wins. He gets fresh coffee instead of stuff that’s been sitting around for a while.”

Raising a brow, Rhett slides his gaze over to Elliot. “That true? You playing me, pretty boy?”

Ell laughs, rolling his eyes and punching me lightly in the arm. “If that’s what you want to think.”

Wren comes over, mug of coffee in hand. “Here’s the other black coffee. Just be careful, it’s extra ho—ohhh!”

As she sets it down, some of the coffee spills over the side. It splashes onto Wren’s hand and the counter. She quickly grabs a towel and starts sopping it up.

“God, I’m so sorry. I’ll top you up in a second, I just want to get this all—”

“Don’t worry about it.” Elliot places his hand over the towel, his fingers brushing against hers. His voice is gentle, reassuring. “I’ve got this.”

She freezes, her gaze fixed on where they’re touching before she meets Elliot’s eyes. “I—um, thank you.”

“You’re all right?” Elliot asks.

“Yeah.” She pulls away and runs her hand under cold water for a second. “Not the first time it’s happened.” She laughs, embarrassment tinging her tone. “Or the last, probably. Did I spill any on you?”

“No, I’m fine.” He wipes up the rest of the coffee. “Didn’t get anywhere near me.”

“You good?” Wren’s coworker calls, glancing over from the drive-thru.

“Yeah. Give me a second and I can help you. Just gotta make one more drink.”

“No need,” her coworker says. “Last car.”

“Thank god,” Wren mutters to herself. She fills up Elliot’s coffee, setting it down on the bar more carefully this time. “Just give me another couple minutes on the cappuccino. Oh!” She turns to face me, a twinkle in her eyes. “All of our coffee is fresh, by the way. We go through it fast enough that we usually can’t keep up.”

“Oh. Uh, my apologies, I didn’t think you’d hear me.”

She grins. “Most people think that.”

When she turns away, I sink into my seat with a groan. Elliot chuckles while he blows on his coffee. No doubt, he’s probably thinking about how this is one more instance of my mouth getting ahead of me.

At least she doesn’t seem offended.

As Wren starts making my cappuccino, she rolls her shoulders and tips her head back tiredly.

“Long morning?” I ask, leaning forward.

“Long week. But I’ve got the next two days off.”

“Oh, that’s nice. Doing anything fun?”

“Probably just relaxing,” she says. “Might go to a small art festival that’s in town. But I’m gonna be honest, I plan on getting a lot of sleep.”

That pulls a laugh from me. “That’s what weekends are for, right? I like doing Saturday movie marathons. Pick a theme, grab some ice cream and snacks, and then do nothing all day.”

Elliot smiles into his mug, muttering, “You and your ice cream.”

“That sounds like a lot of fun,” Wren says. “You usually invite friends?”

“Just these two.” I gesture to Rhett and Elliot. “Although sometimes my sister joins.”

“The last theme was action movies,” Elliot says. “She skipped that one.”

“But the next theme is rom-coms. And my sister? She loves a good rom-com.”

“Ohhh, so do I! Although I usually read them instead of watch.”

You should come, I almost blurt out, but this time I’m able to control my tongue. Just because I think Wren is beautiful and nice doesn’t mean I can start inviting her to things randomly. She’s a stranger, for fuck’s sake. Besides, we have work to do. Our movie marathons have been indefinitely postponed until further notice.

“Here you go.” Wren sets my cappuccino on the counter.

“Thanks.” I stare down at the heart design on top. It smells delicious, and it looks just as pretty.

It’s one of the things I always take a moment to appreciate on our Friday coffee runs. No matter how busy or how stressful life gets, there are always little things that keep me going. Flowers, sunsets, pretty drinks, ice cream. Some would say they’re inconsequential, but they’re what keeps me going when everything starts looking hopeless.

“You gonna drink it,” Rhett says, leaning forward and raising a brow at me. “Or are you just gonna stare at it?”

“It looks nice, that’s all.”

And… well, I never could resist a pretty thing.

“Thank you,” Wren calls over her shoulder. She’s bustling behind the counter with her coworker, cleaning and restocking before the next rush. But that doesn’t stop her from shooting me a smug smile.

My pulse picks up slightly. It’s been a while since I’ve flirted with a woman, and I’m not even sure that’s what she’s trying to do. She probably gets at least ten people hitting on her every day, and I doubt I’m her type, anyway. But dammit, she—

“Oliver.”

My eyes snap to Rhett. “What?”

“Stop staring at the poor woman and drink your cappuccino.”

Whoops.

I blow on my coffee before taking a small sip. What’s with me today?

Somewhere inside me, I already know the answer. I can hear my mom’s voice in my head, soft and gentle and always so patient.

You’re just trying to find a small bit of hope. Something to hold onto so you can get through this easier.

I sigh. It’s been ten years. Ten years since we lost Rhett’s little sister and set out to find the man who killed her. We’re closer than ever to destroying him, but the process has been grueling. I’m tired.

So, so tired.

“It’s good?” Elliot asks, nodding to my cappuccino.

“Perfect.”

The smile I give him isn’t as vibrant as earlier, and I’m pretty sure he notices. He squeezes my arm as the three of us fall into easy conversation. It’s the type of interaction I miss with Ell and Rhett. When we’re at home, we’re usually caught up in work or our revenge plans. But out in public, we can’t talk about any of that.

It’s just us again—normal us. Relaxed and maybe even having some fun. There’s nothing I love more.

“Oh my god, Wren.”

I glance up in time to find the other barista playfully rolling her eyes.

“What?” Wren says, her voice coming from below. “You know I’m at a good part!”

I have to peer over the edge of the counter to find Wren. She’s crouched down in a corner with an open book in her hands. She must’ve stashed it on one of the shelves. When she glances up at us, her expression turns bashful.

“It’s a really good part,” she says, hugging the book to her chest.

“You’re not getting any judgment from me,” Elliot says. “I understand.”

At that, she perks up. “You like books?”

“Love them. Haven’t had much time for reading lately, and I miss it.” He tilts his chin toward her book. “What’ve you got there?”

“Oh, it’s an epic fantasy. It’s… a lot to try and explain. But you know, it’s got all the usual stuff. Prophecies and quests and high stakes. Oh, and fairies.”

“Sounds intriguing.”

“Mmhmm.” Wren glances to me and then to Rhett. “Do either of you like to read?”

“Some,” Rhett says, and I can practically hear the effort he’s putting into making sure he doesn’t sound too stiff. “But mostly nonfiction.”

“And you?” she asks me. She’s standing now, still holding her book, and I feel a little bad for pulling her away from her story.

“Not… not really. I’m more of a movie person, you know? Although I still listen to the occasional audiobook.”

Her expression brightens. “That counts.”

Tilting my head, I think on it for a second before nodding. “Yeah, I guess it does. The last one I picked up was a murder mystery. It was quite fun.”

“Oh, I love a good murder mystery. I haven’t—” Wren stops when the bell above the door rings. “Oh, hold on a second.” She moves to the register and greets the couple that just came in.

I’m hoping she’ll get another break to talk to us, but it picks up again, and her and her coworker go back to trying to keep up with the line of customers. I can’t deny that I’m disappointed, but we’ll be back. Our old coffee shop closed down, and this is our third try at finding a new one. It’s not solely my decision to make, but I like this place.

When we leave, I wave at Wren, and she catches it just in time to give me a frazzled smile before turning back to the espresso machine. It doesn’t mean anything—probably, anyway—but my imagination always runs wild. Regardless, next Friday can’t come soon enough.