Damian's Assassin

She stopped at a stoplight, only for the car behind her to slide into her. The bump jarred the cell phone loose, and it fell in the space between the seat and door. The driver from the car behind her approached. She cracked the door to squeeze her hand in the space as well as to tell the other driver not to worry about the car. The door was wrenched open, and a man pointed the gun at her.

"Out of the car, bitch!" he shouted.

She unfastened the seatbelt, all but falling into the street as he yanked her out. He climbed in, maneuvering it through the crowded street.

Bianca watched him go. She didn't know how much an Aston Martin cost, but it was enough that Dusty would probably be pissed.

Within seconds, she was drenched. Carless, moneyless, lost, she retreated to the sidewalk. This time, Dusty was going to kill her for losing his car. Shivering, she walked until she found a Starbucks and ducked inside. There was only one other customer and several baristas talking loudly behind the counter. They looked towards her as the bell over the door rang.

"Welcome to Starbucks!" one greeted her. "A little rough out there?"

"You have no idea!" she said. "I just need a place to duck out of the rain for a bit." The young woman motioned to the sitting area, and Bianca went, relieved. She faced the windows, watching the torrent outside.

"On the house," a barista said, placing a drink before her. "It's your favorite."

She looked up at him with a curious smile. He was tall and lanky with a huge smile and close-spaced eyes that seemed more soulful than his youthful looks warranted.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, thanks," she replied. "I'm not having a good afternoon."

"You need me to call anyone?" His tone was unassuming, but his gaze was intent, as if he were trying to gauge if she recognized him or not.

She hesitated then asked, "Can you call someone to come get me?"

"Definitely." He walked away, responding to one of the baristas teasing him.

She sipped her drink, surprised to find it really was her favorite, a pumpkin spice latte. She chuckled to herself, wondering if guessing someone's favorite drink was his Natural gift. He returned after a few minutes and sat across from her.

"Is this your gift?" she asked, holding up the drink.

"HQ put out a BOLO for you half an hour ago. Any of us in the field receive it," he said and held up his iPhone. "It lists your pic and all your bio info, which includes your favorite food down to the coffee."