Caffeine & Killers (Roasted Love Cozy 3)

I turned to Licorice Billy. "Now – John Collins was the man whose place you claimed for your own outside Roasted Love. Correct?"

Both men looked at each other, and then burst into hoarse laughter. "That John was no John Collins, Miss Uptown," said Ricky.

They both turned abruptly and walked away from me, shaking their heads. I heard them laughing, even when Billy wiped his hand across his blackened mouth.

"Wait!" I cried. "I need to know what you're talking about. Who's – who's John Collins?"

Licorice Billy just waved his thick hand over his shoulder without looking back. Both men parted ways at the corner. Ricky continued across the broken street at a leisurely pace, until something caught his eye. Then he raised his head and practically started running towards a side alley, where he vanished.

I looked to see what caused him to panic. An ordinary-looking car pulled to the curb and stopped – and who should get out but the now-familiar DEA man. He started in Ricky's direction, but the scruffy dealer had had too much of a head start and was already gone.

I knew I should turn and take refuge in my car before the officer recognized me – but I was too late. He strode quickly in my direction and I had no choice but to stay where I was.

"Don’t tell me you do your grocery shopping down here." His tone was sarcastic.

"Don't tell me you don't wear your badge down here." I wasn't sure where I'd gotten the nerve to say that. At least my voice was brave, even though the rest of me was beginning to shake.

"I don't think you understand how it works, ma'am." His eyes were hard and glaring, and his words held a warning. "I told you I didn't want to see you down here again."

I wanted to tell him my thoughts on freedom in America, but decided it was smarter to just keep quiet. I walked back to my car, reminding myself not to come down here again.

At least, not without Thor.

Chapter Sixteen

I was still baffled by the way Licorice Billy and Ricky Thomas had laughed at me when I mentioned the name "John Collins." At Roasted Love, I found myself distracted when Lily gave me a couple of orders.

"I asked for a latte, Laila, not a cappuccino," said Lily. "What’s wrong with you today? You seem to be in another world."

"I’m sorry. I guess I’m a little distracted."

I quickly corrected my mistake and tried to focus on work. Every once in a while my eyes scanned the coffee house, hoping to catch a glimpse of Linda Henson and Ronald Larch. Neither one of them came in, but Daniel did. He had a small boutique shopping bag in his hand. Our eyes met and long strides brought him to the counter across from me.

"Laila, I brought you something I think you’ll like," he said. If his smile spread wider there would be nothing left of his handsome face. "I’ll grab a table. When you can, come on over."

"Now you've got me wondering," I said, and grinned back at him. There was one sure thing about Daniel: He knew how to lift my spirits.

But I wasn’t sure if I should say anything about Homeless John not being John Collins. If I did, I'd have to tell him how I'd found out.

I had quite a dilemma going on.

When I joined Daniel at the table, most of the customers had gone. There were only a couple of stragglers left. I knew that things would stay quiet for an hour or so before the next rush at around noon.

I sat across from Daniel while he sipped a latte and munched on a cheese scone. I wrapped my hands around a cup of espresso.

"I’m glad you could get a little break, Laila." His dark eyes shone in anticipation. "I picked up something for you this morning. I thought of you right away when I saw it."

He pushed the small bag toward me. I opened it, only to see a gift-wrapped box. "It’s not my birthday," I said. "What’s the occasion?"

"Does there have to be an occasion?" he said.

A movement outside caught my eye. I glanced past Daniel and saw Licorice Billy sauntering along the sidewalk. I sighed, and hoped he didn’t plan on sitting outside Roasted Love again.

As I watched, he bent over the trash can and I saw him pushing dirty cups and papers around. He pulled out a torn wrapper that held half a bagel.

I knew I should open my gift and thank Daniel for it. Instead, I said, "I found out something today."

"Really? What?"