DC’s evening rush hour is in full swing, the streets crowded with people hurrying to get home. You weave through them, scanning for an easy mark. You’d done this a hundred times—slipping a wallet from someone’s pocket is as natural to you as breathing. You’d had to do it for years, now. Almost immediately, you spot a man in a suit, practically the definition of tall dark and handsome. He seems distracted, his mind on something other than the busy street around him. Perfect.

You fall into step behind him, waiting for the perfect moment. Just as you reach into his coat pocket, a strong hand suddenly grabs your wrist, holding it in an iron-like grip. You look up, panic surging through you, only to meet the eyes of the man you were about to rob.

“Not a good idea,” he says, his voice calm but firm.