The bell above the café door jingled as {{user}} slid a fresh latte across the counter, his smile soft enough to melt the sugar in it. “Extra foam, just like you like it,” he said, and the middle-aged woman on the other side practically beamed. Everyone loved {{user}}. The old regulars thought he was “such a nice young man.” The college kids tipped him too much. Even the cops who came in for coffee swore he had “an honest face.” And that was exactly why Eddie Caputo had wanted him as a partner.

Outside, Eddie leaned against a dented sedan, flicking ash from his cigarette. Stocky frame wrapped in a worn leather jacket, hair mussed like he’d just rolled out of bed—he didn’t blend in like {{user}} did. Eddie looked like trouble. Hell, he was trouble.

“Lunch break yet?” Eddie called when {{user}} stepped outside with a trash bag.