upscale D. C. bistro. The warm air and the rich

. But after Anissa drops a crisp hundred-dollar bill onto the po

her throbbing temples. She desperately tries to push

. Her hyper-vigilant eyes scan the room. Her right ha

and the strongest black coffee they have. She needs the gro

m. She notices a large circular table in the cent

eir identical tactical boots, thick necks, a

beer glass onto the wooden table with brutal force. A n

in. The obnoxious, aggressive noise gr

slightly as he sets the mugs down. He carefully avoids

ee. The heat burns her tongue, but it helps set

ed, ugly scar across his cheek stands

His bloodshot eyes linger uncomfortably

calloused finger toward Anissa. He mutters something

s. Her eyes lock onto the scarred m

i's wrist under the table. "Stand down

e from his table. He staggers over to Anissa's booth.

He leans his thick body heavily against the edg

ine dripping with entitlement. "I'll pour you a

im. Her face shows a

a says. Her voice

instantly bruised by her immediate, fearless

, alcohol-soaked breath w

messing with in this city,

empts to grab the hood of Anissa's sweatsh

brush the fabric, Ashanti moves

left hand. She twists it sharply, forcing the ba

bs the heavy, serrated steak kni

e buries the steel blade halfway into the thick oak table. She traps

ream of pure terror. He drops to his knees,

t. The sound of dropping silverwar

tantly kick their chairs back. They reach