My Vigilante Valentine

Chapter 4

4

annoyingly decent

I dropped to the floor, palms pressing into the cold wood as I started another round of push-ups. Faster this time. Harder.

One. Two. Three…

The burn in my muscles felt good, but unwelcome images slipped through anyway.

Specifically, a face.

Not anyone from my latest attempt at cleaning up this city, though that would’ve made more sense.

No, instead, it was hers —Luna.

Someone who was slowly turning out to be my Kryptonite, even though my strength, speed, and reflexes weren’t exactly Superman-level. They had just been… enhanced ever since the mission that had blown up my life.

Literally.

I gritted my teeth and pushed harder.

Twenty-five. Twenty-six.

Her laugh snuck in next—warm and irritatingly effective at getting under my skin.

She’d already taken up too much space in my head. And yet, here she was again.

Over it, I flipped onto my back, staring at the ceiling like I’d find some answers there.

I didn’t.

But at least the ceiling didn’t judge me for being unable to banish this distraction. I was just lucky it hadn’t been an issue last night.

I’d been doing a sweep of the streets from the rooftops above when I’d come up on a familiar scene—two guys with more ego than brains cornering some poor sap in an alley.

Knife to the ribs, demands for a wallet, the whole cliché package.

I’d dropped to the ground—too fast for them to react and faster than any human should. One second, they were doing their thing, and the next, they were zip-tied and dazed.

The victim had bolted as soon as he’d seen an opening, of course.

They always did.

In the end, I’d left the thugs gift-wrapped for the cops, called it in anonymously, and then faded back into the shadows.

Just another routine night on the job.

Not that operating outside the law for no pay was a job, so it was a good thing I pulled in some decent money from the VA. I’d been medically separated from the Marines after the mission that changed everything, which meant I was set for life.

Having to live in the shadows like a freak, always wary of being turned into a lab rat?

Small price to pay.

But the thing about routines, even for someone with as flexible a schedule as mine, was that they snuck up on you. One day, it was just a cup of coffee and some free wifi after mine went on the fritz and the next…

Haunting Wilde Brew while searching for my next take-down was a non-negotiable part of my schedule.

Which was how I wound up here now, freshly showered after my workout. The quirky shop—or, maybe, the thought of seeing its owner—had pulled me in before I realized what my feet were doing.

Which was stupid, considering how much I wanted to forget that she existed.

I exhaled sharply, pushing the thought away as I opened the door. But then, a new thought slipped in. Was it dangerous for me to keep showing up here as myself after she’d witnessed The Blade at the bank that day?

No…

There was no way she’d recognized me.

Obsessed or not.

The door chimed overhead as I walked in, and I winced like it had announced my lack of self-control to the world.

The familiar mix of coffee, old books, and something sweet hit me as I scanned the room out of habit, taking in the eccentric shop that had somehow become something of a refuge for me over these last few months.

Mismatched chairs were placed in open spaces and cozy nooks.

The shelves were stuffed with books that weren’t sorted in any way that made sense—not that anyone around here seemed to care.

Plants hung from those trendy, cream-colored rope holders like laid-back sentinels, soaking up the morning sun.

And then…

There was Luna.

She moved behind the counter with a chaotic cadence that had me both in awe of her and also wondering how nothing had burst into flames yet. She had her dark hair tied up in a messy bun, and my attention snagged on a few wavy strands that grazed her cheeks.

As I passed the counter on the way to my spot, Luna laughed at something her captive audience had said. The sound skated over me, hitting every nerve in its path.

Clearly, she was doing just fine despite having recently had a gun pointed in her general direction.

That was a good thing, obviously, but why did I care so much?

Brushing it off, I made a beeline for my table and slid my backpack to the chair so I could mark my spot. Deciding not to risk another hand-delivered coffee, I ordered at the counter, not at all cool with how disappointed I was that it was one of Luna’s employees who’d taken my order and not her.

Then, I returned to my table and pulled out my laptop, working hard to narrow my focus.

But, of course, my eyes betrayed me.

Every time that woman laughed with some random customer, they flicked up like they were desperate to witness the smile that went with that sound.

And the laugh itself? It was annoyingly faultless.

Warm and unfiltered, the kind that wrapped around your brain like Saran wrap until it was starved of oxygen, and all coherent thought became impossible.

It wasn’t until she moved on to less laugh-inducing conversations that I finally made some progress hunting my monster of the week.

That is, until she ruined it by approaching my table, a plate balanced in her hand like she was on a mission of her own.

I glanced at the plate that she held under my nose with no regard for my personal space—or sanity. Three cookies stared up at me, shaped like hearts and drowning in a sea of pink frosting and sprinkles.

And glitter . Actual glitter.

Because apparently, someone thought it was a good idea to make a version of torture dust that was edible.

She set the plate down in front of me with zero hesitation, her smile unapologetically wide. “You look like you wanna be a taste-tester.”

She said it casually, but there was something in her eyes—like this was more about having an excuse to talk to me than the cookies.

And that was bad.

I had to do something.

I blinked at the plate. Then at her. Then, back at the plate.

“Come on,” she said, a hint of pleading in her tone. “I’m trying to perfect my Valentine’s Day specials for next month. Give them a try. Consider it a complimentary dose of joy. You look like you could use it.”

“First free coffee, now free… sparkly cookies?”

She nodded. “Part of my customer loyalty program. Perks include unsolicited baked goods and occasional harassment.”

My jaw tightened. “I’m allergic to unsolicited baked goods.”

And that harassment part? It definitely shouldn’t have sounded as appealing as it did.

“Wow, tough break.” Her smile grew, nearly blinding me now. “I’d hate to be you.”

She had no idea.

I stared at her, waiting for her to take her cookies and walk away. Almost willing her to.

She didn’t.

Instead, she surprised me by cocking her head, eyeing me with more open curiosity than I was comfortable with. “You know, you’re here so often, I’m considering charging you rent instead of lavishing you with all this free stuff. What am I doing?”

“Good question.”

“Ooh, or I could get you a plaque for your favorite table,” she went on as if I hadn’t spoken. “But don’t worry, I wouldn’t put your name on it.”

I didn’t want to take the bait, but her eyes were sparkling more than the cookies now. I sighed. “What would it say?”

“I’m thinking something along the lines of, ‘Reserved for Broody McGlareface.’ Too long? Yeah, you’re a short-name kinda guy. I’ll workshop it.”

“You do that.”

A laugh burst out, quick and light. “Fine, I’ll leave you alone. But do me a favor, will you?”

I pursed my lips in an unspoken gesture for her to go on.

“Try not to scowl too hard while eating those cookies. Unless they’re really gross, that is. You’re a taste tester, remember? I might think they’re bad unless you let me know otherwise.”

I gave her a flat look.

“I mean it,” she warned.

Then she chuckled and walked away, leaving me with the plate of offensively cheerful cookies and the distinct feeling I’d just lost a battle I hadn’t even known I was fighting.

I stared at the cookies, then at the door.

What were the chances I could pack up and leave without her noticing?

Bad. The chances were bad. Luna Wilde was dangerously aware of me, and while the idea of that did something to my insides that I had no desire to look too hard at, that wasn’t a good thing—a safe thing.

Not for her, and probably not for me, either.

Begrudgingly, I took a bite, though I wasn’t even sure why. I could’ve just left them on the plate so I’d be safe from the sparkles, telling her I meant it when I said I didn’t want them.

But… no.

It was the same thing that happened with my feet on the way over here. Control used to be easy—especially after everything I’d gone through to get where I am.

But with Luna? I’d lost all semblance of it, and?—

Oh, wow . The cookie was good. Really good. In fact, I probably couldn’t scowl about it if I tried.

Discreetly brushing a crumb from my lip, I glanced toward the counter.

She wasn’t looking.

The rest of the cookie disappeared.

The tension between my shoulder blades hadn’t eased, even after two hours of working on intel about a pawn shop’s illegal money laundering scheme. I’d hit a dead end with the guy who’d done the recent double homicide, so until something else came up, it was back to business as usual.

Feeling eyes on me, I glanced up.

Chris—whose name I only knew thanks to being aware of Luna’s every word—was staring at me from his spot at the counter.

He lounged there almost every day like he owned it, and the way he worked? The keystrokes, the intensity, his whole demeanor?

It was clear that he knew things. The kind of things that required firewalls, encryption, and maybe the occasional surf of the dark web.

There was no doubt in my mind that the guy was a hacker.

But was he the good kind or the bad?

I shifted in my seat, tapping aimlessly at my own keyboard, but my attention stayed on Chris. I might not like the way he got to have such an easy relationship with Luna when I was forced to torture myself over her, but there was no denying the guy had skills.

Our eyes met for a fraction of a second, and though it was brief, it felt intentional—like he was trying to read me as much as I was reading him.

I looked away first.

Not because I was rattled. As usual, I just didn’t care to engage.

Big difference.

I stared at my screen, the cursor blinking like it was mocking me. My tech skills weren’t bad. Basic hacking? Sure. Enough to scrape data, trace IPs, and bypass low-level security.

But Chris? He wasn’t basic. In the right context, I had a feeling he was capable in a dangerous way.

Could I use someone like that?

Well, yeah.

But… no.

I worked alone. Always had, and always would.

Attachments were liabilities. Rule number two of my nonexistent handbook.

But whether he was a hacker, whether I wanted to work with him, or whether I kinda hated him for his easy familiarity with Luna, it wasn’t lost on me the way he’d shielded her from danger at the bank.

And for that, he had my respect.

Figuring I had enough intel for my crime-stopping plans tonight, I packed up my laptop, sliding it into my bag before making my way to the door.

As I passed the counter again—with no Luna in sight—the compliment jar on the counter caught my eye. It sat near the register where a tip jar would normally be.

It was a silly thing, really. Just a mason jar with a handwritten label that said, “Give a compliment, get a smile,” in loopy handwriting. Probably hers.

I should’ve kept walking. Should’ve kept my head down and my focus where it should be.

But instead, I surprised the crap out of myself by picking up one of the pink slips of paper next to the jar and scribbling with abandon.

Decent coffee.

Annoyingly decent atmosphere.

No name. No flourish. Just a pointless note in a jar full of pointless notes.

Before my brain could decide it was a mistake, I folded it twice and dropped it into the jar. Then I swiftly turned and left the shop, telling myself it was nothing.

But that ache in my clenched jaw?

It said otherwise.