Warrior in the Shadows Read Online Free

with your coffee.
    "You did lose me, Neil," Charley said. "But they make worse coffee than you do, and the help is prettier over here."
    "You want something to eat?" Neil said.
    "I've got fresh croissants," Jill said. "Special is two croissants and butter with coffee."
    "Twist my arm," Charley said.
    "I'd beat you up," Jill said. She was a sunny brunette with a runner's build. She bustled around behind the counter, leaving the two other people in line looking at each other as she put together a plate for Charley.
    "Here you go," she said, handing him the plate. "You sitting outside?"
    "We don't get enough days like this to waste it inside," Charley said. "Is there a paper around here?"
    "Take Neil's… just bring it back when you're done," Jill said. She handed him a Star-Tribune , still rolled up with the rubber band in place.
    Neil shook his head and went back to the grill. "Wish I could get her to wait like that on the people who pay."
    Charley laughed and slid a five-dollar bill across the counter. "Here, darling. You keep the rest. Tell Neil to stay out of the tip jar, too."
    Charley took his coffee, his plate, and his newspaper, all balanced precariously, out the front door and onto one of the tables that faced out onto Upton Street and caught the full morning sun. It was warm there in the morning sun and his was the last empty table; the others had a smattering of singles and couples, and one regular morning coffee club had pushed two together and were busy dishing gossip on the neighborhood. Charley pushed one of the chairs from his table out in front of him so he could prop his feet up, then sat down. When he sat, the clip of his fighting knife clanged against the metal of the chair. Without looking he pulled his fleece jacket low to hide the clip and cushion it from the metal. He set the paper aside for the moment and took his coffee mug in both hands and sipped slowly and appreciatively from it. After a few minutes he started on the bread and found the croissants to be perfect: flaky, still warm, slightly crusty on the bottom side and deliciously soft inside.
    Charley pressed his chair back against the brick wall behind him and felt the warmth of the bricks through his jacket. He enjoyed the different sensations, the sun on his face, warmth on his back, the coolness and the slight chill the early morning air played on his wrists and neck. He shut his eyes for a moment and turned his face to the sun and let the sunshine play across him, the sun dazzling him through his closed eyelids.
    He finished one croissant and took his time buttering the next. The couple at the table beside him looked at him, smiled at each other as though sharing a secret, and went back to their shared newspaper. Charley smiled lazily and nodded and said nothing, as was his custom. He cultivated an ability he'd developed long ago, the ability to tune out noise and distraction to concentrate on what he was doing— and right now what he was doing was drinking the best coffee he could hope for and eating a fine croissant.
    Part of that long-standing habit of concentration was the ability to immediately sort out what was important and what wasn't, and one thing that was important in his life right now was his telephone. He heard, faint and far off from above, the distinctive ring of his cordless phone that sat in its cradle beside the window while it charged. He debated for a moment whether to jog upstairs and answer it, and immediately dismissed the thought as his automatic answering service picked up the message after four rings. Anything really urgent would bring him a message on his pager.
    Charley touched the spot on his belt, just front of his left hip, where he would normally carry his pager and then, to the amusement of the couple beside him, said, "Shit." He fumed for a moment and then laughed. He'd left the pager upstairs. He knew himself well enough to know that unconsciously he didn't want to be bothered this morning and that was why