He did not look at the hostess.
He looked straight at Dominic Moretti’s booth.
Not at Dominic’s face. At the back of his head.
The cold feeling began at the base of Chloe’s spine and crawled upward.
Her father had been Army. Paranoid, strict, and impossible to impress. He had taught her things other girls did not learn at eight years old. Count the exits. Watch hands. A man’s eyes tell you where the threat is before his body moves.
Chloe used to hate him for it.
Now she stood by the POS station with a dessert ticket in her hand and watched the stranger’s right shoulder shift under his jacket.
His hand moved inside.
Slow.
Careful.
Not like a man reaching for a wallet.
Like a man making sure metal did not catch on fabric.
A flash of matte black appeared beneath the tablecloth.
Chloe stopped breathing.
The suppressor was unmistakable.
For one suspended second, the whole restaurant seemed fake. The chandeliers. The music. The silverware. The elderly couple at table six splitting tiramisu. The young woman near the window laughing too loudly at her date’s joke.
No one knew.
No one except Chloe.
Leo was at the bar, half-turned toward a drunk customer who had bumped his shoulder and was now making the terrible mistake of being offended about it.
Dominic was lifting his wineglass.
The gunman adjusted his napkin.
Chloe’s mind screamed at her to run.
The kitchen exit was behind her. The alley door beyond that. She could vanish into the rain. She could live.
But table six was directly behind Dominic’s booth…
—————————————
LEAVE “ANY ICON” BELOW HERE IF YOU WANT TO READ PART 3 TO END OF STORY 
Thank you so much!
I’ve updated the post with the FULL STORY. If you can’t see it [the blue text], try this: In the comment section pick “Most relevant” and switch it to All comments – then see 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭—𝐭𝐚𝐩 𝐢𝐭 and it will take you to the full story. Enjoy the read!
