Officer James Preston was not the grumpy, strict, old man I thought he would be.

In fact, he was rather attractive and young. He was in his late twenties, but some of his youth still remained with his square jaw and dark brown eyes that matched his hair. When he smiled, I noticed perfect white teeth shine back at me.

My parents and I were at the Espresso House. The last of daylight was sinking behind the skyscrapers. Lane Diner still had police tape wrapped around its perimeters, but the car that had crashed into the side of the building was gone and repairs were being made. I spun around in one of the circle stools behind the counter and fiddled with my necklace pendant as my parents greeted the officer politely and made small talk. It only took a second for the attention to shift to me.

"Florence, it is nice to meet you. Call me Preston, no need for formalities here." Preston walked over and extended a hand over the counter.

I glanced down at his open hand, fingers splayed out and waiting to capture my own, when I noticed something that almost made my heart stop. It was a tiny little thing, barely an inch big. A miniscule detail, one that could go easily unnoticed if not aware.

Officer James Preston, with his great smile and his oath to protect those who couldn't do it themselves, had a five-point crown tattoo on the middle finger of his left hand.

"Nice to meet you, too." I swallowed noisily. I felt so vulnerable around Detective Rossen and his cold dark eyes that everyone who had an affiliation to law enforcement instantly made me nervous. The FBI wasn't as sugarcoated in the movies and tv shows as they were in real life. They were razor sharp and trained to snap shut like a flytrap the moment they got a whiff of crimes. But Preston was a whole other situation because he, the oh so protective bodyguard my parents hired, was a member of the very thing they were trying to protect me from. Finding my voice, I swallowed again. "So you're my new babysitter, huh?"

"Florence." The warning tone in Dad's voice was clear.

Preston laughed. He had a deep, throaty laugh. "It's fine. I can understand her reluctance. This whole thing is pretty crazy, after all. We don't spare any expenses when it comes to witness protection, especially one as big as this." His eyes flashed to me as he said this and I squirmed in my seat. I think he knew that I knew about the praxis of tattooing a crown to show loyalty to the Crowns. "We want to put these crooks back where they belong, especially Wolfe Sterling, and to do that, we need Florence."

"Absolutely." My mother smiled as if everything in the world was just dandy like a lion.

Now what the hell was I supposed to do? I couldn't just accuse Preston of working for the Crowns. He had a gun. What if he used it? What if this was just a cover? If so, I would be safer in a jail cell than here. Or maybe Preston used to work for the Crowns but he gave up that life years ago and was a changed man, working to restore peace and justice instead of disrupting it. Maybe he killed the real James Preston and was pretending to be him. The FBI weren't that careless, were they? Unless...the Preston that was standing in front of me was in fact an alien, and had taken over the body of the former James Preston...

I had to tell someone. I couldn't just not say anything. And the way Preston's eyes kept flickering back to me and my parents gave off the feeling that he knew more than he was telling. Fuck, what if Wolfe sent him? That was another possibility to consider. It's not as if tattooing a crown on the middle finger was that common, unless I was so very late on the new trends of Twitter. The only people I had ever seen with that exact same tattoo on the exact same finger of the exact same hand was on Daniel (the blonde ponytail guy), Jasper (the brother of Beardy), Brice (Beardy), Elliot (the computer nerd), and Wolfe (the insanely hot and dangerous leader). And now, apparently, Preston (the fake one...my alien theory wasn't that far-fetched, okay?).

Suddenly, a man poked his head in through the coffee shop doors. He was with a group of hipster-y looking dudes with awesome beards and beanies. "Hey, are you guys open?" The man asked.

"Oh, absolutely!" My mother jumped up from her seat and headed around the counter. "We just forgot to flip the sign to say open. Come, sit anywhere you like. I'll be there in just a second with the menus."

Dad stood up too and shook Preston's hand again. "We are very glad you're here, Mr. Preston. Thank you."

"It's my pleasure, Mr. Remy." Preston smiled again. "I assure you, I will do everything I can to protect your daughter. You can trust me, sir."

"I already do."

Yeah, okay.

He waved to us and walked to the kitchen as the guys who entered took a seat two tables away from Preston and I. It was very awkward for a second. Preston played with the edge of his tie and I with the edge of my shirt. He opened his mouth to say something and I quickly jumped up.

"I'll be right back." I muttered and headed for the door. I flipped the sign to the side that said 'open' and walked back to the front counter. My stomach clenched when I met Preston's chocolate brown eyes, but it wasn't the same kind of clench I got when I looked into Wolfe's eyes. The air suddenly felt stuffy and suffocating. "So what happens now?" I asked in a quiet voice.

"Well-" He was interrupted by the jingle of the bell as several more people entered, along with Samantha. After clearing his throat, he continued. "-you're allowed to do whatever you want, as long as it complies with your parent's boundaries and the laws of the state. You're not allowed to travel more than ten miles from this block, set by the FBI. You can't leave the state, either, or you will be arrested for eluding the law, also set by the FBI. If you break any of those rules, you're going to have to spend the rest of the time in witness protection under the care of several officers at all times. My advice is that you lay low, just until we get a hint of where the Crowns might be-"

As soon as I saw my mother retreat into the kitchen, I reached across the counter and yanked Preston down by his tie until we were very close together. "Who are you working for?" I asked angrily, making sure to keep my voice low so the words couldn't travel to any open ears.

His eyes widened. "What?"

"You heard me." I jabbed my finger into his chest and let go of his tie. Secrets had ruined my life and I wasn't going to put up with any more. "Are you working for the Crowns? Did Wolfe send you?"

"Florence-"

I grabbed his tie again and all but dragged him into one of the storage rooms near the basement door while he protested angrily. We marched all the way in and I slammed the door shut behind me, locked it, and put my hands on my hips. Preston, choking slightly, managed to regain his composure a moment later. He straightened his tie and glared at me as I stood guarding the door.

Stacks of cardboard boxes surrounded the perimeter of the small room. Two people inside it was one person too much. Preston's head was a feet away from touching the ceiling. He was incredibly tall and my tiny frame was dwarfed against his huge one, but I felt angry enough that it didn't matter.

"What the hell?" He exclaimed. "What is wrong with you? Are you crazy? I'm an officer of the law, you can't just put your hands on me like that! You know, I could very well just report you for this little burst of aggravated assault- you're very tiny but very strong, Florence. God, what the hell was that all about-"

"Answer my question!" I stomped right up to him and jabbed my finger into his chest again. "I'm not stupid, Preston, I know what that tattoo means!" Dropping my hand, I reached down and picked his hand up, waving it in front of his face. Preston looked confused until I realized I had the wrong hand, so I quickly dropped it and held up his other hand, the one with the tattoo. Pushing down all of his fingers except for the middle one, I waited to hear what he had to say.

"Oh." He said quietly. And then his face brightened. "Oh! Alright, I understand now. Man, I was wondering what you were going on about. I didn't know that much fury could be inside such a small body. Let me explain-"

"Wolfe sent you, didn't he?!"

"Stop with the accusations!" Preston gently pried my fingers off his wrist and took a deep breath. "Let me explain, Florence. Guess I should have mentioned this earlier-"

"Mentioned what?"

"-And stop interrupting me." He waited to see if I would say anything.

I pressed my lips together and waved for him to continue.

Preston rolled his eyes. "Before you freak out on me again, no, I don't work for the Crowns and Wolfe Sterling most certainly did not hire me to kidnap you or kill you or whatever the hell you think he's gonna do to you. Yes, this tattoo is a customary tradition in the Brooklyn Crowns when a member is initiated or has joined a higher rank. And yes, I used to be a part of the Crowns, but not in the way you are thinking-"

"What?" I shrieked. "I knew it! You freaking donut! I could smell the criminal on you- because I'm pretty sure all criminals use the same cologne. Do all the Crowns members shop at the same fragrance store? Do you guys buy each other the same bottle of cologne for Christmas? Do my parents know about this? I mean, I thought the FBI was supposed to be working to capture all of the Crowns, not let them apply for jobs in the agency. Damn, I knew it! And here I thought you were an alien pretending to be the real James Preston-"

"Are you done?"

"Yes, sir." I nodded. "Okay. Continue."

Preston sighed. "Like I said, not in the way you're thinking. A few years ago, when I was a detective, I was assigned to put away the Crowns. My main target was Wolfe Sterling. I read up on everything about them, I spent hours in my office poring over reports and sightings and the murders they've committed, but I wasn't getting anywhere. They're very good at playing hide-and-seek, and staring at analytics wasn't exactly going to help when I came face to face with a crime lord. Do you want the long version of the story or the short one?"

"The short one. I have to pee really bad."

"Well, after a few months, I decided to take on a different perspective. I hunted down several connections from former Crowns members. Most were unwilling to talk, but one did. It took a couple more months but with the help of the CIA I was able to slip into one of their initiation processes, and from there, I had to act like my loyalty was for the Crowns and the only thing worth living for was to service Wolfe Sterling. That meant I had to get the tattoo."

"Oh my God. This is the short version?"

He glared at me. "After a month, someone got the drop on me after they recognized a wire tapper attached to my coat zipper. He was a former agent for the CIA turned rogue, so the bastard knew a tapper when he saw one. My cover was blown and I had to make a run for it. I, like you, was put in the witness protection program but relocated to the Himalayan Mountains for a while before coming back. Rossen was reluctant to put me on this case because of my past, but I'm willing to sacrifice my safety just to see the Crowns behind bars. I want them to do what I couldn't. So that, Florence, is why I have this tattoo. Don't attack me again, please. Your nails are kinda sharp."

I squinted my eyes and stared at him for a full minute. When he didn't break my gaze or offer any other explanation, I decided he was telling the truth and dropped the little interrogator act I picked up from Detective Rossen. "Okay." I patted his hand nicely. I suddenly felt bad. "I'm sorry for choking you. And poking you. And shoving you inside this closet. And accusing you for being a criminal. And calling you a donut, although that's not really an insult because who doesn't like donuts?

"That's okay. Now can you move out of the way?" Preston asked.

"Will you buy me tampons and Twizzlers if I need them?"

"Sure."

"Thanks." I moved out of the doorway and let him pass. I followed him out, closing the door behind me. Preston made his way back to the front counter but I instantly stopped in my tracks when I noticed something out the window.

The Espresso House was surrounded by windows. The one on the right side of the wall offered a peek at the still damaged Lane Diner. The window opposite of that, on the left side, was small and covered by a gauzy curtain with colored glass bottles on the sill. The one at the front of the coffee shop, beside the double glass doors, was enormous and gave a view out into the streets and shops across from ours. The back windows showed the start of the electric wire fence behind the big businesses surrounding the Espresso House.

Beside our apartment complex was a designer shop, some promiscuous label that I'd never heard of. (The only thing I ever brought from that store was a sweater with a cat embroidered in the corner and a pair of ridiculous rainbow-striped leg warmers for Clancy.) And beside the designer shop was a Denny's diner. It was a strange block of businesses, I know, but this was Brooklyn after all.

The Denny's diner had windows similar to ours. Surrounded by windows, one at all sides with the front one offering a view to anyone who passed by, inside or out. Despite the glare of the sunlight falling across the glass, I could clearly make out a figure sitting in one booth right behind the window.

It was Ade. He occasionally took a sip of coffee and was seemingly focused on the person in front of him. That prompted me to take a casual glance at the other person Ade was with. My eyes slid over and my breath caught in my throat.

The other person was none other than Elliot Josiah.