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Notes In The Nook — Description

Torres sank into her reading nook—a crescent-shaped seat built into her bookshelf, cocooned by wood, books, and warm hanging lights. Wearing an off-shoulder knit and her hair wrapped in a soft bandana, she wasn’t reading a novel for pleasure. The book in her hand was disguised—its spine blank, its contents coded. Hidden within were notes, names, dates. Intel.
The memory of that man at the habana bar did not fade. He kept glancing over, pretending to sip his drink while whispering into a mic clipped just beneath his collar. She’d seen that kind of setup before—when she was the one doing the watching.
Flipping to the back pages, she paused, eyes narrowing. The same insignia sketched in her notes matched the pin on the stranger’s lapel. She sighed through her nose, grabbed a pen tucked between the cushions, and jotted a few words in the margin.
She leaned back, long thick legs stretched across the cushions, muscles still alert under soft lamplight. Whatever that man was doing at the bar, Torres would find out.