Bella Luna was exactly as Lauren remembered. Red-checked tablecloths and wine bottles converted into candle holders. The kind of place that had been family-owned for three generations and looked it.

Wyatt had scouted the location as soon as they arrived, checked the kitchen access, and spoken with the owner about their reservation. Now he walked slightly behind Lauren as they re-entered from the back alley at six-fifty after Wyatt had checked it out, his hand on her lower back.

The place was ...