The Little Door was one of West Hollywood's most iconic romantic French restaurants.Beloved by countless Hollywood stars, it was a hotspot for discreet A-list dinners.
Even with Taylor Swift's entrance, the staff stayed professional. Eyes sparkled, but no one dared intrude.
Ryan let Taylor order for them, using the time to quietly scan the restaurant.
The Little Door lived up to its name—dim lighting, warm ambience, and décor straight out of a Parisian alleyway.Charming. Romantic. Just shadowy enough to not feel entirely safe.
Most diners were couples. A few girlfriends chatting over wine.
But one person stood out.
A pale guy with dark hair, sitting solo in a corner booth.
Not weird by itself.
What was weird: he was eating with one hand… and subtly watching the entire room.
His eyes scanned the exits. The patrons. The staff. Even Taylor.
If Ryan were dining alone on a mission, that's exactly where he'd sit.Tucked near the back hallway—close to the kitchen, bathrooms, and back exit.Back to the wall. Full view of the restaurant.Maximum field awareness. Zero blind spots.
Civilians don't think like that.
Ryan lowered his gaze.
No need to provoke a reaction.He wasn't working tonight. He was on leave, here for a date.
Let someone else deal with it.
But…
The man noticed Ryan's brief scan—and locked eyes for a second.
They both looked away.Mutual acknowledgment.
Ryan said nothing. But his instincts were wide awake.
Across the room, Phillip Hall exhaled slowly.
He'd spotted Ryan and Taylor the moment they entered.He'd scanned Ryan carefully—form, posture, waistline, armpits. No bulges. No shoulder holster.
No gun.
Reassured, he resumed his meal.
He didn't care that Ryan was with Taylor Swift. He only cared about one thing:
The target.
He was a professional.
Five years in the game, and still alive.
Today's hit was on a Republican city councilman: Liam Clarke.
Forty-something, brunette, blue-eyed, and annoyingly popular.His wife, Elena Clarke, loved public appearances, and they were often spotted at high-end restaurants.The Little Door was a favorite.
When Liam and Elena entered the restaurant, Ryan—who had been watching Phillip from the edge of his vision—immediately noticed the shift.
Phillip sat straighter. His fork paused.
That was the target.
Bingo.
Then… Phillip relaxed again.
Behind Councilman Clarke was a broad-shouldered man in a tailored black jacket.
Bodyguard.
Madison Lewis.Ryan recognized the guy—one of Clarke's usual close-protection agents.
Lewis did a quick visual sweep, but apparently missed the signs.
Sloppy.
Ryan could feel his appetite vanish.
Of course.
Of course Clarke and his wife had to be seated right at the next table—directly between Phillip and the line of fire.
Which meant…
Ryan and Taylor were now the human shield.
Ryan's jaw clenched.
"Are you f**king kidding me? I just wanted dinner. And I get sandwiched between a hitman and a public assassination target?"
"Goddamn it."
In his system inventory, the other TTI Viper—his backup sidearm—was locked, loaded, and on standby.
He'd stored it with safety off, round chambered.Ready to summon instantly.
As appetizers arrived, Ryan barely touched his food.
Taylor tilted her head, concerned.
"Something wrong, babe?" she asked. "Don't like the food?"
From the corner of his eye, Ryan caught Phillip's gaze flicking his way again.
He smiled and replied calmly, "Just missing Chinese food. Real Chinese. This stuff can't compare."
Taylor giggled, relieved.
"I know a few good spots. We can go tomorrow."
Ryan shook his head gently.
"Not the same. Authentic Chinese cuisine is hard to find out here."
Most Westerners who claimed to love Chinese food were eating heavily Americanized versions.
"Tell you what," he added. "I'll cook it for you myself."
His L2-level Cooking skill wasn't just for show—he could cook at the level of a trained restaurant chef.
"Really?!"
Taylor lit up, her eyes sparkling.
That was huge.
Most American guys couldn't cook anything beyond a barbecue grill.
When one offered to cook a real meal? That was pure romance.
"You're amazing," she whispered.
Ryan smiled and reached out to pinch her cheek—eyes never fully leaving Phillip.
And then…
He saw it.
The flash of a barrel.
A silenced Colt M2000, sliding up under Phillip's table.
Ryan's adrenaline spiked.
His whole spine tensed like a wire.
Phillip's finger was already on the trigger.
The muzzle aimed blindly beneath the table—lined up directly behind Taylor.
Which meant:If he fired now?
Taylor would take the shot.
"F**k!"
Ryan's hand dropped.
TTI Viper. Instant summon.
In a single, fluid move, he grabbed Taylor's arm and yanked her upright, nearly spinning her behind him.
His gun came up.
CLICK—CLACK!
Pointed squarely at the hitman.
"LAPD!"
"Drop the weapon! Hands on your head—NOW!"