Spy

Peter Dumac felt his tail bristle almost before he heard the storefront window shatter. He whirled around and caught a glimpse of black leather and a motorcycle helmet before getting shoulder-checked in the stomach. He hit the ground hard. The figure on him purred with satisfaction. A gloved paw rifled through Peter’s suit jacket. It took Peter’s gun from his shoulder holster, then found the hidden pocket sewn into his jacket and removed a little nondescript box. The figure watched Peter’s chest rise and fall, then stuffed the small box into its jacket pocket and ambled back the way it came. ...