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“What’s so funny about that?” I want to know.
“Nothing, it’s just the thought of you at a shabby place called Captain Seaweed’s,” she says, still looking wildly amused. “I never thought people like you would ever frequent anything but a five star restaurant or club.”
People like you. Unlike others, Kat already regards me as part of the high society elite, the good guys—rich and reputable. It’s flattering, but couldn’t be further from the truth. Other than my immense wealth, there’s very little that places me in the middle of the high society she speaks of.
So far, that is.
She will be the one to get me there, whether she’s aware of it or not.
Chapter 18
Kat
“So, who were you looking for?”
His question catches me off guard, and I almost cough up the food I’ve been chewing. The burger is just as good as I remember, the patty thick and juicy, the bun soft and slightly crisp on the outside and the bacon perfectly crispy.
“What do you mean?”
I thought he hadn’t noticed. As soon as we stepped inside, I realized that it may have been a risky move to bring him here. I hold fond memories of this place, but not of the time when I used to frequent it. And I’m not keen to run into any “friends” from back then. I can’t even imagine what they’d say if they saw me sitting here with this overdressed Adonis, whose wealth is as obvious as the fact that he doesn’t belong here.
Logan is wearing a light blue shirt and black dress pants with shiny shoes. He took offhis blazer and pulled up his sleeves when the food arrived, revealing a large ear of wheat that stretches across his entire right forearm.
“What’s that?” I ask, pointing at the tattoo. “I mean, what does it mean?”
“Why don’t you answer my question first?”he deflects. “Got something to hide?”
“Don’t we all?”
I’m only making things worse.
“Just tell me,” he pokes. “An old boyfriend?”
“No!” I shake my head violently. “No, no… that’s not it.”
“But?”
I deflate with a heavy sigh. I might as well tell him, at least parts of it.
“Well, when I used to come here it was… I mean, I hung out with one of my brothers a lot, foster brother that is,” I begin to explain. “We livedwiththe same family for a year or so. My last foster family, actually. He’s about two years younger than me and one of the few foster siblings I got along with. We had a common enemy.”
Logan chuckles. “A common enemy?”
“My foster dad,” I say. “He was an alcoholic and lost his temper with us about once a week. It was usually my brother who felt his lash more than I had to. He protected me—and our foster mom—every time our so-called caretaker fell into a fit of rage.”
Logan stares at me, congealed by my words. But it’s fury that graces his handsome face when he looks at me, rather than pity.
“He beat you?”he produces, disgust lacing every syllable.
“Sometimes, yes. It was mostly yelling and throwing things, though,” I say.
Understanding blossoms on Logan’s face. “That motherfucker.”
“It’s okay,” I try to downplay. “It’s in the past. We both got out of that house eventually. I left before him, but we stayed in contact… for a while.”
I leave out the part about why I spent so much time in this neighborhood, and what I was doing when I came past this diner.
This diner was onmy routeback then. My route as a delivery girl for my dealer boyfriend and his friends—who my foster brother introduced me to. I’d love to say I didn’t know what I was doing, but that would bealie. I knew exactly what I was carrying around for them and I knew exactly why there was so much money involved. I just closed my eyes inthe faceof it. I didn’t want to be aware of my wrongdoings, because I needed the money more than a clear conscience.
