Katy
I’m finally in my happy place.
The burger I’m eating cures my hangover more than anything else ever could.
I love it when I find places like this: nondescript, crowded, fast-moving. It’s perfect for going incognito.
A few bread crumbs fall on my shirt, and I wipe them away. Can’t get new clothes dirty this quickly.
I used the cash in Marcus’s wallet to buy this new outfit. I’ll admit they looked at me pretty funny in the store, dressed in my prison clothes. But I got in and out quickly.
Now I’m in my trademark black-on-black outfit. I look like myself again.
I run my fingers through my messy, chopped hair and think about what luck I’ve had to escape prison once again.
I suppose it was a stroke of luck that led that guy Marcus to the prison cell. Thanks to him, I have new clothes and a burger―oh, and I’m a free woman.
The thing that continues to intrigue me about Marcus is that he’s as hard to read as I am. There was nothing in his wallet besides cash. No card, no ID of any sort, not even a business card of the NGO he works for.
As I sit in the back of the diner drinking hot coffee to further heal my tired body, I think about Marcus and how the hell he could’ve located me in prison.
I’m normally very careful with my movements. I’m not easy to find. Except that I do have an activist page―that stupid front―which is seemingly how he got a hold of me.
And yet I wonder how he found me all the way in jail.
Did their NGO keep tabs on people who publicly call themselves activists? It’s possible. And it doesn’t matter me as much as I thought it would. As long as they stay away from now on, that is.
Sighing, I dig into my food quickly. It’s been a rough day. I need fuel for my depleted system.
I like this diner, and I’m gonna be sad to never set foot in it ever again. I don’t normally eat at places more than two times in a row, but the burger in this place is so good that my mouth was practically watering at the thought of it.
I knew I had to eat here at least once more before I start looking for another haunt.
Being constantly on the run and undercover is what keeps me safe, after all. No one ever finds me.
That is, until I see him.
Shit.
Marcus is walking into the diner.
Shit.
I realize I’ve made a mistake by coming here. Good job, Katy. You just had to get the goddamn burger.
A clusterfuck of emotions build inside me.
First, I feel…regretful that we never got to finish what we started in the jail cell. I don’t know much about the man, but fuck, is he gorgeous. Truth is, I’d let him take me in a prison cell any day―as long as I got out afterwards, of course.
Two, I’m a little sheepish, seeing as how I left him…hanging. Like, literally. Hanging. Hung. You know.
And three, I’m pissed at myself. I’ve been careless, and now I’ve been found.
Shit.
And yet…watching Marcus saunter towards my table, I have to admit I’m really, really smitten at how good-looking he is. He’s like a model snatched from the front page of a fashion magazine. I almost forget he’s practically stalking me.
Almost.
He slides comfortably into the seat in front of me.
A flashback of the scene in jail where I was teasing him starts to flood my mind.
Ah, shit, I can already feel the familiar wetness in between my legs at seeing Marcus up close. I cross my legs quickly.
“Hi there. Long time no see.” I smile sweetly at him.
He smirks. “You’re a hard woman to find.”
“Usually happens if a person doesn’t want to be found. Took you all of two hours, though.”
Marcus grins. Of course, even his teeth are perfect. Typical.
“So what are you doing here?” I say, sipping my coffee, as if I could care less that this golden god is sitting before me.
“Once again, I’m here to reiterate the fact that we want you to join us in our organization―”
“Heh. Listen―”
“―we can help you. Don’t refuse so quickly, Katy. You don’t have many options in the world, I think. You need the support.”
I don’t know what this guy thinks he’s talking about, but I definitely don’t need support. I’m a lone wolf―and I like it that way.
“Okay, listen: you really shouldn’t have made it all the way down here just to tell me that. Because, really. I don’t need your organization. And I certainly don’t want anything to do with it.” I look him square in the eye. “It is never gonna happen.”
I gather my things and get up to leave. He doesn’t stop me.
I walk out of the diner and don’t look back, although instinct tells me to see if he’s watching me go.
I mentally say goodbye to him and to my favorite little diner. It’s time for me to continue my life and move on.
I operate alone. Always have. Always will.
No one will change that―not even someone that hot.