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Billy shrugs.
“How much?”
He murmurs what sounds like an obscene amount of money.
“How much?”
“Fifty grand.”
“Fifty!”
Billy hushes me, shifting around.
“What did you—” I palm my face. “The car? You bought a stolen car and gave it to me?”
Billy wets his lips. “Look, I—The guy’s going to come for me, Marci. I need help.”
I squeeze my eyes shut for a second, trying to find some semblance of inner peace.
This is bad. Real bad.
“I don’t have that kind of money, Billy,” I say at last. “You’re going to have to work out a repayment plan with this guy and get a job, because I can’t foot that kind of bill. It’s not like the diner does great during the fall and winter.”
“Yeah, but, I mean, if it’s not doing well, then maybe you should sell it.”
My jaw drops at the audacity, and Billy takes a shaky step backward, realizing that Mount Marci is about to blow.
Come for me, fine. Come for Dad’s diner? Absolutely not.
The bell over the diner door tinkles, and two deputies in uniform enter.
The first one is Taylor.
The second is my ex-boyfriend, and general supreme asshole, Nate Davis.
Billy takes one look at them and opts for freedom. He makes a break for the bathroom. My money is on him climbing out of one of the windows.
A small part of me wants to follow him. Instead, I navigate to the counter and plant my hands atop it, tilting my head to the side.
“Morning, Marci,” Nate says in his too-smooth tone.
He’s under six feet with a soulless smile and a dimpled chin.
I nod to them, and there’s already a sense of anticipation. Heat creeps up my throat.
The memory of last night and of theincidentyesterday.
“Coffee as usual?”
Please donotbe here to talk to me.
“Exactly.”
Nate leans across the counter, resting his forearms on it, and smiling up at me.
“Marci, I’ve missed you.”
“We’re on duty.” Jesse snaps the words out.
