Stepbrother Thief (25 page)

I drop my chin back down and open my eyes, giving him a
look.

“That's going to stop,” I say and Gill smiles.

“Is it?” he asks, moving over to me and leaning down, putting a hand on either side of my hips, not touching but so close I can practically taste it. “It's your choice, of course, but I don't think you want it to stop. I know I don't.” When he leans in to kiss me, I turn my head to the side and his lips connect with my cheek.

The feel of his hot mouth so innocently pressed to the side of my face makes me crazy. I get all sick and twisted inside, and a warm flush hits my cheeks like a sudden storm, rolling in from God only knows where.

No!

This is so much worse than a hot, lusty mouthful of tongue. I can see why I'd react to that; Gill's a good looking guy and I'm an adult woman with wants and needs. But this? This is …

“What do you plan on swimming in?” I ask suddenly, voice breathy and soft. “It's not like you have a bathing suit on hand.”

Gill chuckles and turns his head away, brushing his cheek against my own and letting it rest there for a moment before he pulls back and stands up, tucking his hands in his front pockets. His eyes rest on mine and a lazy smile curls his lips.

“Want to drop by the gift shop first? You can get your cards, and I'll grab a pair of swim shorts with the word
Seattle
scribbled on them. I don't think the hotel would appreciate it if I swam in the nude.”

I snort and push myself into a sitting position.

“Depends on who you ask. The girl at the front desk probably wouldn't mind so much.”

“And what about you?” he asks me as I stand up and smooth my hands down the front of my fish shirt. It's so ugly, it's almost growing on me. Maybe I'll keep it to sleep in?

“What about me?” I ask coyly, raising my eyebrows at him. Gill laughs again and watches as I move over to the table by the window to grab a bottled water from the tray of edible amenities. “If you're asking if I'd like to see you nude, I think we both know the answer to that question.”

“Then it's a yes?” he asks, and even though he keeps his distance, I feel like he's right behind me, breathing against my neck, sliding his arms around my waist. I hate that I want him to.
I wish I could call Leilani.
My fingers tighten on the water bottle until it crinkles.

I turn around suddenly and lean my thighs against the side of the table.

“Just pray to whatever gods above that the gift shop also sells underwear,” I tell him with a tight smile, trying to keep the mood light. If Gill and I managed to devolve into rutting animals in an SUV in a parking lot, then what might happen to us while sharing a room with actual
beds
?

“Clean panties,” he says, a distinctly masculine smile twisting his lips. “If I get them for you, then you'll come to the pool with me?”

I imagine that it might be slightly dangerous to see Gill bare chested and dripping, but I can see the tightness in his shoulders, the rapid rise and fall of his chest. He's pent up and needs to burn some energy; I get it.

“It's a deal,” I say, wondering what kind of trouble I might be getting myself into.

I lean back in the white plastic lounge chair, a folded pool towel behind my head as a pillow and a book under my palms, resting on my bare thighs. I managed to snag some new underwear (with the Space Needle on them, no less), as well as some black pj shorts that I decided to wear down to the pool. Gill managed to grab some hunter green swim shorts with
Emerald City
scrawled across the ass. Like he needs more attention drawn to that particular asset. I'm not counting or anything, but no less than three women did serious double takes on our way down here.

My eyes follow Gill as he splits the water open with his powerful arms, hands diving into the sparkling blue of the pool while he swims laps. His dark hair is even more beautiful with the water as a backdrop, keeping my attention well after I should've looked away.

“Shit,” I whisper under my breath, forcing myself to crack open my book and read the first line. I have to read it four times before it makes sense. My mind's too scattered, too full of thoughts, of questions, of Gilleon Marchal. The whisper and splash of his swimming draws my eyes up again, right to those perfectly sculpted muscles in his back, to the speed and power with which he moves his body. Gilleon reaches the end yet again, flips and kicks off the side, twisting his form under the water with a fluidity that I can only envy. He's always been comfortable in his body, in charge of it, in a way that most people just aren't; it's mesmerizing.

I lean my head back and close my eyes, wondering vaguely what Mathis might be up to back in Paris. The poor guy. He was only trying to defend me and I left him there like he meant nothing, too caught up in my own world to wonder what was going to happen to his when I left. Gill promised me that he had one of his guys take Mathis back to his apartment and leave him on the bed. But what did Mathis do when he woke up? Did he go straight to the authorities? And then what happened when they told him that Karl Rousseau, the owner of the shop, denied ever having a break-in?

Ugh.

I've been surviving by pushing all of the details from my mind, drifting along with the flow and hoping it'll all work out. It's a coping mechanism, sure, but it only makes me more determined to find out what this was all for. I need Gill to look me in the eye and lay it all out there. It's the only way I'm going to be able to keep going, to move past whatever sort of emotional shock I'm still in, and get back to normal.

I open my eyes again and glance over my shoulder at the wall of windows behind me, at the splatter of wet, cold rain that pings off the glass, the spread of evergreen trees that line the parking lot, giving the area an almost parklike feel. It's so dark out right now that they look like living shadows, twisting and turning and dancing in the wind.

When I turn back to the pool, I see the last guy here, some skinny blonde, climb out and grab his towel, disappearing from the room and leaving me alone with Gill.

I suck in a deep breath, tasting chlorine on the back of my tongue, and try to breathe out slow. Tonight, we're going to play cards and watch a movie, figure out how to sleep so close but not touch, and then get back to business tomorrow. I need to take a more active role in all of this; I realize that now.

“I can do anything I put my mind to,” I whisper, flipping through the pages of my book and letting the paper brush my fingers. “I will use this experience to become a better person.” I stare at the door, waiting to see if anyone else is going to come in, but it seems pretty dead in here tonight. Besides, it's almost time for the pool to close. I'm probably safe if I want to keep talking to myself. “I will not allow myself to be seduced by Gilleon, simply because he's attractive.” I swallow hard. “I'm also going to try to stop lying to myself. From now on, I'm going to be nothing but truthful.”

Unfortunately, sometimes the truth hurts.

I'm swimming laps—or at least I'm trying to. I'm not very good at it, but I need something to do, somewhere to go. Even with a brand-new baby, I don't have a sense of purpose, don't feel like I have a reason to get up in the morning. I'm starting to hate myself for it, and that's not healthy at all. When Cliff suggested I find a class or something to sign up for, I ended up here.

I like it best at night, when moonlight leaks in the skylights above. I know the night manager, so when it's a particularly slow evening, she lets me turn off the lights and swim in darkness. I'm also supposed to wear a swim cap, but I can't stand them, so she lets me get away sans cap, too.

I wonder in the back of my mind what Cliff's doing with the baby. Is he holding her? Singing to her? Feeding her? Why am I not there helping? When am I going to get myself together?

It's been a year since Gilleon left. A whole fucking year. And I haven't heard a word from him. He's called Cliff a time or two, just to let him know that he's safe, but he won't talk to me, even if I beg. I can see the pity in my stepfather's eyes, and it's starting to get to me. Am I pathetic? Does everyone think that about me?

I duck my head under the water to wash away the tears and stay there.

I'm so tired of feeling sorry for myself, of feeling like my life's been derailed and there's nothing I can do to get the train back on the tracks. I let Gill's and my apartment go, moved back in with Cliff, even let him be the parent to my baby. I have no job right now; I have nothing.

But it also means I have nothing to lose.

I open my eyes under the water and watch my golden hair float around my face, feeling a little dizzy from my lack of breath.

I have to stop letting all of the bad things that have happened to me maintain control over my life. I used to know how to do that, when Gill was around. I could push away thoughts of my father's death, my sister's abandonment, my mother's murder. But then when he left, I forgot how. Or maybe I never really knew? Maybe I just used him as a crutch?

I won't let one incident dictate my entire life.

The thought bursts through my brain at the same moment my desperate need for air takes over, and I crash through the surface of the water with a massive breath. I tread water for a moment, gathering air in my lungs, tilting my head back to stare up through the glass at the stars.

“I'm going to be strong,” I tell myself, thinking of my mom sitting in front of her mirror everyday and smiling, telling herself all of the things she needed to hear most. If you can't support yourself, how can you expect anyone else to know how to do it? My mom knew best how to take life by the horns, how to make the best out of a bad situation.
You are so beautiful, Elena,
she'd say, not in a vain or self-patronizing sort of a way, not with any narcissistic undertones or the bite of a superiority complex, but just to make herself feel good. After all, people have a tendency to follow self-fulfilling prophecies. My mom just made sure hers were good ones.
You can do anything you set your mind to.
Once upon a time, I'd tried to emulate her, tried to sit in front of the mirror I'd inherited and do the very same thing. Gill's leaving … I won't let him take this away from me, too.

“I will make a life for myself,” I say, voice echoing strangely on the water, words for only me to hear. “Tomorrow looks like a good day for a good day.”

I smile. For the first time in a long time, I smile. The expression hurts my face, and it doesn't feel entirely genuine, but it's there, and that's what counts.

I swim to the edge of the pool and haul myself up and out, standing shakily on the wet pavement and moving over to grab my towel. I don't expect to make a sudden turnaround—nothing in life is that easy—but I've managed to talk myself in the right direction. That's something, isn't it?

I wrap my towel around me and slip my flip-flops on, making my way towards the door when I realize I forgot my cell phone on the lounge chair; I bring it with me in case something happens with Solène and Cliff needs to get a hold of me. I might not be the world's greatest mom, but I'm trying my best. I turn around, intending to go back for it, and manage to slip in a puddle of water on the floor.

I fall hard and fast, smacking my head on the side of the pool as I tumble into the deep end, completely confused and disoriented, pain blanketing my thoughts and shooting white stars across my eyes. I go limp for a minute, on the verge of passing out, but snap to like I've been slapped.
I can't die here.
How sad would that be?

I kick my legs and find that the towel is soaked and heavy and clinging like greedy fingers to my skin. It's a struggle to untangle myself from it and try to focus myself upwards. I push forward, reaching for the surface as my vision blackens and flickers at the edges, reaching for the air above. Instead, my fingers brush up against pavement and I realize that I'm going the wrong way.