Stepbrother Thief (5 page)

“Listen up, Princess,” the redhead says, shoving a cigarette between her full lips, “I have no fucking clue what you just said, and I don't give two shits about it. I'm here for Gill's benefit, not yours.”

I glance over at my stepdad, but he simply shrugs in response, his dark hair, once so like Gill's is thinning and gray, making him look much older than he is, especially in this light. I hope the stress of all this doesn't royally screw up his retirement. With a growing sense of horror, I clutch my sister to my chest and grit my teeth.

His partner in crime, huh? That son of a bitch.

The redhead standing across the room from me lights up, cracking the balcony door like that'll make all the difference in the smell. I guess a two hundred dollar cleaning fee isn't a big deal anymore. Besides, all this is going on Gill's tab anyway. Still …

“Essentially,” Solène says before I get a chance to speak up, “I said that you're an idiot.”

“Solène,” I warn, trying to figure out why there's some curvy babe in ripped jeans and a loose black T-shirt standing in my hotel room. I know it sounds a little sexist, but I was kind of expecting Gill's partner to be a guy. Or hell, maybe it was just wishful thinking. Should've known.

“
Écoute, il faut appeler un chat un chat,
” Solène sniffs.
Listen, I'm just calling a spade, a spade.

“Sorry,” I say to the woman, squinching up my face a little, “she's only nine, but she thinks she's thirty, talks like it, too. I blame Cliff.” I point at my stepdad and a smile slips across my face unbidden. Ever since Mom passed away, Cliff's been my support system, my parent, my confidante. I'm beyond glad to have him here. “Anyway, I'm Regi. And you?”

Badass Redhead Thief Chick clears her throat and moves forward, holding out a hand for me to shake. Her palms are as calloused as Gill's, her arms corded with muscle, but still feminine, like all of that strength and power in her body is cloaked with a soft layer of padding. Tough as nails, but all woman, all curves and perfect lips and gleaming red hair. I'm not self-conscious or anything—I'm a pretty good looking chick—but wow.

“Aveline,” she says, nodding her chin at me as we shake hands. “Thanks for your help in all this,” she begins and my throat tightens. I feel something more beyond her words, something more motivating than diamonds and greed.
I knew it; this isn't about the fucking jewelry at all, is it?
Rather than explain any further, Aveline waves her hand around dismissively and steps back. “Anyway, Gill's all booked up at the moment, but I'll be in the hotel tonight if you need anything. Think of me like a bodyguard on call or something.” She smiles at me, but her face is tight, hiding that same secret that Gill's carrying around. I wish I could dig beneath the surface and find out what it is. “I've got the room next door.” She hooks her thumb at the wall to her right. “Your Dad and sister are on the other side. If something happens, don't try to be PC about it. Scream bloody freaking murder.”

“What kind of something?” I ask, getting a little chill that has nothing to do with the air conditioning that's inexplicably blasting cool air into the room. It's raining cats and dogs and it's like fifty four degrees outside. “Are we expecting company?” I glance over at Solène, hoping to hell that I didn't get my family into a hole we can't climb out of.

“No, no, not at all,” Aveline says, taking another drag on her cigarette, “I just like to present what-if scenarios. Just ask Gill.” She winks at me, but I'm not sure how to interpret the motion, watching as she moves to the door and grabs the handle. “Sleep tight.”

Her red-lipped grin haunts me well into my dreams that night.

When I wake up the next morning, I find Gilleon asleep in a chair by the window. He's sitting up still, but his face is resting on his fist, his eyes closed tight against the world. The very fact that he got in here without my knowing is terrifying.

“Hey,” I say, sitting up and making damn sure the robe is covering up my breasts.

Gill opens his eyes, but he doesn't startle, smiling at me in that infuriating way of his, like his expression means nothing and everything all at once.

“Why the hell are you in my room?”

“Needed a place to sleep for a few,” he says, and I know without asking that he means
minutes
and not hours. I don't know how the man functions on so little sleep. Gill's wearing the same outfit he wore yesterday, but it doesn't look any worse for wear. I try to take that as a good sign, like maybe we're in the clear, no trouble on the horizon.

His gaze is sharp and penetrating, and it's too damn early for me to deal with that, so I drag my eyes away and focus on the skull tattoo that decorates his bicep, the raven standing atop it so realistic that I feel as if I could brush my fingers over its feathers.
Thieves of the animal world. They see something shiny, they pick it up. And if it's a challenge to get? Even better.
Gill told me that once, his words dancing in my skull like they're being said even now.

“We need to move hotels today,” he tells me, and I nod. I don't ask why or demand an explanation—Gill won't tell me any of that unless he wants to. I don't really care either way, so long as we're not going to get arrested or murdered by some rival jewelry thieves or something.

I am going to have a beautiful day today,
I tell myself, letting my eyes trail down my stepbrother's arm, over the black and gray tattoos that wrap his muscles. Might as well start off with a good heaping of positive self-talk. Otherwise, I won't make it past breakfast with this man.
I am going to learn something new today, something useful. I'm going to do this because I'm a smart person and I make good choices.

“You're still doing that?” Gill asks, and I narrow my eyes at him, adjusting my legs and rustling the white comforter on the bed. He looks so ridiculous stuck in this hotel room with its navy blue walls and tasteful but boring accent pieces. Gill is … he's too big to be contained, too explosive, too unpredictable. He's a lion that can't be kept in a cage.
I want him to go away, want this to be over with.
Can't start a new life with cobwebs clinging to my face. That's what Gill is—cobwebs complete with spider. Complete with
poisonous
spider.

“Doing what?” I ask, shoving back the covers and standing up. I run my fingers through my hair and bump into a snarl. A second later, there's a comb landing on the mattress next to me. It's just a small, cheap plastic thing, but … I look back at Gilleon.

“Picked it up at the front desk. Thought you might need it.”

“Thanks?” I say. It's almost a question.

“You're still doing the self-talk thing?” he asks, turning the conversation back to its original course. “Has it worked well for you?”

“I don't know,” I tell him, rising to my feet and moving into the bathroom. I flick on the lights and stare at myself in the mirror, at my eyes, the color of a good café au lait. Coffee. Oh
God,
coffee. I need a cup and I need it now. I glance over at Gill. “You tell me. Here I am.” I lift my arms out to either side and the robe slips down my bare shoulder.

Gill's breath catches, but he composes himself so quickly that by the time I blink, it's like nothing at all has happened. He's sitting there staring at me with such a blank expression in those bright blue eyes of his that I wonder if I might've imagined his reaction in the first place. Huh. I fix my robe and turn back to the mirror to brush my hair.

“Do you think Aveline has any eyeliner that I could borrow?” I ask, tossing the question out there as casually as I can. Of course, nothing gets past Gill, but I might as well make a show of it. Without answering, he rises to his feet and moves around the bed, coming to stand a scant few inches from the bathroom door.

Trapped.

I try not to think of it like that, but I can't help it. I don't know how he feels, but to me, being around Gill is still surreal, like standing on a platform that isn't quite straight. The world tilts and shifts around me while I struggle to right myself, but every correction I make feels like an overcorrection. It's infuriating.

“I can ask her, if you want,” he says, checking his watch. “We have a few minutes to spare if you want to do your makeup.” I glance over at Gill and find him smiling at me again, always with that damn smiling. When he was a teenager, it was charming, a light to blot out some of the darkness that I always knew was crouching deep down inside of his soul. Now … it's a little scary. “Oh,” he says, like he's just remembered something. I know that's not true though—Gill can't remember anything because he never, ever forgets. “Aveline sent me a very bizarre series of texts this morning, something about how getting out of a clean shower into dirty panties was the worst feeling in the world. Here.” My blood goes hot and the words I was going to say sear into my throat like burns as Gill digs into his front pocket and pulls out a pair of white lacy panties, complete with tags, tossing them at me without changing a single thing about his facial expression. “I figured you still wear the same size, so I hope they fit alright.”

I catch the underwear in one hand, fingers curling around the scrap of white fabric.

I don't know how long Gill plans on sticking around, but I hope it isn't long.

I don't think I can survive it.

“
There's a new guy in my biology class,” Leilani says, biting her lower lip and practically bouncing up and down. “He's got hair like … like the night sky, only without any stars.”

“And cornflower blue eyes,” I ooze, batting my lashes and then rolling my eyes. “I know. You'd have known it, too, if you ever checked your text messages.” Leilani makes a face at me. She's always so busy with her video games that she forgets to charge her phone; it's pretty much eternally dead. “Remember how I told you that Cliff had a kid?”

“You're saying that's him?!” she asks before I can even finish the story. Her cheeks turn a spectacular shade of red when she blushes. “That guy's like … like your brother now or something?”

“Our parents aren't married yet,” I murmur, knowing it's only a matter of time. Well, two weeks to be exact. Two weeks until our family doubles in size, until I can't stop denying that the bedroom across the hallway is no longer my grandma's occasional guest room. “Anyway, his mom's gone completely crazy, says Jesus is always yelling at her or something and that she can't hear anyone but him. It got to the point where she was forgetting to buy food and stuff.” I tuck some hair behind my ear and try not to think about the boy who barged into my bedroom yesterday and laid on my bed like he owned the place.

I touch my fingers to my throat and feel my racing pulse.

“You okay?” Leilani asks, pausing in the middle of the busy hallway, her book bag slung over one shoulder, her dark hair swinging in her face. “You just got sweaty all of a sudden.”

“I'm fine,” I snarl, giving her my best ugly face. I don't know why, but I feel so protective of this new feeling, this strange emotion, that's brewing inside of me. “Sorry,” I add because I know I'm being kind of a bitch to her.

Leilani raises her eyebrows, but doesn't say anything. Guess she knows me well enough not to.

“So his mom wasn't feeding him or something?” she asks, prompting me to pick up the conversation where I left off.

“Yeah,” I say, pausing next to my locker, turning the dial to my combination and swinging the door open. “And she wouldn't let him go to school, said all his teachers were demons. When she found out he was sneaking out and going anyway, she beat him with a baseball bat.” My stomach turns as I think of the bruises on Gill's arms. He wasn't shy about them, explained them immediately when he caught me looking.

“She's my mom,” he'd said, eyes downcast, fingers spread wide, two of them sporting little splints. “When she came at me, I was so surprised, I didn't know what to do. And I knew … I know she's sick, so I just couldn't seem to fight back.”

“Cliff didn't know about any of this?” Leilani asks as I stuff books inside my locker.