Stepbrother Thief (42 page)

I yank the white napkin into my lap, unroll it and put the silverware back on the tabletop. Gill watches me with a bemused half-smile.

“This is designer,” I say with a smile of my own. “Very expensive. Would not do to get red sauce on the lace, right?”
I can get through this. We can get through this. After tonight, everything's going to be different.

“I love you, Regina,” he says again, making my pounding heart flutter. We both pause again, like runners taking a break between sprints. When the waiter comes back over again, I order garlic bread, fried raviolis (not exactly traditional but damn good), and something I can't pronounce. Might have the Spanish, German, and French down, but I've never taken up Italian.

“I love you, too, Gilleon.” I lean forward, putting my elbows on the table and dragging my wineglass towards me. Next to the rose, there's a white tea light flickering in a silver holder. I look at the flames and then glance back at Gill. “This kid, who was he?”

“Karl Rousseau's son.”

I can feel the blood drain from my face, that sickening lurch as it all cascades down to my feet and makes me dizzy.

“What was this guy's son doing living in a van and selling drugs?”

“He had a fallout with his dad, and Karl threatened to disown him, did for a while, too. I think that's why it took so long for him to find me.”

Fuck.

I can see where this is going, and I don't like it.

“Karl?”

Gill nods and lifts his wine to his lips for the first time, draining the entire glass in one go.

“When they found out he was dead, naturally they wanted to find out who killed him, something the police had never been able to do. It took them longer than it should, with all their resources, their money, their connections.” Gill grins at me, but there's no joy in it, just a sense of honesty, an admittance. “I'm good at what I do, even before I knew I'd be doing it for a living. By the time Karl found me, he wanted me. I told him no.”

My turn to pick up my wineglass and drain it. Before the waiter can come over and refill our glasses for us, Gill does it, taking his almost to the rim. I watch him drink half of this before he continues.

“Your mom … they thought she was my mom at first.” Gill closes his eyes, takes several careful breaths through his nose.
Karl had your mother killed, Regi. Because of me. Elena, she's dead because of
me.

I can feel my skin prickle and the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand up. My lips part; my eyelids flutter.

Retribution. Vengeance. That's what it all came down to? That's why my mother died?

“Well, I think that's bullshit because Karl doesn't make mistakes like that. Maybe he knew that at that point, I loved your mother as much as I loved my own.” Gill sucks in a breath like he's in pain, like he's about to admit something terrible. “Maybe more. She was all the things I ever wished my mom would be.” I can feel tears threatening, glossy drops clinging to my waterproof mascara, just waiting to fall. I want to walk away right now, put my hands over my ears, take a break. But I can't. I'm sitting here in this restaurant, full of all these people. As I intended, I have few choices that make sense. Go to the bathroom, disappear outside into the rain, or … stay put.

I keep my seat.

“He even warned me that if I didn't come to him, he'd do it again, that he'd find my real mother and put a bullet in her. At the time, I told myself I was calling bullshit on his threat. In reality, I was being selfish.” Gill closes his eyes again, and when he opens them, they look brighter somehow, like a clear blue summer sky. “I didn't want to leave you, Regi. But I also knew I couldn't bring you into that life, that Karl would never let me live happily ever after with you. So I left to work for him, just two days before the anniversary of his son's death, two days before he promised that you were next. And then Dad. Every two years he would kill someone I loved because it'd taken him two years since he started looking to find me.”

I exhale in a rush, my pulse pounding so hard that for a moment, I'm overwhelmed by dizziness. Gilleon tenses and his own breathing slows, making me wonder if he's actually stopped altogether. I don't know what he thinks I'm going to do. Run, maybe? Curse his name? Throw something at him? I'll be honest: the first thought never crosses my mind. The other two … well, I briefly consider them—but only briefly.

Am I still mad that Gill left? Hell yeah, I am. Does his reason for leaving make it hurt any less? No. But it all makes at least some small semblance of sense. In his own way, Gill thought that leaving me was akin to saving me, that he had no other choice. The revelation isn't about to wipe away the sins of the past, but it does bring me a reasonable amount comfort to know why. I hadn't thought it mattered; it does.

I fight back tears, clutching the stem of my wineglass and holding in the surge of emotion I feel as the waiter lays out our appetizers. The poor guy looks stressed enough as it is, has way too many tables to take care of on his own, and the last thing he needs is some stranger weeping over a plate of deep fried raviolis.

“
Merci
,” I say, raising my glass in salute. The waiter gives me a weird look, but at least he smiles.

“Regina?” Gill asks, his voice carefully neutral. He's waiting for something from me, some sort of confirmation that I heard and understood what he said.
Elena, she's dead because of
me. In the strictest sense of the English language, Gill's right. If he hadn't killed Karl's son to protect his mother, my mother might still be alive today—might being the key word. But she could just as easily have died in a car accident or from falling off a ladder or, like my father, from some hidden monster like cancer. Life is absolutely chock full of
what-ifs.
All we can really do is exist in each moment and make the best decision we know how.

Right now, that decision for me remains the same: I'll stay with Gill.

“I don't consider what happened your fault, Gilleon. Your mom's, maybe, or Karl's son's, or most especially Karl himself. But not yours.” I pull my gaze from my wineglass and look up at him, past the garlic bread and the raviolis, the tea light and the rose. Gill's blue eyes are full to bursting, like somewhere in there he has as many tears waiting to spill as I do, but neither of us sheds them. Tonight isn't a night for tears. “But you leaving like that … you should've told me. Everything. I should have known
everything.
As a couple, as a team, as a partnership, it wasn't
your
responsibility to decide what to do.” I take a deep breath. “It was
ours.
”

Gill nods and scoots in closer, like he wants to get up and come to me. But again, the public nature of our surroundings makes things easier, simpler, smoother. If he took me in his arms right now, I might actually start crying and that won't help. Instead, I let Gill reach across the small table and wrap his big hand over mine, the tattoos on his fingers stark in the dim lighting, but beautiful nonetheless.

“You're right, Regina, and I'm sorry. If I could do it all over again, I'd make different choices.”

“Like asking me to rob Karl's store with you? To run? To start a whole new life? Gill, I saw through you right from the start.” I lean in towards him, my pulse pounding in my throat, my heart thumping hard and heavy in my chest. “Again, you should've told me what and why and how right from the get-go. You came to me with an agenda, with—and correct me if I'm misinterpreting this—the sole purpose of getting back together, but yet you acted like you couldn't care less about me.”

The way his muscles tense, hand curling tighter around mine, I know he isn't going to argue: I'm right and he knows it.

“You risked my life, and your father's, and your
daughter's,
” I pause for a moment to take a breath, “just so you might have the opportunity of having a life with me.” My lips twitch a little. It's so tragically romantic that I almost smile. Almost. “But you didn't tell me the truth. If you had …” I close my eyes for a moment and breathe deep.
If you had, we might've ended up here a whole hell of a lot sooner.
But what's past is past. I can't let it affect me anymore. I
won't
let it affect
us.
“You know what?” I open them back up and look Gilleon straight in the face. “It doesn't matter. The point is, you should've told me the truth.”

“I'm sorry,” he says, voice low, his gaze searching my expression. When Gill tries to pull his hand away, I won't let him, tangling our fingers together and watching as his breath hitches and his eyes grow hooded. “Regi …”

I wave my hand like it's not important. It is; it so is. I've waited over a decade to hear
why
, to understand how—when I never could've even dreamed of being separated from him—Gill could walk away and never come back. Now I know. It's strange, like a hole I've been carrying around forever is suddenly full, and I don't quite know what to do with it.

“I'm still with you, Gill.” This time, I do smile. It hurts, just a little, but there it is. He smiles back at me, but only for an instant. There's still a lot to talk about, and he's still worried. I am, too, but for different reasons. This thing between us, it'll work. I know it will. All of the, uh, criminal activity we're having to deal with … that's another story. “Now, tell me everything.” I point my finger at him and sit back, keeping our hands clasped together. “And I mean everything. If we're going to do this, I need to understand what's happening with you.” I lift my wine to my lips and let the taste linger on my tongue for a moment. “According to Aveline, you traded the tyranny of one criminal mastermind for the protection of another, is that right?”

“It is.” Gill's voice is husky and rough, deep and low. I can see dark shadows creeping across his face, but that's okay. I'm here now and we can get through this together. “Although nothing's going the way it should. Max … Aveline … me … we all underestimated how much Karl cares about my future.” Gill clenches his jaw tight, but keeps those perfect eyes focused on me. I have to resist the urge to lean across the table and kiss his forehead.

“Where have you been all week?” I ask him, giving him the chance to come clean so we can start this out the right way, work towards a future together. Because the only person I've ever seen myself with is this man sitting across from me—master thief status and all. If our fight's not over yet, then it's not over, but I want to know about it.

“With Max,” Gill answers without hesitation, pouring himself yet another glass of wine. Bottle's empty now. Somewhere near the front of the room, some live music starts up, all haunting strings and aching bows. “Trying to figure this all out. Karl offered Max a deal—the diamonds for me, free and clear, no bad blood between them. Max thought we could try the other way around—give the diamonds back and forget about me.” A small shake of his head. “Max knows I can make back that money and then some given enough time.” Gill runs his left hand down his face. The stress from the last few weeks is starting to get to him, to tighten the muscles in his face and shoulders. “No deal.”

I raise my eyebrows at that.

“He'd rather have you? Over a hundred million in jewels?” I keep my voice low and lean forward, trying to smile, to make light of a situation that's nothing but dark. “I might think you're worth that much, but wow. Your boss, too?”

Gill tries to smile back, but the situation, and the stories, have taken their toll on him.

“Max promised our protection.” Gill sighs and shakes his head. “And Max and Karl have too much history to ever really make nice with one another, so I'm not worried about Max selling me out. I just … I was supposed to be able to retire after this, to settle down … with you.” Now he smiles, at least a little.

“I knew it,” I whisper, sliding my hand away from his and spooning some raviolis onto one of the small plates our waiter left. I set it in front of Gilleon, hoping it'll force him to eat something. He looks like he could use a pick-me-up. “You've had this all planned for a while now.”

Gill nods and takes up his fork, but he doesn't eat.

“Unfortunately, as long as Karl is threatening Max, I have to keep working, to prove I'm worth the effort.”

“You pulled a job this week?” I ask, my eyes going wide thinking about Gill … well, doing what Gill does best. I mean, it's not like it's a surprise to me, but the thought of him taking risk after risk after risk … he's gotten lucky this long. What happens if his luck runs out?

“I did,” he says, but he doesn't elaborate, not here. “Too close to home to talk about right now,” he adds before I can question him about it. “But if you want to know, I'll tell you. Shit, Regina, I'll tell you anything.” Gill's blue eyes darken as we stare at each other for a long moment. “I can keep working, no problem, but what happens if Max decides I'm not worth it? I need to get Karl off my case.” He glances away, towards the bar, eyes sweeping the people seated on leather stools, working the counter. There's nothing there; it's just part of his process. Gill turns back to me as I spear a ravioli and bring it to my lips. “I want to be done with all of this,” he says, looking right at me. “Now.”