“And if this contact fucks up or fails?”
Gill's face answers my question more thoroughly than words ever could.
Fuck.
He lifts his hands up and wraps his fingers around my upper arms, rubbing the fabric in slow circles with his thumbs. My heart's racing again, but not for the same reason as it did before. I'm scared now.
I'm terrified.
I knew robbing a jewelry store could—more than likely would—lead to trouble. But this?
“I could keep working jobs for Max. In fact, that's what the boss called me in for today: another job.” Gill swallows hard and shakes his head, taking a small step back, his boots loud on the kitchen floor. “But after last night …” Gill trails off and drops his hands to my hips. “After waking up next to you this morning, it didn't feel the same. It didn't feel right. I can do it, but I don't want to, not anymore.”
Gill leans over and presses his forehead to mine. Without realizing it, I drop the paper towels and watch as they roll across the floor and hit the fridge.
“One last job, and we can have that happy ending we always deserved.”
“But if something goes wrong, you die, am I right, Gill?”
No response, just the tightening of his fingers on my hips.
“One last job,” he says again. “One last job and it's all over.”
One big risk—or lots of small ones.
That's essentially what Gilleon's asking me: which one do we take? Because his fate—and in turn, my own—was sealed the moment that Karl's son threatened Gilleon's mom. I adjust my diamond earrings, my mother's pendant, run my hands down the front of my black flounce-hem dress. It's covered from chest to knees in white daisies, a decidedly cheerful ensemble choice for today. I picked it on purpose.
“Regi?”
Gill's standing behind me, just out of view of the mirror I'm gazing into. How he keeps managing to sneak up on me is anybody's guess—maybe my reflexes are just not up to speed—but I'm hoping and praying that I'll get better at it. That, or I'll eventually die from a stress induced heart attack.
Gilleon closes the door behind him and moves over to me as I turn around, smiling at my dress, my makeup, my heels. Cheerful blue Manolo Blahnik pumps, in keeping with the theme. The heels on these babies are a good four inches, putting me up at Gill's height. I like that, being able to look straight into his eyes. Something to keep in mind for shopping.
“How's that plan of yours coming along?” I ask, my pulse picking up speed. Just talking about the whole damn thing makes me crazy.
“Fuck that,” Gill says, pulling me to him, gazing at my lips. “I don't even want to talk about it.”
His mouth finds mine, his kiss warm and desperate, like he's trying to memorize the taste of me. I don't like that. If Gill's already stressing the possibility of failure when we haven't even decided for sure what we're going to do, that's a bad sign, right?
“Gilleon.” I push him back with a firm hand on his chest, trying not to ogle the tight muscles in his chest too much. He's all mine again, just like he was once, just like he always should've been. “Did something happen down there?”
I don't like the way Gill pauses, like he's weighing how to phrase things.
“If we want to try this, we have to go in tonight.”
The words are like a slap to the face.
I step back, but Gill doesn't let go of me, following a step forward so that we're toe to toe.
“You just told me about this idea this morning. We just worked things out between us last night. Gill, this doesn't work for me. You and Aveline, you talked about this whole thing like it was something you'd do in the future. A month from now, a few weeks, at the very least.” I'm already shaking my head and trying to extricate myself from Gill's arms.
The asshole only tightens his grip and drags me closer, his fingertips pressing tightly into my hips.
“I have to do this.”
“No.”
Gill furrows his brow as he finally lets go of me, watching as I step back and cross my arms over my chest.
“I'm sorry, but no. My mind is made up.” I glance away, catching a view of myself in the full length mirror. The clothes really do help—I look put-together, self-assured—and they hide the fact that my hands are already shaking.
“You knew there were risks—the same risks, worse ones—when you signed up before. You were willing to risk that, to risk everything, because you knew I needed help.” Gill takes a deep breath and runs his fingers through that raven dark hair of his. “This isn't any different, Regi.”
“You could die, Gill. That's a pretty big risk right here.”
He shrugs off the fear, the pain, the possibility and tries to put on a smile. I see right through it. This is risky, way riskier than robbing Karl was to begin with. But I guess this is an outcome of all that, isn't it? A consequence that Gilleon suspected might be coming. And yet he still jumped in.