Stepbrother Thief(29)

“Only if you don't,” I say, flashing my best smile. Aveline narrows her eyes at me, the dark black makeup emphasizing the bright green of her gaze.

“I'm on guard duty today,” she says, moving down the hallway towards the kitchen. Perfect. I smile and follow after her, both of us pausing when we find Gill on his knees cleaning up the mess of broken glass and splattered coffee. He doesn't even bother to look up at us. “How on earth did you manage this one?” Aveline asks, running her fingers over a splatter of coffee on the wall near her head.

Gill doesn't respond, pulling the trash can closer with his tattooed hand and slamming a wet paper towel full of glass into it with a crunch.

“Never mind,” Aveline whispers, holding up her hands and moving to the cabinets to grab a mug for herself. “I don't want to know.”

“Regina,” Gill tells me, standing up straight and spraying the wall with cleaner before wiping it clean, “I'll be in and out today, but Ave will be here if you need anything. I don't expect anymore trouble, but try to stay in the house for now.”

“When do I get a phone?” I ask as Aveline starts rifling through Gill's cabinets like she's been here before. She emerges with a granola bar and peels the plastic back, shoving it between her teeth before throwing her black duffel bag down on a kitchen chair and unzipping it. “When can I call Leilani? Or my sister?”

“It depends on the information that I get today,” he tells me, setting the cleaner down on the table and running his fingers through his hair. The dark perfection of it, the way it glistens in the sunshine from outside, it's … difficult to look at. I swallow hard. “Hopefully by next week you can start living normally. By next month, you should be able to get your own place.”

“Next month?” I try not to choke on the words, but I can't help it. Gill's attention snaps right to my face and he steps close to me, his boots touching the toes of my red heels. We're two polar opposites—a soft, strong feminine and a damaged, brutal masculine. The contrast hurts too good to breathe.

“Think you can suffer my company that long?” he asks, and I get this really weird feeling that he wants to kiss me. But no. Gill turns away and heads over to the sink, grabbing his coffee and downing it, the corded muscles in his tattooed arm tensing with the motion, far too much strength in them for such a simple task. “I'll be back in a few hours. Aveline?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know what to do if the shit hits the fan. Have some faith in me, will you? I saved your sister a bullet wound to the head yesterday.”

Gill grits his teeth, but he doesn't say anything, stalking from the kitchen with those sleek, strong predatory movements that put me on edge. I know, just know, that at any moment, he could quite literally reach over and snap my neck. I don't think he'd ever do anything like that, but just knowing that he's capable is kind of scary.

“Whoa,” Aveline says, tossing a pile of papers onto the kitchen table and whistling, “he is pissed. What happened this morning?” I get myself another cup of coffee and sit down at the table next to Aveline.

“Nothing,” I lie, sipping carefully and watching as she shuffles through the green folders, finally passing one over to me. I open it up and find a series of documents—a passport, driver's license, birth certificate, social security card, a book of blank checks, a few credit cards—and all the ones with pictures … feature yours truly. Only … I look a little distorted. Still me, but different. “Fia?” I ask, staring at the foreign name printed beneath my picture. “My name is Fia now?”

My head spins and I have to sit my coffee cup down before I drop it.

“Fia Marie Levine,” Aveline says, crunching down on her granola bar as I sit there and gape at the papers. Somehow, I can't imagine being anyone but Regi Corbair. I mean … I knew this was coming, but it's still difficult.

“Why does my face look different?” I ask, touching a fingertip to my driver's license picture.

“I wiped your records, but you never know who might have a photo of you. Facial recognition technology is too good now. It's a little scary.” Aveline taps her red painted fingernail against the card. “I altered this just enough that you should still pass if anyone looks at it, but different enough that you shouldn't be found either. Gill begged me to find someone with the middle name Regina, but there weren't any good candidates. Sorry.”

“Find someone?” I ask, not sure I really even want to know. “Fia is a real person?”

“Was,” Aveline says and my stomach drops. “And the reason she's past tense isn't any of our doing. I don't kill innocent people, just look for ones that are already dead.”