Hard Rock Roots Box Set (136 page)

Authors: C. M. Stunich

BOOK: Hard Rock Roots Box Set

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“Unfortunately, you'll have to wait until they land to see them. Right now, phone calls are too risky.” I give Gill another show of my 'ugly face' and stifle the urge to say something mean. It's not his fault, really, just nerves. No matter what happens from this point on, I have to take responsibility for my own actions. Gill might've made the proposal, but I'm the one that went along with it.

“So … how exactly does this all work?” I ask, wishing I was the kind of person that was okay with comfortable silence. To me, though, all silence is awkward, punishing. I have some sort of strange compulsion to fill it. “I mean, you deliver the diamonds to your client and poof, he hands over some cash?” Gill's full lips twitch, but he doesn't respond right away, probably mulling over what he can and can't say to me, what might break some rule of thievery that I'm not in the privilege of knowing. “Sorry,” I say, before he tries to placate me with some bullshit that I'm not likely to believe. I hold up both hands, palms out. “I don't even want to know.”

“I'll answer your question if you answer mine,” Gill says, a bit of wry humor sneaking into his words. I stare down at my bare toes, at my purple painted nails, and I try to remember when, exactly, it was that I lost my high heels. The day's a complete blur, a twisted snarl of shock and adrenaline, a fuzzy, blurry memory that I know won't come into full focus until I'm completely relaxed and at ease. Stressful situations are like that, you know? In the heat of the moment, they're just smears across your consciousness, a series of actions you take from muscle memory and reflex. Afterwards, when you're lying in the dark and the full force of your decisions comes crashing down, that's when things get high def.

“What's your question?” I ask, my stomach tightening with anticipation. I have no clue why. I mean, I trust Gill as a business partner, as a master of his trade, but otherwise, he means nothing to me. So why is my body trying to act otherwise? “If you tell me, I'll give it some serious consideration and then perhaps I'll take you up on the offer.” I turn and lift my chin, giving him my haughtiest facial expression; it only makes Gill laugh.

“Why didn't you tell me you had a boyfriend?”

Gill's question catches me completely off guard, and my cheeks go up in flames; my jaw clenches.
Shit.
Yes, Mathis caught me by surprise this morning, showing up at the jewelry store with brioche in one hand, coffee in the other. He practically ruined the entire gig with his romantic notions. Still … the gesture was kind, and I'm already starting to wonder if I'm going to miss him.

“Didn't seem relevant to the situation,” I say, knowing that's complete crap. I let my gaze fall on the window, on the water droplets clinging to the glass and then spinning away like leaves in a storm. Absently, I smooth my hands over my white pencil skirt, straightening out the wrinkles. As of now, this is the only outfit I have. For Gill's plan to go off without a hitch, I had to leave it all behind, everything I owned. Well, all except for my mother's things. I'd rather die than let go of those. I lean against the car door and let the comforting pressure of my purse dig into my side, just to make sure it's still there. “I'm sorry he tried to tackle you, but you did have a gun to my back.”

“He's a handsome guy,” Gill says, and I swear to God, it sounds like he's gritting his teeth.

“Gill, don't,” I say, glancing over and finding his usual calm expression sitting pretty on that rugged face.
Son of a bitch.
“We're not friends anymore.”

“We could be,” he says, his voice even, no hint of what he's really trying to say with those words.

“Oh?” I ask, more than a dollop of sarcasm creeping into my tone. “You planning to settle down in Seattle? Getting to know your sister, maybe?” My words have such a double meaning, one that I hope Gill doesn't notice, that I end up being the one clenching my teeth. Old anger rides over and through me, but I ignore it, letting it seep away into the sudden silence. Gill's lack of an answer is all I need to know that he's never going to change, never going to stop doing what he does best: stealing shit. He might call himself a thief, might be able to pull off jobs that nobody else can, but so what? In all reality, he's just a common criminal and that's it. Nothing—and I mean
nothing
—is more important than family. But my stepbrother apparently thinks so, so screw him. “If you want to tell me how I almost screwed everything up and got you arrested, go ahead, I deserve it.”

I slump back in my seat and run my hands over my face. Makeup smears across my skin as I drag my fingertips over my eyelids and down my cheeks, dropping my fists into my lap. I would've liked to tell Mathis goodbye, gauge his expression when I told him I was leaving and never coming back. This time though, it was my turn to run off and disappear without a word. Right now, shock's got a cold, white hold on my heart, and I can't seem to feel much of anything. I wonder if it'll hit me later, some sort of overwhelming grief. I mean, Mathis and I weren't head over heels in love or anything, but he made me smile. That's gotta count for something, doesn't it?

“I'm not angry with you, Regi,” Gill says, taking a waterlogged exit out of the flow of traffic, our tires splashing mud and leaves against the guardrails on either side. “And I'm sorry I dragged you into this, truly I am, but—”

“But the payoff was colossal, I get it.” I raise my hands up, copper bracelets jingling. The smell of my perfume drifts in the air between us, the scent of peonies suddenly cloying. I roll the window down a crack and let cool droplets of water splatter against my face. “Besides, my position at the store made it an easy gig and all that. Stop apologizing, Gill. It's not like you forced me into this, remember? I made my own choice.”

I don't let myself wonder
why
I made the choice to begin with. All that matters now is that I've got a chance at a fresh start, an easy life, an opportunity to sit back and figure out exactly what it is that I want from this spinning hunk of dirt. I want to prove to myself that I'm more than stardust, some cataclysmic chain reaction that started with the Big Bang and ended up with little ol' me. I want to feel again, really feel something like I did when I was a teenager, before everyone significant in my life died or left and drew open this gaping hole in my heart.

I grind my teeth again and roll the window down a little further, closing my eyes against the spray of cool autumn rain.

“We're here,” Gill says, not bothering to acknowledge my statements. Why should he? After today, we might see each other one, maybe two, more times. Me and him, we're just strangers now. “Reservation's under the name Mia Logan, credit card's in your bag.”

“I got it, Gill,” I tell him as he pulls the car up in front of the lobby, “I know the plan.”

I shut the door and step back, pausing to say something, anything to him before he leaves, but the window's being rolled up, and the gray Taurus is disappearing into the grainy gray of the storm.