Deven recognized one of the other shoe boxes as the one she’d seen with the gun in it. Though the piece was gone now, the paperwork was no less incriminating. Envelopes of bills, notices, receipts, and statements cluttered the box, the jarring red Overdue stamp bold and brazen on the aged paper. Again, not one of them had Kennedy’s name, but a myriad of other names that Deven didn’t recognize. Yolanda’s threat came back to echo in her head. Stolen identities. And tons of them, dating back several years.

Movement had Deven’s ears perking, and her head whipped towards the doorway. Sure enough, the footsteps were slow and muffled against the carpet moving in her direction. She held her breath and crawled towards the back of the closet. Oh God, Deuce had found her. Her heartbeat hurtled against her chest so hard it felt like each thump was cracking her ribs.

The footsteps stopped at the door to the bedroom. Deven’s breath hitched, and she bit her tongue to keep from screaming out loud. Would the neighbors even hear her? The graphic image of a single gunshot ripping through her flesh had her straining against sobs. The footsteps entered. Then stopped. Then another step. Deven saw the person’s shadow spill across the floor. They were right outside of the door now, their breathing amazingly calm. And heavy. It was him. He’d told her to stay out of it and here she was still digging up shit she couldn’t handle. Now he’d come to—

A scream exploded from her throat as the figure rounded the corner.

“Deven, what the hell is wrong with you?”

Not Deuce’s voice. Benji’s. Thank God. Deven didn’t realize terror had prompted her to shut her eyes against the unknown assailant. She lifted her lids now and relaxed as she stared into Benji’s face, creased in confusion.

“I didn’t know it was you,” she heaved, struggling to calm down. She’d been holding her breath so long her chest was burning.

Benji took a step closer, his eyes skimming the closet. “Who did you think I was?” he asked.

“Someone else,’ Deven answered, simply. She watched his gaze land on the hidden compartment in the bench before lifting to meet her stony stare. When he didn’t say anything, she stood up, keeping her eyes level with his. “What’s going on, Benji? And don’t lie to me,” she added when he started to open his mouth. “I’m so serious right now. What the hell is my sister into?”

Benji’s jaw tightened, and she watched the inner conflict tugging in his eyes. She knew he was loyal to Kennedy, but he already knew he wouldn’t be able to lie his way out of this. Not when all kind of evidence was scattered between them.

“We steal identities,” he said as if that was explanation enough.