Page 14 of Brazen Defiance (Brazen Boys #4)

Clara

T hat night, I trail RJ back to his room, needing his steadiness more than I care to examine.

Walker disappeared with his sketchbook a few hours ago, and Jansen stomped into his room in a huff after taking Trips to the Emergency room. And Trips wouldn’t even meet my eyes as he slumped back upstairs, his door closing with a click.

So, I need RJ. And I’m starting to be okay with needing him. With needing them all.

Even Trips.

If only I knew how to get back to where we were, that moment on the dance floor, where it was clear in his face. In the strength of his hand at the small of my back, and the way his grip tightened around mine. We had a future.

For a single song, a future.

Only to have it usurped by his father. Then destroyed by our own stupid choices.

Why didn’t I just go back inside?

Because I didn’t want him to be alone. Not with his grief, his rage.

It was mine, too, even if I didn’t show it the way he did. Even if I can’t feel it anymore, in the hollowness of my chest.

Summer texted earlier, checking in, and I didn’t know what to say.

She hadn’t been invited to brunch the following morning.

She didn’t see Trips’ wrapped fists or my barely suppressed shivers, let alone watch Trips get down on one knee, nerves evident in the creases around his eyes, the slight flare of his nostrils.

In the eyes of the world, I’m engaged.

And I don’t know what the fuck to do about it.

I need to talk to Emma, but what do I say?

How do I explain? I’ve kept so much from her, so many secrets.

Too many. The weight of them suffocates me every time we talk.

The guilt leaves me unwilling to reach out.

But I still need her, still need the one person who knew me before Bryce, during Bryce, and now.

When I’ve become a woman I don’t even know. A woman I’m scared to share with her.

And my dad. I need to tell my dad.

But how? He and Mom married young, a handful of months before I was born. And he’s been clear that his path shouldn’t be mine. I need to graduate college, get a good, stable job. And then I can worry about the rest.

This isn’t that. This isn’t close.

I’m not sure it’s even wanted.

At least, not like this. Never like this.

My silence doesn’t bother RJ. He tucks a blanket around me as I lean against his headboard, my mind spiraling. Too many questions, not enough answers. And not a damn solution in sight.

His monitors flare to life as he moves to his desk, clicking and cycling through who knows what as I watch him from behind.

His anger was a surprise. But it also wasn’t.

For months he’s tracked down every video of me he could, trailing the scumbags who had them, removing the videos and the money that bought them.

And he never told me. Not until I knew enough to ask.

Another protector. I didn’t know I needed one, let alone two.

Turns out the redundancy might be necessary.

I scoff out a bitter laugh at my own thoughts, RJ turning his chair to check in. Am I okay?

Closing my eyes, I tuck my knees under my chin. No, no, I’m not.

Needing to get myself out of my head, I force a question out of my mouth. “Is Jansen okay?”

“I don’t know.”

I open my eyes, gazing across the dim space at RJ, my cheek on my knee. “Are you worried?”

He nods.

“Me too.”

The silence is thick.

“Has he been like this before?”

“Once. That I know of.”

“What caused it?”

“Heartbreak.”

This has me sitting up a little straighter. “But this time?”

“Definitely not heartbreak,” he says, a soft smile on his face. “This is probably some kind of adrenaline issue. Brain chemicals all messed up after Chicago, and trying to find a new normal.”

“One of us needs to be a doctor,” I say, closing my eyes again. “Or maybe a therapist.”

His chuckle pulls a smile out of me. “That probably wouldn’t hurt, sugar. We all have got issues.”

“Yup. And a million reasons why it’s not safe to share them with outsiders.”

My silence has him clicking on his keyboard, the sound soothing, just like his presence is.

My mind wanders as I listen to him work, whirring without logic or reason. I couldn’t make a to-do list right now if I were forced to.

“An outlaw therapist could charge an absurd hourly rate,” I mumble against my knees.

RJ’s startled laugh has me opening my eyes again.

“Starting a side hustle?” he asks.

“Me? Hell no. I don’t want to absorb strangers’ issues. I have enough trouble with the ones in this house. But it would be one hell of a gig for the right person.”

“It’s not your job to absorb our issues, Clara. You should have a barrier. Even between us and you.”

I huff out a breath. “It’s a downside of my particular skill set, I think.

It’s how I read people. I become them, just a little, and it makes it easier to guess what they’re thinking, what they’ll do, how they’re feeling.

And I don’t know how to turn it off. I don’t even know if I’d want to with you guys, even if I could. ”

“Makes me glad I don’t have your skill set.”

A small smile twitches in the corner of my mouth. “It’s not all bad.”

“No, it’s not.”

I swallow, my mind turning to more problems, desperate for solutions. “What would you do right now if this were a normal gig? If this weren’t Trips’ dad?”

“I’d be setting up surveillance, doing research on the family, gaining access to key people’s email accounts, phones, and bank accounts.”

“Why aren’t we doing those things?”

“Because they already know we’re coming. You can’t sneak a tiger through the front door. Someone will notice.”

I burrow my nose between my knees, my eyes closed. “We need to find a way to hide again.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. Not yet.”

The bed dips, and RJ’s before me, taking my hands in his. “I can give you some bugs to take with you next weekend, but from what Trips says, his dad will probably find them before we get anything useful. And he’d know it’s us.”

“I can’t do nothing, RJ.”

He wraps his arms around me, pulling me into his lap instead of answering, his lips pressing against my temple. “I don’t want to lose this,” he whispers.

“I can’t; I won’t, RJ. That life isn’t what I want. It’s not what any of us want. There has to be a way.”

“Hope and truth are two different things.”

I twist so I’m straddling him. “Then we make it true.”

He sighs, pressing his forehead against mine. “I can dig into them, Clara, but I’ll have to go slow. So slow it will look like nothing. So slow that it might not be enough. Literally too little, too late.”

“Safe first. Solution second.”

“I’m not going to find a solution, Clara.

Not by digging through Trip’s family. I can get you information, at least something to work with.

But you can’t count on this. Count on me.

This problem is too big. It’s not emptying someone’s bank account.

It’s extracting all of us from an exceptionally dangerous and connected man.

And it’s not like he’s going to forget he has a son.

Or that his son has a merry band of thieves behind him. ”

“I know. I know that. But we have to do something. Otherwise...” I don’t know how to finish that sentence.

Otherwise, this is the end. Of us. Of the future we were building, all of us, together.

“Yeah,” he says.

And there’s nothing else to say.