Page 16 of Brazen Defiance (Brazen Boys #4)

Clara

I spend the rest of the week doing things I can control.

I fold my laundry and stack my threadbare clothes back in their boxes, another pair of jeans so worn in the knees that I turn them into shorts.

Not helpful now, but at least I’ll have them in the summer.

I stare at the designer clothes that came back with me from Trips’—the plain gray sweater and black slacks, the plummy pink silk tank top—and I note the absence of a very expensive designer dress.

The ring box appears on my desk one afternoon, and I don’t ask who brought it in. I don’t want to know. I shove it in the bottom of my backpack, not wanting to deal with it. See it. Acknowledge it.

RJ and I go for a run, passing Trips and Jansen on their way back, the silence between the men in my life grating. But what can they say?

This isn’t something fixed by words.

It’s only fixed by actions.

So I work on my written code, experimenting with writing in reverse like I learned to do in elementary school, with my shorthand I’ve used for notes, looking up the kinds of abbreviations court reporters use, and historic codes from various world wars.

Makes me wish I’d talked Marie into teaching me Ojibwa in high school instead of just gossiping about guys and complaining about our English teacher or Coach Smith making us do burpees until we felt like we’d pass out.

Spanish is too common a language, but I play with it too, hoping to make something out of the jumbled-up mess I can work with.

I need to get the thoughts out of my head and onto paper.

And plain text isn’t an option anymore.

When my brain seems ready to bleed from overuse, I switch to researching being a Domme.

Which feels scandalous, and I click away from the research more often than I should.

I don’t know why I’m embarrassed, but I am.

Only, playing that way with Jansen is fun.

And super-hot. And the last thing I’d ever want to do is hurt him. So, research it is.

I set aside looking into Summer. My curiosity will just have to wait—there are more important things to figure out.

At night, tucked between the three guys that still talk to me, I stare at the ceiling and replay every word Trips’ dad said, trying to find a way out of his net.

Out of his life.

But I have no plans this time. My mind has nothing but pending grief. Terror that once again, I’m going to be caged.

Caged with a man who won’t look at me, won’t talk to me. How long can the two of us last before we grow to resent each other, unable to point that resentment where it belongs, at the gilded bars his dad locked us behind?

And cuddled up tight, Walker’s breath warm against my neck, Jansen’s hand on my hip, and RJ’s arm under my head, I’m scared that it won’t be long at all.

Friday, I get a call from Emma, and I can’t put off answering it. Even if I feel like the weight of my secrets is suffocating me.

“Hey,” I say, trying to add some light and humor into my tone, already feeling like the world’s biggest liar.

“Girl, I’m halfway back. That concert is tomorrow, right?

I looked up pictures of the band, and there aren’t many, but I saw one fan picture of what has to be Jansen’s sister, and oh my God.

The genes in the Pierce family really are something.

And now I’m super fucking nervous. Want to come over tonight, have some girl time, and help me pick out an outfit? ”

A legitimate chuckle pops out of me. “Actually, that sounds amazing.”

“Getting bored with all those boys of yours?”

“Ha. Yeah, right.” I flop back onto my mattress, the scents there comforting in a way I don’t think I’d admit to anyone. Citrus and sage, maple and pine, clean laundry and earthy sandalwood, my own floral scent tying it all together. “But I need some girl time. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, my love. So, how about I pick you up on my way in, we grab a pizza, and you crash at my place tonight?”

“That sounds amazing. I have a feeling I’ll have to have a guest at the beginning of this plan, though.”

“Why?”

“How do you feel about a new alarm system at your place?”

“Clara, what the fuck happened while I was gone? It’s only been a few weeks.”

“I’ll tell you tonight. But RJ will probably want to install something there, just in case.”

“Shit. That doesn’t sound good.”

“You have no idea.”

“Are you sure you still want to come over?”

“Emma, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Okay then. I’ll see you in about an hour and a half, then.”

She hangs up, and I lay there staring at my ceiling yet again. This whole thing is so fucked-up, I can hardly breathe.

I haven’t gotten any more envelopes from Bryce, and somehow, that’s scarier than the surprise threats left on the porch. There’s no way he’s given up. That’s not Bryce’s style.

If he’s quiet, it means he’s onto something bigger. Something that will hurt more, scare me more, endanger the people I love more.

RJ was almost shot, and Bryce seemed so fucking proud of it. Smug. Like he’s winning.

And the stapled and taped curtains of my room tell me that in a lot of ways, he is.

I roll to my feet and head upstairs to find RJ and see what level of security we need for me to spend the night at Emma’s.

Talk about things I never thought I’d have to worry about as a twenty-year-old college student: security systems and alerts, stalking the stalker and moving in pairs.

I wonder who will join us to install the system—RJ won’t be able to go alone. Especially after his last solo outing ended so catastrophically.

Tapping on his door, he calls to let me in, and I slide my new key into the lock, turning it with a satisfying snick. He’s halfway to the door himself, his smile bright when he sees it’s me.

“Sugar, are you getting lonely?”

Closing the door behind me, I walk into his arms, the hug necessary in a bone-deep way. “Not yet. But Emma called and invited me over for the night. I’m assuming you’ll want to install some kind of security at her place, right?”

He squeezes me a little too tight, then lets go. “You guessed right.”

“Do you need to go shopping?”

“Nah, I got a couple of systems in case I didn’t like the one I installed here. I figured we could use the rejects at the rental properties.”

“Prepared.”

His soft smile is his response.

“In that case, Emma will be here in a little over an hour. Who do you think will be your buddy?”

This causes RJ to sigh and slump down on his bed.

“What?”

“Walker needed some new art supplies—he and Jansen just left together.”

“So, Trips.”

“Yeah.”

I perch on the bed beside him. “Can you do it?”

“Work with him? Honestly, I don’t know if I can right now.”

“It wasn’t just him. I fucked up too.”

“But not as bad.”

“No, not as bad.”

He pulls out his phone, sending a text. A minute later, he gets a reply. “They won’t be back in time.”

“We need to start to fix this. If we stand a chance of getting out of this mess, we’ll have to work together.”

Pushing off his bed, he moves to his chair, pulling himself to his monitors, his jaw tight. “That might be true. But not yet. I can’t forgive him yet. And you shouldn’t either.”

I flop back onto his bed, just like I had on my own. “I’m not even angry. It’s like the ice took all my fire. There’s none left.”

“All the more reason to protect yourself.”

“But I still care. I don’t know how not to.”

He works for a while and I puzzle out a bit of my code in my head, wondering if cursive Spanish backwards with pig Latin style sentence formations might work for some of it.

“It’s not that you shouldn’t care, Clara. Only you can decide what feels right to you. But, in my book, what happened is unforgivable. And if he wants anything like forgiveness from me, he’s going to have to earn it. And it will not be quick.”

“What if we can’t get out of this?” I ask, needing his perspective.

“Then I’m stealing you away before you’re tied to him forever.”

A weary smile flits across my face. “And if that doesn’t work?”

“Then you’re married to a guy who almost killed you. And that’s not okay. Not by a long shot.”

The sound of his keyboard picks back up, and I’m curious about what he’s working on. But there are too many thoughts in my head to focus on anything else.

“When he proposed, it felt real.”

The tip-taps stop for a moment, then return with a sharp bite to them.

“He’s a mess Clara. More than the rest of us. But he cares for you. Even if he’s not safe.”

“I know.”

Eventually, my curiosity has me sliding off his bed and sneaking into his lap.

“What are you working on?”

“Evie’s stalker. I can’t fix yours, but maybe I can find hers.”

“How long has she been dealing with him?”

“Almost six years.”

“That’s too long.”

“Yeah. It is.”

I watch him digging, pulling up social media profiles from people neither of us will ever know, checking people off on a master list of yearbook photos and names, a database of graduates of a small-town high school.

“How can she be in a band and still be invisible to this guy?”

“She doesn’t use her full name, and everything is under the band’s name. And the band agreed at the beginning not to use her face as a part of their media kit.”

“She’s cute, though. I imagine that would help.”

“It probably would. But safety is more important.”

“What flavor of stalker is he?”

“Obsessive, but not overtly threatening. He writes like they’re in a relationship. Like he owns her.”

“Creepy. Does he know she’s a lesbian?”

“I don’t think so. You’d have to ask Jansen, though. He’d know more. I’m just teasing out possibilities, looking for similar obsessive tendencies with kids who graduated her year. Then I’ll check a year younger and older. And we’ll see where things are at.”

“You have so much work, RJ. It worries me. You need breaks.”

He switches his gaze from the monitors to me. “I take breaks. I take the best breaks.” His lips are warm as they press against mine, his meaning clear.

“Only some breaks.”

“Not enough breaks?”

“Never enough breaks.”

I twist and rock against him, then hiss and pull back.

His chuckle has me mock glaring. “Still a little sore there, sugar?”

I stick my tongue out and he leans forward, dragging it into his mouth, our tongues lashing each other. “Just a tiny bit. Maybe a warm-up would help,” I mutter when we come up for air.

“You’re not the only one wishing that about now,” he says, hard between my legs.

“I could—”

He presses a finger to my lips, halting me before I slide to the floor. “I love your mouth on me, but unless you want us to be caught with our pants down, literally, by your best friend, we probably shouldn’t.”

I’m sure I look as grumpy as I feel. “What if I don’t want to be reasonable?”

“Then we’ll choose to be unreasonable tomorrow.”

“Promise?”

“Definitely. And we’ll try self-defense again, too.”

“My Saturday is getting full.”

“What else do you have?”

“Jansen’s sister has a concert and we’re bringing Emma to set them up. Hopefully.”

He laughs and I melt against his chest. “I still can’t believe you two are playing matchmaker. Do you think we can fit in a trip to the dojo before the concert?”

The fear that knocked me out last time sits heavy in my chest. Can I really learn to protect myself? Or am I too damaged? I couldn’t even handle RJ looming without passing out from panic.

Only, I need to learn this stuff. I can’t count on Trips to run in and save me.

Especially the way things are right now.

“I can do that. Let’s try again.”

His lips press against my cheek, and I grin at him. “But sex has to be part of tomorrow, too. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Leaning against him, I remind myself of my promise, and I force a deep breath in and out for courage. “Listen, this is a weird time for this, and you don’t have to say anything back, but I just want you to know that, well, I love you.”

His arms pull me tight against him, his breath making a curl tug away from the rest of my hair. “Clara,” he starts, his voice ragged.

“No, please, don’t say anything back. I just need you to know.

The way you always have my back, the way you keep my confidences and give advice, even if it’s the kind I don’t want but truly need, the way I trust you with all the shit in my head, I never thought I’d find someone like that.

And I did. With you. You take care of me, not like Walker or Trips, not feeding me or punching shit.

You create space for me to breathe, to think, to recoup.

And that’s invaluable. I can’t imagine my life without you, RJ. ”

His nose presses into the crux of my neck, and I squeeze him closer, his breath uneven.

My phone buzzes, and I know that it’s Emma warning me she’s close.

Clearing my throat, not knowing how to move on from here, I pull him a little closer, then loosen my hold.

But RJ stays where he is, and I let him, the lull of his breath against my skin soothing, calming, quietly comforting in the way RJ always is.

I don’t need the words. It’s enough to know he cares, and for him to have them from me. When he’s ready, they’ll come. But he shows me every day how much I matter to him.

And that is love enough.