Page 19 of Brazen Defiance (Brazen Boys #4)

Clara

T he version of events I give to Emma is sparse on details, but heavy on meaning.

I’ve never seen my best friend roll through as many variations of horror and sadness as quickly as she has while listening to me.

When I finish with the fistfight between RJ and Trips that broke out after dropping the news on the guys and Jansen and Walker’s disbelief and anguish, Emma’s timer dings.

“I’m rinsing this out, but then, we’re talking. Really talking, Clara,” she says, stern and shaking as I take the trash to the kitchen, puttering around like I know what to do in that room.

I end up with two beers and a bowl of popcorn by the time she comes out, her hair so pink she matches the highlighters she prefers.

“It turned out well,” I say, not wanting to keep talking about my situation.

“It did. Remind me to switch my pillowcase to the shitty one before we go to bed.” She takes the beer I offer her.

“Now, onto the important stuff. Clara, you can’t marry Trips.

One, that breeding shit is creepy as all fuck.

Two, you’re in love with the other three too, and three, are you and Trips even a thing? ”

I crawl onto the stool beside her, a single piece of popcorn rolling between my fingers.

“One, I’m being forced to marry him, and I have an IUD, so that should take care of that.

Two, I have no intention of giving the rest of the guys up, but I have no idea how to keep them, and three, Trips and I could have been something.

It was headed that way, but now? Now he won’t look at me, and the guys are so mad at him, and I know I should be mad too, but instead, it’s like I’m still frozen on the inside.

Where that anger should be, I only feel ice. ”

Her arms wrap around me, but the ice stays. I don’t fall apart. Even though I feel like I should.

“Clara, you’re an adult with rights and choices. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Trips’ creepy ass dad can’t force you to marry his son.”

I swallow. “So, you know how the guys have done things that might get them in trouble with the law?”

She leans back, her gaze shrewd, guessing that she’s not going to like what I say next.

“I’ve gleaned that. Also, I did some digging of my own, and this rich brat in one of my gen.

eds last semester, Aiden Johnson, told me that there are high stakes illegal poker games at a house that sounds suspiciously like yours.

But illegal gambling doesn’t explain the multiple trips to Chicago.

Or why you’re being so cagey. I mean, it’s bad, it’s illegal and all that, but it’s not having a bug scanner in the car and a healthy fear of the cops bad. ”

I huff out something that I intend to be a laugh but is more of a grunt than anything. “You’re right. But I don’t think I can tell you everything without risking you, too.”

She grips my hands. “Remember, we’re going to jail together , Clara. Don’t protect me. Talk to me.”

I need to get all the shit out of my head, and with my ability to write it all down still stifled by my lack of code, I do.

I tell her everything.

The crimes of the guys.

My own crimes.

The danger, the excitement, the way I’ve felt more alive in the last few months than I can ever remember being in the past. About how close this has made us, how I feel like I’ve finally found the place in this world where I actually fit.

But then I tell her about the damage we’ve taken, the close calls that we’ve barely survived.

The nightmares and the hollowness that started in my stomach and seems to be devouring more of my emotions every day.

I explain my fears that I’m not enough for Walker. About Jansen falling apart. That RJ won’t talk about his run-in with the cops while slowly boiling himself under the pressure of endless work. And Trips—how damaged he is, and how I’m wholly unequipped to deal with it.

I share my terror as I watch everything falling apart around me while knowing there’s nothing I can do to fix it. That a year from now, the most likely outcome is that I’ll be married, pregnant, and working for the FBI as some sort of double agent for Trips’ family, despite turning down the offer.

Political power would erase that ‘no’ faster than I said it.

The life I’ve been building with this group of guys will be shattered by circumstance and silence, destroyed by a puppet master I never even knew to watch out for.

I tell her everything.

And when I finish, all I get is silence.

Taking a sip of my warm beer, I wait for her to say something. To say anything.

She mirrors me, taking a sip of her beer, staring at it like it’s the one she’s having a conversation with, not me. Then she picks up a handful of the cold popcorn, crunching it while I watch.

Her silence makes me nervous, and I tap my leg, one two three four five, unable to sit still.

If I just ruined the last good part of my life from before, I’m not sure what I’m going to do, but it’s not good.

I can’t outrun the loss of my last friend.

She gets up, goes to the fridge, and pulls out a bottle of tequila from the freezer, taking down two shot glasses, the salt, and chopping a lime.

Handing me the trifecta, I lick my hand, sprinkle the salt and wait for her to do the same. Then we lick, drink, and suck, like we have so many times before. But this time, it’s not Bryce that I’m questioning in the back of my mind, but her in the front of my mind.

Please, don’t leave me.

She holds out her hand for my lime and tosses it into the garbage, then turns back, running her hands down the front of her jeans.

She meets my gaze, her blue eyes uncertain. “Clara, that’s…it’s a lot.”

“Yeah.”

“I get why you didn’t tell me.”

“Should I have kept it to myself?”

“Maybe we should have looked up the jail sentence for being an accessory after the fact first,” she says, the hint of a grin on her face.

“That probably would have been smart,” I say, a grin pulling at one side of my cheek, too.

“Worth it, though.”

“You sure?”

She comes around the counter, pulling me into a hug.

“No wonder you’ve been so cagey. I can’t imagine carrying all of that and not being able to talk to you about it.

Your whole world has flipped upside down, and now it’s being twisted like a Twizzler on top of it.

How are you still standing? How aren’t you a soggy mess on the floor? ”

“You missed me last week,” I say, not really joking.

“Shit, I’m equal parts terrified and impressed here, babe. You’re a legit baddie. On the wrong side of the law and everything.” Dragging me to the couch, she plops down, tugging me down next to her. Then she laughs, giggles turning into belly laughs, and it’s clear she’s lost it.

There’s no alternative.

She catches her breath, and croaks out, “Bryce,” like that makes her fit any clearer. Tears streak down her cheeks, and I catch the giggles, still totally confused.

“Why are we laughing?” squeaks out of me.

“Because,” she cackles, “Bryce wanted you to be his perfect little wifey, and now—” She laughs harder, flopping down on the couch. “His assholeness has turned you into a badass head of a criminal empire.”

This makes me snort, and then Emma’s down for the count, laughing so hard she’s on the floor, gasping for breath.

I recover before she does, and go to get our warm beers and popcorn, and eventually she hauls herself back onto the couch, still giggling, taking the beer I offer her.

“I’m not heading a criminal empire, Emma. Shit, I’m hardly surviving existing in proximity to Trips’ dad’s criminal empire.”

This sobers her up enough to go get us more tequila shots, this one burning less than the last. I force myself to eat some popcorn, trying my damnedest to learn from my mistakes.

“So, he’s got big time dirt on you guys. And he knows you’re involved with all of them.”

“Yeah.”

“Does he know about Bryce?”

“He didn’t say anything, but he strikes me as the kind of man who has back-up plans for his back-up plans.”

“What weakness does the devil have, then?”

“Pride and the belief that he’s the smartest man in the room. Otherwise, it sounds like nothing else.”

“That’s not a lot to work with.”

“Nope.”

We both have some popcorn before she turns, sitting cross-legged on the couch, pulling her hair over her shoulder. “We need a code word.”

“I already have a whole set with the guys.”

“Well, I need one. I’m going to be your maid of honor for this stupid fake wedding, right? We need a ‘get the fuck out of Dodge’ word. Like a safe word, but for friends, not sex.”

I feel blood rush to my cheeks, and Emma’s eyes light up. “Look at you, having safe words and shit. Way to go, girl!”

Awkward chuckles escape, and she pokes me with her foot. “Don’t get me started again. I just stopped laughing.”

“Got it. I don’t know what kind of word might work, honestly.”

We toss out a few options, but none of them feel right. Until she tosses out ‘Rose.’

“That’s it! Jasmine and Summer.”

“Two? Why those?”

“Two people, Emma. Both are into illegal things. At least, I’m pretty sure Summer is, but I haven’t figured out what she does yet, and she hasn’t told me.

Summer can be ‘get me out of this situation,’ because she’s local.

And Jasmine can be ‘scorched earth, I’m disappearing, and I’ll reach out as soon as I’m safe. ’ Do those work?”

“What if they’re there? Won’t that be confusing?”

I think for a second, remembering my fake conversations with the guys before the engagement party. “How about, ‘Did you hear what Summer said about Katie?’ or the same thing with Jasmine?”

“Who’s Katie?”

“Nobody, but there’s always a Katie, Kate, or Katheryn around, isn’t there?”

She huffs out a laugh. “You’re not wrong. Okay. We have our own SOS phrases. I feel sneaky and criminal now. Thanks.”

I reach for the last of the popcorn, and my head spins, reminding me that while I’ve been doing better with the eating thing, I’m still not back to normal. “And I feel like I’m already drunk.”

“One more shot, then we’re watching a movie. I’m taking advantage of my best friend time—it sounds like things are going to get complicated going forward.”

“Yeah. Yeah, they are.”