Page 25 of Brazen Defiance (Brazen Boys #4)

RJ

T he only thing that’s keeping me sane while Clara is off with Trips is working, and even that is hardly keeping me sane.

Tracking the pedos is routine, and the cops are still working the leads I gave them.

My dad checked in for a Gamblers Anonymous meeting yesterday, and I sent him a text praising him—both because it’s a step in the right direction and to let him know that I’m always watching.

Creepy? Yeah.

But I’m not letting him get away with prayers of healing anymore. He’s going to have to work for it.

Bryce is still silent, no more photos of Clara on his phone, and that makes everything in me fearful for the moment when the mess goes belly up.

The only suspicious thing I could find was a blurry close-up of someone’s Lycra covered ass.

I never thought I’d be able to identify someone by their ass, but I know for sure it’s not Clara’s.

And I don’t know what to do with that fact.

Classes for next semester are all sorted, and despite the warning from Trips’ dad, I ordered the supplies for Walker’s passport project, and they should arrive in a few days.

The poker games are on hold for now, so there’s nothing for me to do there.

But I halted my research into Trip’s family. Every time I see one of their fake smiles, I want to break something. And really, what am I going to find, anyway? Knowing they’re terrible should be enough for all of us to proceed with caution.

Which leaves nothing on my list but the name Trips gave me for his childhood therapist.

I’m not sure I have much faith in a therapist who ‘helped’ Trips. He’s never been terribly stable. Although maybe he’d have been worse if he hadn’t gotten help. I’m not the one to answer that.

Looking up the shrink, I find he has all the degrees and accolades that money can buy, his work photo showing a kind face, if not a happy one. The perfect picture for a psychologist to the troubled kids of the wealthy.

His social media is sparse, which makes sense. But if Trips’ dad felt comfortable sending him to this guy, there must be dirt on the man. I just have to find better dirt than he did.

I’m halfway through my third Mountain Dew and still not finding a damn thing on the guy when a knock on my door drags me from my frustrated search. Calling out a moment later, I end up with Jansen sitting on my desk, blocking my view.

“Move.”

“No. I’m bored.”

“Don’t you have a cat to entertain?”

“It’s a cat. It’s not like he needs to go for walks or play fetch. We spent a little while with the feather stick thing, and now he’s chilling on my bookcase.”

“Jansen.”

“Yes?”

“You need to find something to keep you engaged, at least for right now. Something to tie you over.”

He pulls out his ponytail, blond hair falling into his face. “Dude. I know that. But I’m fresh out of ideas. Unless winter skydiving is a thing, I’m at a loss. And to be honest, I don’t think Trips would approve that expense. Too pricey for our cover.”

“Jay, our cover is as good as blown. Trips’ dad knows. My dad has an idea. Same with Clara’s dad. And the police know enough for Clara to end up being a CI. We’re not fooling anybody.”

“Clara told Emma too.”

This gets my full attention. “She did?”

“Yeah. She’s been sworn to secrecy. And honestly, I trust Emma more than most anyone with this.

She’s protective of Clara. Like, majorly.

If there’s any chance of splash back on her, Emma won’t risk it.

And as Clara’s straight up in the middle of everything right now, we’re safe.

Or at least as safe as we can be. On top of that, she caught a ride home with Evie last night, so I have a feeling she’s going to be distracted for a bit. ”

A huff of near laughter makes it out of my mouth. “I take it playing matchmaker was a success, then?”

“A roaring one.” His grin says there’s more to the story, but we all need our secrets. If the way his eyes are unfocused is any measure, it looks like this one involves Clara. I’m glad they had fun last night. “So, no gigs at all? Nothing coming up that we might sneak in under the radar?”

Damn it. He needs this. But I don’t want to risk Clara. Not in the slightest. “Not unless you want to visit a fancy psychologist.”

His brows crease, and I sigh, the pieces falling together when I wish they wouldn’t. “Go get Walker. We might have a gig, albeit a tiny one.”

Five minutes later, the three of us are in the living room, Walker having been busy baking cookies, probably to pass the time.

“A job?” Walker asks, wiping his perfectly clean hands on his apron as he sits on the couch next to Jansen. “Are you sure that’s wise?”

“No. It’s not. Which is why we aren’t involving Clara or Trips. They can’t be seen there.”

“Seen where?” Jansen asks, folding and unfolding his legs, unable to sit still.

“Trips’ old psychologist. His dad had dirt on the guy. We need better dirt so he can go get some help without his dad being looped into everything that we have going on.”

“Wait. Weren’t we looking into Evie’s stalker?” Jansen asks, totally unable to stick to the conversation at hand.

This is bad.

“I am. I should have a short list for her to look over here in a few days. But we’re talking about the psychologist. I need you to be a new client and get a key-logger on his work computer.

His home computer should be the usual in and out.

Walker, you’ll have to be a distraction so Jansen can plant the one at the office.

The policies for medical equipment and records mean that laptop won’t be sitting out in the open and easy to access.

Jay and I can get the house, but not the office. ”

Jansen flops onto his back, his legs dangling over the side of the couch. “Why do I have to be the client?”

Walker and I share a look, neither of us wanting to mention that he needs therapy more than the rest of us. Although none of us are running in peak condition right now.

Walker takes one for the team. “Jay, how are you feeling, actually, right now?”

“Like a million bees are hovering under my skin and they’re going to sting me any moment. But if I stop moving, the bees win, and I’m afraid I’ll pass out from all their little stingers and never wake up.”

This said with no realization of how bonkers he sounds.

“Tell the therapist that, and they’ll gladly believe you’re a prime candidate as a new patient.”

Jansen’s lips twist as he stares at Walker upside down. “Are you saying I’m crazy?”

“No, man. But you’re also not doing well right now. And you know that, so no getting pissy about it.”

I sigh, not wanting to deal with the emotional burden of a pissed and antsy Jansen and a slightly annoyed, if caring, Walker.

I just want to get this off my list. Who knows if the therapist will even help Trips, but it’s better than doing nothing.

Like my dad, he needs to put in the work before I can trust him again. And this is one way to do it.

“That’s settled then. We’re filling out a patient intake form. Hopefully, he gets back to us soon.”

The three of us work together to fill it out, Walker pushing Jay to tell us exactly what’s been going on with him so I can plop that in the form as honestly as possible. And the more Jay talks, the more worried looks Walker and I are left sneaking each other.

He’s barely holding it together. Without stealing, he’s going to unravel quickly.

And while I have no idea what Trips’ father is planning, I don’t see the immediate future as one with a whole lot of time for Jansen and Clara to get up close and personal—which has apparently been his other coping mechanism.

If he tumbles, we’re fucked.

Maybe this therapist will help Jansen for real. He needs it. More than I’d realized.

Once the form’s submitted, we sit in awkward silence, only saved by the ding of the cookies. Walker goes to pull the pan, and I lean over to Jansen. “You know we’re here if you need anything, right?”

“Yeah. Of course. Say, next time you teach Clara self-defense, maybe I could go? That’ll burn off some of my energy, right?”

“I mean, it should, but you said you’ve been struggling with tai chi right now, too. It’s not the same, but similar headspace, you know?”

“Yeah. But with Clara there, I’ll have to focus, so I won’t make a fool of myself.”

Somehow, I don’t think this’ll work as well as he wishes it would. But we’ll try. “Then yeah, come along next time.”

He slides so his feet are over the back of the couch and his head flops onto the ground. “Thanks. Movie?”

Walker brings us a plate of sweet goodness. And as much as I want to bury myself in my work, I’m staying.

None of us are happy when Clara’s in danger, and right now, that’s exactly where she is. The least I can do is suffer with them. Because we’re all in this together.

All fucked.

All together.