Page 27 of Brazen Defiance (Brazen Boys #4)

Still, I know I should feel something besides a hole in my gut where worry and anger should churn. Something besides terror.

But that’s all I have, and that’s all I can react to.

“I just want to disappear,” I whisper.

I can’t even pay attention to the conversation that breaks out behind me, the volume raising the longer I cling to Walker, forcing myself on him so both my arms and legs are locking us together, my face burrowing into his neck.

He’s saying something, everyone is, but I can’t listen, I can’t answer. This mess inside me just needs out.

How will I ever last in that place for more than a few hours, let alone months? And the doctor? A child?

I can’t. I just can’t.

Whatever conversation that happens behind me finishes, and I’m scooped up and brought to my room, Walker’s hand warm against the back of my neck once he has us settled on the mattress.

“Princess, I need you to focus for me. Can you do that?”

I shake my head, not able to give up my breakdown. Not yet.

“Please. It’s important.”

I blink my eyes open, the fear and grief in his voice leaving no option but to make sure he’s okay.

And he’s not. A few tears streak down his cheeks, and I wipe them away with shaky thumbs. He swallows, pressing his lips to my forehead, before clearing his throat.

“I need you to tell me what to keep and what to leave.”

My brain won’t kick on. Those words make a sentence, but they don’t make sense.

“Clara, we’re running. Now. I’ll help you pack, but we have to go. No goodbyes.”

“No goodbyes?” Emma. My dad.

“No. You don’t have much, but we can’t take all of it.”

I scramble away from him, sitting in the middle of my bed and staring at my meager possessions. “Leave?”

“Leave. No computers or phones. They’re too easy to trace. Jansen is taking off on foot from the roof to steal a car and we’ll meet him at one of our rendezvous points. No more stuff than fits in a single bag. Prioritize anything that could be pawned.”

The glittery ring on my finger fits the bill. “Where are we meeting?”

“Trips says you named one of the new houses ‘Black.’”

I nod, remembering where that was. “You should go get your stuff,” I say.

“Do you need help?”

This task is something I can do, something I asked for, even if I couldn’t put it in so many words, something that will keep me out of my head. “No. I can do this.”

He pulls me to him. “I’m not letting you go. No matter what.” He presses a kiss to my lips, and is gone, leaving me with my backpack and a purpose.

Ten minutes later, I have two changes of clothes, my running shoes, all the cash in my wallet, and the fancy shit I got for last weekend’s first, godawful visit to Trips’ house, added at the last minute to pawn.

I toss in my toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, and a hairbrush, barely making space for the notebook I’ve been using to work on my code, and a pen, just in case.

I know I can’t say goodbye.

But Emma and I planned for this. Was it only two days ago we came up with a code of our own?

With a shaky breath, I open my text chat with Emma. It takes a minute to figure out how to phrase this. What if this is the last time I message my best friend?

I type it out, reading it three times before I hit send.

Hey lady! I’ve been thinking about that jasmine tea you were talking about. I’m going to try it, but don’t tell anyone. Who knows if I’ll like it. Love ya!

It feels flippant, not like a goodbye at all. But that’s the way it has to be.

I leave my phone on the bathroom counter, the buzz of her response almost making me pick it up. I close the door behind me. No going back.

She knows I love her. What more needs to be said? Someday, hopefully soon, I’ll get in contact again.

Meeting the rest of the guys in the front hallway, I can’t help but wonder what will happen to all their stuff, to the house. There isn’t enough time to get rid of all the evidence.

But is there anything close to evidence here, actually?

RJ knows how to clean any of his stuff. Trips’ entire business is in his head and a small black notebook that he carries with him on poker nights.

Jansen takes things, but he’s always been freakishly careful about leaving evidence around.

Having learned about his cousin, it makes sense.

Walker’s collection is probably the most damning—his set up for ID forging is bad if you know what you’re looking at.

But as an art major, even that can be explained away as some project commenting on government and identity. You know, tricky art stuff.

“Wait, what about the cat?” I ask, three sets of eyes looking at me with different degrees of question and surprise.

Walker’s the first to respond. “Shit. We didn’t think about the cat.”

“We can’t bring it with us,” Trips announces.

“But we can’t leave it here to die of thirst,” I say. “It’s Jansen’s mom’s cat.”

“That Evie took,” Walker says.

“On accident.”

RJ closes his eyes, his lips tight. “Who has a duffel bag?”

Trips curses and marches up the stairs, RJ following. Two minutes later, they’re at the bottom of the stairs with two duffel bags, one of which is yowling, Trips’ arms covered in red scratches.

RJ sets down the cat, pulling a dark green stocking hat from his pocket and tugging it onto his head. “Any computers? Phones? Smart watches? Earbuds? Speakers? Anything with the word ‘smart’ in its name?”

We all shake our heads.

“Anything that’s obviously evidence left here?”

Again, we shake our heads.

He nods, taking his phone from his pocket.

“Once I start this program, in less than ten minutes, every piece of technology in this house will be reset to factory presets, all links to us wiped. Then we’re ghosts.

We’ll leave two by two, five minutes apart.

The goal will be to lose any tails, then circle back on foot to the rendezvous.

Anybody not there by midnight will be left behind.

Walker, you’ll go with Trips. He’s a better fighter, but he’s down one hand, so if there’s trouble, you might have to step in.

Clara, you’ll come with me. Leave the lights on.

We want it to look like Jay is still here, so they don’t think we’re running. ”

Adrenaline surges, and while I hope RJ and I are the first wave, instead he ushers Trips and Walker toward the back door. Walker stops, kissing me hard. “See you there, princess.”

I manage a shaky smile for him.

Trips just stares, his face a mask of anger, nothing soft showing through. Back to the man I met this fall who hated me and the world I came from. Or maybe he just hated the world in general.

“Be smart. RJ’s going to need you,” he grumbles.

I nod, not sure what he means, then the two of them are gone, the door to the kitchen swinging behind them.

Uncertain what to do to kill the time, the cat still mumbling at our feet, I go to the kitchen, packing up a baggie of fresh cookies Walker must have made while he was waiting for us to get back, and then fill up my water bottle, shoving some apples and a half a block of cheese in my coat pockets.

RJ just watches me panic-stashing food like some misanthropic squirrel, letting me push granola bars into his pockets, adding one Mountain Dew, one kombucha, and a baggie of tea before I run out of empty pockets.

Trips and I can get coffee anywhere, cheap and easy.

Running out of food to gather and stash, I grip the counter, my breath ragged.

“They’ll be okay,” RJ says, guessing at what I’m freaking out about. And while I’m worried about the others, that’s not what has me such a mess.

“Your family, RJ. Jansen and Walker, even Trips. So many people. And we’ll just be gone.”

He wraps himself around me from behind, pressing his cheek to mine. “They’ll be fine, Clara. We’ll be fine. We’re keeping them safe, keeping ourselves safe, and anyone we care about would want that for us.”

“But—”

“No buts, not right now, Clara. We need to get safe, then we can worry about the rest. I—” He chokes a bit, and I realize I’ve pushed him to think about what he’s trying to avoid, making this harder for him than I would ever want to. “I can’t worry about the rest right now.”

I nod, understanding, guilt flaring. But I’ve never abandoned my life before. I’m bound to mess it up. “Sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” He squeezes me tight, then steps back. “It’s time.”

Together, we walk out the back, leaving the lights glaring, and climb into Jansen’s beater. Walker’s SUV is missing, but Trips’ car is still there.

That one is the vehicle most likely to be tracked.

Talk about things I never thought I would have to worry about.

The engine roars to life, RJ behind the wheel. “You ready?”

“Nope.”

“Me neither.”

And we’re off.