Page 63 of Brazen Defiance (Brazen Boys #4)

Walker

T he smell of chlorine trails RJ and me as we come into the house, Jansen still sprawled in Clara’s bed, half comatose.

I don’t know how we’re going to get him in position this afternoon when Clara’s on campus.

I’m just going to pray that he’ll get his brain working enough to be where he’s needed.

RJ bounds up the stairs, better than he was a few days ago, but still struggling to pull himself away from his computer.

Hopefully, class will get him out of his head and into the world enough for us to make it through this semester.

The jingle of the doorbell has my hands sweating. Tuesday morning doesn’t have many visitors.

Glancing through the peephole, I find an unexpected guest. Throwing open the door, I step onto the porch, Clara’s dad stepping out of my way, his face showing his suspicions when I don’t invite him in.

“Hello,” I say, not sure what to do, but knowing I need to get this guy away from the house. “Want to take a walk with me?”

And the man, God bless his reformed criminal heart, catches on immediately, striding beside me as we head down the block.

“Surveillance?” he asks after we round the corner.

“Possibly.”

“Does that have anything to do with why I can’t get a hold of Clara on either her old number or new one?”

“Yes and no.”

“Damn criminals always have to be so cryptic.”

I huff out a laugh. “You’re not wrong. Clara isn’t here and won’t be back here until the new year. Are you big on reading the newspaper or checking up on high society happenings?”

“Kid, do I look like the kind of guy who does those things?”

“I figured. You wouldn’t be at our doorstep if you were. Clara is in a bit of a sticky situation. She’s currently engaged to one of our other roommates, Trips.”

Her dad stops on the sidewalk. “My Clara-girl’s engaged? And the guy didn’t ask me first? Wait, aren’t you my daughter’s boyfriend?”

I stop too, weighing how much to tell him. “It’s complicated. Before I tell you more, I need to know if you can keep a secret from your wife.”

“Maggie? Why?”

“Because Clara doesn’t trust her. If you do, there’s not much more I can tell you.”

Her dad looks me over, then lets me lead him two blocks to Dinkytown, ending up inside the same coffee shop Clara worked at before. We both get drinks, then sit at a table on the sidewalk, watching nervous students rushing toward their first day of classes. He sighs, looking me over.

“I love my wife, kid. But I get why Clara doesn’t want to share whatever is going on with her. Can you answer one question first? Then I’ll decide if I’m keeping secrets. Is Clara safe right now?”

Shit. To hell if I know. “We’re doing what we can, but we can’t communicate with them, and it’s a dangerous situation.”

His eyes squeeze shut, the cup in his hand trembling.

“I know I haven’t been a perfect dad. I tried to take care of her, to show her how special she is, but I couldn’t be there all the time.

Picking up all those extra shifts, trying to make enough for the rent, for her mom to have nice bags and shoes sometimes so she could feel like she was part of her old life, it didn’t leave as much time for Clara as I’d wanted.

But now that Clara’s stepped back, I can see how bad Maggie’s gotten.

I thought she was only mad at me, at the sacrifices she made for me.

I never dreamed she’d take it out on our little girl.

But she did. And I didn’t keep her safe from it. ”

He opens his eyes, looking across at me. “Will me knowing what’s going on help or hurt what you’re doing? Because I’m not going to hurt her again, not if I can help it.”

I hand him my phone. “Give me your number. If there’s something you need to know, I’ll tell you. And if you get invited to the wedding, go, but know she won’t be the girl you remember. She’s someone else right now.”

He types in the number, handing it back. “I never thought my big-time college girl would end up a grifter with a society page wedding.”

“Not all that glitters is gold,” I warn, and his gaze grows dark.

“Don’t I know it.” He stands, offering me his hand, a finger shaped bruise peeking out from under his shirtsleeve. “Take care of her, as best as you can.”

“I will.”

He takes a few steps, then turns. “If your blond friend comes to visit again, tell him not to. We’re being evicted, so he’d be visiting strangers.”

Goddammit. That was one of the promised ‘sticks’ from Trips’ father, only one step from sending Jansen to jail. “I’m sorry,” I say, my heart thudding against my ribs. We haven’t had any contact, but that’s a bad sign.

“We’ll make it work. It’s not like we needed the two bedrooms anymore.” Sadness washes over him, and it echoes the grief I’m shoving into a safe little box myself. He walks away, leaving me with a swirl of emotion that threatens to drown me.

I finish my drink, some frou-frou coffee I got because it reminded me of Clara, then wander back to the house, both aching and dreading seeing her after so long, hoping Jansen is well enough to do what needs to happen.

Terrified of what other consequences there might have been for them over the last few weeks.

A pink envelope leans against the door, and I add annoyance to the pile of emotions. Opening the envelope, the now familiar all-caps scrawl from Bryce scrapes across a picture of the gate in front of the Westerhouse estate. The message is simple this time: ‘Welcome back.’

I toss it into the garbage. He’s the least of our problems right now.

I take a moment, wishing I could be her protector. I’m faster, stronger, more capable than before, but I’m still an artist at heart. Sensation, decadence, color and light drive me, not breaking bones and wrestling smelly meatheads into submission.

But I will be who I need to be to keep her safe. With my words and my smile, I can trick nearly as well as with my art.

It will have to be enough.