Page 66 of Brazen Defiance (Brazen Boys #4)

RJ

R ushing home from class to find out how Clara is would feel desperate if I didn’t admit full-chest I am desperate for the girl. For the news, too, but mostly for the girl. Only silence greets me as I push through the back door, worry trickling down my spine.

I find Jansen lying flat on his back on the floor of the living room, the cat across him like a blanket, the ceiling taking all of his attention. For one split second, I think he’s dead, before the tiniest rise of his ribs tells me he’s still with us. At least physically.

But it’s clear that mentally, he’s not. “Hey, man,” I say, not wanting him to feel like I’m treating him differently, even if he’s comatose on the floor and unable to respond. “I’m going up to talk to Walker,” I say, pushing out of the living room with my heart in my throat.

We need to get him in, even if he doesn’t want to go. This is so far past what either of us can deal with.

I take the stairs two at a time, unsurprised when Walker’s waiting for me at the top. He leads me to his room, not saying anything, which tells me everything I need to know about today’s touch-base.

The place reeks of wet paint, something dark and angry on the canvas by the window, paint splattered onto his wall, the quiet stilted and unusual. “So,” I start.

Walker flops onto his bed, his head in his hands.

“She could barely walk, and Trips was angry and attentive, which means they aren’t hiding from his family anymore.

But Jansen couldn’t get to her—the guard went into the bathroom with her.

And while I’m not sure what went down in there, because Jansen wasn’t making sense, I know she didn’t get what we brought.

All Jansen could say about her was that she’s ‘purple and blue.’ When I got him back here, he collapsed on the floor with tears and no more words.

” He looks up at me, shadows in his eyes.

“She was wearing a pink sundress. So...”

Rage, sharp and searing, spikes through me. “Bruises?”

He nods. “It would explain how she was moving.”

“Why the fuck didn’t Trips protect her?” I know I’m yelling, but I’m not sure I care.

“What if he couldn’t? You remember he said he gets locked up when his dad decides he’s out of control?”

“They were supposed to pretend they were nothing to each other.”

“I think they were found out.”

I’m pacing, unable to keep the tension in, marching across the room and opening windows to let the acrid scent of Walker’s paint out. “Why?”

“Because Trips was openly caring, RJ. And Clara’s dad said that they were evicted.”

“When did you talk to her dad?”

“This morning, after our swim.”

“Fuck.” I stand braced against the window, so angry I feel like my skin is boiling, but wholly constrained by the plan. I love my sisters, but if this is the price, I’ll give them up today. “Fuck,” I yell, not caring that I probably sound psycho and unhinged.

Because I am. Completely unhinged.

I spin back to Walker. “And Jansen couldn’t get to her?”

He shakes his head.

“But then…”

Walker nods, and we share the weight of what that could mean.

I’m moving again, wishing this room was bigger, less crowded with furniture, forging printers, and art supplies.

“So, what then?”

Walker rubs his hands down the sides of his pants. “Then we try again. Tomorrow, you can attempt a hand-off.”

“And the guards? You really think they won’t recognize me?”

“RJ, when did you last look in the mirror?”

This halts my pacing. “Don’t make me guess right now, Walker.”

“You’ve got a full beard. Your hair is longer and in a style you’ve never had before. Wear somebody else’s clothes, and I don’t think they’ll flag you.”

I run my hand along my jaw, the scruff there having accumulated so slowly over the last few weeks that it hadn’t registered. Shaving took time I could better use getting everything set up for the rest of the plan. “I haven’t been practicing.”

“Then we’ll do drills. Maybe it will get Jansen up and moving.”

I huff out something that would be a laugh if I were any less worried about the guy. “We need to bring him in. I don’t care if he doesn’t want help. He needs it.”

“Agreed. But I’ve got class in twenty. Why don’t you work on him, and we’ll take him when I get back?”

This is the last thing we need. The last thing I want to do. But I’m part of this team, so I need to keep acting like it. “I’ll check on him once I’ve calmed down,” I say as Walker loads up his bag and ushers me out of his room.

The front door clicks, and I stumble into my room, or cave, as Walker would probably describe it.

And perched in front of my set-up, I start with the most important thing: seeing how far my man-in-the-middle attack has made it into the Westerhouse network.

Because without all the information, the rest of the plan is a guess at best.

Clara and Trips’ phones are doing exactly as they’re supposed to, nibbling up data from the house and spitting it out for me. Most of it is useless. But hopefully, I’ll get access to the whole system in time for the next part of the plan. All I can do now is wait.

Unable to do what I really want—get Clara back in my arms and protect her from whatever the hell happened—I tug at a loose thread from the pedo ring, one that I can’t seem to unravel. GoldenRod69. A jackass’s name if ever I’ve seen one.

He’s been in multiple groups, nudging, commenting, occasionally inviting people into direct messaging him, but I can’t figure out who he is in real life.

Finding him feels like scooping a fish out of a pond with my bare hands, only the fish might actually be an electric eel.

At least, something about the man feels dangerous.

At a loss with my usual methods, I’ve opted for more drastic measures.

I’ve built a digital net, and after today, it’ll be fully active.

If he logs into any of the share groups, I should have enough information to catch him, even with his excellent security.

Why I’m focusing on him, I don’t quite know. But he’d been in two of the groups that had Clara’s videos, and several other groups I’ve found over the year as well. Leaving this last culprit unaddressed just doesn’t work for me.

I’m deep in the zone when the doorbell sounds. Feet pass my room and down the stairs, fast enough to tell me that Walker’s back, guilt knocking me out of my head.

Shit.

I was supposed to work on Jansen while he was gone.

I log off, grab my phone, and follow him. But waiting on the front porch is someone I wish wasn’t there.

Officer Tom Reed, in uniform blues.

My heart gets loud in my ears, my hand on the wall keeping me upright as I try to breathe through the panic, sweat coating me like I ran through a sprinkler.

Walker glances at me, and then whatever mask he had on disappears, rushing to my side, encouraging me to sit on the stairs, my head between my knees.

Shiny black shoes follow him in, and I yell, wordless, terrified that a fucking cop is in the house.

Then the wood grain between my shoes takes my complete focus.