Page 81 of Brazen Defiance (Brazen Boys #4)

Trips

F alk takes me down to the gym several times over the next week, alternating between leaving me to cross train and sparring. He’s a good teacher. And with every day that passes without my father taking me to task for the meeting with Walker and RJ, I trust the older man more.

“Good,” he says, wiping sweat from his forehead. “But this time, swoop first, then go for the drop.”

I follow his directions, and even though I know he’s letting me get the drop on him, it still feels good to slam him onto the mat.

Once I’ve got him down, he lowers his voice to barely above a whisper. “Your father is sending you to the blue room again tonight. And twice over the weekend,” he informs me.

“I’m surprised it took this long.”

“He’s been busy, out of the house most of the week.”

“Cancer treatment does that to you.”

His brows lower, and he pushes me off him, walking me through another series of moves, once again letting me pin him when my form is good enough. “How’d you know that?” he asks.

“You think we’d risk coming back if we didn’t know why my father wants us to have a baby?”

“I still don’t get why you’d risk coming back at all.”

He taps out and we go through the whole set-up again, the combination of learning a different fighting style and information exchange a weird necessity in this house.

Once he’s got me pinned this time, explaining how to break it, then not letting me do what he told me to do, I have no choice but to give him an explanation. “She thinks we can take him down.”

He scoffs, shifting his weight enough for me to practice the escape. “You’re delusional,” he says once we’re locked together again.

“Maybe. But you haven’t seen her work. If anybody can do this, it’s her.”

“Don’t let your heart and dick rule your brain, kid. It’s that kind of shit that lands you here.”

The urge to deck him flares, so I step back instead, drinking water before I lose it.

But answers matter, so I go back to the mat, knowing I’ve only got a few more moves in me before my body’s spent. This move has a lock in it I’ve done before, but I don’t warn him. Instead, I take him down and lock him on my first try, and a dry laugh escapes him.

But I use his surprise to hopefully get him to tell me more than he wants to. “Is that what he’s got on you? You fucked up with a woman?”

He tugs against me, and with a pause long enough for me to know he’s choosing to share with me, he answers. “I fucked the wrong woman. I thought I could fix her. Turns out, I couldn’t, and when she gave up, it was FUBAR. It looked like I’d killed her.”

“And my father made it all go away, for a price.”

His silence is answer enough, so I let him go.

“I’m done teaching today,” he says, spinning on his heel and marching into the attached bathroom, the door closing just this side of a slam.

Alone and free for the first time in what feels like forever, a childish part of me wants to make a run for it.

But right now, it’s more important to prove to Father that I’m trustworthy, so I sip my water as the autumn sun slants through the windows on the other side of the room.

Golden, like the highlights in Clara’s hair after the summer spent on the beach.

The patter of bare feet against wood floors has me pushing to mine, rushing to the door, some part of me knowing that sound doesn’t belong in this place.

And as I approach the door, a figure rockets past, the flash of dark curls more than enough for me to race out of the gym after her.

But two steps later I slam into my asshole of a brother, and I know without asking that he’s what she’s running from.

It’s quick work to get him pinned to the wall, my superior mass and better training giving him no choice but to stop the fight before I cause serious damage. Because I can. I’m just not sure if I should.

Yet.

“What the fuck did you do?” I ask, his grin pleading, honest in a way a liar perfects by the time they’re ten.

“I didn’t do anything. Calm the fuck down.”

The slap of bare feet returns. “Clara?” I ask, my heart in my throat.

“I’m okay, Trips.”

My brother laughs. “You know it’s weird to give yourself a nickname, right?”

“Stop talking,” she snaps at him. “It’s a bad idea to insult the man who’s got your life in his hands.”

“He won’t hurt me. He can’t hurt Father’s golden boy. The consequences would be too steep.”

“Father told you to leave Clara alone.”

The look in his eye has more in common with a stone than a human.

“She and I were coming to a better agreement. Look at you. How are you a good choice for her? You’re one good kick from a dog so far gone it should be put down, Archie.

Snapping at the hand that feeds you. How long until you hurt the girl you’ve claimed? ”

Clara’s hand is warm on my back, but I’m not lost in the rage. No, I’m perfectly in control, the flames in my veins for once not requiring me to dissociate, to pull away from the horror I’m going to enact.

Because I don’t feel bad about what’s going to happen next.

“Been there, fucked that up already, Trevor. And she’s still here, so I don’t think your trump card is winning this hand.”

The act falls from his face, his monster closer to Father’s than mine, but spoiled and selfish.

Father has never seen the rest of us as people, but at least we’re useful tools.

To Trevor, we’re toys, to be used and discarded when he’s done with us.

“So, it’s like that, then?” He turns to Clara, his voice box vibrating under my forearm as he speaks.

“You actually like my meathead little brother? Such a pity. You’d be so fun to play with until Olivia’s available. ”

“I’m not a toy,” she says, mirroring my own thoughts.

“No, I don’t suppose you are. Or at least, you’re not my toy.”

“What’s going on here?” Falk asks, command clear in his tone as he steps into the hallway.

And Clara, knowing without any hint from me that this shit-show is hers to handle, bursts into shuddering sobs.

The switch is so quick I’m certain that my brother and I are wearing matching expressions of confusion.

It makes me wish we weren’t related when I see it, though, especially when his calculating gaze catches mine.

He’s known we were up to something, but Clara just told him that whatever we’re up to, we might be good at it.

And as every act of mine has only ever received criticism from our father, he’s had no reason to believe that I’m anything besides a fuck-up and a pair of fists.

Clara breaks our staring contest as her story falls out between sobs, and the details unravel my control, my arm pressing tighter against Trevor’s throat until he’s struggling to swallow.

“I don’t know exactly what he was going to do, but it wasn’t just that he was going to rape me.

It was more. There was a, a—” This sob sounds real, the panic in it making my vision hazy.

“Threat to it. I think if I said no, he was going to drown me.” This last part comes out as a whisper, and despite the acting that started her story, this is real.

So real, I’m counting the fine lines around my brother’s eyes to keep myself grounded, even when I want to break his neck for whatever the fuck just happened.

He scared her. Really and truly scared a woman I wasn’t sure knew how to run from fear. Not without convincing, at least.

And her fear has Falk throwing me from my brother, concerned I might kill him.

Even without the fog of rage, I want to, so he’s making the right move. At least if I want my brother alive when this is all done. And I’m suddenly not so sure I do.

But then Clara’s in front of me, and the need to hold her after that moment of genuine fear takes precedence. That damn upscale floral scent in her hair has me huffing her like she’s my drug of choice, and her arms band around me like I’m the one that needs comfort. Fury surges.

Trevor laughs when I catch his eye, Falk calling for backup, for once my brother the only one restrained.

“I saw you there, brother. I saw you, and I’ll be watching.

And that girl of yours? I’m curious which version of her is real.

The one I know, or the one you seem to believe she is. I’m excited to see which it is.”

I struggle to find words to explain how fucking pissed I am, but Clara saves me, simply flipping him off, her face still pressed to my chest. “You don’t know shit, Trevor. Fuck off.”

His lips twist like her words are sour, and I chuckle as a few other guards come and drag my brother away, one of them handing Clara her sandals before he goes.

Which just leaves Falk in the hallway with Clara and me, more questions in his gaze than we could possibly answer in whispered armbars and half nelsons.

“Off to Father’s office, then?” I ask.

He ignores my question, instead directing his words at the woman still burrowed in my arms. “You’re fighting a losing battle.”

A big sigh cues me into her plan to turn, but I want to hold her close, just for a bit longer.

So when she spins to face my guard, I tug her back to my front, not letting an inch between us.

“Trevor knew me before I even set foot in this house, even if I didn’t know him.

” Her hand squeezes my arm, asking me to understand what she’s not saying.

I do. And I regret my restraint. “This was going to be a problem the second I walked in here. I can’t change what happened years ago. ”

Falk must see something in my face, because he doesn’t ask for clarification. “Fine. Let’s walk.”

Clara slides her feet into the sandals, and we follow the parade.

Smith meets us halfway to Father’s office, his hand splinted and wrapped, rage wafting from him like the reek of a dumpster, and it’s all I can do not to meet him where he’s at.

I need a fight. I need an outlet before I snap after what just happened. And he’s the target I want.

Clara’s yanked from my hold, and the beast within me rises to the surface. But Clara slips from his grasp, her eyes full of the fury I’ve worked so hard to help her find over the last year. “Do not touch me,” she snaps.

He steps closer to her, and Falk stops us before we deal with the worm. “The boss wants them in the office. We don’t have time for this nonsense.”

Smith glares at the older guard and gives Clara a mocking bow as she passes him, walking beside me.

The rage surges, and this time, it’s harder to push down.

If I weren’t exhausted from sparring with Falk, I’m not even sure I’d still be present.

And I need to stay present. So I take her hand, not wanting to let her out of my grasp with so many men ready to ruin her and my sanity tenuous.

With my claim staked the only way I can right now, I let her lead me into my father’s office, off to fight another battle we’ll probably lose before we have a chance to win the war.