Page 37 of Brazen Criminals

“About Trips? Nothing.”

“No, about the jackass ex? I don’t think he’s done, and honestly, I don’t know if Clara or Trips should be around that guy again. She looked like she was ready to tear his eyes out with her fingernails, and we both know what Trips will do if he finds that fucker on our lawn again.”

RJ sits up and cracks his neck. “We don’t know what Trips will do if he catches that bastard. We just both know it won’t be pretty.”

We share a look. “There’s not much I can do, and I hate it,” I mumble.

“We all have our things. You keep working on the Rubens—you’re our meal ticket, Walker. I’ll start a sweep on this Bryce guy, see what skeletons I can find. Maybe we can use blackmail or something to keep him from coming around.” He stretches and stands up. “Do you know his full name? I don’t want to bug Clara.”

“No, but Jansen knows where he lives.”

We both look toward the end of the hallway. “Not it!” RJ yelps a second before I do the same.

“Damn it. If I get a black eye, I’m giving you one to match,” I threaten.

He laughs, but we both get up and go to the top of the stairs. I knock on Trips’ door softly. A moment later, Jansen opens it a crack.

“Hey. We’re not there yet,” he says.

“I figured. Do you remember where Clara’s ex lived?”

I hear a low roar and then a series of smack sounds as Trips pummels his punching bag. “I’ll text you,” Jansen looks back at Trips and closes the door.

My phone pings a second later, an address complete with an apartment number flashing across the screen. “How does he remember that stuff?” I ask, trailing RJ into his room.

RJ shrugs. “I imagine you spend your childhood jacking cars and breaking into houses and you get pretty good remembering where you are and where you’ve been.”

I laugh. “You’re probably right.” I forward the address to RJ, then lie down on his bed, watching him work.

“What do you think made him do it?” I ask after a while.

“Who do what?”

“The fucker? Why would he go all stalker on Clara like that? Why won’t he hear her say no?”

RJ works for a while longer, but I know him well enough to know he’ll say something when he’s ready. After a long while, he sighs. “Maybe he snapped. Maybe he was born wrong. Maybe this is a one-time psychosis and he’ll be a normal, fully functional human in a month. Who knows? I honestly don’t care. I just don’t want him around here again. There’s too much risk. Clara doesn’t need to see what happens when Trips loses it.”

A flash of blood on a sidewalk sears my mind, a bone jagged and freakishly exposed to the night air, screams turned to whimpers vibrating off a brick building. I gag once, twice, before I push the memory away. RJ looks as green as I feel, and I know he has the same image in his mind. “You’re right,” I agree.

I get up and squeeze RJ’s shoulder. “Happy hunting,” I say, closing the door behind me.

Chapter 21

Clara

ByMonday,I’dhopedto be recovered from my long run plus newly psycho ex, but sadly, when my alarm goes off, that is not the case. So, seeing as it’s a holiday, I turn off my alarm and go back to sleep.

When I finally get up, the sun is sweltering, my head is heavy, and my legs are both achy and jumpy. Of course. The only solution is tons of water and another run. I get dressed and wander to the kitchen, downing my first glass while deciding on a short three-mile loop—hopefully then I won’t vibrate with unspent energy all day.

The guys stayed in their rooms yesterday, meaning the house was eerily quiet when I got back from work, but I was grateful for it. Grocery shopping filled in the afternoon, then I hid in my room and watched stupid TV that made me laugh. I also ate a whole pint of ice cream. It turns out that Jansen’s sister might be onto something, because it definitely helped. And if I cried a bit, well, I’m only human, right?

I’m not sad about Bryce, but I am ticked about the two years I spent becoming his pet. Now I have to start all over again. It’s like I’m a floundering freshman again instead of a woman who knows who she is and where she’s heading. And it is not a pleasant feeling. At least I know I like to run—I’ve got that going for me.

My second glass of water is almost gone when RJ joins me in the kitchen, already wearing running shoes and shorts.

“Want to join me?” I ask, not sure I want him along.

“Sure,” he says, not really looking at me.

---