Page 71 of Brazen Criminals

“This only looks believable if I’m the target,” I say.

A chorus of “No’s” greets my suggestion.

I force myself to stay on my feet—I’m not sure they’ll hear me out if I’m not actually holding the floor. “You guys know it’s true. If he goes after one of you, you’re going to fight back. I don’t think any of you would just let him wail on you. And I’m pretty sure all of you could destroy him physically if you tried. It has to be me.”

I wait, holding back the shivers that threaten to take over. I really need a worse adrenal gland—a nice lazy one that just lets me be terrified without the shivers and exhaustion hitting later.

Trips stands up, towering over me. “No fucking way. The goal is to keep you safe, not put you in more danger.” He turns to RJ. “We’ll start with his college friends—they’ve known him for a shorter time and will be easier to sway. I’ll send you the list.”

I reach out to stop Trips from walking past me, from deciding this conversation is over, but I halt an inch from his chest. My heart jumps into my throat imagining touching him, but I can’t without knowing what his reaction will be—I can’t read him yet.

Instead, I say, “You know I’m right. But if you won’t use me, just, please, try to do this without painting targets on your own backs.”

No one answers, but the silence agrees with me.

Trips barks orders. Jansen disappears to go break into Bryce’s friends’ houses. I should probably feel weirder about that, but the exhaustion flares and I barely make it to the couch before my legs give out.

Walker tucks me under the blanket, rotating me so I’m leaning back against his chest, his arm wrapped around my middle. “It’s you and me for now,” he says, a strange growl to his voice.

I turn toward him, but he’s glaring at one of the paintings on the living room wall, W. Lee scrawled in the corner of the canvas. “What is it?” I ask.

He holds me tighter but doesn’t stop scowling. “I hate being useless too.”

Chapter 36

Clara

MybossdeemedtheSunday morning shift slow enough for me to work—hungover college kids rarely get up before noon. It’s slow enough that I have no choice but to think about everything.

Now that I’m away from the guys, I can see how crazy my life has become.

RJ spent all day figuring out which strings to pull to get Bryce’s friends to leave him. Two of his friends were relatively decent, so the guys told the truth—kind of.

They hacked their phones and figured out the friends’ girlfriends were going out that night. Jansen and Walker went into the bar after them, claiming the table behind the girls, then gossiped with each other about what Bryce was doing to me. The plan seemed convoluted to me, but if it keeps my guys safe, I guess I’m okay with it. Apparently, the two friends were already texting back and forth, and had decided to ghost Bryce for the time being.

Another friend apparently has a gambling problem, so Trips offered him a seat at his next high-stakes poker game in exchange for leaving Bryce in the dust. Turns out he liked losing money more than he liked Bryce.

I guess this is what I get for counting on legit criminals to play my white knights. My fucked-up little heart is so confused.

To add to my confusion, Jansen broke into the rooms of one of the friends RJ was having trouble getting a read on. Once there, Jansen found a lot of kinky toys, as well as a well-read Bible. Now, I have no problem with using whatever it takes to get you off, but with this info, the guys are pretty sure this friend isn’t on board with his kinks. They’re leaning toward blackmail. Which makes me sick to my stomach to think about—poor guy.

The last guy they’re still trying to find a trigger to pull.

And that’s it. Bryce has five friends. And they’ve already started removing four of them from the board.

As glad as I am to be kept in the loop, I also wish they were keeping secrets. I don’t know how I’ll react if Officer Reed asks about any of this. I’m an okay liar, I can admit that to myself. Having looked at my relationship with Bryce, and now even the one with my mom, I’ve always defaulted to saying what others wanted to hear. If I believe I’m giving the answer the other person wants, I’m convincing. And that’s a depressing realization all in itself.

But with a cop?

I still want to get into the FBI, but with each day, I’m less certain they’d have me. Even if we aren’t caught ruining Bryce’s life, even if he totally deserves it, can I really pledge to uphold the law, no matter what I think about it?

My manager, Carrie, shows up for the last hour of my shift, in case things get faster than I can move. I’m glad she’s the one to cover the gap—I don’t have to share tips with her.

There is a small rush around eleven, and when things calm back down, I run to the bathroom, leaving Carrie at the front alone.

When I return, a massive vase full of lilies and roses sits on the counter.

“Ooo!” I tease. “You have an admirer.”

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