Page 100 of Brazen Criminals

I pace the front of the cage again, back and forth, wishing I had a heavy bag in here.

I’ve got to keep it together. The echoes bouncing off the naked concrete are giving me a headache. The smell is making my stomach turn. And the three strides from one side of the cell to the other? Not enough movement.

But I will not lose it. I will keep my shit together. I’m a fucking adult.

Claradidcall my dad, right?

It shouldn’t be taking this long.

Chapter 50

Clara

Iwakeuptuckedbetween Walker and Jansen again.

We watched heist movies last night. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to laugh at them or take notes, to be honest. Based on the way Walker and Jansen kept telling me all the things the movies got wrong, I’m thinking notes should have been mandatory.

Walker’s breath is warm on the back of my head, his arm tight around my middle as always.

Jansen is my little spoon, my arms wrapped around him, holding him close.

I smile, happy, calm, and cozy. We’re just a perfect pile of spoons.

This? This is right. Curled up between these two guys, preparing to frame Bryce for Trips’ crimes, I should be freaking out. I should be lamenting the loss of my morals or some shit.

But I’ve known Bryce for years. With time and distance, I can see how toxic it all was. I literally only have one friend left from before I met him—Emma. I lived in constant fear of his disapproval, of his sighs of disappointment. He made me believe I wasn’t good enough, then he’d forgive me, but only after I’d wept prostate on the floor in front of him. Talk about a power move.

And to find out he’d been selling sex tapes? Me, naked, on the fucking internet? Without consent?

I rub my nose against Jansen’s hair, the earthy scent of his shampoo the only thing preventing a tearful rage.

Even worse, I find out he watches kiddie porn. Those poor girls.

I was barely eighteen when we started dating. Did he pick me because I look young? Running as much as I do means I don’t have much in the way of hips or boobs.

Fuck.

I can’t think about this—I’ll drive myself crazy.

My anxiety must have drifted into my body because Walker nuzzles the back of my head, his arm tightening around me. “Go back to sleep,” he grumbles.

“I’m awake.”

“Then pretend to go back to sleep.”

I twist in his arms. He lets me flip over, my nose nearly touching his chin. Jansen sighs and flops over, his leg covering mine, nesting against my back, but still out like a light.

“Walker?” I whisper.

“Yeah?”

“Am I doing the right thing?”

He forces one eye open, peering down at me. “Clara, I’m still mostly asleep. I need some context.”

I tuck my head under his chin, not wanting to look at him as I talk. I’m not sure what emotions are going to flash across his face, and if I see any type of judgment, I’m going to lose my momentum. I don’t want to let Trips down.

“Is it wrong to pin this on Bryce?”

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