Page 41 of Brazen Criminals

I knock on Walker’s door, hopeful for something, really anything, to keep the twists in my gut in check. His music thumps through the door, so at least I know he’s home. “Hey! I’m bored,” I yell.

“I’m busy,” he hollers back.

Well, then. I try RJ next. “What?” he asks, opening the door.

“I’m bored,” I say, walking in and flopping on his bed. “You got anything for me?”

RJ shakes his head, looking around his room before snagging a tennis ball from the floor and throwing it to me. I stretch out on my back and toss it up and catch it. “What are you up to?” I ask.

He spins back to his computer. “I finally got a nibble on my spearfishing this week. I’m mapping out the museum’s system to figure out where to find the security details we need.”

“Cool.” I throw the ball up a few more times. “Do you really think we can do this? Steal a Rubens and replace it with one of Walker’s forgeries?”

“I’m sure I can do my part. Are you sure you can do yours?”

I think about it. “If the plan is good enough, I’m sure I can get in and out without issue.”

“You’re the one taking the risk of being caught. If you think we can do it, then we can probably do it.”

I chew on my lip, throwing the ball a few more times. “I wish the heist were today.”

RJ laughs. “You got the itch?”

“So bad. I’m not safe outside—I’m bound to steal a car just because I can. Is there a home game today? Maybe I could go lift some old guys’ wallets?”

RJ shakes his head. “Nah, away game today.”

“Shoot.”

The last thing I stole…whoops. I jump up and sprint to my room, coming back a second later to hand RJ a small black leather book. “If Trips asks, you found this on the floor of the attic.”

RJ groans. “You took his ledger again? Seriously?”

“If he didn’t hide it all the time, it wouldn’t be a challenge,” I counter.

RJ rolls his eyes and sets it on the side of his desk. “He’s going to kill you one of these times.”

I throw the ball at him, hitting him right in the back of the head. “Ow!” he cries.

“We don’t joke about Trips killing people,” I say.

RJ blinks a few times before looking down at his hands, like he can see blood on them. “You’re right,” he whispers.

The smell of it sticks in my mind, the copper tang so thick in the air, like we were swimming in a pool of pennies rather than covered in splatters of blood. I drop to my knees, pulling socks from under RJ’s bed, just to do something, to move, to get the scent out of my mind. RJ gets down on his hands and knees and helps, both of us working in silence until the room is neat. “Sorry,” I say.

“No. My bad.”

I plaster on a smile. “So you don’t have anything fun to do?”

RJ shakes his head. “No such luck. If you find anything, though, I’d be game.”

“Mission accepted.” I give a quick salute. RJ grumbles, a hint of a smile creasing his cheek, things back to normal, or as close as they can be. I try Trips’ door next, but he doesn’t answer. He said something about a group project this morning, so he’s probably out.

I head down the stairs, and after a moment of hesitation, knock on Clara’s door. She doesn’t answer.

Bummer. I’ve only just turned away from her room when the bathroom door flies open and Clara barrels out, slamming into me. Unconsciously, my arms wrap around to steady her, pulling her flush against my chest. The floral smell of her conditioner fills my nose and God, she smells amazing. I press my nose into her wet hair, the start of a hard-on shocking me into realizing this is swiftly turning pervy.

I hurry a step back. “Sorry. I didn’t know—”

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