Page 51 of Brazen Criminals

Trips ignores me. I don’t want to get anyone in trouble, so I wait until RJ and Walker have cleared the kitchen and the hallway. The reality is sobering. They’re checking for listening devices, for bugs.

I am so out of my comfort zone here.

There might be bugs in my house. And my roommates have a way, ready and waiting, to search for them. I thought I was okay after last night, that I just needed time for the truth to sink in. But this is a lot of truth all at once.

The urge to go for a run to deal with all this excess truth burns, but my arm is aching, so that’s obviously impossible. I tuck my legs under me as I curl up on the side of the couch closest to Trips. I might not know what I think about all of this, but I still want to be close, as weird as it is.

Walker and RJ come back in, faces grim. RJ takes the other chair, while Walker plops down in the middle of the couch and pulls my legs over so they’re draped across his lap, a warm hand resting on my calf. “There was a bug in the kitchen. We moved it to your bathroom, Clara, until we know how we want to play this,” Walker says. RJ leans back in his chair, his eyes mostly closed, exhaustion radiating off him.

“Should we get Jansen?” I ask.

Trips leans forward, his head in his hands. His knuckles are cracked, some places taped together.

“Better idea,” I say. “Everyone goes to bed. We’ll meet at one p.m. once we all can think again.”

“We need to have a plan, Clara. We can’t just waltz around pretending the cops aren’t suspicious. There’s a fucking bug in your bathroom,” Trips growls.

I stand up, anger flashing through me. “You’re right. There is a problem. But I don’t see a damn one of us making a good plan on no sleep. So get your ass to bed. We’ll figure it out later.”

Trips pushes himself to his feet, glowering over me. He’s gulping down air, but before he can yell, RJ stands up and stumbles out of the living room. “Good call, Clara,” he says, scratching his head as he weaves through the door.

Trips switches his glare to RJ as his shoulders slump. His hands ball into fists, but he leaves the living room too, not looking back at Walker or me. I slide back down onto the couch, covering my face with my hands, pushing the tears away. Damn adrenaline, making me weepy. I take a few deep breaths, then look up at Walker. “Do you think I’m good to take a bath?”

He rubs his hand up and down my calf, staring at one of the pictures on the wall. “Yeah. It’ll probably sound a lot like washing dishes. You should be good.”

“Okay. I’m going to take a bath, and then hopefully I’ll be able to go back to sleep. Are you sleepy?”

Walker lets a half smile onto his face, his eyes a little sad. “Honestly, you and I are the best rested here. Unless you want some company in the bath?” He grins at me.

“Nope.”Not yet,my stupid libido adds, just for kicks.

Walker slides his hands higher on my leg, his fingertips circling my knee. “Well, I don’t particularly want to snuggle with Jansen, so I’ll make some food for later. If youdogo back to bed, let me know. I don’t know the last time I slept so well.”

Heat creeps up my cheeks as I scoff, scurrying away, the warm bathwater calling my name.

It takes a while to get myself situated with my newly shitty left arm, but eventually I get into the tub, the heat helping me to pull oxygen in my lungs. I flop my hair out of the tub, as putting it up one-handed seemed a little too tough, and let my mind and body relax. I’m just going to have to roll with the punches. That’s the only way this works.

Chapter 28

RJ

Sleephelps.Evenfourhours of it helps. Looking for bugs this morning feels more like a snorkeling dream than something I did a few hours ago. Stretching, I look for my phone, pulling open the keystroke app Jansen installed on the monster ex’s computer. Nothing yet. He’s probably still sleeping, recovering from whatever Trips did to him.

As much as I despise the guy, Walker and I called an ambulance for him as we left the party. He might have veered into dangerous stalker territory, but last I checked, that wasn’t a death sentence, just a beat-to-all-hell-and-deserving-it sentence. I hope Clara feels the same way.

Clara, what a mess. I gave Walker the go-ahead to tell her the truth after running it by Jansen and Trips. Honestly, I think I’d rather light all my technology on fire and lose all my passwords before going downstairs and seeing the aftermath of that bomb we just dropped on her lap. But I smell bacon and coffee—Walker’s cooking for us. Not one of us turns down a Walker meal. They’re rare flashes of pure culinary joy. So I brush my teeth and stumble down the stairs.

I bypass the coffee and pull a Mountain Dew out of the fridge—it’s almost one anyway. “Disgusting,” Walker says when I open the can. I shrug, snag a piece of bacon, and head back out to the living room. Trips is already there, a mug of coffee on a coaster in front of him. I grab a second coaster and settle into the other chair.

Thank God the circles under Trips’ eyes are a little lighter—he must have gotten a few hours of sleep. His music was blaring when Jansen and I got back from the monster ex’s, which probably encouraged Jansen to go find Walker and see how Clara was taking the news. Since he didn’t come back upstairs, she must either be taking it great or terribly. I’m not sure which would be worse.

I’ve only told one IRL friend about what I do, besides the guys, that is. This dude thought it was so cool he kept following me around, asking me inane questions, and wanting me to turn on the webcam of some girl he had a crush on. It was creepy, so I cut that weirdo out of my life. Clara wouldn’t be like that, but she did just okay a major smear campaign against her ex, so I’m still not sure what the results of this will be.

Voices are coming from the kitchen, so I figure the rest of the house is awake and coming this way with food. I take another sip of my Mountain Dew, pulling out my phone to make sure things haven’t changed since I checked the key tracker upstairs. Nothing.

Jansen throws open the door, a plate full of French toast, a cup of tea, and a carafe of maple syrup all balanced on a tray. Clara is next with a bowl of fruit salad and a plate of bacon. Walker is last, with a couple of cups full of utensils and a carafe of coffee. They’re all laughing, and Jansen has that dufus look on his face where he just made a joke and everyone got it.

Watching them, a small smile creeps across my face as well. I share a look with Trips, and I know he feels it too—this is our team. These are the people I trust most in the world, even more than my family. And Clara is part of it now. It feels right. Terrifying, but right. They set the food down, pull extra plates from under the French toast and bacon, and we all dig in.

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