Page 74 of Brazen Criminals

My anger flares. I know this isn’t enough food—I’m not an idiot. I’m poor. There’s a difference.

“Walker, leave me some pride,” I hiss, marching past him and to the front, quickly buying my food at the self-checkout. I feed in the change, ending up with a handful of pennies, my math spot-on.

Walker reaches the checkout not long after, his basket switched out for a cart full of fruits and veggies, ice cream and yogurt. I help him bag, noticing he got the same yogurt I usually do—very suspicious. Once I have four paper bags packed, I know this is way more food than he could eat on his own in a week.

“Walker, what’s with all the food?”

“I want to do more family dinners. Maybe some continental breakfasts. I think we need to touch base more often, with the Bryce thing and all.”

“Walker,” I start.

He grabs all four bags and leaves the grocery store, not letting me finish.

Sliding his groceries into the backend, he tucks my small bag next to his feast in paper bags, then shoos me toward my door.

I climb in, waiting for Walker to join me. His phone is out, and I know he’s messaging the guys. Once he’s in the car, I turn to him. “You can’t just buy me food,” I say.

He shrugs. “I didn’t buy you food. I bought the house food.”

“Walker, that’s a lie.”

He turns on the car, heading home. “Everyone needs to eat, Clara, you included.”

I catch sight of myself in the side mirror, glaring like a petulant teenager. I force my face to neutral and try to figure out how to explain why this isn’t okay. “I can take care of myself. I know it doesn’t look like it right now, but really, I can. If I hadn’t lost those shifts, I’d be on track for the month.”

“But you did lose those shifts, through no fault of your own. Friends help.” Walker shoots me a look, his usual half grin missing. “Will you let us chip in?”

I sigh, looking down at my lap. “Only if I get to help you guys in return,” I say. For some reason, it sounds like I volunteered to break the law with them, not to clean the kitchen or fluff the pillows.

Walker must have heard it that way too because he doesn’t answer, but a half smile creases his cheek. We drive back to the house in total silence.

Chapter 37

Trips

Ibracemyselfforheading into Clara’s room to wake her up. Walker and Jansen were practically glued to her last week, and it took all my self-control not to yank them out of her bed and toss their asses into the yard.

But it’s her fucking bed, and her fucking choice, so even if it kills me, I’ve got to respect it. I push the door open and find she’s perfectly, angelically, by herself. Her curls splay across her face, and her bad arm is tucked up against her chest. She wasn’t wearing the sling last night, and while I’m glad she’s getting better, I hope she knows she needs to keep the damn thing on for today’s trial.

I pause before shaking her awake. I don’t need to drive her to class this morning—she and RJ decided it was smart to have a proximity alert on her phone for Bryce. She’ll know if the fucker gets too close to her.

I’m surprised she opted in—I thought we’d have to do it on the sly. Which would’ve felt like shit after Bryce pulled the same damn thing, but we all need Clara safe.

She shifts in the bed, and a moan slips out of those pink lips, and the sound goes straight to my dick. I sprint out of there. I don’t need this shit first thing in the morning.

Pacing in the hallway for thirty seconds, I call myself a fucking dumbass, then go back in and give her a shake.

“Hey, wake up.”

Clara rolls away from me, onto her bad shoulder, whimpering as she rolls back toward me, her eyes popping open. “Ow.”

“Get up. I’ll drive you to West Bank. I have another favor to ask.”

She looks at me, her brain taking a second to catch up with her ears. “Will you make me coffee?”

“Better. I’ll buy you coffee. But we have to get out of here soon if you want breakfast, too.”

She moans, and I debate storming out into the hallway again, but I keep my shit together. It’s nice having her all to myself, still half awake, not yet pissed at me for some fuck-up or another.

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