Page 77 of Brazen Criminals

That is not something I want to think about it. “No charges yet.”

Emma steps in front of me, stopping me from going any farther. “I need to know one thing before I go in there.”

I wait for her to get to her point. When I don’t say anything, she sighs.

“I just need to know that Clara is safe with you guys. Withallof you guys.”

I nod. “She’s safe.”

She goes to play with her hair, but finds it braided back, and ends up rubbing the back of her neck instead. “Trips too?” she asks.

Why am I out here defending Trips? Why did Emma decide that I’m the one to ask? You’d think she’d go to Jansen or Walker long before she’d come to me.

I force myself to say what needs to be said. “Trips has some stuff in his past, but Clara’s safe with him. She’s safe with all of us.”

She looks at me for longer than I would like before she nods and gestures to the mostly empty hallway. “Okay then. Off we go to tell Bryce ‘Fuck you!’” she practically sings, falling into step beside me. I wonder how she and Clara became friends—they seem like an odd pair. But then again, the four of us look odd from the outside, too.

Sometimes caring sneaks up on you. For me, adding three brothers to my two little sisters came out of left field. A hint of a smile creases my cheek as we open the door to the courtroom.

Clara is already there, talking to a tall woman with curly red hair. Clara looks professional, a black business dress on, her hair doing a half-up half-down thing that makes her look innocent but not childlike, if that makes any sense.

Honestly, it’s not fair that girls can switch up personas just by changing how they dress for the day and switching up their hair and makeup. She’s wearing her sling, even though her arm is getting better, her good hand fiddling with the strap. She looks sympathetic, which I have to assume is the goal.

Trips is faking relaxed, sprawled on a chair behind the two women, but his tension is tangible by the set of his shoulders. He’d better keep his shit together today.

Walker comes in with Jansen as Emma and I take the seats next to Trips. None of us say much to each other besides “Hi.” It feels like it’s against the rules to talk. A cop is sitting in the back, staring at us, and I wonder if this is the problematic officer, the one who might have connected us to the last girl Trips tried to protect.

The doors open a bit later, and Clara’s monster ex comes in with his own lawyer. I don’t know how he found out about Clara’s—lawyers are optional at this kind of thing.

He gives a start when he looks over at our group, and I realize he didn’t expect us to have a lawyer, and I find I hate the bastard even more. He’d planned on steamrolling her.

He tries to get Clara’s attention, but she and her lawyer seem to have anticipated this, and neither of them acknowledge his antics. He also looks sympathetic, his fingers splinted, his wrist in a brace, a bruise fading on his cheek. He looks worse off than Clara.

No friends are waiting on the other side of the aisle to support him.

We got to all his friends except one—the last guy is hard to pin down. I can hardly find anything about him online. Add to that the fact he lives with his disabled mom who is always home, and Jansen was a no-go. We haven’t found an in yet, but he isn’t here, so I’m calling it a win.

The judge shows up soon afterward, and the ceremony of court begins. I’m itching to pull out my laptop and end the monotony, but that would look disrespectful, so I zone out, staring at the flags on the wall.

For the storytelling part of the trial, I half listen, knowing it will come down to who tells the most compelling narrative, which falls to the lawyers, not us. Facts only get you so far—it’s how they get woven together that makes someone guilty or innocent.

Bryce’s lawyer is going for the accident-misunderstanding defense. He’s also emphasizing that Trips is a violent and dangerous entity, even though this trial has nothing to do with Trips.

Our lawyer, meanwhile, is painting a picture of long-term mental and emotional abuse with a recent turn toward physical violence. Having pulled the texts and voicemails, including the ones Bryce sent long before Clara moved in with us, I think our lawyer has the better argument.

How Clara came out of that relationship half as confident as she is, well, it’s a miracle after what the monster did to her. He tore her down every third word, and she’d just apologize, promise to be “better,” prostate herself before the bastard until he gave her small nibblets of praise to reel her back in.

The monster deserves so much more than a restraining order. He needs to never have an opportunity to hurt a woman again. Everyone else thinks taking away his chance at being a doctor will be enough—I want something that will hobble him forever.

The judge takes a cursory glance at the transcripts from the texts and voicemails, then rules in Clara’s favor. The restraining order is granted.

Trips’ tension eases next to me, a breath leaking out as he leans forward, running one hand through his hair. I feel everyone else relax too—none of us were called to testify about what happened at the party.

I don’t know why, but this makes me nervous—it feels too easy.

Glancing over at the monster ex, I stifle a chuckle. He’s so red he’s turning purple. He and his lawyer have their heads together, but Bryce keeps getting more agitated. Clara’s looking over some papers with her lawyer, but I feel the tension squeal and snap, electricity flooding the room, and I leap to my feet, knowing shit is about to get dangerous.

Jansen is on his feet next to me, picking up on the same thrumming energy as I am.

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