Page 83 of Brazen Criminals

Panic warring with relief, I grab my rum and Coke, choking down the room temperature watery slop, the sweetness cloying without the ice. I cough, setting the cup down on the coffee table, not wanting to see a room full of concerned faces.

“What now?” I ask.

“Now we do better,” RJ says, glancing at Emma, not wanting to say more in front of her.

Trips slams the door, stalking around the room. “How the fuck did he know you were here?”

RJ shakes his head. “Her phone is clean. Could he have followed them?”

I go to grab my drink and find it empty. Walker takes it, disappearing into the kitchen. Thinking about the last two Bryce run-ins, I figure out the common denominator. “It’s Emma,” I say.

“Wait now, what? I didn’t call him,” Emma squawks.

I look at her, an apology in my eyes. “No, not like that. I mean, your phone.” I look at RJ. “Can you check it?”

He nods and holds his hand out to Emma.

Emma shakes her head. “What are you talking about?”

“Remember, he put a tracker on my phone? I bet he put one on yours, too. RJ can check and get it off.”

“Shit,” she mutters, handing her phone to RJ.

Walker comes back with a bottle of rum and a bottle of vodka in one arm, glasses in another. Emma gets up and grabs Coke and orange juice. We all make drinks in silence.

“Is there anything else we need to know?” Trips growls, still pacing.

Emma clears her throat. “He said he was going to make you guys pay.”

I cut in before the guys answer her. “He said he would make you criminals pay, specifically.”

“Fuck,” Jansen mutters, pulling his hair back into a ponytail. I finally sit down, my legs functioning just well enough to get me to the couch. Jansen perches on the arm of the couch and Walker slips down beside me.

“Got it,” RJ says, looking up at me. “You were right. He has the same programs on Emma’s phone as yours.” He glances over at Emma. “He could see all your texts and had live GPS updates.”

“What the fuck?” Emma says, her eyes wide.

“He’s a fucking scary bastard,” I mutter, surprising myself.

Trips huffs, staring out the window. “I mean, this is almost what we wanted.” He looks across the room to me, eyes locking. I know he wanted to have the target on his back, but Bryce is no idiot—he’s going to go after the weakest links: me, and apparently Emma.

“You guys wanted this?” Emma asks, braiding and unbraiding her hair to keep her hands busy.

Walker jumps in. “No, we just figured things would get worse after the restraining order.”

Emma catches my eye, and I can see she’s getting suspicious. I give her a small smile and shrug, trying to communicate that these half-truths have to be enough for now. “I think I want to go home. Someone should stay with Emma, though.”

Jansen pulls me into a half hug. “I’ll stay.” He turns to Emma. “You have a roommate, right? Do you know when they’ll be back?”

Emma slumps down in her chair. “My sister. She’ll be back sometime before noon.” She throws her head back and stares at the ceiling. “I’ll make you up a place on the couch.”

I’m downing my second rum and Coke when there’s a knock. I freeze—all the guys are on their feet, Trips next to the door, Jansen peeking out the peephole, and RJ and Walker standing between us and danger.

Jansen’s shoulders relax a bit. “Look chill,” he says, pushing Trips toward the couch.

I’m surprised when all the guys sprawl out around me, Trips included, while Emma and I do our best to not look confused.

Jansen opens the door and Officer Reed hovers in the doorway. “Good evening. Is Clara McElroy here?” he asks. Jansen opens the door further, motioning across the room to me. Emma and I share a glance, the liquor bottles obvious on our underage coffee table. I know the guys are twenty-one plus—hopefully this won’t come back to bite Emma and me in the ass.

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