Page 89 of Brazen Criminals

The sound of music thumping on the other side of Emma’s door, loud but not painful, is a sure sign Sophie’s home but not partying yet.

When she doesn’t come to the door at my first knock, I knock again, louder, pounding my fist against the wood. The music quiets before the door inches open, Sophie poking her head out.

“Oh my God, Clara, you’re sopping wet. Come in, I’ll get you a towel.” She throws open the door, but I stop in the entryway, worried about how much water I’m bringing in with me. She disappears to the back of the apartment, coming back with a fluffy yellow towel. She wraps it around my shoulders then steps back, turning down her music even more.

“What happened to you?” she asks.

I shrug. Sophie doesn’t need details right now. “Is Emma in her room?” I ask.

“Nah, she went out about an hour ago. She said something about having to deal with a ‘controlling, tight-ass idiot who doesn’t know what the fuck he’s up against,’ her words, not mine.”

My heart drops and I shiver, not only from the cold. “Did she say who this guy was?”

Sophie flops down on the couch, not picking up on my rising anxiety. “Nope. She just got a text and flew out of here, all righteous fury. You know how she is.”

I wring out my hair into the towel. “Do you know when she’ll be back?”

“I’m not my sister’s keeper.”

I press the water out of my shirt. “Could you text her and see?”

Sophie rolls her eyes and grabs her phone. I work on drying myself as I wait, periodic thunder crackling through the quiet as Sophie sprawls on the couch with a textbook and a highlighter. I take off my shoes to dry my feet, trying my hardest to get my shoes dry too. “Any answer?”

“Nope.”

“How long before she answers you, normally?” I ask, my heart rate ramping up again. If Bryce got to Emma, it’s my fault. There is no way it isn’t.

“What’s your deal?” Sophie says, tucking her hair behind one ear. “She usually texts right back, but not always. It’s only been a couple of minutes.”

Emma always texts me back immediately. She can’t seem to keep her hands off her phone for more than a few seconds without needing to check in again. If she’s the same way with Sophie, I need to find her, now.

I wipe down my purse and double check Trips’ phone, making sure it’s dry. It’s been two hours since I saw him in the station—I was supposed to call his dad, so he would have used his one call for something else. Did he call the guys? Did they run?

Trips can hardly keep his cool in normal situations—he’s going to go crazy locked up.

I fold up the towel and toss it onto their kitchen table. “If you get a hold of Emma, can you have her call one of my roommates and let them know that I’m looking for them?” I ask as I head out the door, hoping desperately that Emma’s just busy, that she’s not in danger.

Since when do I have to worry that my best friend is in danger? This is surreal.

Sophie gives me a salute with the highlighter, no longer paying me any attention as I leave. There is only one stop left.

Standing on the sidewalk outside of my old apartment complex, the floor-to-ceiling windows glinting in the rain, I shiver. Warm yellow light glows from every third apartment, so Bryce could be up there right now. Emma could be with him.

Bryce could be right behind me, waiting to grab me, and without my phone, I’d never know. The rain pours over me, the thunder fading in the east. What should I do?

I can’t fight Bryce—I’m fifty pounds lighter, shorter, and I don’t know how to throw a punch.

I can’t hack Bryce, steal from him, manipulate him, or blackmail him.

I can’t do any of those things.

I can’t do anything.

Scurrying across the street, I duck under an awning, still eyeing the building, fear, uncertainty, and despair all spiraling inside of me.

Why did I think I could fix this?

I can’t even call Trips’ dad and get him out of jail. He trusted me to help him, and I can’t even fucking make it off the unlock screen.

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