Page 98 of Brazen Criminals

The guys are not going to like the change of plans.

Chapter 48

RJ

Claraplopsdownonthe couch, and I can tell that whatever Trips’ dad offered in trade, she wasn’t happy to give it. Walker rubs her knee while Jansen disappears into the kitchen to get us all drinks.

“So,” she says, glaring at the coffee table, “good news and bad news.”

“Okay, bad news first,” Walker says.

She locks eyes with me as Jansen sets down water for Clara and himself, a kombucha for Walker, and a Mountain Dew for me. She bites her lip and stands up to pace. “Trips’ dad isn’t going to help.”

“Wait, what?” Jansen asks.

Clara keeps pacing, the movement seems to help her keep her nervous tics under control. “He’s not going to help. He thinks that Trips needs to understand exactly what he’s giving up by not joining the family, and that navigating the criminal justice system solo is the best way for Trips to learn that lesson. We’re on our own.” Clara looks up. “But I think I have a solution. You guys aren’t going to like it.”

“Why aren’t we going to like it?” Walker asks.

Clara gives a half shrug. “Trips’ dad said something that rings true—unless we prove that Trips is innocent, not only won’t Papa raise a hand to help, but Trips won’t be safe. We need to prove Trips’ innocence.”

This sounds ridiculous, but Clara seems to think there’s a workaround. I try to piece together where Clara is going with this plan, but I’ve got nothing.

She continues. “We have circumstantial evidence linking Bryce to Trips’ assault of that guy. What we need, though, is a confession.”

Walker slumps back into the couch. “How do we get someone to confess to a crime he didn’t commit?”

“Bryce knows something. He wouldn’t keep harping on about how dangerous you all are if he didn’t. I’ll get him to tell me what he knows. Hopefully, there’s enough detail for it to sound like a confession.”

I shake my head. “Clara, the cops have ways of figuring out if a confession is faked.”

She nods. “They do, but if we make the confession believable, along with the other evidence, they probably won’t splurge on the audio experts. And RJ, I’m sure you can make it good enough to pass the first inspection, right?”

“You want me to learn how to do a deep fake audio confession overnight?”

“I want you to learn how tofakea deep fake audio confession overnight.”

We all just stare at this woman who stumbled into our lives.

We’ve already done more advanced criminal activities today than ever. I created a money trail through a series of banks that was exactly three steps deep. Just enough to look suspicious, but not enough for them to assume a criminal mastermind, which the monster ex is not. I even matched the middle stop to the same account as the kiddie porn payments—it now looks like the monster ex has a standard way of moving illegal funds.

Walker created a fake police sketch without having studied the artist’s work, and to be honest, I don’t think Kirk Smythe will notice our picture isn’t his.

And Jansen, he’s fully giddy from breaking into a fucking police station, a goofy smile glued to his face. I’m scared about how this is going to affect his usual coping mechanisms. I don’t think stealing Trips’ black book is going to cut it anymore.

And now Clara’s asking us to do even harder, even riskier tasks.

She’s crazy. She doesn’t understand the magnitude of what she’s asking.

But she’s also right. It’s Trips. We can’t just leave him rotting in jail.

A full frame job of the monster ex. That’s what she’s asking for. She’s right, it’s the only way to get us out from under the police. We can’t build a criminal empire with a surveillance van parked outside our front door.

What she’s suggesting though, locked in a room, chatting with the monster ex? No. That’s the last thing I want right now. I need her safe. And there is no way she’s safe with her ex sharing the same fucking air she breathes, chilling next to her on our couch. No. Just no.

She clears her throat. “One last thing—what did you guys do with the bug you found? Is it still in my bathroom?”

My eyebrows shoot up. How the fuck did I forget about the bug? “It must be. I didn’t move it.”