Page 107 of Brazen Deceits

“Trips, why are you up?” I ask, trying and failing to tug him to his room.

He shivers, looking over my head. “You need a winter coat.”

I wrap my hands around his bicep, trying not to notice how lovely it is, and shift my weight toward his room, putting my whole body into it, knowing how impossible he is to move. Surprisingly, he stumbles, grabbing onto the wall, his eyes blinking, searching the hallway, his jaw locked. Coughing from exertion, I lean against the wall, too. Trips presses his forehead against the wall while I catch my breath. “Trips, please. I’m not sure you’re awake. Let’s go back to bed.”

“Where’s Jansen? I need his help.”

On my tippy-toes, I tug his head toward me until I’m sure he’s looking at me. “Bedtime, you brute.”

His brows furrow, but this time, when I take his arm, he lets me drag him back to his room. Pushing open the door to theone room I haven’t been in the house, I flick on the lights, not wanting to stumble over anything.

It turns out Trips’ room is the largest, apart from my own. A king-sized bed hunkers near the door, piled high with the kinds of pillows and blankets that I’ve only ever seen in a hotel. There’s a desk by the front window, and a black punching bag in the farthest corner. The room is immaculate, nothing personal on display.

The only disorder is a collection of cups on his nightstand, likely whatever drinks Jansen’s been bringing him, and a bottle of pills. I pull him over to his bed, but he digs his heels in a few feet away. “No. You’re not supposed to be in here,” he growls, wrapping his arms around himself as he shivers again.

“Well, I’m here now. Do you know when you last had anything for your fever?”

Trips stares at me. “I wish you were a guy. That’d be easier.”

“No such luck, buddy. Let’s get you tucked in.”

He shakes his head. “You make things hard. I don’t like it. Why are you here?”

“Trips, you’re feverish. You can hardly stay on your feet. Get in bed.”

Hot, clammy hands settle on either side of my neck as Trips takes a step closer to the bed—which is also a step closer to me. “No trouble. I don’t like trouble,” he says.

“Archibald. Bed.”

He glances at his bed, the change of focus causing him to tilt. I push him, forcing him to fall onto the mattress, tucking him in before he’s realized he’s been caught. “Dizzy,” he murmurs.

I debate the risk of over medicating, but looking at the beast in the bed, I figure we’re safe. I dose out the drugs and hand them to him. He swallows them before I can hand him the water. Yikes.

“I’m going back downstairs, Trips. If you need something, yell, call, or message. But don’t go wandering right now. You could’ve fallen down the stairs.”

He closes his eyes, one arm thrown over his face.

I’m shutting off the light and closing the door when I hear him mumble, “Boots. Need boots. Girls’ boots.”

I roll my eyes, clicking the door shut, then collect the recycling. After a moment of hesitation, I leave the bag at the top of the stairs. If either of those two escape their rooms, hopefully the ruckus of falling bottles will give me a chance to keep them from cracking their heads open on their way down the stairs.

Jansen had better be home soon. Nursing these two takes an entire team.

Chapter 46

Jansen

The lights are still on in Clara’s parents’ house when I rumble past.

At least my car looks like it belongs in this neighborhood. I won’t have to hide it at the nearest shopping center and skulk in the bushes until the middle of the night, like I do when I lift cars in rich-people-ville. This is going to be a lot more pleasant. I even picked up fancy tea on my way over here.

Parking a few doors down, I watch the small two-story Clara grew up in, waiting for the house to go dark.

My leg jiggles as I flip through different playlists. Pop, bluegrass, LoFi hip-hop—nothing is hitting the right vibe. Ugh. Waiting is the absolute worst part of any theft. If the adrenaline spikes too soon, my hands shake when I pick the locks and it always takes twice as long. And that is just plain annoying.

An older lady hobbles toward me, dragged by a tiny floof on a leash that shouldn’t be able to tug anything heavier than a feather. Nosy neighbors are bad. But old ladies have a soft spot for me, so here’s hoping I can play the secret white knight for her.

I’m lucky Walker taught me some backstories last year when I started boosting cars again. This would be my first time using the gallant knight, and I’m almost hoping she’ll call me out so I can pretend to be someone’s hero.

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