Page 45 of Brazen Deceits

Trips shifts toward me. “I’m hearing a lot of we, there, Clara.”

I try not to roll my eyes. “Figure of speech.”

He picks up his coffee, looking from the cup to me before taking a cautious sip. I smile politely when his suspicions prove unfounded. His nostrils flare. “I’ve teased out a couple of leads, but I need help running them down.”

I scoop up another piece of pizza, settling back against Jansen, his touch soothing some of the hurt I’ve been carrying around. Looking at Walker, I see he’s holding his pizza, but not eating it. Part of me wants to just go over and crawl into his lap. He wouldn’t be able to ignore me then.

But I want him to apologize. I don’t know what’s up with him, but I can tell I’m not the problem. Sure, I blew up and then fucked one of his best friends, but I didn’t start it. He did. And until he figures out what set him off and can lookme in the eye and say he’s sorry, any move I make isn’t going to fix things. At best, I’ll be a Band-Aid. And I’ve never been much of a medic.

Trips picks up another piece of pizza, taking a bite before turning to RJ. “Do you think you can work leads later tonight? Or do you have too much on your plate?”

Well, that’s new, at least to me. Trips asking instead of demanding?

RJ taps a few things on his phone. “I don’t know. Maybe?”

He looks like the only thing keeping him upright is his Mountain Dew. I crawl out of Jansen’s embrace and over to RJ’s side of the couch, pulling his hand into my lap. “I’m sure it can wait until tomorrow. You guys have probably had a long couple of days.”

RJ’s fingers lace with mine. “Eh, I’m sure I can get some of these things off my to-do list. Don’t worry about me, sugar.”

Trips claps his hands, redirecting attention to himself. Of course. “I think that’s going to be it for now. Once we have more info, I might need to send you out to scout, Jansen. Where are you at with your classes?”

Jansen sits up enough to grab me around the waist, tugging me back between his legs. “I’m doing pretty well, two A’s, an A- and a B+. I should be fine to miss a few days and keep my almost shitty GPA.”

I twist my head to gawk at him. He laughs, tugging a curl. “I’ve gotten a lot better at being a student over the last few years, but we need someone average around here. Average opens doors that exceptional won’t. So in a house full of natural overachievers, I was the obvious choice.”

“Really? Doesn’t that bug you?”

He shrugs. “I’ve spent my whole life being underestimated. No reason to change things now.”

I burrow against his chest, wondering what that means. Anything said with that much conviction reads as true on a deep level. Whoever made Jansen feel like he wasn’t enough, well, they deserve salt in their coffee at the very least.

Trips finishes his pizza, wiping his fingers on his napkin again. “Then I might have you skip the next few days if RJ can pinpoint where to send you.”

“Got it.”

Looking around the room, taking in these perfect specimens of manliness while they plan some crazy heist like the pros they are, I ache at my obvious misfit.

Trips wouldn’t ever send me to do reconnaissance. He probably doesn’t even trust me to fill out an online survey without supervision. Walker and I are going to Chicago this weekend, but I’m basically there as an extra body, not as an integral part of this well-oiled machine. I don’t fit. I don’t have a specialty that can be tapped to make money. Unless I take up selling my term papers, I have nothing to contribute.

Why am I even here?

Chapter 21

Clara

Izone out as they wrap up their planning meeting, only realizing I’ve missed everyone leaving when Jansen’s fingers gently turn me to face him. He kisses me softly on the lips, his grin contagious. I relax into him, but he only kisses my forehead, not ramping things up. “A penny for your thoughts, beautiful?”

“Nothing important.”

“Every thought in that lovely head is important.”

I roll so we’re face-to-face, kissing him with everything I have, all the weird achy bits coming to the surface. He meets me with a force of longing I can’t even fathom, rolling so I’m tucked beneath him, his hands slipping under my shirt, calloused fingers on my stomach, my back, my waist. I reach up to take off his shirt, but he stops me.

“You haven’t answered me,” he says.

“But isn’t this better?” I tug him, trying to guide him to my mouth, but he resists.

He sits back on his heels, shaking his head.

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