Page 13 of Brazen Deceits

If something were to happen to her, what the hell could I do? RJ would find her, pulling up some combination of a money trail and a super-secret illegal security camera network. Jansen could break in wherever she was and get her to safety. Trips would thoroughly destroy whoever threatened her. And me? I could, what, throw paint at them? Bake them poisoned pies?

I sigh into her hair. Who am I kidding? She’d probably save herself before any of us even got to her. And she’d make it look gorgeous and effortless while she was at it. She’s a goddamn natural.

Which, of course, reminds me of the guilt I can’t shake, the heaviness of taking a normal girl and dragging her into our world. We showed her this haze, set her loose in this arena full of dark goals and even darker villains. The threatof awful shit happening to her is legitimate. And if that awful shit happened to her?

God, I wish this were a casual thing for me, but even the thought of her hurt makes my chest seize up, so the thought of her gone? Unfathomable. I need to keep her safe.

But I can’t. Not alone.

And some part of her must know that I’m not enough, that I can’t do it.

Clara will never be just mine. I could never be enough for her. She’s a goddess, a force of nature, a piece of a star fallen to Earth. And I’m the mud she landed in. At least I get to be hers—for exactly as long as I can convince her to keep me.

On that morose thought, the hum of muttered cursing drifts down the hall from the kitchen, the fridge door opening and closing. It’s time to update Trips. Because even bad news must be shared.

Chapter 7

Trips

Sushi for breakfast is gross. There’s no other way to put it: it’s thoroughly disgusting.

Why the fuck didn’t I just fry an egg?

I shove another bite of fridge-cold fish into my mouth, forcing myself to chew. Frying an egg takes time, effort, and knowing how to fry an egg. I have time, but that’s about fucking it.

A knock on the wall brings my attention to a shirtless Walker in the doorway, the same doorway that leads to Clara’s rooms and the backyard. He’s carrying his shirt and shoes in one arm.

Fuck.

I know he and Jansen are all cuddly with Clara, but this looks different. He looks different.

“Hey,” he says.

I wait, shoving more fish into my mouth. Maybe I should have gone with the miso soup. I bet that’s a bit more like breakfast.

“So do you want to hear about the fence?” he asks.

I guess we’re skipping past the half-naked and likely recently laid part of the story. I raise a brow, just to let him know I know what he’s been up to, and nod.

Fucker pretends he didn’t see the brow and plows onward. “So NightAntiques, well, he’s a she. She told me her name was Jasmine, but I don’t know if that’s legit or not. And she wanted to meet because she’s debating taking the Rubens job from us.”

Fuckity fuck fuck. I glare at my plate of half-eaten fish. “Why?”

Walker comes the rest of the way into the room, setting his stuff on one end of the island, pulling out the stool farthest from me, staring at the counter. “Because I messed up that Guthrie Theater job this summer.”

I get up and pull the vat of leftover miso soup from the fridge. Scooping some into a bowl, I toss it into the microwave before turning back to Walker. “We did everything right. That damn kid fucked it up. But either way, how do we keep the gig? It’s not like she’d go through the trouble of finding us if she didn’t still want to work with us.”

“You’re not going to like it.”

“When do I ever like things going to shit?”

Walker sighs, running his hands through his sex-tousled hair. Lucky bastard.

“We have to audition.”

“What, are we a fucking a cappella group now?” Anger flares in my chest, but I force it back down. Always back down, locking it into a twenty-gallon drum in my chest like the expensive-ass therapist my dad got me when I was a kid taught me to do. Push it down, keep people safe. Let it out in a healthy way later. Ha. I’m sure he’d be horrified by the few times I’ve overfilled the barrel and finally let it out.

Walker shakes his head. “She said we’re one of three teams, a battle royale over Thanksgiving weekend.”

---