Page 66 of Brazen Deceits

My brain scrambles over what I’ve learned the last few weeks, trying to channel the woman she obviously believes I am. “I can’t say we were pleased with the sudden changes.”

RJ shifts closer, his leg pressing against my thigh, comfort following his presence, as always.

She stares out the plate-glass windows, the throbbing throng eerie without the music pounding around us. “I can’t say much, but the upheaval is not coming from me. Sometimes, too many last-minute changes indicate that a gig is better left for a team less…” She presses her lips to the flute, swallowing another sip, an obvious ploy for emphasis. “Less valuable.”

I tip my head, acknowledging the warning. “I’m glad we’ve been valuable. Here’s to many more years of a successful working relationship.” I tip my glass in her direction, the guys mirroring my action as Jasmine smiles, only a few quick blinks communicating that this was not the response she was hoping for.

But I know these guys. They aren’t backing down, no matter the warning.

Her lips twist as she stands. “May we all be so lucky.”

We stand as well, setting down mostly empty flutes. My anxiety screams, begging me to run, to cry, to launch myself out the windows, my euphoria gone, my anticipation killed.

I hold out a hand, and she takes it, her palm soft and open. “Until next time,” I say.

The guys step toward the door, but she holds my hand a second longer than is strictly polite. “Take care.”

I turn to leave, but trusting my instincts, I whip back, pulling her into a hug. I don’t know why, but she seems to need one.

She’s a statue in my arms. Three shaky breaths later, she softens, squeezing me back.

“I hope you get to drink up here with someone who actuallywantsto be here with you,“ I say, hoping I’m not crossing a boundary.

She pulls back, tears glassy in her eyes. “I already have. And sometimes, I just want to remember.”

She turns back to the windows. Clearly dismissed, I follow my guys out of the club and back to the hotel. So much to parse. So many problems to address.

Chapter 29

RJ

We stayed up on the phone with Trips and Jansen until the sky was turning light, trying to figure out what Jasmine’s warning means for us. This wasafterTrips wore himself out yelling about how stupid we were for all going someplace together, instead of keeping up our cover. But after he calmed down enough to hear us, even he had to admit there was no way we could have guessed we’d run into Jasmine at a random dance club.

Once everyone was calm, we shared information. It turned out the mobile team Jansen was stalking also hated the idea of the tryouts. As they were in the “people moving” line of work rather than forgery and cat burglary, they agreed to walk. They even agreed to back out at the last minute, so there’s only one other team to find in the next two weeks.

Onedown, one to go.

But why the warning? Clara was sure that Jasmine didn’t want to make us jump through hoops, that someone else was pulling her strings. This warning just verifies it.

We talked ourselves into circles, then called it for the night, Walker, Clara, and I having taken turns changing into pajamas as the call went on and on.

I have a feeling that if I weren’t here, Walker and Clara would be curled up naked under the covers instead of sitting cross-legged on the bed, three feet of rumpled blankets between them.

God, that moment on the dance floor, the escalating series of wants in my body, in hers, Walker directing us both, it feels more like a wet dream than a real thing that happened.

I shared my first actual kiss with one of my best friends, and I don’t even mind, because it was Clara. Even now, her hair piled on her head, her makeup wiped clean, I can’t believe I’m even in the same room as her. She’s amazing. Not just beautiful, but so smart, driven, capable.

She spoke for us—as our leader—without knowing our history, what we’re capable of. And she pulled it off. Jasmine bought it without question.

She was a shaky mess on the bus ride home, but she strutted out of that club, playing the part of our queen with grace.

And that’s what she’s becoming. I see it. Walker might call her princess, but she’s a goddamned queen.

And I’ll take whatever role she needs in her court. I’ll be the fucking jester if that’s what she wants. I just want to be a part of this.

She turns, a tired smile lighting her eyes. “Bedtime?”

“Of course, sugar.”

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