Page 93 of Brazen Deceits

The head guard, the one who’d grabbed Clara, makes a call on his radio and the siren shuts down, all of us letting out a sigh of relief in the ringing silence.

Halfway there.

Chapter 40

Clara

I’m shaking, my adrenaline out of control. But I can use this. If I were calm? Yeah, these guards would never believe the bullshit I’m going to be throwing at them. But a weepy, terrified girl? This is going to work. It has to.

I lean into Jansen, but his hands are zip-tied behind him, so he can’t hold me up, my legs trembling.

The guard who tried to protect me shakes his head. “Can someone please tell me what’s going on here?”

He looks first at the big brute, but he’s staring at me, a smirk on his lips. The giant’s made us. God, I need to convince the guards that we’re harmless and get us out of here before the gorilla guy tattles.

The head guard turns to Jansen and me, his eyebrows raised.

Peeking at the guard from where I’m burrowed into Jansen’s chest, I revel in the first verse of “Amazing Grace”vibrating between the two of us; it’s gorgeous, absurd, and existentially soothing. I take a breath, rolling onto the next step of my hastily made plan. “Um, I don’t know what that scary guy is doing here,” I say, bobbing my chin at the gorilla guy. “But we were out on a walk. Well, kind of a walk, kind of a, I don’t know, medical intervention?”

On cue, Jansen giggles, shaking so hard I’m helping the guard keep him on his feet. “I’m so sorry. My brother thought it’d be funny to make a big batch of pot brownies and not tell anyone until we’d eaten them. This idiot, he had, like five, maybe six? I don’t know, but he’s high out of his fucking mind. I’m so, so sorry,” I say.

The head guard might have a soft spot for a girl in danger, but he’s not an idiot. “Then how the fuck did you end up here? In the yard? And your boyfriend in the house?” he asks, gorilla guy chuckling, obviously wanting to know too. Jackass.

I have on my best pleading face. It’s practically a second skin at this point. “One second, we were walking it off, the next he said something about a bad guy stealing angels and took off. I chased after him. He dove through a freaking hole in the front gate. There was smoke, and all these motorcycles and a squashed car crashed into it. It was completely bonkers.”

Jansen nuzzles my neck. “Mmm, you smell like an angel, beautiful.” He nips the place where my neck and shoulder meet, and I shiver, the urge to melt into his touch overwhelming, but I step away instead.

“Not here. Gosh,” I scold, looking around at the guards like I hope they haven’t seen that. And I really wish theyhadn’t, because the urge to jump Jansen in the middle of this mansion’s front lawn isnothelping me focus.

“So you both came through the fence. How did he end up inside while you were out here?”

“He’s so fast. Like high school track star fast. He ran the 400 hurdles.” Stupid details. Nervous people drop tons of extra, useless information. Never mind these are details about me and not Jansen. They feel true, so they’ll sound true. I’m acing Forensic Psych.

The head guard steps up to us, grabbing Jansen’s chin, while Jansen does an excellent impersonation of a marionette with all its strings cut, only upright because other people are holding him up. “You. Why were you in the house?”

“The angels! They sang to me, you know? I followed them. They were fast. And there was a pokey waterfall. But then, I had to piss. Beautiful? I want to go home now.” He giggles again. I hope he isn’t overplaying his part.

“What is going on out here?” A booming voice with a slight Irish lilt cuts through Jansen’s babbling, an older man marching around the corner from the front of the mansion. Grandpa Cadieux, Jimmy Quinn himself, has arrived. Fuck. I don’t know if I can keep up this crazy farce. I’m already so shaky I don’t know if I’ll make it back to the van on my own two feet.

The guards immediately stand at attention, the head guard stepping forward to give his report. “I’m sorry for the disturbance, sir. It looks like we had an attempted break-in.” He nods at the gorilla guy, indicating he’s the problem. The only problem. One step closer.

Jimmy Quinn glances at the smoking car at his gate, then back at our divided group, before stepping between us to collect his briefcase.

“Deal with it. Call O’Malley if you need help.”

“Yes, sir.”

He motions to Jansen and me. “And those two?”

The head guard gives us a hard look, Jansen back to humming, watching absolutely nothing flit around over my head.

Finally, he turns back to Grandpa Cadieux. “Bystanders caught in the chaos.”

I hear the collective sigh of the guys in my earpiece—thank God he bought it.

“Get them out of here, then. This is a private estate, James.”

“Yes, sir. Right away, sir.”

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