Page 95 of Brazen Deceits

“Who cares,” Jansen says, leaning into Clara’s touch, pulling out what’s left of his ponytail. “I got the document. We won. We’re not going to see that team again.”

“True,” RJ says, still monitoring the fallout from that fucking shit show. We are never doing a battle royale again. Too many variables. There’s no way I could plan for that level of chaos. It was too dangerous, and if Jansen had been caught…

I’ve heard of O’Malley’s operation. My father’s used him a few times for “belligerent bastards,” and those families will never find so much as a finger bone of those would-be whistleblowers.

I shudder. Clara turns to press her hand to my chest, and I forget to breathe. “It was risky, Trips, but we couldn’t just leave Jansen there. And there wasn’t really time to walk you through what I was thinking, you know?”

Her eyes are dark in the dull light of the back of the van, glassy still, even though the adrenaline surge is winding down. I swallow, the intensity of that gaze sinking into a part of me I thought I’d lost before I was a teenager, jagged sparks lighting up the empty space where my heart should be. I manage a nod.

She looks away, and I can breathe again, thank God. Oxygen is necessary for my damned brain to function.

Placing Clara in Jansen’s lap on the floor, I tell myself it isn’t running away this time. I have to let Jasmine know we got the document.

But I know the truth—I’m a goddamned coward.

Chapter 42

Clara

We wash up at our hotel, a different swank one than before. This one is straddling the line between downtown Chicago and Lincoln Park, a refurbished brownstone. I pull on some jeans and a cream oversized sweater after my post-breakdown shower, piling my hair on top of my head. Clean and back to my normal self, I head into the living room of the four-bedroom suite.

Trips slept on the pullout couch in the living room the past two nights. It felt like he was chaperoning—preventing bed-hopping—and it worked. Sadly.

Walker says something I can’t hear as I come into the room, but Trips’ growls permeate the suite. “She can’t be serious.”

Walker is sitting in front of RJ’s setup, typing. “She’s not budging. It’s this or nothing.”

“Goddamn it. I don’t want Clara there alone.” Trips paces behind the computer, running his hands through his hair.

Today must be a day for risk taking, because for some dumb reason, I snag Trips’ hand, stopping his pacing and stepping closer to Walker, dragging Trips behind me. Walker turns in the chair, tugging my other hand, pulling me down to kiss my cheek. “Hello, princess. Nice shower?”

Trips is vibrating, and I can’t tell if it’s anger or surprise, but he doesn’t take back his hand. Twice he’s touched me today, and he’s avoided being a major jackass for both those moments. Improvement. “A needed shower. What are we mad about now?”

Walker laughs, squeezing my hand before letting go. Trips yanks me back half a step, slipping from my grasp. Well, it was worth a try.

His warm hand slides to my hip, pressing the side of my body against his, each touchpoint electric with meaning. Is this really happening? Is Trips touching me? In front of someone else? And not because I’m about to lose my shit? He’s not even running away. I like this. “It’s Jasmine. She’s being unreasonable,” he growls.

I pretend like us being pressed together is normal. I don’t want to spook my big asshole. “What is she asking for? We already got the document.”

Walker spins all the way around on the chair, moving so his knees straddle mine, his kneecap a breath away from touching Trips. Risks all around, today. “She wants you to do the drop.”

“Me?” The pitch of that squeak is high enough that all the stray dogs in the area are probably rushing my way.

Trips’ hand slides up to my waist, catching the edge of the fabric of my sweater so his thumb slides under it, strokingthe skin of my back, all of me vibrant. Only, I need to keep my chill, to not say anything. One does not second-guess a miracle. “I don’t like it,” he says, his thumb making small circles on my skin.

Walker shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. She chose a bar. It’s super public and as safe as we could hope for.”

RJ throws open the front door, he and Jansen carrying in bags of Chinese food.

Trips immediately steps away, moving to help them organize the cartons. Walker takes the distraction to pull me into his lap, kissing me softly. “You were great out there, Clara.”

“Thanks.”

He kisses me again, reverent. “I knew you had it. But just so you know, Trips was terrified. I think there’s more there than he wants any of us to know.”

I look at the man in question, pulling plates out of the cabinets of the kitchenette, and I nod. “I’m starting to think that, too.”

“Be gentle with him, Clara. Even when he is an ass.”

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