Page 160 of Brazen Mistakes

Trips’ snort is audible, even played on speakerphone in the van to my earpiece. “And what’s your proposition?”

“I take them all. We can decide in person later.”

The silence has me nodding, tossing the earrings into my half-empty waist pack alongside all my unneeded emergency supplies, followed by the bracelets and watches. “We’re good, right? Because I need to clean up and get out of here.”

Walker cuts in. “Yeah, that’s a good plan. We’ll see you home soon.”

There’s some rustling as I go back to the safe, and after a moment of hesitation, I turn my chest to the side and scoop up a tiara covered in crimson and black stacked stones and zip it into my pouch as well, a little something to go with that red dress we bought. The zipper on my waist pack stretches like a grim mimic of a mouth the moment before laughing. Then I lock up, my own grin flashing across my face.

So many pretty things, worth so much money, but at least I have a few now.

And who’s to say I won’t have a reason to come shopping here again in the future?

I haul the mirror back over, arranging it to RJ’s directions, making it match the screen grab he has.

Done, I head back through the house, pulling out a rag as I go. RJ’s baritone cuts through as I’m shimmying the window open with my cloth. “Incoming, man.”

“Back of the house or front?”

“Back. The owner. I’ll tell you when you’re good to risk it.”

I push the window closed, then duck down so the prick of a man can’t see me. Focusing on staying still, I listen to a rustle at the back door below, telling me how close this has gotten. It creaks open, but I stay hidden, waiting for RJ’s okay to leave. Only, it doesn’t come. Not for what feels like an eternity.

Finally, the back door clicks shut, and the sound of ice in a glass competes with RJ’s go-ahead. But when I slide the window open, the wood groans against the icy jam. RJ tells me to wait, and I hold my breath, not sure if it’s better to keep going or back out.

Only, I’ve been stuck too many times lately. I force the window the rest of the way open, ignoring RJ’s command, and step onto the sill, slamming the window shut once I’m out. While I’m midway into a leap to the portico, RJ finally tells me I’m safe to leave, and all I can think is that I’m glad to hear it, as I’m already well on my way.

Sliding down the eaves, I land on the crusty snow, my footprints not even leaving an imprint on the ice as I skitter onto the walkway and book it over the fence, dashing around the block, and leaping into the back of the van, the adrenaline I’ve been missing roaring through me.

I’m grinning as RJ spins to me, shaking his head. “You were supposed to wait.”

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about it. Should we stow and go, or just go?”

He glares at me, and I’d forgotten that RJ, for all his calm demeanor, has one hell of a glare. “Jansen, if you don’t listen, I can’t keep you safe.”

“I’m safe. No worries. I’ll do better next time.”I hope. Maybe. This just feels amazing right now, and it’s exactly what I needed. But next time, I can probably listen better. Possibly.

He shakes his head like he can hear the thoughts rattling around in my brain, before motioning me over to take out the earpiece.

That done, he climbs into the driver’s seat. “Buckle up. But Jansen? Know that I’m serious. If you can’t be a part of the team, you’re not going to have one.”

“Got it, bossman.”

“I’m not your bossman.”

Flopping into the passenger seat, I buckle, unclipping my waist pack and setting it on the dash. “Then I’m not your underling.”

RJ pulls out, silent while I run my fingers over the bumps of the teeth on the zipper, not wanting to open it up and let him see exactly how poorly I followed directions tonight.

Finally, when we’re halfway home, he glances at me. “I’m not trying to tell you what to do. But I’m your eyes when you’re in there. I’m the one trying to keep you safe. And I’m the one who’ll have to live with the guilt of you getting caught.”

My tentative high is immediately quashed. Damn it. Now I have guilt in my gut instead of joy. I look out the side window, wishing I had that high back. But it’s gone. And it’s not even RJ’s fault. “You’re right. Sorry.”

He takes a few more turns, his face grim. “The mark was carrying in boxes from the car. Carefully. I’m guessing he was bringing home something expensive, which means he’s more likely to be jumpy. And the room next to the one you were in is literally full of guns. Antique and modern. Display and obviously ready to use. I didn’t want to risk you making more noise until I knew how worried he was about the window screech. It was dumb luck he tossed back a handful of nuts at the same time as you were making your escape, blocking the sound.”

This time of night, no one is on the highway, and I wonder if it was the same kind of empty when RJ got cornered behind my car. Yet another downer I’ve been avoiding since we retrieved my car from the impound lot earlier today.

Here’s another one—why can’t I just have my normal buzz back?

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