Page 23 of Brazen Mistakes

“I more than missed you.” Planting the biggest kiss on her soft lips, I want to do so much more, but know that the living room in front of the other guys is probably a bad idea.

Some other day? It might be the best idea. But not today.

Nobody can claim that I lack circumspection.

Walker pushes my legs off the couch, so I spin until Clara is sitting on my lap, pulling her tight against me. It feels like this is the first deep breath I’ve taken in days. I’m not ready to unhand her yet.

RJ steps around the couch and plops a kiss on the top of her head before settling into the open chair beside me. She reaches for his hand and gives it a long squeeze before letting him go, and her demeanor immediately shifts.

Small. Anxious.

The last things I want for this woman on my lap. A call for blueberry muffins the day after Christmas—I knew this wasn’t going to be a fun emergency meeting. But I need us all happy, cohesive, working together and kicking butt with smiles on our faces.

This isn’t that kind of meeting.

“So what made the wheels fall off over the last few days?” I risk.

Clara plucks at the seams of her sleeves before straightening in my lap. But it’s Trips who groans and flops his head into his hands. “I found out who the buyer of the Rubens was.”

Walker inches close enough to hold Clara’s hand, having picked up on the same tension she’s radiating that I did. “How?” he asks.

Trips’ leg bounces. “My dumb-ass brother brought me right to it. It’s an engagement gift for his fiancée. Apparently, she loves cats.”

Walker’s laugh is tinged with mania. “Sheloves cats?That’s why we stole the damn thing in Chicago? Does she evenlike art?”

“As far as I can tell, she’s totally indifferent. As is my brother. My father made it clear that he was the one facilitating the retrieval, though.”

The silence hovers between all of us. We went through those stupid tryouts that almost got me killed. I was minutes from jail and Clara was nearly raped because Trips’ dad wanted to screw us over? “But why? Why did he make it so hard for us?”

“Honestly? I think he wanted you out of the picture, Jansen. Either dead or in jail. Without a thief, this whole thing crumbles, and the asshole progenitor can see that as easily as anyone else.”

Huh. I never figured I was anything more than a nuisance with a singular useful skill. But Trips and his dad think I’m a linchpin? Weird.

RJ reaches across and squeezes Clara’s knee. “How did he figure out what you were up to? We’ve been careful. At least as careful as we can be.”

Trips slumps back into the seat, staring at the ceiling. “I don’t know. Maybe I let something drop while I was on the phone during a visit home? I usually choose my wordscarefully, but I’m not perfect. And I haven’t been at the estate often enough to know which rooms are being recorded anymore. Of course, he always switches it up to keep everyone on their toes. No one is getting away with anything in that house without him collecting blackmail material. It doesn’t really matter how he found out, though, only that he did. And he insinuated he has security footage of us doing the heist. Specifically, of Clara and me.”

Clara lets out a long exhale, but doesn’t say anything.

“Blackmail?” Walker asks.

“Yeah. Both of us.”

“Me?” Clara squeaks. I burrow my nose into her neck, the urge to press my teeth to the skin there strong. But it’s not what she needs right now.

Trips stands up, pacing behind his chair like he needs a barrier between us and his words. “He wants to meet you, Clara. You’re supposed to come to my brother’s engagement party after New Years. It’s a two-day affair, and it will be brutal. My family practically requires a thousand-page manual to navigate, and my father is a novel by himself.”

I press my teeth against the skin of her neck, not able to resist the draw, before covering my move with a kiss, wishing we were somewhere else, doing something else. “We should just steal it.”

Walker reaches for his sketchbook sitting on the coffee table. “Steal what, Jansen? The blackmail video or the Rubens?”

“Either. Both. Whatever it takes to make this go away.” Clara shivers gently at my ministrations, and I barely keep my grin hidden.

“I’m not sure you realize the level of security my father has, Jansen. Paranoid is practically his middle name.”

Sneaking my fingers under Clara’s shirt, I trail my middle finger along the waistband of her pants. “I’ve been there. The gallery is tough, I’ll give you that. But what about your dad’s computer? That can’t be in a windowless, climate controlled, hyper-secure box.”

“Nearly.”

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