Page 21 of The Brave and the Reckless

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Esra muttered. Maybe the trick wasn’t as unremarkable to someone who had never sat on a horse. She clenched up to the point of shrinking in front of me. Using my hold on her waist and my weight against her back, I pushed her forward, leveling our center of gravity.

We were back on the ground in an instant, but her breathy chant offucks didn’t stop until Tornado halted in front of the gray building that was Ace Ryder’s designated hideout.

“Great. Esra, exactly like that,” Renee’s voice crackled through the headphones, “Noah, you came in two seconds too late. Come back here and let’s go again. Austin, let’s make sure Esra’s microphone is set to intercom as soon as the horse begins to move.”

“What about the dismount?” I asked.

“Let me see you get the chase right first,” Renee replied.

We trotted back to the bank building, where we dismounted. Well, I dismounted, and then I had to lift Esra off the horse. I bit back any comment on how she should at least learn that much about horseback riding because her face had taken on the same shade of gray as the dust under my boots.

“You don’t have to hold on that tightly,” I said when sheflexed her fingers, marked with deep red grooves. “You’re buckled in, remember?”

“Leave me alone, Young.” She glared at me. “Let’s just go again.”

I wasn’t entirely sure if that was still about her chocolate, or if I’d offended her some other way. But less talking, more working sounded great to me.

On the second go around, I grabbed her right on cue.

“You’ll have to run faster than that, gorgeous.”

“Let me go!” Esra started wriggling and kicking without hesitation this time, probably giving me a bruise or two on our way back to Tornado’s side. “Help!”

“Get on the damn horse, Annie Lou.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,thief.” The way she spat that word wasdefinitelyabout her chocolate. At least she didn’t see me smirk behind the bandana. This woman was turning me into a sadist.

“Have it your way, ma’am.” I set my jaw and hoisted her on to the horse. When I slotted in behind her, she whipped her head around, hair flicking me in the face, and glared over her shoulder. “Hold on tight. Don’t want anything to happen to a pretty little thing like you.”

“Pause and freeze,” Renee interrupted. “Amazing. I love the hostility. Esra, good improvising. I thinkthiefworks better thancriminal. Noah, can you wrap your arm tighter around her waist, so we don’t see the left buckle?”

I shifted closer, my thighs framing Esra’s and my chest snug against her shoulder blades, just to brace my arm around the entirety of her waist.

“Stay like that.” Renee jogged backward while we stayed frozen in spot. At least, I stayed frozen because Ihad a modicum of patience. Esra huffed and whipped her hair around again. This time, I managed to duck.

Fine. She wanted to sulk over some chocolate? Two could play that game.

“At least you don’t reek of sweat,” I muttered into the narrow space between us.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She shifted back, her elbow jabbing me in the arm, as if she hadn’t been the one to bring up the smell of her sweat a few days ago. “For your information, I shower every day.”

“Yeah, don’t worry, I noticed you hogging the bathroom for hours on end. I meant because of your dirty clothes…”

“That works.” Renee clapped her hands, clearly interrupting us on purpose. “Again! From the top. We’re not stopping until you’re ready to do all this in costume next week. You’ll get there quicker if you stop bickering like little schoolgirls.”

Austin cackled on the intercom, but both Esra and I remained quiet. We both obviously wanted to get this over with sooner rather than later.

“Have you actually tried talking to her?” Sanny laughed and dragged the paint roller up the wall. Light blue that had faded to gray over the decades disappeared under a slick coat of white. We’d only done one wall so far, but it already brightened up the entire hallway. “Did you actually have a conversation about what you expect from a roommate?”

“She should know that it’s a shared living space, so there’s—”

“Whyshouldshe know?” he cut me off.

“It’s common sense,” I replied as I traced around the door to my childhood bedroom with a paint brush.

“Sure. Common for you. I’d like to see you navigate a Friday-night dinner with my parents compared to her, and then see what Esra says aboutyourcommon sense.”

“I think I’d manage. I have manners.”

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