Brazen Mistakes (Brazen Boys #3)

13. Clara

Chapter 13

Clara

J ansen’s warm fingers wrap around my wrist, twisting me around like we’re dancing. “Caught you again,” he purrs as he pulls me close.

“I don’t know if I’m cut out for this,” I say, too frustrated to revel in how close we are, his wallet clutched in my fingers.

“It’s going to take more than a day. More than a week. Probably more than a month before you can do a passable lift. You’re doing fine,” he says, plucking the wallet from me and tucking it back into the baggy jacket pocket I’ve been trying to lift it from for the past hour.

Walker sprawls across the couch, sketchbook in hand, fingers covered in charcoal. “I’m not sure a clean lift is the best plan.”

“How so?” Jansen asks.

“She should use what she’s got. Distraction might suit her better than finesse. She’s good at distractions.”

His eyes shine with laughter, and I know he’s remembering my impromptu dance moves in Chicago. I flip my hair over my shoulder, feigning swagger. “You’re right, Walker. I am quite good at distractions. Practically the queen of them.”

He laughs, Jansen looking between us. “I’m not sure pretending I was high was that funny, guys.”

We both burst into laughter. “We were talking about a different time,” I manage between chuckles.

“When? Where? Why wasn’t I there?”

Walker tells him all about my dance moves, and I see an opening with Jansen’s attention focused on the story. I press myself against his side, one hand banding around his waist while I dip the other into his pocket. It’s most of the way out, but the last corner catches on the material, tugging it just enough for Jansen to snatch my wrist again. “Better. Good job! Walker might be onto something.”

“I don’t think that move would work on my father,” Trips announces from the doorway of the living room, casual in sweats and a tight long-sleeved shirt that makes my mouth water. Among other things.

Feisty bitch down there.

I hand the wallet back to Jansen. “I’d like to see you lift a wallet, Trips.”

“I’d just knock the bastard out and take it from him.”

Walker and Jansen both sputter while I turn to face him straight on. “I don’t think that would work on your sister Mattie.”

His eyes narrow. “Mattie would just give it to me. No violence needed. ”

“She didn’t sound that obedient over the phone on Christmas.”

He shakes his head, coming farther into the room. “Do you have time for another lesson?”

I check my phone. “I have work in thirty, so I probably should go change.”

All three guys stare at me. “What?”

“Why are you still working at the coffee shop?” Walker asks.

“Where else would I work?”

“For us,” Jansen says.

“I still need to pay rent. And books aren’t cheap.”

“What happened to what you got from Chicago?” Trips asks.

“I paid down the interest on my student loans so it can’t get added to the total when I graduate.”

Trips is the first one to laugh at me. I’m ready to tear him a new one—a finance major shouldn’t be so judgmental about paying down debt. Then the other two join him. “What?” I ask. “Why is this so funny?”

Trips recovers first. “Clara, this is my fault. I should have clarified the terms of employment. My bad. But you don’t need to work anymore. Not at a fucking coffee shop, that’s for sure.”

I tug at the sleeves of my shirt. “I don’t understand, Trips. But I have to get going.”

When I return in jeans and a sweater, my coat and boots in hand, I find Trips waiting for me. “Want a lift?”

“It’s five blocks.”

“Then I’ll walk you. ”

I squint up at him. “Is this because of Bryce? Or because you want to tell me what I signed up for?”

“Both.”

Not able to argue against that, I shove my feet in my boots, my shoes already in my purse, and call goodbye to Walker and Jansen. Hopefully RJ will be back after my shift—I still haven’t given him his welcome back kiss.

Yawning, I lead us down the sidewalk. Walker and Jansen insisted we stay upstairs in Walker’s room last night for our privacy, and it turns out that it’s impossible to sleep three in a double bed.

We tried anyway. I got a Jansen chest as a pillow and a Walker body as a mattress. I didn’t sleep much, but it was better than when everyone was gone for Christmas.

“So?” I prompt as we trudge through the beaten and blackened snow.

Trips jams his hands into his coat. “So. The company covers your room and board. No rent, and food stipends will be applied to your bank account weekly. It’s generous, so while it’s only legal for it to cover working meals Monday through Friday, it’ll cover your grocery bills easily. We’re setting up a scholarship to cover the rest of your tuition. It’ll be ready before the bursar’s office invoices you. And student loan repayment is a perk of employment.”

I stop in the middle of the sidewalk. “Basically, you’re paying for everything in my life. No questions asked.”

“We’re all working under the same deal.”

I know I must look like a goldfish in a cup, but I can’t seem to process what Trips is saying .

“There’s also reimbursement for work clothes. So if you want to get some new stuff, you can.”

“I…Trips…this is too much. I haven’t signed anything, I’m not official. This, this doesn’t make sense.”

He takes my arm and forces me to cross the street when the light changes. “If you decide you’re out, we lose the investment in you, but honestly, if we can get one more big job like Chicago before we graduate, you will have more than covered your costs.”

“Just how much did we get paid for the Rubens?”

“A shit ton. Enough to make your loans look like peanuts. My brother must have really wanted to impress his little fiancée.”

“Shit.”

“Good shit, though.”

A strangled laugh escapes me. “No rent? No grocery bills? No student loans?”

“Nope.”

My heart threatens to beat out of my throat and take flight. I’m flinging myself at Trips before I even think about it, and luckily, he catches me, my arms around his neck squeezing tight. “God. This is amazing. Trips, do you know how amazing this is?”

His big arms band around my waist, just tight enough to keep me off the ground, but loose enough that it’s not intimate. And I wish he were holding me tighter, pressing me close, our lips meeting so I could show him exactly how big of a deal this is.

But I’m not going to push anything. He knows I want more than what we have right now. And he’s the one who keeps turning me down. Even after finger fucking me in a business school study room.

The distance aches, so I let go, sliding down his front and back onto the icy sidewalk. I look up at him, not having a planned script to recover from my spontaneous affection. “Thank you.”

He shrugs, then tugs us down the walkway. “It’s nothing. One more job and we’re set for a while, whether or not you stay.”

Ouch.

But legit.

The FBI’s email flashes through my mind. It’s everything I thought I wanted. A clear path to my future.

Getting a job at the FBI, attending law school at night as I rise through the ranks. Eventually all that work leading to a position heading up the white-collar crime division in a big city, someplace like Boston, Seattle, or New York.

We make it to the coffee shop while I’m still lost in my thoughts. “I don’t have to work anymore, do I?”

“Not here.”

Nodding, I try to adjust to my new reality. “I’ll put in my two weeks then.” I squint up at him. “You’re not fucking with me, are you?”

“As if I fuck around with money, Clara.”

I chuckle despite my distraction. “Got it. Always be serious about money. Noted.”

He rolls his eyes and opens the door. “Just quit today, Clara. You don’t need the reference. And you’ve got a shit ton to learn in a very short amount of time.”

“I can’t leave Carrie hanging like that, Trips. ”

“I need your A game in a week and a day. And at least your B game in four days. You’re not even getting a passing grade right now, Crash. Quit. Today.”

“What’s happening in four days?”

“Our New Year’s high rollers game.”

The familiar scent of espresso and chocolate tickles my nose as Trips follows me into the cafe. Years of wiping down these tables, knowing that the left steam wand screams no matter how you putz with it and that the milk cooler only closes when you kick the bottom corner.

I swallow, the familiarity of the shop and the set path with the FBI somehow mingling in my mind.

Safe. Expected.

Poorly paid, slightly broken.

Predictable.

“Hey, Clara! Jen had to cut out early for an appointment. Can you finish up restocking the fridge?” Carrie calls from the counter.

I take a step toward the back and Trips snags my elbow. “Clara. We’ve got more problems than time. And you have more skills to perfect than days to learn them. If you want to be a part of the team, you need to act like it.”

Closing my eyes, I imagine the rest of winter break on the predictable path. Extra shifts at the coffee shop to afford books next semester. Responding to the FBI and securing my place in the internship program. Running, old heist movies, and a party or two with Emma when she gets back.

Familiar. Quiet. Easy.

Or I could spend break learning to pick pockets. To waltz. To play poker. Learning to bluff, to lie, to throw a punch and take one. Time spent practicing reading the room, reading a person, reading the secrets someone accidentally shares online.

Risk. Danger. Adventure.

Is that the life I want? I open my eyes to Trips glaring at me, impatient for me to just do what he wants me to.

“This is the same deal the other guys have? The same money, the same stipends or whatever?”

“Yup. They all have sidelines they keep a portion of, but in exchange for the majority going to the pot, they get everything covered.”

“How do I contribute to the pot?”

“You already did. Without you, we wouldn’t have gotten paid for the Rubens job. That’s a plenty big enough chunk to cover what you’ll be taking. At least for a while.”

“Clara?” Carrie calls from behind the counter.

Swallowing down my indecision, I know it’s time to see if I can even be an asset to these guys before I dump my future.

I need to train.

Turning away from Trips, I slump my shoulders. There are plenty of things I’ve learned about liars in class, but the main takeaway is that the closer a lie is to the truth, the easier it is to remember and the more honest it’ll sound. “Carrie?”

I approach the counter, shoving the excitement that courses through my veins to the side, pulling up the fear and frustration I have over Bryce, the anxiety over whatever is going on with RJ, the anger at Trips for still not letting me in. “I feel terrible about this,” I really do, “but I think I’m going to have to take myself off the schedule.”

“What are you talking about? ”

Trips hovers just over my shoulder, almost like a bodyguard, as I stop in front of my manager. “My ex-boyfriend is escalating, and it’s not safe for me to be alone. I know you could schedule me for busy times, but I just don’t see it working with my life right now. And I don’t want to make scheduling annoying or take all the good shifts from everyone else.”

“Oh. That’s…are you okay?”

Carrie’s a good boss. She doesn’t deserve me leaving her high and dry like this. But Trips is right. I have too much to learn in not nearly enough time. And apparently enough money that this job is suddenly unnecessary. “I am. For now. But, yeah, it’s a little scary. And I just don’t think I can risk it.”

She looks from me to Trips, noting the way he guards my back, the stiffness in him as he watches me talk my way out of my employment.

“I get it. How long should I keep you off the schedule? You have a restraining order. The cops will get him in line, right?”

A bitter bark of laughter is all that I can manage, Trips filling in as I try to keep my anger from flaring. “They’re the ones who let the bastard back onto the streets.”

The anger that roils in me, growing bigger, stronger, louder than I ever could have imagined back when I was still with Bryce, this part of me I’d tried to pretend didn’t exist, it screams. But I hold it in.

Carrie blinks quickly before coming around the counter, no barrier between us. “That’s bullshit. I’m sorry.”

I shrug, still not in control of myself.

“For what it’s worth, you’re the best employee I’ve had in the six years I’ve been managing this place. You’ll be missed. ”

I swallow an unexpected urge to cry. “Thanks.”

We stare at each other for a moment before I turn back to the door. “Keep the place together, Carrie. And don’t let Jen get away with her shit every day. She’s playing you at least half the time.”

“Don’t I know it.”

With one last half smile, I push through the door, Trips beside me, another part of my old life abandoned.

It’s time to learn to be a crook.