Brazen Mistakes (Brazen Boys #3)

14. Clara

Chapter 14

Clara

W alker, Jansen, and I spend the rest of the afternoon playing two truths and a lie. I didn’t expect a “getting to know you” game to be part of my criminal training, but really, how would I know what helps and what doesn’t?

Watching Jansen try to lie is adorable. Walker was right—Jansen is exactly who he is. The only times he tricks us are when he stays close to the truth, like when he says he’d stolen his first car at twelve, when apparently, he’d been thirteen.

Walker even lets out some of his past during the game, and I learn more about his brothers and parents than I ever thought he’d share. It’s not anything deep or world altering, but it’s something. Knowing that his eldest brother was born only months after his parents moved to the US, or that he’d quit going to Korean language classes when he was eleven, these tiny details feel like a window into his past, letting me in just a little more.

The best story he shared detailed how he’d sneak out to go to parties in high school, but got caught once when he was seventeen. He was grounded for a full month for that one.

The weirdest information I got was finding out that Jansen can play the banjo, guitar, and sing (duh), and that Walker plays the cello.

I convinced them both that I took piano lessons when I was nine.

Really, all I’ve ever done on a piano is fail to plunk out “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” while hiding from a game of spin the bottle at a middle school birthday party.

If thirteen-year-old Clara could see twenty-year-old Clara, she’d be horrified. Or maybe a little impressed.

I’m okay with that.

At the end of the night, Trips joins us, bringing a bottle of whiskey into the living room, passing it around without glasses. His truths are bare-bones, and his lies are the same. The only thing of substance I learned is that Trips hates apricots. Not much to go on there.

“You want to learn to play poker, too?” Trips asks after another round of Jansen losing with a lie about a fictional childhood dog that was just too boring to be true.

I perch on the coffee table across from Trips, Jansen crawling behind me with a dejected groan, and Walker sliding into the corner of the couch to stay close. I’m surrounded, and I love it. Trips hands the bottle to Walker, who downs a swallow before passing it to Jansen .

I lean back against Jansen, all of me at ease between my guys. Add one more, and this night would be perfect. “It seems like the kind of thing beginning criminals ought to learn to do. That and chess. Evil masterminds always seem to love playing chess. Oh! And pool. I should learn to be a pool shark. That’s what they call it, right? Pool shark? Pool hustler? Wait, now I don’t know which is which.”

Trips huffs. “It’s pretty obvious at this point that you got all your information about this line of work from bad movies, Crash.”

Jansen hands me the whiskey and I take a swig, the burn somehow pleasant after a few passes. “Well, humor me. Unless you think it’s a waste of time. Then just teach me the good stuff.”

“How about I put you to work?”

“What kind of work?”

I pass the whiskey on to Trips, but he holds it instead of taking a drink. “I want you working the New Year’s Eve high rollers party with us.”

“Really? Am I bartending? Playing? Observing?”

“Undecided. It’ll depend on the skills you learn this week.”

“Cryptic.”

Jansen nuzzles my neck. “We can do team lifts. It’ll be fun.”

“I’m still at the bar, right?” Walker asks.

“Yeah. If you could listen for any possible art requests, as we lost our fence for the time being, that’d be great.”

Walker slumps against the back of the couch, and I crawl into his lap in sympathy. The liquor might have pushed me into such a public move in front of Trips, though. “It’s not your fault things are messed up with Jasmine. It’s Trips’ dad’s fault.”

Trips scoffs. “Thanks for throwing me under the bus.”

“I’m not throwing you. I’m throwing your dad. And maybe your brother. Anyone else you want under that bus?”

“How long do we have?”

“How long is this bus? Is there such a thing as a stretch limo bus?”

He rolls his eyes while he finally takes a sip from the bottle, but the hint of a smile sneaks onto the corners of his mouth, and I want to purr. He passes the whiskey to me, waiting until I take a sip before he speaks, his gaze stuck to where the bottle touches my lips. A slight hint of red coats his cheeks before he rubs his hands against his thighs. “On that note, I’m calling it a night. But tomorrow morning, we’re starting on my family. If you do well, maybe we’ll do some etiquette or dancing or some shit.”

Jansen rolls so he’s lying on his back on the coffee table, feet planted on the ground, staring at Trips upside down. “When do you think I should get back to lifting cars?”

“Tomorrow or the next day should be fine. How bad do you need it?”

“I’m not strung out or anything, but soon would be nice. How much are you looking for?”

“Enough for another down payment by February.” Trips stretches as he gets to his feet, a glimpse of skin between his shirt and pants visible, and I want more. I always want more from him. Only I’m not sure I’ll ever get it .

Jansen kicks his feet like a windmill, using the movement to sit up on the table, distracting me from my thoughts. “Fun! I wanna take Clara.”

I freeze, and Walker chuckles, shifting me so my back is tight to his chest. “Can you even drive, princess?”

I force my muscles to relax. “I’m an excellent driver. Turns out I have a former car thief for a dad, and he’s the one who taught me. It’s just, isn’t that a big risk? Taking me to actually steal something?”

Trips stops on his way out of the room, turning back with one eyebrow raised. “Clara, you were with us for three separate jobs in Chicago. Why is this one weird?”

My fingers are drumming on my leg before I can stop them. “I don’t know. I guess, a museum is big and impersonal? And stealing someone’s car from their house seems a lot more, invasive, maybe?”

Jansen laughs. “You’ve literally run toward guns twice now, beautiful. Slipping in and out of a mega garage in the middle of the night will be a cakewalk in comparison.”

The weight of what they’re saying sinks in. This is what’s normal for them. This is day-to-day business.

The email from the FBI flashes in my mind, a shimmer of a different future waiting for me. “I guess, if you really think it’s something I should learn about, I can come.”

Jansen snatches my hand from where it’s tapping against my thigh, kissing my palm. “It’ll be fun. I promise.”

Trips gives me a long look before turning and leaving the room, no goodbye or good night, the whiskey abandoned with the three of us .

Jansen dives onto the couch with Walker and me, resting his head on my lap while I sit on Walker’s. This should be weird. I know this arrangement isn’t normal. I know most guys would freak out about sharing their girlfriend.

And somehow, they aren’t.

I’m lucky. In so many ways.

I tug out Jansen’s ponytail so I can run my fingers through his hair, while Walker’s hand drifts from my waist to my hip, scooting me closer. “When do you think RJ will be back? I thought he’d be home by now,” I say.

Jansen closes his eyes, relaxing into my touch. “Do you know why he left? Like, actually?”

“Trish said their dad and mom were talking about money, and something about RJ covering it, and he freaked out.”

“That’s not good.”

Walker shifts under me. “What do you and Trips know that I don’t? Can you share?”

Jansen’s eyes flicker open, glancing between the two of us. “I’d rather he shares. Or for him to give me permission to share.”

I bop his head gently. “You shared with the whole house I have an IUD, but you keep RJ’s secrets?”

“Was that a secret? I told everyone that they’d better have clean tests before they even thought about getting naked with you, because while I’m happy to give you what you want, I’m not sharing any unusual rashes with anyone. That’s a step too far. If someone needed clarification, well, wait. Huh. Yeah. I guess I did just announce that to everyone.”

Walker and I both groan, and Walker pushes Jansen off the couch. “Just stop. You’re digging a bigger hole by the second. ”

Jansen grabs the whiskey from where it ended up resting next to the couch before sitting cross-legged at my feet and offering me the bottle. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t think it was a big deal. But if it was, I’ll go, I don’t know, sprint through the snow, three times around the house while naked in penance.”

The whiskey stings as it attempts to force its way out of my nose. I manage to swallow before choking and laughing. “That’s the weirdest apology I’ve ever heard.”

Walker’s chuckles shake me from his lap as Jansen gives me puppy dog eyes from the floor. “Just give the word,” he says, before dragging off his sweatshirt, leaving a bare-chested man kneeling on the floor in front of me.

“Damn,” slips out before I can stop it, my hand traveling across his collarbone, my head fuzzy from alcohol, but my body buzzing with other intentions.

A grin lights his face, and he pops to his feet, shimmying out of his pants, underwear, and socks, before sprinting to the front door.