Brazen Mistakes (Brazen Boys #3)

37. Clara

Chapter 37

Clara

T he room is half-lit when I startle upright, sandwiched between RJ and Walker. The gasp that accompanied my sudden bout of wakefulness has a figure spinning in the chair to face me, revealing Jansen sitting cross-legged in front of RJ’s set up.

He pulls me into his lap before I let out a strangled breath, pressing my damp face to his chest to hide my tears.

He holds me in the quiet dark, the silence so unusual I don’t know what to make of it. But it feels too good to question, so I curl into him, calming my pounding heart while he twists my hair around his fingers.

Back in control, I shift so I’m sitting sideways across his lap. “What time is it?”

“A little after one.”

“That’s almost a full night’s sleep for me right now,” I say, not sure if I want a pat on the head for sleeping so long or a reprimand for still not getting enough of the stuff.

Instead of giving me either, he presses his lips to my cheek, focused on the dark interior of a house scattered across RJ’s many monitors.

“What are you looking for?”

“Just surveillance for a minor job.”

“Am I invited?”

He stands with me in his arms, moving across the room and sitting down with me by a pile of plates and bowls. “Grilled cheese?” he asks.

I’ll take that as a no.

I grab a triangle of sandwich and carefully pick off chunks, forcing myself to chew and swallow them. “Were you heading to bed soon, then?”

“Nah. I’m not tired yet.”

I lean against him, needing contact with as many points as I can make. “I’ll probably be up for a while now, too.”

“Eat up, then we can go on a little adventure.”

“An adventure? I don’t know if I’m up for, like, stealing a car tonight.”

“Noted. I’ll go get our coats and stuff.” He’s off before I can say anything else, the door clicking quietly behind him, leaving me with nothing to distract me from the food.

I can tell this is a great sandwich, even cold and slightly stale. I only wish I could be excited about eating it.

My dreams, they’ve been getting worse, weaving in memories I’d forced myself to forget, moments that make my breath come in panicked pants when I think about them. Which is why I never let myself think about them.

But Chicago apparently sprang loose the door that I’d locked them behind, and now that they’re out, I’m sick to my stomach over my “choices”. How na?ve I’d been, how trusting, how easily beaten down. How broken.

The half a sandwich sits like a rock in my gut, and I stare at RJ as his chest rises and falls in the faint light from his monitors, matching my breath to his.

Needing contact, even for this small moment, I crawl back into the middle of the bed, making sure I’m touching both of them, closing my eyes as I force myself to finish the other half of the sandwich.

Jansen steps back into the room, a pile of coats and boots in his arms. I bend down, pressing a kiss first to Walker, then RJ, all of me jittery and anxious.

But sitting and stewing in it won’t help.

When I go to get out of bed, Jansen’s there again, lifting me over RJ and onto the rug. “How’d eating go?”

“I managed it,” I say, wishing I’d sugarcoated it.

Luckily, Jansen doesn’t seem to mind my honesty. “Great! As much as I like the look of you all mussed up, why don’t you go wash up? Then we’ll head out. Send a text to the group chat so they don’t think you’ve been abducted.”

I do that, then get into my proffered coat and boots. “Where are we going?”

“Top secret.”

“Yeah? ”

He grins, yanking my hat on so it covers my eyes, then shoving my hands into my mittens before I can fix it. “So secret it requires a blindfold.”

I shove my hat up, chuckling as I follow him out of the room and down the darkened stairs, neither of us turning on lights as we head to the back of the house. The light glowing on the main floor is an eerie green with the addition of Jansen’s sheets to the windows, the rooms bright from the streetlights bouncing off the pristine snow covering the ground.

When Jansen hands me the keys and opens the driver’s door for me, I pause. “I’m driving?”

“How else will I know if you can be the one behind the wheel the next time we go out if I don’t test you?”

I chuckle as he shuts me in, adjusting the seat and mirrors as he gets comfortable in the passenger seat. “This feels weird.”

“Why?”

I think about my answer as I flick on the lights and engine, a glimpse of something leaving me peering into the dark, my ears straining for the ping of a Bryce alert. “I guess, I haven’t driven with a guy shotgun since high school.”

That answer seems to stall his brain, and as I don’t see whatever weird shadow my brain latched onto and my phone stays silent, I back out and head for the main road.

Jansen sends me toward the interstate with a hand wave, still not answering.

After a few miles of aimless driving, he sighs. “That’s messed up, beautiful.”

“I don’t have my own car.”

“Do you like to drive? ”

“I love it.”

“Then I stand by that being messed up. You can drive my car whenever you like. I’ll even make you a key.”

The way my heart pounds in my chest can’t be healthy. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to, Clara. You shouldn’t be stranded by circumstance. You should be free to fly as fast as you like. Just don’t get my car impounded. Trips would be pissed.”

My laugh is loud in the small space. “I won’t get your car impounded.”

“Don’t say that with such confidence.” He pulls out his phone, popping a single earbud into his ear. “It’s a busy night for this, but if you’re as good as you say you are, this should be fun.”

“What exactly are we doing, Jansen?”

“We’re getting into a police chase.”

My stomach drops at the same time my heart picks up its pace, dragging me out of my moodiness and into pure adrenaline. “I thought we weren’t stealing anything?”

“We’re not. But we are going to speed. There should be a straight empty stretch in about three minutes. No one’s ever there. Floor it when I say so.”

“Jansen—”

“You know you want to, beautiful. Don’t be responsible. Just once, take a risk because it’s fun. Not because you’re forced to, or because someone needs you, or because it’s something to learn. Drive. As fast as you want. Just because it sounds like fun.”

I glance at him, my hands gripping and releasing on the steering wheel. “You have a police scanner? ”

“Yup.”

“Where was that when we were stealing cars?”

His grin makes goosebumps prickle up my arms. “Where’s the fun in knowing if they’re coming? It’s the unknown that makes you feel alive. Now, after this next exit.”

“If I end up in jail, I swear—”

“Then don’t get caught.”

A startled laugh escapes me as we pass the next exit.

And I realize that this is exactly what I need.

A chance to let loose without the ever-humming need to keep the guys safe. To be the kind of girl that does dumb, dangerous stuff just because she can.

To feel adrenaline without the weight of imminent doom.

The pedal hits the floor before Jansen can chide me into it, and the whoop of joy he lets out has me laughing full out, my hands calm and in control on the wheel, the junker beneath me roaring with more power than I’d expected.

The exits fly by as the car picks up speed; the speedometer inching higher than I’ve ever had it, and a lightness comes over me.

God, this feels good.

Jansen’s gaze heats the side of my face, his excitement and pleasure permeating the car, the urge to either squirm or preen strong. But at this speed, the road needs all of my attention.

I’m inching well past 120 when the mood shifts, Jansen leaning forward in his seat. “Two exits, then hop off.”

I slow down enough not to slip on the ice as I zip across two lanes. Red and blue lights spark to life behind me as I pull off, and I decelerate as safely as I can, but I’m still out of control. There’s no way I should be at this speed with this amount of ice on the road. A frantic giggle escapes me as Jansen points for me to take a right at the top of the exit.

Fishtailing around the corner, I control the slide and shoot down the street, taking a left where Jansen points, as the lights flash again in the rearview. I skitter around the next corner, narrowly missing a parked car, taking two more rights in quick succession until I zoom into an alleyway. At Jansen’s direction, I dart into a driveway, then knowing what’s next, I switch off the car and headlights.

Eying the mirrors, I hold my breath as the flashing lights pause at the end of the alleyway. Jansen focuses on whatever he’s listening to, but he grins one second before the cops inch past the turn.

Once the cops are gone, I punch Jansen in the arm. “I thought you were kidding about a car chase!”

He laughs, unbuckling me and hauling me onto his lap. “Why would I lie about cops?” he teases, his grip tight on my hips.

When I rock forward, it’s easy to feel how hard he is, even through all our layers. “Cops get you horny?” I tease, as he drags me over his erection.

“Nah, beautiful. Watching you let loose makes me hard. That and the way you controlled those turns. You weren’t kidding, were you? You’re a good driver.”

“Well trained, if a little rusty. Honestly, I thought we were going to clip that car for sure.”

“But you made the slide.” He pushes up under me, and I groan at the contact .

But a flash of red and blue in the distance jolts me out of it. “Shit. I think they’re still looking for us.”

Jansen taps his ear. “They are.”

“Should we stay? Or go?”

He nips my chin, then nudges me back to the driver’s side, but not without taking a good handful of ass and squeezing. “Tease,” I mutter, buckling myself back in, waiting for further directions.

His grin is bright in the dim light. “Turn it on, but no headlights.”

“Got it.”

My breathing slows, counting to myself in my mind, waiting, waiting, the red and blue flickering again, but still not coming down the alley.

“Now, out the way we came in.”

I back out and make it to the street, but without additional directions, I cross it and head down the next stretch of alley, still without headlights.

When Jansen motions me back onto the road, I switch on the headlights, and he nods.

“No breaking laws, Clara. We don’t want to go to jail.”

That comment gets a second punch, which he dodges.

We inch through a random neighborhood and, after what feels like an eternity, we make it back to the interstate. Jansen turns on some country-sounding bop he seems to know all the words to, and I’m once again reminded that Jansen’s missed his calling as a singer.

“What is this?” I ask, continuing to follow his directions.

“My sister’s band. ”

I strain harder to listen, not knowing how to evaluate what must be bluegrass, as I’ve never heard it before, but the singer’s and Jansen’s voices blend, Jansen harmonizing while pointing to an interchange.

“Do you ever sing with her?”

He laughs. “Not anywhere but home. I’m liable to forget there’s a show and miss it. I helped a bit with recording her demo, but that was mostly a way to get through a boring summer a few years back. Music’s her thing. I’ll stick to stealing. It’s what I’m best at, anyway.”

I look for any hint of bitterness, but there isn’t any. “You seem to be a good thief.”

“I learned from the best. And I learned from my mistakes.”

“Want to tell me about it?”

The next time I glance at him in the shuttered lights of the highway, his gaze is locked on the horizon. “Yeah. But not here. Take the next exit.”