Brazen Mistakes (Brazen Boys #3)

58. RJ

Chapter 58

RJ

C losing out of the tabs I’d thrown open earlier for the cop makes my chest tight. I should be happy that these four monsters are off my watch list. But handing that data over made me sweat. I’m lucky today is windy and frigid, otherwise it would have been coming down my face in rivers.

If only I could figure out what’s stressing me out about it.

It might be giving intel to a cop making my skin itchy. I’ve never been a fan, and the past year has made it abundantly clear that in the eyes of a man in blue, I’m only ever a threat. And every time I’m near a cop, it just gets worse. Clarified. I never sought out any enemies, but I have them, nonetheless.

There’s also the chance that I simply hate giving up control. I already know I will check up on the task force to make sure they’re dealing with these monsters. They’re on a silver platter, so it shouldn’t be difficult, but I don’t have a lot of faith that the cops will do what needs to be done. I’ve added work to my pile, not taken it off, despite what Clara thinks.

Or it might be Clara taking the risk on my behalf. I don’t want her tied up in anything involving her ex and his pervy network, even as a secret champion for those kids I’ve seen. Officer Reed now knows that she’s involved in something , even if he doesn’t know exactly what it is. And I don’t want that for her. I want her to be invisible to every threat she comes across.

And if not invisible, able to protect herself.

I don’t doubt that she’ll get there. But there’s a nagging sensation that I’ve missed something. That she’s going to need what I can teach her sooner than I can get her ready to face it.

Which brings back the feeling that things aren’t right, even though logically I did the right thing today.

Instead of dwelling on it, I check on my dad, finding him at home, where he should be. Looking at his past locations since New Year’s, I’m happy to see that there aren’t any pings from casinos. There’s also a little over an hour spent yesterday at a church we don’t attend, and when I dig into it, I find a Gamblers Anonymous meeting held there. The hint of hope flares.

I shove it back down. At least until I dig into his medical records and find an appointment at the VA a few months out.

I don’t want the hope to catch, but it digs into my ribs without permission. Maybe this time can be the last time. Sending off a little “Good job, Pops,” message, both an honest accolade and a heads-up that I’m watching him, I let the hope grow until it’s bright in my chest .

Hope is dangerous.

It’s also necessary.

A knock on my door distracts me. Throwing it open, wishing it’s Clara, I find Trips, freshly showered but dressed in sweats. My phone buzzes a second later, and he pockets his, signaling where my message came from.

He paces into my room, his lip twisting into a sneer when he sees the mess on my desk, then spins and goes back to the other side of the room. Closing the door and pulling up my chair, I wait for whatever he wants to say. Because there has to be something.

“So,” he says.

I wait.

Two more passes, and he huffs out a breath. “Are you okay?”

“How so?”

“After that bullshit cop shit on New Year’s.”

The tightness in my chest gets worse, but I force myself to pretend nothing’s changed. Like I told Clara, I don’t want to talk about it. I’ll process it my way in my time. “Good enough.”

“Good.”

He stands there, fists clenched, panting like he’s run a mile, and I decide to at least acknowledge the effort. “Thanks for checking, though.”

“Of course. What kind of asshole do you think I am?”

I stifle my laugh. “I take it there’s a meeting?”

“Yeah. We have to pick out the jewelry. For that red dress we got, too.”

“I wonder what it looks like. ”

“Summer said it was her dress, whatever that means. But it’s apparently inappropriate for tonight. I still don’t know why I bought it.”

“To spoil her?”

He grunts, staring at his shoes. “A meeting about jewelry.”

“If you told people the meeting’s in here, I’m sitting on the only chair.”

“No. I was checking in. The meeting’s in the attic. It’s the only room with enough chairs that isn’t the living room, and I don’t want to ruin the surprise.”

The idiot likes Clara too damn much, but ever since he shared his past with her, they’ve both been careful around each other. Like one wrong step will have them catapulted into the flames of hell. Not for the first time, I consider digging into the Westerhouse family. With Clara going to their home turf tonight, I finally have a good enough reason for it.

“Duty done. Let’s head up,” I say.

Not five minutes later, the four of us meet in the main sitting area, Walker taking drink orders, Trips asking for a beer that he spins in his fingers rather than drink. Jansen is the last one up, a stack of books in his arms. He lays them all out on the coffee table, fiddling with the unlocking mechanisms and pulling out the collection of earrings, bangles, and watches he snatched the other night.

“Can I take photos of them to start the search before we give them to Clara?” I ask, happy for another occasion to use my skills for good.

“Snap away,” Trips says, like it’s his job to give me the okay .

I do what I said I would as the drinks are sorted, my Mountain Dew poured into a martini glass. I give Walker a look, but he grins. “Be a little bit extra for once, RJ.”

Shaking my head, I sit next to Jansen, a neon lime-green martini glass’ tiny stem in my fingers.

The rest of the guys debate the jewels, Jansen ducking out of the argument long before Walker and Trips come to a conclusion. He sits cross-legged beside me, his head tilted all the way back, the ceiling still decked out in black and gold, Christmas lights scattered throughout. A reminder that New Year’s was only a few days ago. And that things have been so chaotic that the room is still unchanged.

He leaps up as the conversation winds down, bolting to one side of the room, only returning with the mask Walker made for me in his hands. “Your mask,” he says, handing it to me.

What he thinks I’m going to do with it is anyone’s guess. “Thanks.”

“We should all wear our masks some night. Take some pictures.”

I never know what’s going to come out of this guy’s mouth. “Like, a roommate photoshoot? That’s a little weird, Jay.”

“Not a sexy photoshoot. Get your mind out of the gutter, RJ.” He smacks my arm, then squints. “Although now that you mention it, that could be a lot of fun.” He seems to shake the thought away. “No, I was just thinking we could record a memory. All of us, decked out in these cool masks, like we should have been on Tuesday night. We can get matching Clara kisses, too, not just Walker and me. What do you think?”

He looks so hopeful, and it’s obvious that he hasn’t been feeling right since Chicago. Less urgent than Clara’s swift decline, but still there. Still concerning. “You know what, sure. I’m in.”

“Cool. Next week, before we clean up the room.”

Walker’s smug smile says he’s game. “A commemoration of you all wearing my art? I’ll be there.”

Trips grumbles, but nods. “Fine. But I’m not staying for more than fifteen minutes. Know what you want before you start, Jay.”

I look over the jewelry selections, that clench in my chest back full force. What am I missing? Something about photos seems important, but I can’t figure it out.

Trips stands up. “I’m getting ready. We’ll head out soon. And be back as early as we’re allowed on Sunday.”

“You sound like a kid asking for permission from his mom to go out,” Walker teases. “I’m not your mom.”

Trips rolls his eyes and leaves the room.

Which just leaves Walker, Jansen, the jewels, and me.

“How worried are you guys?” Jansen asks.

Walker closes his eyes. “I don’t want her to go.”

“None of us do,” I say, needing to convince myself to ease up on guarding her from the world. “It’s just a party, though.”

“A party, yeah. But Trips barely survives visits home. What’ll that place do to Clara? Especially right now?” Jansen asks.

Not one of us has an answer to that. And the only guy who has an answer has already left, only a mostly full bottle of beer on the table remaining of his presence.

My chest stays tight.