Brazen Deceits (Brazen Boys #2)

Prologue

Jansen

T he buzz of adrenaline hums through me, RJ’s directions clear in my earpiece. Down the stairs, duck into this empty room, count to twenty, sneak back out, two rights, then a left, everything smooth as butter.

I get to the office, snatch up the paper, slip it into my secret pocket, and it’s all perfect-perfect. The zings in my bones turn into a roar of victory as I slip back out of the office, slinking down the empty halls, a murmur of lively conversation drifting from the main rooms at the front of the house.

RJ’s calm directions are abruptly drowned out by Trips’ shouts over the earpiece. “Shit, Jansen, incoming.”

My heart rate spikes, the urge to run or climb screaming at me as I dive through the first open door, locking it behind me .

I whip around, flicking on the lights. Coral marble trims the lower third of the walls, snaking up from the floor, the room bigger than my bedroom at home, but only housing a pristine vanity and toilet. There are no other doors. No windows. No exit strategies.

Suddenly, the alarm blares, a red light flashing inside the bathroom, and I know things just got a whole lot worse.

I’m locked in an interior bathroom at a known mob house after someone tripped the alarms, locking all exterior doors and windows.

This is not good.

This is very not good.