21. Clara
Chapter 21
Clara
I zone out as they wrap up their planning meeting, only realizing I’ve missed everyone leaving when Jansen’s fingers gently turn me to face him. He kisses me softly on the lips, his grin contagious. I relax into him, but he only kisses my forehead, not ramping things up. “A penny for your thoughts, beautiful?”
“Nothing important.”
“Every thought in that lovely head is important.”
I roll so we’re face-to-face, kissing him with everything I have, all the weird achy bits coming to the surface. He meets me with a force of longing I can’t even fathom, rolling so I’m tucked beneath him, his hands slipping under my shirt, calloused fingers on my stomach, my back, my waist. I reach up to take off his shirt, but he stops me.
“You haven’t answered me,” he says .
“But isn’t this better?” I tug him, trying to guide him to my mouth, but he resists.
He sits back on his heels, shaking his head.
I sigh, scooting back so I can sit up too. I can’t feel small right now.
Tugging on my shirt, I try to put my words together. “It’s just, I don’t know. I realized that as much as I want to help, I don’t have any skills to bring to the table.” I look up at him, his hair pulled back into a ponytail during the meeting. “You’re like, a thieving savant or something. RJ does all his computer stuff. Walker’s a forger that can impress a top-of-the-line fence. Trips runs his poker games and set up a crazy system of shell companies to protect you all. I, well, I can ace tests. I don’t see where I fit.”
Jansen takes a moment to think. “Do you want to fit?”
Nail, meet hammer. I look anywhere but at Jansen, trying to figure out how to answer. Finally, I just shrug. “Probably?”
His hand cradles my face, forcing me to look at him. “What doesn’t fit?”
Not able to look away, I worry my lip. “I like you guys. So much. But I don’t know if I can just blithely break the law like you guys do.”
His palm slides down to my neck, his fingers burrowing into my hair. “I’m not sure I’m the one to take on this conversation.”
I smile sadly. He’s probably right.
He searches my face. “Do you want to know about the first thing I stole?”
I nod, not sure how that’s connected .
He looks down, gathering his thoughts. “When I was a kid, we didn’t have any money. Like, no money. My mom, she’s sick. She’s always been sick, so anything extra went to trying to pay off the medical bills. My dad, he was a locksmith.”
I chuckle, and he boops me on the nose. “I know, it’s funny. Anyway, he’d taught me how to help, use bump keys, pick locks, find weird workarounds to get in and out of the apartment if the door was locked and I’d forgotten my key. Stuff like that.
“So one day, we go to the grocery store, and I get it into my head that I want some stupid toy they had at the checkout—it was like a truck that turned into a robot monster, a rip-off of a transformer that had melted paint and didn’t really fold right. But I wanted it. I cried. I begged. I tried to trade chores. I even told my dad that I would do one of his calls for him. It didn’t matter. The answer was no. We bought our groceries and went home.”
Imagining little Jansen, I know he had to have been the cutest kid. He probably got away with a lot more than he should have with those twinkly eyes and mischievous grin. His family would have had to be super tight with cash to say no to such a small ask.
He sighs, flopping down on the couch, pulling me with him, tucking my head under his chin. “So that night, after I go to bed, all I can think about is that toy, how much I want it, how unfair it is that I can’t even have this one little thing. But even then, I knew we needed the money for my mom’s medical stuff, so pocketing some cash and going back to buy the truck never crossed my mind.”
His fingers trail up my spine, an idle movement to go with his story. “Instead, I waited until everyone was asleep and I snuck out with a bunch of my dad’s tools in my backpack.
“I walked all the way to the grocery store. It was probably over a mile. Every time a car passed, I’d duck behind a tree, terrified the cops were coming to get me. I finally made it there, and of course, the door’s locked. I take out my dad’s tools and get to work on the lock. My hands were sweating so much I kept dropping things, jumping as they jangled on the concrete. I finally got the door to unlock, and I opened it up, almost giddy in anticipation.”
Jansen’s fingers twine into my hair, lost in his memories. “But it turns out there are these things called silent alarms…”
“Oh no,” I whisper.
He chuckles, a sad noise. “Yeah. So I wander around in the dark until I find the toy. I think I even kissed the thing. But when I go back out to the parking lot, two cop cars are waiting. One cop even had his gun drawn. I dropped that toy so fast. And I promptly burst into tears.
“I don’t know what the cops thought, but they ended up consoling me instead of arresting me. They called my dad, and he was so mad. Obviously, I returned the toy. The store didn’t press charges. My dad said that had I damaged the door trying to get in, they probably would have been harsher. As it was, the manager showed up, took the toy, turned off the silent alarm and locked back up. After that, my dad kept his tools in his closet, so I’d have to sneak past him if I ever wanted to get at them again.”
He tilts my chin up, kissing me softly. “He stopped teaching me about what he did. He kept saying, ‘Maybe when you’re older, sport.’ And then he died.”
My breath catches at this revelation. Tears well, making it hard to see Jansen, but I keep watching, knowing this is important. He swallows, staring over my shoulder, his hand still twisting through my curls. “With my dad, we’d been able to scrape by. Without him?” He shakes his head.
“Evie started babysitting for one neighbor, then another. She’d just turned thirteen, and she worked almost every night of the week. I was eleven, and nobody was going to trust me with their kids. I shoveled for people when it snowed and mowed some lawns, but it wasn’t enough. Mom stopped taking her meds. We couldn’t afford them. She kept getting sicker. We needed more money.
“I tried to put myself out there as a locksmith, but once again, I was this scrawny little eleven-year-old, and my skills were rusty. I got to thinking about how easy it was to break into that grocery store, how if I hadn’t been so slow, maybe I could have gotten out of there before the cops showed up. And the cops? They’d been stern, but one of them had held me until my dad got there, trying to get me to stop crying.”
I nuzzle his neck, trying to offer comfort however I can. His other hand comes and rests on top of mine, splayed across his chest. “So I did what any dumb eleven-year-old does in that situation. I decided to go grocery shopping. At two in the morning. I was smarter this time. I wore a hoodie to cover my head and face. I planned an exit strategy, unlocking a loading dock door, then waiting twenty minutes to see if the cops showed up, before unlocking the front door and rushing in, shoving stuff in the biggest backpack I had. Of course, later, I realized I just should have used the loading dock door for the whole thing. But I was eleven, so my plan was pretty dumb.
“Anyway, earlier, I’d scoped it out, walking the aisles, memorizing where everything I wanted was. I booked it to the cereal, shoved in a couple of boxes, then dashed to the mac and cheese, filling up the rest of the space with those boxes. The zipper got stuck, and I was sure I’d get caught, but I finally yanked it shut, then stumbled through the storage area, out the loading dock and over a fence into some random backyard, sprinting the whole way home.
“I’ve never been that scared, Clara. It wasn’t until I was rushing out the back that I realized that if I’d messed this up, my dad wasn’t going to be able to save me. He’d never be there to help again. And by the time I got home, I was so paranoid. I waited three days for the cops to come knocking, but they didn’t. So I added the brand-name cereal and mac and cheese to the pantry. Evie almost asked where I got them, but I think even then, she knew I’d done something dumb. My mom, I don’t think she even noticed. She was so sick.
“I don’t know when I stopped being freaked out by stealing, Clara. I don’t know when it became a fun challenge instead of a horrifying mistake, a thing I needed to do but that terrified me at the same time. But eventually, it changed. I changed.”
He moves his hand from mine to brush my cheek, kissing my forehead. “Blithely stealing isn’t natural, Clara. Don’t ever think that what got us here was easy or good. I know what I do is wrong. I know how disappointed my dad would be if he were still here. But I did what I did first because I had to, then because I was good at it, and now because I enjoy it. Honestly? I don’t know if I could stop if I wanted to.”
His nose presses against my forehead, his thumb stroking my cheek over and over. “Not one of us ended up here thinking it was easy street, Clara. All of us have reasons we started doing what we’re doing. And only you can decide if this is the road you want to travel, if we all fit into your life. We are who we are, and we’re damn good at what we do. None of us are going to walk away from this life. You have to figure out if you’re okay with that.”
I nod, my chin rubbing against his chest. “I know. Thanks for sharing, Jansen. Really.” I look up at him, confused and touched. So much to think about. I clear my throat, trying to break the tension before I burst into tears.
No more tears.
I need teasing Jansen back. Otherwise, I’m going to bawl over the loss of this perfect guy’s childhood.
I shift, trying to work out how to fix the mood. After a beat, I pout up at him. “Even after all that, I have no idea what skills I bring to the table.”
He adjusts me so I’m straddling him, framing my face with his hands, a hint of relief on his face. “I don’t know what you’ll grow into, but I can tell you which strengths of yours we can use. Do you want to know?”
“Am I just a tool to you?” I walk my fingers up his chest, wanting to see him smile.
He snags my fingers and nips the tips. “Nah, beautiful, you get to use my tool, not be one.” He grinds his hips up under me, and I feel him getting hard. “But you asked for a rundown of your criminally excellent traits. ”
I laugh, and he pulls me down, kissing me fully on the lips. Thank God. “Tell me where I’d excel at breaking the law,” I say.
“Well, the obvious, easiest thing we could use is your smoking-hot self. A little smile, a slow walk away, and you could get secrets out of almost any man you came up against, and plenty of women.”
I punch him gently on the arm. “Seriously? You’re talking about me like I’m a piece of prime rib in front of a pack of dogs. I’m not bad looking or anything, but I’m not all that.”
He grips my ass, squeezing, and I shift forward, grinding against him. “If you say so. But I know that’s what Trips is thinking for you, that you’d make an excellent face man. Between you and Walker, we could collect all kinds of information we shouldn’t technically have. Want another one?”
I laugh, happy to play along. “Sure. Hit me.”
He taps my forehead. “This. The whole dang thing. You watch people, Clara, you read them. That’s a perfect skill. Put you in a room and you’ll map out power dynamics, strengths, weaknesses, the whole social system figured out in less than ten minutes.”
“Everyone can do that, Jansen.”
He shakes his head. “No, Clara. They can’t. Not like you do. You’re a social systems sponge.”
I’m not a sponge—gross. “So far, you’ve told me I’m hot and good at listening. These aren’t the markers of a super criminal, Jansen.”
He smirks, hands on my hips, encouraging me to grind against him again, both of us moaning at the friction. “That’s the funny thing—they’re just traits. It’s how you use them that matters. I’m quick, light on my feet, strong for my size, and I don’t panic easily. I could use that for a ton of things, but they’re great traits for a cat burglar.”
“I like to think of you as a panther,” I admit.
He runs his hands up under my shirt. “I don’t mind that one bit. Do you want to hear the last trait I think will fit here with us?”
Breathless as his fingers slip around my nipples under my bra, I squeak out, “Yes, please.”
“You plan. You ask good questions. And you learn super fast.”
“What’s that good for?”
A small smile creases his cheek, one hand slipping under my waistband, his long fingers gripping the bare skin of my ass. “You’re going to have to figure that out for yourself, beautiful. I’m not giving you all the answers. Not yet. And admit it—you hate it when the answers are just laid out in front of you.”
I sigh. “You might be onto something, but I’m not happy about it.”
He laughs, and we kiss, soft, playful, easy in a way I didn’t know I needed. Everything else has been so hard, but this? This makes sense. Sliding my hands under his shirt, running my fingers over the ridges of his abs, I relax into his touch, his scent, the joyful energy that radiates from him. “Mmm, we should probably change locations,” I say.
“Why?” he asks, nipping my neck.
I give him a play shove. “We’re on the couch in the living room. It would be super rude to fuck here.”
He huffs a laugh against my neck, the warm air initiating a cascade of goosebumps down my shoulder. “Everyone here would enjoy the show. Might even get one or two to join in. Could do a couple of uptight fools some good.”
I nip his neck back, a little harder than necessary, and he jerks underneath me. “Maybe true, but still rude.”
“You good girls and your manners. Such a nuisance.” Without warning, Jansen rolls with me tight in his arms, somehow twisting so he lands in a squat next to the couch, scooping me into his arms on the way, so before I even realize we’re off the couch, he’s standing in the living room, carrying me like I’m his bride.
I giggle, and he kisses me quiet. We’re halfway up the stairs when Trips looms above us, excitement washing from his face as he sees us. “I’ve got something,” he says to Jansen, ignoring me completely.
I plaster on a sweet smile just to piss him off. “Oh? Do you need Jansen immediately? We’re a little busy.”
Jansen shakes around me, holding in his laughter.
“Yes. Immediately.” Trips’ nostrils flare as he glares at us.
Jansen carries me the rest of the way up the stairs, forcing Trips to turn sideways, my knees brushing against him with a little help from Jansen. He sets me down, his arms tight around my waist, my back to his front, nuzzling my hair. “Okay, I’m ready. What do you have?” he asks.
“Seriously?” Trips grumbles.
I can feel Jansen’s shoulders bounce behind me. “If she’s in, she’s in, right?”
Trips glares over my shoulder, and I make sure my sweet grin is still in place. I might literally kill the man with kindness. That’d be fun .
Trips huffs, focusing on Jansen. “Fine. You’re heading down to Kansas City. We have a lead, but it looks like that team is mobile. You’ll have to head out tonight.”
“But he just got back,” I say, covering Jansen’s arms with my own. My heart pinches—I need him. This week has been hell, and I just want someone who will hold me and not yell at me for one night. Just one night.
But Trips shakes his head, a nasty grin cutting across his face. “Nope. It’s gotta be tonight.”
Jansen sighs, kissing the top of my head. “Do I need to lift a car?”
“You should be fine on your own. There are no mob connections and they’re not our actual target, so it’s safe enough.”
“Doesn’t he need a buddy?” I ask.
Trips glowers. “Didn’t you hear me? No mob, no problem.”
I sink back against Jansen, not wanting to let go. He picks me up around the middle, and I squeal as he marches me to his room. “Text me the address. I’ll pack a bag,” he says, unlocking his room with one hand, tilting me onto one hip. I giggle as he swings open his door, catching one last glimpse of Trips’ furious face before Jansen throws me on his bed, kicking his door shut behind him.
He crawls over me, kissing me until I’m breathless, his hands slipping under my clothes, touching as much of me as possible. I return the favor, his skin soft and warm under my palms. He pulls back, a sad smile on his face.
“Do you really have to go? Right now?” I ask, tugging his waistband, trying to convince him to stay .
He flops down on top of me, squishing me while nibbling my ear. “Yeah. If they’re mobile, I’m only going to have a small window to catch them before they disappear again.”
I wrap my legs around his waist, forcing my ballooning emptiness back down. “Do you need help packing?”
He kisses me one last time before untangling from me. “Nope. I want you to lie there, looking like your usual delicious self, while I pack. I want to imagine you here in my bed while I’m gone.”
Rolling onto my side, I stroke over my curves like I know how to look appealing. “Would you prefer that memory to be clothed or naked?”
Watching my hand’s path, he reaches down for his backpack and misses. “I desperately want to say naked.”
“But?”
Giving up on his backpack, he kisses me again. “But if you’re naked, I’m not leaving this room for a long, long time.”
I lift the hem of my shirt, and he tackles me. “No, none of that.”
Framing his face in my hands, I sigh. “Fine.”
He kisses the tip of my nose before rolling back out of the bed, pulling dirty clothes out of his backpack and filling it with clean ones. Jansen even makes packing look like a dance, time disappearing like he soon will too.
Zipping the bag shut, he sits on the edge of his mattress, his hand resting on my hip. “I’ll hurry back, beautiful. I promise.”
“But not before Friday.”
He tilts his head. “Oh, yeah—you and Walker are going to Chicago this weekend.” I roll onto my back, staring at the ceiling. His lips brush against my cheek. “It’ll work out. Walker, he can get stuck in his head.”
“Am I supposed to give him more time? Because we’re coming up on two weeks here.”
“Nope. Make him talk to you. Get the real, dumb shit out of his head and into the air. He has to hear himself being an idiot before he knows he’s being an idiot.”
I let out a sad little laugh. “Got it. Force him to tell me how dumb he’s being.”
“Hey, you’re the one who decided you wanted four boyfriends instead of one. No one ever said this would be easy.”
I turn, peering up at Jansen. “Are you saying you’re my boyfriend?”
“Beautiful, I’ve been yours from day one.”
I bite my lip, trying to keep my grin contained. “You never asked me, you know.”
Jansen immediately kneels next to the bed, taking my hand in his. “Clara McElroy, would you do me the great honor of being my girlfriend?”
I burst out laughing, flinging myself from the bed and into his lap. “Gladly. I will definitely be your girlfriend, Jansen Pierce.” And I kiss him with all the ooey-gooey goodness flooding through me.
If he left a little later than intended, well, it was worth it.