Page 20 of Bad Boy in Her Bed

Jocelyn paced herhotel room floor, her phone held tight to her ear.“The paperwork is being processed and copied tonight.I should have my hands on the first account I’ll be assessing tomorrow morning.”

“Once you know what it is, call me and I’ll go over a few specific red flags to watch for,” Angelo said, his voice muffled when one of his children piped up in the background.“Did the cops give you any idea what business you’ll be examining?A name?”

“Nope,” she replied, peeking out her window at the setting sun.“I’ll call you once I know something, okay?”

They ended the call and she sank into the sofa, leaning back and closing her eyes.

She hadn’t exactly lied to her boss: Klaussen and Torres were mum on what they found in Trevor Drayson’s home.Even Bill Fogerty maintained a stoic face as he pulled each pile of documents out and scanned them over before walking them down into the precinct basement to be processed.

But she knew one of those stacks, the thickest one with the crumpled receipts stapled together, was from Serpent’s Tongue Ink.It was the envelope Klassen tapped when he told Birch to talk to his accountant, its contents bursting at the seams of its manilla envelope.It was one of the envelopes she was being paid to assess, her boss having received the contract from those who knew that when you wanted to track the evidence, Jocelyn Carter was the one you wanted for the job.

It was also the only evidence bag Fogerty filed into the Epson logbook, since the rest were being sent to their hometown departments before she would dig into them.

She turned her phone over in her hand and checked the time.

Birch was due to meet her in fifteen minutes.Their plan for an evening run on the high school track was hastily made a few hours before their worlds collided on Trevor Drayson’s veranda, and while she wasn’t certain he’d show, she hoped he would because they had air to clear.Fast.

Changing quickly, she brushed her hair into a ponytail and tied her laces, ensuring her hotel key card was in her wallet before she went down to the lobby and out the door.

She took a moment to orient herself amid the new construction, jogging west toward the high school as the street lights came on.

By the time she hit the track, she was where she needed to be to work through how numb she’d felt standing beside the patrol car, her police escorts marching down the steps with her assignment in hand.

There was a flash of accusation in Birch’s eyes when he first saw her, his gaze moving between her and the deputies.A silent blame.But fast as it rose, it was just as quickly replaced by a look of defeat so all-encompassing it showed in the hunch of his back, the hang of his head.There was no shame, no guilt.Only resignation, as though he’d accepted the situation.

Or expected it.

She heard the sound of a rhythmic stride on her left and she veered to the side, righting her path as soon as Birch matched her pace.

Neither said a word as they rounded the first lap, then the second.Anger, frustration, and worry were pounded out under the soles of her shoes, the overwhelming swirl of thoughts in her head combining into three realities she needed to address.

She needed to do her job.

She needed to separate what she knew about Birch from what she hoped he was.

And, finally, she needed to accept it if she discovered he wasn’t who she wanted him to be.If he was one of them.If he had known who she was and why she was in town.If he was just another guy who hoped stealing her heart would ensure their freedom.

They continued to run lap after lap, their breathing growing more ragged as they both pushed past their own runner’s high and entered a punishing stage that tested the limits of their endurance.

He was the first to give, his pace dropping to a dragging walk before he bent over and gripped his knees, the sweat dripping off him.Slowing on her last lap, she collapsed on the grass beside him, close enough to see his face under the yellow lights encircling the track but far enough away to keep herself from reaching out to him.

The quiet of the night was interrupted only by the intermittent sounds of cars in the distance, the fields around them deserted.

“Whatever it is they think I’ve done, I didn’t,” Birch finally said softly.“No matter how this plays out, I want you to know that.”

She stared up at the stars, the weakest ones hidden by the glare of the lights.

There was nothing she could say.

In twelve hours, she’d be starting her search to prove him wrong.She would be analyzing every penny that passed through Serpent’s Tongue, responsible for compiling a list of every inconsistency Bill Fogerty could use to bring charges.She would be reporting to her boss, a man who did not send his employees on fools’ quests.

She would be tackling this job as she did all the others: unattached, uninvested, and undeterred.

Birch sat up, draping his arms over his knees.“For a second there when I saw you at Trevor’s, I thought you had the cops tail me.”

“I would never—”

“I know,” he interrupted, his attention on the scoreboard in the distance.“Well, I don’t know for sure.But I do, you know?”

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