Page 21 of Bad Boy in Her Bed

She nodded and mimicked his pose.“I suppose I can say the same.When I saw you on that porch, it brought back a lot of memories.”Her nose wrinkled in disdain.“I tend to attract men who want to use me to stay out of jail.”

His brows shot up.“I would never—”

“I know.”Giving him a slight nudge of her elbow, she echoed his earlier words.“Well, I don’t know for sure.But I do, you know?”

He sighed and looked to the sky.“It’s so messed up.I studied up on business accounting when we opened the place.Took a few online courses, made sure we documented every expense and invoice, set up a savings for taxes so we wouldn’t be fined.Even lined up a successful accountant with good references.”With a humorless chuckle, he lay back and put one arm behind his head.“All I wanted to do was play it straight.Stay out of jail and keep River and Grey out, too.”

She wrapped her arms around her knees and pursed her lips.“Then there’ll be nothing to worry about.If Trevor’s crooked and Serpent’s Tongue is clean, it’ll turn out okay.From what I know right now, your business is one of many that Trevor was involved in somehow.”

He looked over at her, the defeat in his eyes breaking her heart.“You know, I once heard the phrase ‘shit rolls downhill.’And yeah, it’s a gross visual if you really think about it, but when you grow up at the bottom at that hill, you learn pretty fast that things only turn out okay for the guys at the top.”Glancing across the field to his truck sitting solo in the parking lot, he held his hand out to her.“Am I good to give you a lift home?”

Chapter Ten

Jocelyn walked outof the Epson Police Department, a copy of Serpent’s Tongue Ink’s paperwork in one hand and her phone in the other with her boss on the line.

“It’s a smaller community, right?”Angelo asked her, his voice competing with the morning traffic.“Maybe find out what you can about the owners and who they associate with.It could come in handy when you need to verify any findings.”

The change in Birch’s eyes as he dropped her off last night rose to the forefront of her thoughts, that shift from resignation to a hardened determination happening in a flash as they said their awkward goodnights.“I will.Talk soon.”

She walked the final stretch to her hotel, clutching the thick envelope as she rode the elevator to her floor, entered her room, and placed it on the dinette.

Piece by piece, she assembled her workstation.Her laptop was open and set to the top right corner, her fresh coffee right beside it.A hotel notepad and pen sat in the left corner alongside her phone.A pack of small yellow sticky notes and a single highlighter were nestled between her coffee and laptop for easy access.With her shoes tucked to the side and her chair pulled in, she was ready to dive in with the professional detachment she promised herself she could uphold.Because in the game of following the money, emotions were off the table.

Easing the stack of photocopied papers from the manila envelope, she took each paperclip-secured pile and scanned them, starting with the company’s purchase expenses.

Whoever copied the paperwork in the evidence processing department had been meticulous about not wasting paper, fitting as many smaller receipts as possible on each page.One by one, she highlighted dates and vendors and entered them into the custom spreadsheets she had tailored early on in her career to help her track the multitudes of numbers businesses generated over time.

She was a third of the way through the first set when she paused, her highlighter hovering over the vendor’s name on the handwritten receipt.Flipping back through the receipts she’d already entered, she found its match and eased it out, placing a sticky note to mark its position.

She didn’t know anything about tattoo equipment.

But she knew someone who did.

Hesitating while staring at Birch’s number, she contemplated the ethics behind contacting him.She often worked alongside the companies she investigated, as their input was invaluable when encountering discrepancies.Sometimes her findings were easily explained through errors, and eliminating those in her report was essential to being able to highlight the more severe violations she found.

The only difference was she had kissed this particular business owner.

And, despite the warning bells screaming in her head, she still wanted to kiss him again.

With a deep breath, she tapped his number and waited, his wariness when he answered expected…but upsetting nonetheless.

“Hey,” she greeted him, getting to her feet to separate herself from her job for a moment.“How’s the day off going?”

“Fine, I guess.Unless you know something that I don’t?”

As much as she knew his guardedness was warranted, it stung.“Well, no,” she replied, sitting on the sofa.“But I was wondering if you had time to answer a few questions today or tomorrow.”

He went silent.

“Obviously you don’t have to,” she rushed to say.“I just—” She closed her eyes and leaned back.“How often do your tattoo guns need to be serviced?”

She could hear him closing a door, followed by the sounds of lawn mowers and engines coming to life in the background.“What do you mean, serviced?Ryder and I take care of the cleaning and oiling, but we keep a spare on hand in case one goes down.”

“So you haven’t had any of them repaired this year?”she asked, straightening up.

“No.Why are you asking?”

Glancing over at the table where the two handwritten receipts for repairs sat, she frowned.“Maybe you should come by the hotel.I’ll have lunch sent up.”

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