Page 43 of Bad Boy in Her Bed

Jocelyn closed herlaptop and flipped her freshly printed spreadsheets over, not wanting to see the story the numbers were telling.She changed into her running clothes, pulled her hair back into a ponytail, picked up her phone and earbuds, and slid her room card into her cell case as she stepped into the hall.

She needed a run.A long, cleansing run to clear her mind.

Waving at the doorman, she placed her earbuds in and broke into a jog heading west, her eyes on Tower Hill.

Plough-Her Hill.

Shaking Birch’s voice from her head, she focused on her breathing, on building her gait until she hit a good stride.

He probably didn’t realize the stack of bank statements he’d given her without question contained his personal ones as well, something she hadn’t even noticed until she grabbed one to track a series of cash withdrawals.

Without explicit orders from lawyers, personal accounts weren’t usually in her scope of examination.Unless someone with more letters behind their name than she had provided the required paperwork, she kept her eyes on her own work, on the business accounts and business accounts only.

Even when those personal accounts aligned perfectly with the business ones.

Turning onto a gravel road, she approached the base of the hill and cranked her music.

She could pretend she hadn’t seen the staggered deposits into Birch’s bank account, the amounts small enough to raise no flags.She could send his statements through a shredder and ignore the five-hundred-dollar influxes of cash every second Friday.Her notes would only need to include a mention of unaccounted withdrawals from Serpent’s Tongue, and it would be up to the police and the lawyers to decide if they wanted to pursue it further.

Or she could turn it all over to Angelo, hand him the reins and wash her hands of it.She could pack her bags and be back in Jersey by tomorrow night, far from Birch Baker and his silver tongue.

Coming to a stop on top of the hill, she walked to the edge and sat on the grass, following the slope of the water tower to the Baker home.

He lied.

Because numbers didn’t.

Part of her job required her to know how much Birch and Ryder took home every month, how much they paid in taxes.Both men made a decent living, enough to pay their bills with a bit left over.

But that bit wasn’t nearly enough to cover the cash tuition payment she saw on Birch’s August statement.His account balance was higher than his income allowed.

“The banks around here weren’t keen on giving a Baker a loan.”

Wrapping her arms around her knees, she rested her chin on her hand and stared at the town.

No part of her assignment approved her reviewing his personal expenses.But she had.Because she was desperate to explain where the money was coming from and, needing to know where it was going, she broke her personal and professional ethics code and dove deeper into Birch’s finances.

There was no plausible way he could pay for Grey’s education outright.The hundred or two left at the end of each month from his legitimate paycheck were consistently deposited in the Nevada prison system or sent to River.

But five hundred dollars every two weeks added up over the course of a year, padding his bank account balance.

She’d been so certain Birch was different, so certain he was with her for her and not for what she could do for him.

It was happening all over again.The lies.The deception.

The heartbreak.

Away from her cutthroat life on the east coast, she had let her guard down, foolishly believing her hometown would shelter her from men who would seek her out to curry favor while she worked to unearth some of the country’s biggest financial fraudsters.

But she should have known better.Birch may not have millions to lose, but what he had, he couldn’t afford to surrender.She’d known it.Known it and ignored it because he made her feel special, chipping away at her defenses with every glimmer of vulnerability he showed her.

She could feel the tears welling in her eyes and she exhaled a shaky breath as she stood.

It was time to get back to the hotel and face Birch’s betrayal.

*

Keeping his faceschooled while Ryder droned on about needing to place another order for body jewelry, Birch grabbed his phone and keys and stood.“I’m out for the night.If anyone calls to book a tat for next week, try to leave my Tuesday open.My tiger guy yesterday wants a complementary piece done and I’ll need a full day for him if I get the artwork finished before the weekend.”

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