Page 55 of Bad Boy in Her Bed

“Two minutes later than last time,” Grey replied, standing up and emptying his cup into the sink.“Count to sixty twice and call her.”Heading toward the stairs, he stopped.“You two broke up last week, didn’t you?”

Nodding, he hunched over his drink and took another sip.

“That sucks, man,” his brother replied.“What happened?”

“Life.Get to bed.You have that online meeting about next year’s course selection at eight tomorrow.”

Grumbling, Grey left him alone in the kitchen to count down until the time he could hear Jocelyn’s voice again and reassure his mind she was safe and sound.

Logically, he knew she was fine.Newark was as far from a bomb threat at an Epson, Nebraska hotel as she could get in an evening.

She’d called him.

He’d spoken to her.

So why was he pacing the kitchen floor, counting to sixty for the second time, every muscle knotted and his mind on a murderous loop he hadn’t experienced since he’d seen River’s fractured arm during one of their father’s last days alive?

Fifty-nine.Sixty.

Swiping his phone to life, he tapped on Jocelyn’s number, his breath caught in his chest until she answered.

“Hey, Birch Baker.”

The lump he was trying to swallow for hours tightened in his throat.“Jocelyn Fucking Carter.”

She laughed and he slumped into the kitchen chair, closing his eyes as she tsk’d him.“Now, now.There’s no need for that kind of language.”

“I think tonight calls for it.Tell me you’re okay one more time.”

“I’m okay,” she replied, her voice softening.“Are you?”

Chuckling humorlessly, he shook his head.“Nope.”

“How are your plans coming along?”

Opening one eye to ensure Grey hadn’t crept back downstairs, he sighed.“They were coming along all right until someone called a bomb threat to your room.”

“My room,” she echoed.“435?”

“That’s the one.”

He could hear her moving around her apartment and for a moment he wondered what it looked like, what color her couch was, what artwork she had on her walls.“I assume the police found nothing?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said as he sat up and rested his elbows on his knees.“It was a targeted threat.”

“It was big words from someone trying to scare me.Unsuccessfully, I should add.”

All the tension coiled in his body unleashed and he jumped to his feet, snarling into the phone.“Are you fucking kidding me?”he yelled, pacing the floor.“It’s gotta be Ryder or Trevor and they’re after you, Jocelyn.This isn’t a fucking game.What if one of them tracks you down in New Jersey?I wouldn’t know if something happened to y—” He stopped short, his mind connecting the dots.“This isn’t the first time you’ve been threatened like this, is it?”

A microwave dinged in the background.“It’s the first time this year.And Ryder Drayson is so amateur, he barely counts.”

Leaning against the counter, he tried to take a deep breath, his lungs shuddering as he inhaled.“Jocelyn.”

“Put me on speaker, open the web browser on your phone, and search my name,” she said quietly, remaining silent until he muttered out a curse.“You know, it’s funny.Out here, we’re looking each other up online within the first ten minutes of a date.Sooner if we manage to pry a last name out of the person before meeting up.The Epson dating scene isn’t quite as suspicious, I guess.”

He scanned the headlines of the articles popping up under her name.“Funny, yeah.”Sinking to the floor, he opened the most recent one from last December.“Town gossipers have nothing on these coastal reporters, do they?”

Jocelyn Carter wasn’t some forensic accountant.She wastheforensic accountant.The firm she worked for was responsible for taking down business empires across seven states, her work bringing casino owners and moguls to their knees.Pictures of her walking out of courthouses accompanied stories of her testimonies, a man with grey-streaked hair at her side in almost every single one.

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