Page 58 of Bad Boy in Her Bed

“Maybe I struck a deal.Maybe I made an arrangement.Maybe I’m just an old dog with old tricks.But everyone’s innocent in here, right?I didn’t do shit.Names.”

“No more goddamn arrangements,” Winter snarled, grabbing the collar of his shirt and yanking him close.“River’s made it out.Grey will.We did that, Birch.You did your time and made your trade-off for it.There’s nothing else worth being in this shithole for.”

“Yeah, there is.Names.”

The guards were watching, advancing on them slowly.Easing his phone out, he swiped it to life and turned it to face his brother.

He could see Winter’s hands flexing and the twitch of his lips, his muscles tensing under his orange jumpsuit as he stared at the photo on Birch’s phone.“She the cause?”

“Nope.The cause would be Ryder Drayson,” he said, refusing to look at the picture before he pocketed the cell again.“She—” Running a hand through his hair, he exhaled loudly.“She’s the reason I’m okay with this.Give me names.”

The guards continued to inch closer, keeping their hands on their weapons as they monitored Winter’s movements.

His brother nodded slowly, hard eyes on the table.“I’ll mail them tomorrow.”Getting to his feet, he shook his head and turned away.“I warned you about your partner.He’s a follower with a safety net.If we end up rooming, the bottom bunk is mine because you’re an idiot.”

*

Birch turned ontohis street and a peace came over him along with the knowledge that everything was in place.

He knew Winter would read between the lines of his cryptic language.His brother was well-versed in how open ears were all around the jail.By next week, Grey would have a letter from the eldest Baker, the message mundane and unremarkable to ensure it passed guard inspection on Winter’s end.

And he knew every piece of it from the paper to the envelope would contain names and numbers of men who, for a percentage of the deal, would ensure Ryder and Trevor Drayson upheld their end of their bargain.

Knowing Winter, there would be one extra listed, a skilled set of eyes guaranteeing a certain blond remained untouched and unscathed.

Someday, his brother would ask questions.But not yet.Not until they were both old and sitting in the living room where they grew up, in the place where they’d set their paths with a single look, a silent pact.

If they lived that long.

Distracted, he backed his truck into the driveway, staying tight to the grass to give Grey enough room to bring their old lawnmower out without having to moving the vehicle out of the way.Taking Sheriff Fogerty’s old school tape recorder out of the glove box, he tucked it under his arm with the delicate respect the recording inside deserved and locked the doors.

He was so focused on separating his truck keys from his house keys, he almost stepped on Jocelyn as he walked up the porch stairs, her presence hidden by the darkness of the unlit stoop.

“Jesus,” he gasped, losing his balance and grabbing the railing to avoid falling and crushing her when his foot came into contact with hers.“I…holy shit.What are you doing?”

Pushing herself to her feet on the top step, she crossed her arms and her steel eyes narrowed as she looked down at him.“A better question is what areyoudoing?”She bent down to scoop her phone off the stairs and tapped it, feigning shock when his own cell rang in his pocket.“Well, I’ll be damned.It does work.”

The calm he’d achieved with the final stages of his plan in place flashed away.His heart pounded hard in his chest with her proximity, a proximity he never expected to experience again unless there was a glass barrier between them.“Why are you here?”

“I’m here to undo whatever it is you’ve done.”

He needed her to be anywhere but in front of him, looking down with her blond hair tucked behind her ear, the lips he craved pursed in anger.When she was gone, his focus was unmatched, his decisions based on calculated risks and facts.Without her questioning eyes on him, he took the roads he knew, placed his markers along the paths he understood.

“Birch.”

Walking past her, he unlocked the door, adjusting the recorder under his arm.“In a week or two, you’ll be getting a call from Grey.He’ll be giving you a name and number to follow up with if Ryder or Trevor give you any more problems.”

Before he could build the courage up to turn around and face her, to tell her to leave, she ducked under his arm and stormed into his house.“What have you done?”Slamming her hand on the wall leading to the bedrooms, she hollered upstairs.“Grey?Grey!Are you home?What has your brother done?”

He was losing control of the situation, and fast.Everything was already set in motion and the train wasn’t coming to a stop anywhere before it arrived at a jail cell.“Jocelyn,” he barked, stalking over until his body was flush with hers.His stomach lurched as he used his height against her, looming over her while he pointed to the door and growled.“Go.”

She held position for a moment, her chest rising and falling against his until she shrunk back a fraction, the move fracturing something deep inside him.With a slow nod, she dropped her flashing gaze to the floor.“I know you, Birch Baker,” she murmured, taking deliberate steps around him.“I know you better than you think.I know you aren’t the bad guy here.I know you’ve put something in play to protect your brothers.I know you’ve made the only choice you think a guy like you can make so no one you care about gets caught in the crossfire.”

He couldn’t look at her, couldn’t bring himself to turn and face her.

“I also know you can’t run distance for shit.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

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