Page 59 of Bad Boy in Her Bed

Jocelyn’s lungs burnedin her chest as she pushed herself to cover more ground.She forced her feet across the uneven earth while she gripped the tape recorder in one hand and held Birch’s truck keys in the other.

“I don’t run.”

She didn’t need to look back to know he was still on her tail, the gap between them widening now that they were traveling up Tower Hill.Every so often, Birch would holler her name in the moonlight, each call to her sounding more desperate and strained than the last.

Although he was faster out of the gate, she counted on the element of surprise to buy her the precious seconds she needed to gain the lead, a lead she could easily maintain once she had it.

And she did, with an old tape recorder she’d recognized the moment Birch approached her on the porch.He was so focused on his keys that he hadn’t noticed her until he was almost sprawled on top of her.

“Jocelyn!”

His voice was hoarse behind her, his rasping breath carrying across the still night to match her own as their physical endurances were tested against their wills.

“I don’t run.”

Her muscles no longer burned.A bone-deep numbness settled in as she fumbled with the recorder and dropped his truck keys while she fought to remove the tape.Throwing the heavy machine aside, she grasped the small plastic cassette and focused on the top of the hill.

“Jocelyn, stop,” he hollered, his footsteps growing closer.“Please.”

Cloud cover obscured the moonlight, making the terrain below her almost impossible to discern.

And she didn’t know this side of town, didn’t know the trails and the ridges and the paths.There was no plan, no map to follow.Her momentum hiccupped with every assessment of her surroundings, each hesitation losing more of her precious lead.

“I don’t run.”

He was running now, his heavy breathing getting nearer as she breached the peak of the hill and began her descent.Her ingrained caution slowed her pace while she tore down the hill, his desperation barreling him ahead until he overtook her.

Skidding to a stop in front of her, he turned, his arms catching her when she stumbled and slammed into him.His body cushioned her fall while they tumbled roughly onto the dirt and weeds, his hold on her going lax as he hit the ground with a thud.The cassette flew out of her hand and she scrambled over him to reach it before he could, snatching it up and clutching it to her chest.

“I have a backup,” he rasped, rolling onto his stomach and pushing himself back onto his haunches.“The cassette is a copy of the original I have saved on my phone.It’s just insurance.That isn’t the only recording this time.”

This time.

Her instincts were right.He’d bartered himself away, and she knew damn well which devils he made the deal with.

“Whatever they’re paying you, it isn’t worth it,” she snarled through panting breaths.

His head was bowed, his hair falling forward to hide his eyes.

If her legs would cooperate, she could catch him off guard again and try to outrun him.

“I’m not doing it for the money.”He pressed his palm against his forehead.“Goddamn it, Jocelyn.Just give me the tape.Please.”

She shook her head.“You said you have a backup.Why not be fine with that?”

“Call it sentimental attachment.”He peered up at her and she was struck by how worn he looked.The weight of the past few weeks showed in the creases and deepening lines on his face.“Jocelyn, it’s already done.Whether you give me that tape or not.”

Waving her hand toward the lights of town, she scoffed.“Then go.”

“I’m not leaving you out here in the dark alone,” he scowled.“It’s counterproductive to my plan of keeping the shit I brought along from rolling downhill onto you.”

Pursing her lips, she glared at him.“First of all, that is a disgusting analogy.Second, I never asked you to save me.Not from Ryder, not from Trevor, not from you.And third, if you want to sentence yourself to a decade of hell, don’t you dare attach me to it in any way.Because there is no fucking way in hell I would ever ask you to sacrifice any part of yourself for me.”

He stilled, his silence reaching around and gripping her until even her heart was afraid to beat.

*

His feet werenumb.

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