Chapter Sixteen
J ocelyn sat on the floor of her hotel room with her spreadsheets and the Serpent’s Tongue bank statements placed alongside her collection of colored highlighters.
Her hips were still aching from the past two nights, the dull throb a distraction from the seriousness of the work ahead of her. Glancing over at her phone to see Birch’s last text, she smiled and scooted closer to the coffee table.
“Already thinking of the next piece.”
Uncapping her yellow highlighter, she began comparing deposits and withdrawals. The monotony of the work allowed her mind to drift to yesterday and significantly more entertaining thoughts.
Acting on his request to swing by Serpent’s Tongue when she was ready for a break, she’d shown up as he was wrapping up a sample for tomorrow’s client. Their conversation was light and easy until he set his pen down and all but dragged her to his truck, grunting out a promise to drive her to her car in the morning. But when they walked into his dark house, he adhered to their plan of a movie, going through the motions of choosing one and tossing a bag of popcorn in the microwave before stretching out on the couch and giving her a lip-biting grin.
Switching to her pink highlighter, she moved on to cross-referencing with her spreadsheets.
Birch’s hands had slipped up the back of her blouse within minutes of the opening scene. She ignored his wandering fingers for a few minutes, laughing when he grew impatient and simply lifted her and placed her where he wanted her, aligning her chest with his face.
“Better,” he’d muttered, as he undid the buttons of her shirt and arched up to run his tongue along the lace trim of her bra. “So much better.”
Their make-out session was slow and leisurely, as though he were waiting for the movie to end so he could officially jump her.
And jump her he did.
Chewing on the blue highlighter, she stared at the numbers, looking for patterns.
When the first movie credits had flashed across the screen Birch had her on her feet as he stripped her with a frantic desperation, his lips devouring hers while he tried to stumble up the stairs with her to his bedroom. When he tripped on his own discarded jeans in the hall, he gave up and took her then and there, his ravenous desire almost engulfing both of them before he reared up and snatched his jeans, tugging his wallet from the back pocket and producing a condom. With none of the finesse of their last encounter, he unrolled it down his length roughly and pushed into her, pounding her fast and hard while she dragged her nails across his back, marking him as he marked her.
Glaring at the brightly highlighted papers spread across the table, she shifted her position, her eye catching what she was looking for.
“Damn it,” she whispered, pushing herself to her feet and grabbing the stack of invoices off the dinette.
*
Birch repositioned the sheet covering his client’s breast, refusing to acknowledge the accidental slipping the fabric had done for the fifth time in an hour while he worked on the requested feather tat.
“You have incredible focus,” the woman purred, flinching when he finished off the outline. “Is your attention to detail this intense in everything you do?”
It wasn’t the first time he’d inked a married woman from the neighboring town, the tan line of her ring giving her away. A mistake in judgement during Serpent’s Tongue’s first month had found him banging a client in the back of her SUV. Her relationship status came to light only when her phone rang and her husband’s photo came up on the screen.
Since then, he had a strict no-client-fucking policy.
Unfortunately, his silence on the incident meant the woman’s friends figured he was an ideal fling, a reckless roll in the hay who wouldn’t out their little secret before they hit the PTA meetings.
What none of them understood was that it was himself he was protecting.
He was a lot of things, but homewrecker wasn’t one of them.
His cell buzzed on the counter and he glanced over, setting his tattoo gun down and snapping his gloves off before answering. “Hey, babydoll.”
“Babydoll,” Jocelyn echoed. “Ah. Overly eager client there?”
“You got it.”
He could hear the sound of papers rustling in the background as she spoke. “When are you done there? I need you.”
Spinning his stool to give himself the illusion of privacy, he lowered the volume of his voice. “What’s the likelihood you’re saying that for a reason other than your spreadsheets?”
“Zero.” When he grunted his disappointment, she amended her response. “Zero until I’m off the clock at six.”
He grinned like an idiot. “And at six?”
“Hundred percent chance I’ll be aiming for a repeat of last night.”
“I’ll be there by three,” he promised, before he said his goodbyes and turned back to find his client scowling at him. “Sorry,” he said, sliding his phone back to the counter and tugging on fresh gloves. “Okay, Elaina, let’s get this done so you can show it off.”
*
Jocelyn sipped at her tea while Birch flipped through the invoices she’d flagged.
“Jay, Marcus, Sean, and Becca,” he muttered, the names obviously meaning something to him as he went back through the pile and removed a few more to examine. “I know for a fact Becca doesn’t have anywhere near enough ink on her to justify these prices.” When she leveled him with a flat stare, he wrinkled his nose. “She lives across the street from me, and she mows the lawn in her bikini. Grey is terrified of her.”
Oddly satisfied with his response, she tapped the pile of papers in his hand. “What about the others?”
“Marcus is covered but comes to me exclusively. And he isn’t a piercing guy. Sean is too cheap to pay for any piece costing more than two hundred. And Jay is a fainter. None of these guys have gotten thousands of dollars of work done in the past year. This doesn’t make any sense.”
Setting her cup down, she clasped her hands and leaned forward, closing the distance between them. “What are they buying off of Ryder then? Because every one of these matches with deposits. Legitimate deposits. And shortly after each is a withdrawal for a contractor.” She placed a stack of bills in front of him. “Everyone is a John Doe type name. Dale Smith. Tom Adams. Acme Enterprises.”
Birch closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Holy fuck, Jocelyn. He’s dealing out of the shop.” Shaking his head, he exhaled and looked over at her. “The only thing Sean, Marcus, Becca, and Jay have in common is addiction. He’s selling drugs out of our fucking business.” He got to his feet and began pacing. His muscles were visibly knotting in his shoulders as she sat there dumbfounded at her own inability to see the forest for the trees. “The packages, the late-night deliveries, his insistence on staying open until ten when every other place in town is shut down by seven or eight. Why the fuck didn’t I see it?”
“Because you weren’t looking for it,” she said, meeting him as he crossed the hotel floor and placing her hands on his chest. “Birch, I do this for a living, and it didn’t dawn on me. But remember, we don’t know for sure. And until we do, you need to keep your cool.”
Although he stayed in place, she could see the walls slamming up around him. “Right,” he agreed, not looking at her. “Until I know for sure.”
She slid her hands up to his neck, gently using her thumbs to tilt his head toward her. “You’re doing it,” she said, forcing him to see her. “Every time we find something new, you go straight into survival mode. I can actually see it happening.”
His jaw twitched, and his eyes hardened. “What do you even know about survival, Jocelyn? Did your dad ever use your head to put holes in the wall? How many times did you hide your younger brothers in a closet so you’d be the one he saw when he stumbled home drunk, not them? Have you ever seen your brother’s arm get snapped for eating an extra bowl of cereal?”
Horrified, she couldn’t respond. She couldn’t even begin to process what he was saying.
Backing away from her, he walked to the door and yanked his shoes on. “Every fucking step forward I take, something or someone is there to shove me right the fuck back down. So yeah, Jocelyn, I’m in survival mode. It’s the only thing that’s gotten me, River, and Grey where we are, and I’m not going to sit on my ass pretending everything’s going to turn out fine while the cops are kicking my fucking door in.”
*
Birch sat in his truck in the dark, using his phone to record Jay as he slunk into Serpent’s Tongue. From this vantage point he couldn’t see inside, so his imagination filled in the blanks during the few minutes it took for Jay to leave with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his tattered jean jacket.
With a sigh, he rewatched the video of Jay going into Serpent’s Tongue to meet up with his traitor of a partner, then deleted it. A grainy image of a loyal client stopping by during business hours was worthless. He needed more.
Piece by piece, the past three years were beginning to connect in his head. Clients he knew he’d scheduled to see Ryder for evening appointments were unmarked months later when they came in for work. People frequently called for his partner’s schedule, the nervousness in their voices nothing of note until now.
Ryder’s constant watch of the time when Birch hung out past his shift.
Checking his phone for the hundredth time, he turned on his truck and eased back onto the street.
He messed up big time with Jocelyn.
And he wasn’t too proud to grovel.
Parking at the back of the hotel, he slipped into the elevator and pressed the number to her floor, wishing he knew what to say and knowing that whatever he did say wouldn’t make up for how he left her hours ago.
She’d done nothing but try to help him and he bit at her like a wounded animal.
Standing in front of her door, he hesitated long enough to reassure himself he was ready to handle it if she refused to see him. The thought sat heavy on his shoulders, tightening his throat. But it was his own actions that had brought him to this point, and he deserved whatever it was she chose to dish out.
He knocked and waited, hands shoved into his pockets while he listened to the soft padding of her feet across the carpet before the door opened and she leaned in the doorway without a word.
“I’m sorry,” he said, forcing himself to look into her steel blue eyes. “I just…no excuses. I’m sorry.”
She studied him for a moment before she backed up and held the door open for him. “Next time you run, take me with you.”
Stepping into the room, he looked around to see that she’d organized all the paperwork into a single pile on the dinette. Her laptop was closed and an array of pens and markers were neatly lined on the table. Her bedding was rumpled, the TV on and muted.
“Take your shoes off and get in,” she instructed, climbing into the bed as he stood in the entrance. “Is Grey expecting you home tonight?”
He shook his head, his mind still trying to process her order.
Tossing the blanket aside for him, she patted the mattress, picked up the remote, and turned off the television. “Birch? You don’t have to. But you can if you want to.”
He toed his shoes off and crossed the room as she turned off the light, leaving them in the dark. Sitting on the edge of the bed while his vision adapted to the sliver of light peeking through the heavy curtains, he felt her shift behind him moments before her arms wrapped around his chest. She tightened her hold, the heat of her body pressed against his back, warming him.
“I’m not angry,” she murmured into his neck. “Not at you, at least. A little hurt, but not mad. I can’t be pissed off about you protecting yourself when I do the same, right?”
Taking a deep breath, he swallowed hard, something in her words unsettling him. “Maybe not, but I’m still sorry. You didn’t need to hear any of that.”
“Yeah, I did.” Her thumbs drew circles on his abs. “You needed me to hear it, so yes, I needed to hear it.” When he merely grunted in reply, she kissed the nape of his neck and wrapped her arms tighter around him, sending a shiver through his whole body. “It’ll be better in the morning. We’ll figure it out, and it’ll be okay.”
The war in his head spurred to life again and he shut his eyes to block out everything except a promise he knew he shouldn’t believe no matter how much he wanted to.