Jackson Stiles, Road to Redemption (Road to Redemption #1)(108)

“Maybe.”

She lets me think about how I feel about that, which is not really f*cking good, gotta tell ya.

“I guess that’s it for us.” She covers the anxiety in her eyes with a smile.

Funny. I thought I’d celebrate with a few or ten drinks by the time I heard her say those words. Now, I find myself wanting to avoid my freedom. For obvious reasons.

Although there’s at least one reason I can think of that still makes me want to scoot the f*ck on out.

“Okay then.” I push up onto the arms of the chair I’ve called home for the past hour and clap my hands together. “We good?”

She pulls the slip of paper I need out from between a folder and hands it to me.

“We’re good.”

“You rock, Lana.”

“I know.” She smirks over at me. “Please don’t come again.”

“Ouch, that hurts.” I grab my chest but I’m smiling, dammit.

Kill me now.

“Not for legal reasons, anyway. For social visits, you’re welcome anytime.”

“I can’t make any promises,” I tell her honestly. ’Cause who knows when the next bad guy, or supposed good guy, is gonna drive me to physically harming them again.

Lana shakes her head, and I go without another word. I wave and wink to the receptionist.

“Do we need to schedule another date, Mr. Stiles?”

“Hell, no, Tracy. I’m out of here.” I show her my graduation documentation, and I swear she looks disappointed.

Out in the bright white hallway, I shut the door behind me, fold up the piece of paper I need to show the circuit courts that I’m sane, and check my phone for messages.

There’s one from Ma, two from Dad, ugh, and another from Nick. I call the lesser of the three evils.

“Hey, Nickie.”

I smile, knowing that nickname annoys the shit out of him about as much as mine annoys me.

“Dude, I just got off the phone with Walker. He told me the good news.”

“He’s being indicted?” ’Cause that shit’s cause for some celebraf*ckery. Next on the list, Graham Black.

“No, *.”

“Thomas has his number?”

“Jackson.”

So serious, my brother.

“Okay, I give.” I press the elevator button and wait.

“That you’re getting an accommodation, dude.”

Shit, he practically sounds giddy. I’m sure it would do his rep a ton of good to have his troublemaking brother sit on a bench and get a shiny new medal for helping the city out.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.” I should have known Walker was serious. Dick.

“What? Come on, Jackie. It’ll be great. Maybe even, you know, you might wanna actually consider coming back to the force after all. I mean, with this under your belt, they might even skip over all the other bullshit and promote you directly to detective.”

The doors open, and I pause before stepping in.

Detective.

Not bad.

I gotta admit. My brother makes a good case.

“What about my pay grade.”

“Probably negotiable.”

“And benefits?”

“One hundred percent covered.”

Huh.

I push the lobby button and begin my descent to the bottom floor.

“And you really think we could work together.”

It’s not a question. Nick’s had this conversation with me before. Only now it’s tangible. Possible even.

When the doors open to the lobby of Lana’s building, I look around and remember why I’m here in the first place, and I answer my brother with a definitive, “No can do, Nick.”

He knew it was coming.

So did you.

Right?

The police force is, simply put, not my style.

After a few seconds of mourning silence, he tells me, “I get it.” And the sound of his voice is enough to make me wanna change my answer.

Only not.

“You and I both know I can’t work for Walker. I’d kill him by week’s end. And even if I didn’t, I’d want to. That kinda grudge interferes with what’s really important.”

“What’s that?”

“Getting the job done.”

Nick lets the gravity of what I’m saying sink in.

“Yeah. I guess.”

He guesses. Fuck him. He knows I’m right.

“But you’re wrong about Walker, Jackson. He’s got issues, sure, but he’s one of the good guys.”

I highly f*cking doubt it. “We’ll see.”

“Stalemate, huh?”

“Stalemate.”

“All right then. Look, I gotta run; Mia and the boys are waiting for me. We’re heading up to Octoberfest. Wanna come with?”

I laugh. “Hell. And no.”

Nick chuckles. “Ow, f*ck.”

“Still hurts?”

“A little. It healed up great and everything. Doc says I might have a built-in weather app from now on, though. Hey, thanks, by the way.”

“For?”

“Trusting me.”

Nick likes to get all mushy and shit when he’s wounded. I’ve seen it a million times.