Jackson Stiles, Road to Redemption (Road to Redemption #1)(17)

She’s good.

She’s very good.

“And champagne,” she adds with a quick glance my way.

Nick’s amusement booms throughout the parking garage. His hand slips away from my chest as he bends over in full-on belly laughter.

While he’s not paying attention to me, I take the opportunity to mouth over to Green, what the f*ck are you doing?

You’re welcome, she mouths back.

Nick stands and wipes tears from his eyes.

“Oh, bro,” he wheezes with the laughter. “When you make an ass of yourself, you don’t screw around.”

I’m not amused.

With either of these two.

“All right, all right, can I go now, Mom?” Granted, I could tell Green she’s a lying sack of shit, Nick to go screw himself, and that I’ll call our mother when I damn well feel like it, but like I said earlier, I’m not in the mood for a debate my love life.

Nick punches me in the arm. “Have a good time.” He waves to Green with further chuckling ensuing. “Great meeting you.”

She smiles. “You too, Nick.”

He points. “Take it easy on my brother tonight, Emma.”

She tilts her head and flashes him an evil grin. “Now, Nick, what’s the fun in that?”

The way she says it has me adjusting my crotch because I can only imagine what Green might find fun.

A little bit of that Dom/sub action shit with whips and chains, maybe?

Role playing?

Whoa, boy.

Good thing I don’t f*cking scare easily.

Nick’s girly giggles can still be heard even when he’s a good fifty feet away. When I can’t see him anymore, I shove aside my sexual daydream and turn my eyes to Green.

“I’m not even gonna ask what you’re doing here.”

“I was—”

“And, hello, don’t you already have a boyfriend you can go torture somehow?”

“He’s not my—”

“And I take it back. What the f*ck are you doing here, Green?”

“What are you doing here?” she retorts with a chirpiness that makes me want to punch a wall or push her up against one.

Either or.

“Work. And what the f*ck was that anyway?” I wave an arm back toward my brother.

“Um, I’m pretty sure that was me saving you from some sort of family drama.”

I stop short. She was spying on me?

“From what I could tell, that is.”

My arms cross. My eyes zero in on her. “How long have you been following me today, Green?” Because another stalker is all I need. Really.

“I wasn’t. I happened to be covering the death of Donnie Leary. The drug addict who was on TV this morning?”

Drug addict?

“You believe everything you see on TV?”

“Mostly.”

Figures. “Why am I not surprised by that?”

“Are you saying he wasn’t a drug addict?”

This is ridiculous.

“Didn’t know him.”

“Really? Because I was interviewing some bystanders and saw you hanging out with those police officers over there.” She hooks a thumb over her shoulder.

“And?”

“And you seemed to be in the middle of a pretty heated conversation with them.”

I reach a hand inside my jacket. My pocket’s empty.

Dammit. What did I do with it?

I could really use a drag right about now.

“I assume you were talking about Mr. Leary.”

“I don’t have time for this shit.”

Must have left it on the counter, this morning. Damn, the Chevelle is so close I can almost touch it.

It’s right there.

“Why was the conversation so abruptly ended as soon as your brother arrived?”

I’m getting a headache. She literally gives me a f*cking headache. How many people can I say that about?

“Of course, I didn’t know he was your brother when I made that observation.” She chews on the inside of her cheek and waits. The back of my neck itches. I need a smoke like I’ve never f*cking needed a smoke before.

I don’t enjoy being backed into a corner by annoyingly intuitive tabloid reporters. Since I can’t find the one thing that might take away the stress of this situation, I divert.

“Why would you wanna do me any favors, anyway?”

“Huh?” Suddenly she’s not the pushy reporter any more. She’s caught off guard. I can tell by the way she takes an inadvertent step backward away from me.

Booyah.

“Why do you care if I have family drama or not? Or better yet, why do you care if I’m uncomfortable about it? You seem to like making people uncomfortable.”

“I wanted to help.”

This, my friend, is humor. In case you didn’t recognize it through her steely disposition or the fake-ass innocent expression on her face.

“Ha! Bullshit.”

“Okay.” She admits it, surprisingly enough. “Jeez, I guess I figured if I did you a solid, you’d give me some information.”

I gotta give it to her. At least the truth is coming out of her mouth this time. Funny as it may be.

“First of all, that wasn’t a solid. I know how to handle myself with my own brother, and secondly, I don’t owe you shit.”