Jackson Stiles, Road to Redemption (Road to Redemption #1)(51)

“That’s not your responsibility.” The self-preservation in her is showing.

“Actually, it is.”

“You don’t even know this kid.” If she only knew.

“You wouldn’t understand, Green.” The laptop is still locked. No one was in there, at least.

“Then make me.” She stands her ground and has one fierce ass glare when she does it, I have to admit.

Regardless.

“Not now. I need to find out what happened to Stix.”

I grab the phone and call Tricky Ricky. He’s pretty much the know all, be all of the word on the street. Maybe he’s heard something about something that won’t entail me having to give him any specifics.

Of course, the sharing of that knowledge comes with a hefty price.

Which sucks.

I guess I could call Nick, but then he’d wanna know why I need to find a delinquent who most likely isn’t in the system and should be. Plus, what if he blabs to the wrong person?

Tricky it is.

“Who are you calling?”

“A friend.”

The phone rings twice and I check the time. It’s not midnight, so he should be there.

“This is a good friend; I take it?”

“Eh.” The sides of my mouth drag downward. I wouldn’t exactly call him a friend to his face, but semantics.

Three rings and I’m not feeling completely optimistic about this lead. But then, on the fourth…

“What.”

Clearly, I’ve interrupted something.

Not that I give a shit. This is important.

“Rick. It’s Stiles.”

“No shit, Sherlock. I have caller ID What the f*ck do you want?”

I slide away from Green to get some privacy.

“Hey, you hear anything on the streets about a kid about five-seven, dirty blond, MIA from the system, maybe?”

“I’ve got no warrants on any kids this week, Stiles, so─”

“Not warrants. Just, anything.”

He lets out a dramatic ass sigh like I’m keeping him from something much more important. Probably a woman. Or sex toy.

“This that kid you brought here the other day?”

“Yep.”

“Bad idea, Stiles,” he warns me. Like I don’t already f*cking know that shit.

“Tell me what you’ve got, Ricky.”

He lets out a frustrated sigh. “Hold on.”

Papers rustle, and he drops the phone then curses. Someone asks him something in the background. I can’t tell if it’s male or female, to be honest. He grumbles and tells them he’ll be there in a sec, then he picks up the phone again.

“I got nothing.”

“You sure?”

“No, let me f*cking check again; of course, I’m f*cking sure.”

Smart ass. Shit. “Okay, listen, if you hear anything about Flint, the kid, the cops…”

“Yeah, yeah. We never had this conversation, though, you feel me?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer before he hangs up. And that’s it. I’ve got zilch. I toss the phone onto the couch and drag both hands through my hair, trying to think.

“No luck?” Green offers.

“Nope.” I close my eyes and try to come up with where someone like Stix might go if he were in trouble. I doubt he’d go to my office if he’s trying to distance himself from me. That’s assuming he’s still alive.

He needs to be the f*ck alive.

“Stiles.”

“Yeah?”

“Who is he?”

There it is.

Spilling Stix’s identity to Green is probably not the best idea. I typically like to keep all information on any case I may or may not be working from pretty much everyone.

In this case, my gut tells me otherwise.

Maybe because of the way she handled herself with Dice yesterday. Or how she knew I needed to get the hell away from the bullshit with my family tonight. Or maybe that voodoo she does on me every once in a while. Purposely or not.

Or maybe because it’s apparent that someone knows about him already. Whether they were tracking me because I’m nosing around too much, or because they already knew he was out there.

I don’t know.

Despite any of it, I should probably keep my mouth shut.

“He’s no one.”

“You’re lying.” I can hear it in her tone. She’s pissed. Not that I should give a flying f*ck.

“I’m not.”

“You’re a lying liar who lies very badly, Stiles. Who is he?”

I don’t budge, but she’s got this look. Like the wheels are turning and there’s a puzzle she’s putting together inside that head of hers.

“Don’t go stringing shit together that doesn’t want to be, Green.”

“Holy. Wait.”

And there it is. The lightbulb.

“Why didn’t this make sense before?”

Dammit.

“Green.”

“Why would you take him to see Thomas about what happened to Donnie Leary if…”

“Seriously?” I laugh. “You don’t wanna go there.”

“Is this kid related to Donnie somehow?”

I point at her. “I didn’t say that.”