Jackson Stiles, Road to Redemption (Road to Redemption #1)(52)

“Is he a boyfriend?”

“Green.” Really?

“Holy shit! This would make a great story.”

She takes her cell out and starts to call someone. I grab her wrist, unamused, and take the phone away.

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“Why? If he’s Donnie’s whatever, maybe I can get an exclusive.”

Example number one as to why I don’t share information with people. Especially reporter people.

“Because.”

“There’s absolutely no reason you can give me to keep this quiet, Stiles. Maybe he has a lead for the police. If gangbangers killed─”

“Gangbangers didn’t kill Donnie, Green.”

Her eyes narrow.

“I don’t think they did, anyway.” I add as an afterthought.

“What do you know?” She relaxes, slightly. I let go of her wrist and hand back the phone.

“Enough to know you don’t wanna run this story and beg the attention of who did kill him.”

She sits, crosses her legs, and lifts one of her perfectly manicured eyebrows. “Spill it, Stiles.”

“You don’t wanna get involved in this. Trust me.”

“Ha! Trust you?” She leans forward. “Not only do I want to get involved, but you’re going to tell me who that kid is. Do you know why?”

I cross my arms. This oughta be good. “Why’s that?”

“Because I’m covering this story with or without you.”

“You’ll be dead before it’s out a day.”

“Is that a threat of some sort?” She thinks I threaten. I don’t threaten. I promise.

I open my mouth to tell her it’s fact, when a knock at the very open, very—I should have closed that f*cking door—allows me to avoid this conversation for now. One of the men in blue from down at the crime scene steps into my apartment. Another more familiar one follows behind him.

We lock eyes, and I’m just hoping Green has enough sense to keep her f*cking mouth shut for the time being.

When Frodo runs in behind the men in blue, mewing and hungry, I make a mental note to give the cat a piece of my f*cking mind, later on, about where he wandered off to for an entire day.

“I don’t think I sent out any invitations to a powwow tonight, gentlemen.” I go to get some Cat Chow out of the kitchen.

“We’re gonna need to ask you a few questions, Mr. Stiles.” the no-name tells me.

“Oh yeah? Well, by all motherf*cking means, interrupt my night and go on.”

Hopefully, my copious amount of wit and sarcasm aren’t wasted on these guys.

“Where were you tonight, sir?”

My hopes are dashed as I pour some food into Frodo’s bowl and join everyone back in the living room.

Just kidding. I have no hope.

“Out.”

Jim Galley laughs. “That’s bullshit. We all saw your lights on, Stiles. I personally saw the glare of a TV from the cruiser.”

“It’s a little f*cking creepy that you’re so interested in my apartment, Jim.”

“There’s a dead woman right outside your building, Stiles. Of course, I’m interested.”

Dick.

“I noticed the dead girl. Maybe you should be a little more worried about that than what my social plans are. Huh, Jim?”

“Where. Were. You.” He takes a step forward, and Green blocks his path. It’s kinda cute how she thinks she can stop the mammoth.

“He was with me tonight. And his brother, Nick Stiles. Detective Nick Stiles? Maybe you know him.”

I kinda dig protective Green. But side note, of course, they f*cking know Nick. Everyone on the force knows Nick Stiles.

Jim seems put off by my white knight. And annoyed.

Fine by me.

“Well, that doesn’t take away from the fact that someone was in here.”

Fuck-nut.

“Maybe I left the TV on. Or better yet, maybe I have a guest.”

“Oh yeah? Who’s visiting you, Stiles?” He takes out a pen and paper to write a name down even though it seems to me he already knows. Maybe that was his cruiser trolling my lunch stop today.

“Rumple-none-of-your-f*cking-business-stiltskin,” I tell him. Luckily, Green stays mum.

“Maybe we take this conversation downtown.”

“Maybe you kiss my ass and we call it a day.”

Touch me, *. I dare you.

“Stiles.” Green whispers out a warning from the side of her mouth. Like they can’t hear that shit.

“Screw this. You want a conversation with me? Call my goddamn lawyer. Until then, get the hell out of my apartment.”

“Gonna play it like that, huh?” Jim challenges me.

“Abso—f*cking-lutely.” I don’t break eye contact. When he finally does, Jim says something low and top secret like to the putz he brought up here to make everything look up and up.

“We’ll be in touch, Miss…”

Green starts to give him her name, and I cut her off.

“Looking forward to hearing from ya, Jim,” I tell him, and hope Green gets the hint.

Jim drops it and leaves. When he closes the door behind him, I don’t waste a minute getting a bag together while I search the rest of the apartment for anything that might be missing.