Jackson Stiles, Road to Redemption (Road to Redemption #1)(71)

If she was anyone else, I’d wait for her to come back, show her the text, and then give her a piece of my mind for f*cking with my head the past week.

I need some fresh air, though. To clear my head and figure out why in the hell Green would be giving someone information about me.

Does it have to do with Donnie’s death?

Stupid f*cking question.

I slide her phone back into her purse and watch her for another second over at the coffee stand before I take off. Because I don’t want to deal with stupid shit, I shoot her a text saying I have an appointment to get to.

Which I do. Kinda.

At least, it’s not an entire lie. Unlike everything she’s said and done over the last seven days.

I’ve gotta go see Walker and pretend I didn’t just read an incriminating f*cking text off the phone of the woman I might be semi-kinda-sorta falling for. Most of all, I’ve got some goddamn digging to do on a certain brunette who likes to get me riled up in more than just the physical kinda way.





FACING DEMONS


THE REDEMPTION POLICE PRECINCT is located in the belly of the beast. We’re not talking triple-A level of operations, by all means, but it’s not the worst I’ve dealt with over the years, either. Not that I’d admit that to anyone outside of this conversation, mind you.

My brother’s been a part of the team for four years now, and he idolizes Walker. Gets up early every day to make sure he’s clocking overtime for Mia and their boys and doesn’t stop until his last call of the day is taken care of.

He’s been promoted once, awarded team player of the year twice, and so help me God, he still makes less than a school teacher in the suburbs. You’d never guess it, though, with his attitude and do-gooder qualities.

But then, then there’s the rest of the department.

Walker’s assistant, for example. The epitome of ass kissing. A sloth when no one’s looking. All smiles when they are. And don’t get me started on how he’s only into this gig for the notoriety. His face appears in almost every interview Walker has, which proves my point.

But I digress.

Mostly because I have shit to do.

I flip my badge open and rest it on the counter. “Here to see Captain Walker.” I take a look around to see if Jim Galley’s around, just out of curiosity.

Maybe I can interrogate his ass when I’m done with Walker.

Walker’s assistant’s eyes flash from his computer screen, to the badge, to me, then back to his screen.

“He’s busy right now.” He yawns and whether that’s just some special effect he’s cooked up to make a point or he’s trying to show me the ridiculous number of cavities he’s collected over the years; I don’t really give a rat’s ass.

“Yeah, well, he called me.” I flip the ID closed and slip it back into my jacket pocket.

Jim’s nowhere in sight. Must be out killing kids. Poor guy. Rough life.

I wait.

And wait.

And f*cking wait.

“Hellooooooo.” I wave a hand in front of the asshat assistant’s face. You’d think I asked the guy to be the first male to give birth to a T-rex for Christ’s sake, the way he avoids answering me.

He leans back in his chair, swivels and arches when he peeks around the corner. Because, you know, he can’t be f*cking bothered to get up or anything.

When he’s back in place, hypnotized by the screen in front of him again, he sniffs and scrunches his nose up at me.

“You’ll need to come back later.”

Yeah.

That’s not f*cking happening.

“Thanks anyway.” I tap the counter and walk past him.

This, of course, grasps his attention.

“Hey! You can’t go in there.”

“Watch me.”

“But I─”

I swing the door to Walker's office open and make myself comfortable by plopping down into the chair across from him.

“What the hell is this?” He’s not yelling, surprisingly enough. He’s taken aback, yes, but not so much over the fact that I’m here, but that we seemed to have walked in on a very private conversation he’s in the middle of.

“’Sup, Dick.” I kick my feet up onto his desk.

“I’ll call you back,” he says into the phone. Jim, maybe? Then he waves his lapdog out of the room.

I smile and wave as he backs away and closes the door. After that, Walker’s stoic fa?ade cracks. His jaw tightens. I smirk to help contain the fact that what I really wanna do right now is reach across the desk and wring his f*cking neck.

Basic general instincts rarely steer me wrong.

“Stiles, I’m surprised to see you this soon. Glad to have you, of course, but surprised.”

Now, let’s be real for a second or two here. The guy hasn’t been glad to see me since I used to run around with his daughter back in high school. Said I was a bad influence. Funny thing is, she ended up hanging out with the “cool” crowd one night and landed herself in a Virginia jail cell for drinking and driving plus reckless endangerment for going fifty miles an hour over the speed limit.

Of course, that was all expunged once the powers that be found out who she was.

“What’d you need me for, Walker? You sounded damn chipper in your message. Someone up in the ranks die and leave you their super-secret power ring?”