Jackson Stiles, Road to Redemption (Road to Redemption #1)(76)

I’m nobody.

Or so I’ve been told on several occasions over the past decade.

After about a half hour of self-deprecation, foggy theories, and wishing I had another bottle of Patron Silver in stock, I’m ready for lights out. I start down the hallway when a knock at the door stops me dead in my tracks.

It could be Nick. Maybe Mia was more pissed off than he thought she would be.

Or, it could be someone who’s been killing off Redemption’s troubled youth.

I take a peek through the curtain, and I don’t know if I’m relieved or not that it’s neither.

Open or ignore? Open… ignore…

I open it.

Of course, I f*cking open it.

“I’ve been looking for you all day.” Funny how Green seems so concerned.

“Really.”

“Yeah, the way you left at brunch, I wondered if you had a new lead or something, but then I never heard from you, and you didn’t respond to any of my texts either. Didn’t you get my texts?”

“Must have missed ’em.”

I’m kidding; I got them. I ignored that shit.

She leans in and takes a whiff of me. “Have you been drinking?”

I shy away. “A little.”

“Are you okay?”

All I can do is laugh at that one.

“Can I come in?” Her voice is different. Quiet.

I think about it. I should probably slam the door in her face. Tell her to f*ck off and take her bullshit about caring and sharing and wanting to help and shove it up her ass.

Truth is, I can’t.

I want her here.

Fuck me. I want her.

Here. I mean, I want her here. And I want her.

Fuck.

Me.

Against my better judgement, I leave the door open while I go find another bottle of something in the kitchen.

I know I’m gonna regret this shit.





FUCKERY IN PROGRESS


“WHAT’S THE MATTER WITH YOU?” Green is careful. Deliberate. There’s no trace of betrayal in sight. Always the professional.

“Seriously?” I can’t believe she’s even asking me this shit right now. And where is my f*cking cigarette?

Ah.

Tonight could be the night, old friend.

When I grab it from the counter, Green promptly takes it out of my hand and sets it back down. She’s like a bloodhound. She senses something’s not quite right.

“Yeah, seriously.” She takes off her jacket and tosses it down onto the couch along with her purse. She throws it with a force that causes one of the couch cushions fall on top of the heap. When she pushes her sleeves up to her elbows, I know she’s readying for a smack down. As well she should be, if you ask me. Still, she refuses to give anything away. She’s waiting for me to say it.

“Okay.” So I f*cking say it. “I saw you with Walker today.”

No reason to beat around the motherf*cking bush. Right?

“You…” Her eyes widen. Only a tad. When her eyes drop, so does my give-a-damn. I kinda wanna spit right now.

“When?”

That’s right. Panic, woman.

I ignore the question. She knows when.

“Oh, and I also saw your super-secret text from,” —I wave a hand, dismissively—“whoever the f*ck it was from.”

Bam.

Double whammied her ass. Not that it makes this situation any easier to deal with.

Green’s face flushes red—for a different reason than usual. I don’t like it so much.

She gathers herself despite the fire bomb of information I just laid on her. Or tries to, anyway. Meanwhile, my heart’s doing a never-ending drumroll inside my chest.

“You snooped through my phone?” Her eyes narrow in on me. I refuse to feel bad for that shit, though. “I didn’t know you were such a busybody, Stiles.”

Her attempt at throwing some guilt my way fails.

“Yeah, well, that’s what I do. I investigate shit. But what I didn’t know is that you were such good friends with the one guy who might be behind all this bullshit we’ve been sifting through.” My voice echoes through the apartment. Color me angry.

Her body shifts as her words drift off, and there goes the hair behind her ear. “I was trying to─”

“Play both sides of the fence? Yeah, heard that one before.”

“I wasn’t going to say that.” She’s still calm. It drives me f*cking insane.

“Then what were you gonna say, Green?” I sit my ass down onto the edge of the couch. “Please share. ’Cause I’m dying to hear this bullshit.”

She crosses her arms and rubs them like she’s cold. Only it’s not cold in here. Unless she’s feeling the effects of my steely demeanor, in which case, it’s definitely f*cking freezing.

“Where do you want me to start?”

Hmmm. So many options. “Is Walker the texter?”

“No.” Her answer is immediate, which means either she knew I’d ask that question and she was prepared, or Walker really isn’t the texter. Something I’m not sure I’m willing to accept just yet.

Now I’m pissed the f*ck off that I didn’t write the goddamn number down when I saw it before bolting earlier. Something that should have come to mind pretty easily, except that when it comes to Green, my brain doesn’t quite function on all cylinders. At least, not the ones sitting roughly three inches above my shoulders.