Jackson Stiles, Road to Redemption (Road to Redemption #1)(77)

“Then who is it? Who wants intel on Stiles?”

Green let’s some oxygen leave her chest. “I don’t know. Exactly.” She plays with a section of the sofa cushion fabric. Her actions are like a kid caught with her hands in the tip jar at the pizza joint down the road. Only there’s something else there behind her words.

Relief?

There’s also some reluctance when it comes to whoever this person is. We can come back to the mystery texter later.

And we will be coming the f*ck back to that shit. Believe me.

“What were you and Walker meeting about then? Must’ve been important. And something he didn’t want anyone to know about since it was off premises and shit.

Now, she peeks over at me. Shy and new. Just like that day I met her on the scene of her first crime.

I know better, though.

“It was awkward, really.”

“You looked pretty f*cking comfortable to me.”

Her eyes shoot to mine. “I was just trying to─”

“Trying to what?” I’m a little too jacked up right now to play nice. “Join the official anti-Jackson movement and make me look like a f*cking *? Walker give you a special pin or some shit? I hope so. Damn, Green. Tell me he gave you a special f*cking pin.”

“He didn’t─”

“That’s f*cked up. I’d go tell that dick you want your goddamn pin, and you want it now.”

“I─”

“That way, next time I see you, I’ll know which f*cking side you’re on. No question.”

“Jesus, Stiles.” She raises her voice. “Would you please just. Shut. The Fuck. Up!”

The screaming catches me off guard and lights a fire in my nether regions. Despite the fact I’m on a roll here, I find myself, indeed, shutting the f*ck up. It’s enough to let her say what she’s been waiting to say since I started in on her.

And when I say attitude, I mean, you know, yelling.

She levels her anger and lowers her voice again.

“Walker’s been trying to contact me for days. When we started putting him into the equation of this Donnie Leary thing, I thought, why not meet with him? Maybe I can find something out that would help.”

“And?”

“And, so, I called him back this morning. He told me it was his understanding that you and I are…” This is where she gets uncomfortable. “That I’m…” She’s fumbling her words. “He was under the impression you and I are close.”

An abrupt bark of a laugh escapes me. “Why the f*ck would he think that?”

Were we getting there in our own, strangely workable kinda way? Maybe, but now? I don’t have a goddamn clue.

Green lets out a vengeful sigh, and her eyes shoot me a warning. I back off and let her finish.

It’s the polite thing to do.

“I got the impression my name came up in a conversation or two that he had with your brother.”

Nick.

Fucker.

“I don’t think Nick did it maliciously, for what it’s worth.” She can tell what I’m thinking now? When did that happen? “It seems more to me like Walker is good at using every bit of information he collects to his advantage.”

I give her that one. Walker is a douche, after all.

“What’d he want?”

“He was thinking about asking you to come back to the force. He wanted my opinion on how best to approach you with the topic. I told him I had no idea, that I didn’t really know you all that well, but he insisted I knew you better than probably anyone else in Redemption.” She breaks long enough to let a nervous laugh out. “I thought it was a really weird thing for him to say, since, does anybody know the real Jackson Stiles?”

“Green.”

She stops. “Hmmm?”

“Breathe.”

She nods. “Right.”

I gotta admit, her story rings true. Especially considering the fact she still has no idea Walker called me, or that I visited him today. Unless he suspected me of tailing him. In which case, he might have spilled the beans to her.

Perfect story.

The way Green bites her thumbnail like it’s her last meal tells me she’s thinking about something. Hard.

“What?”

She chews on her lip some before telling me, “I still can’t decide if he works for Anonymous, or if this is all just a fluke.”

Um. “Anonymous?”

“The texter. It’s really the first time I’ve heard from him directly, actually.”

“You call him Anonymous.”

“Well, what else am I supposed to call him?” She hesitates, frustrated. “Or her, I guess.”

I’ve got a few ideas.

“Dickbag. Dickless. Dickometry. Dickometer. Dick─”

“I get it,” she cuts me off. “Oh my God.”

She’s right. The name can come later. “So you’ve heard from him before?”

“Or her.”

Okay. Patience, Stiles.

“Let’s just say him for simplicity’s sake, shall we?” She’s gotta make everything difficult.

“Fine. Him. Yeah, but only a few times, and only through other people. Person. Just one person, actually.” Her voice becomes heavy and softer with those last words. I don’t like the sound of it.