Jackson Stiles, Road to Redemption (Road to Redemption #1)(93)

“Turn around, nice and slow,” the voice instructs me.

Clearly, he has no goddamn clue who I am yet. I may as well fess up. It’s only a matter of turning around before my cover’s blown anyway.

I hold my hands in the air and turn slowly. When my brother gets a glimpse of who he just caught red-handed, spying on the mayor of the city, his entire expression goes from full-on cop mode to big brother mode.

And by this, I mean he grabs me by the collar and drags me to the alleyway so no one else can see me.

Us.

“What the hell are you doing here, Jackie?”

“I could ask you the same f*cking thing, Nickie.”

He’s angry and flustered. I can’t tell if that’s because he knows Dad’s here too, or if he’s not really supposed to be here right now.

As we stare each other down, looking for answers neither one of us wants to dish out, I get another text.

It’s from an unknown number. It’s nothing but an address. By the sheer coincidence that I’d even be getting something like that shit rolling through my f*cking phone, I know where that address is gonna take me.

I close my eyes and have to laugh.

I have to, right?

Fucking Thomas.

“You in some kinda trouble, Jackson?” Nick asks me. “’Cause I’m pretty sure this is the last place you need to be right now.”

It’s in this moment right here, of information overload, that my desperation reaches a point it hasn’t reached in years.

“Do not f*cking tell me you’re in on this shit, Nick.”

“What?”

“Because I swear to f*cking God, I’ll have a goddamn aneurysm right here and now if you’re in on this shit.”

“Jackie.”

“What.”

He holds me still.

“I don’t know what shit you’re specifically referring to.” He swirls his hands around the air between us. “But I can assure you the only shit I’m in on is putting away the bad guys.”

Tension builds between us, then something hits him like a ton of bricks. “And how do you even know there’s shit to be in on?”

“I just f*cking know.”

Flashbacks of arguments past fill me up as Nick and I stand there, each waiting for the other to give in.

He holsters his gun.

I win.

“I’m investigating Graham Black.”

Or, maybe not.

I side eye him, and he adds, “Undercover.”

When I don’t respond, he urges me to give him something.

“So if you’ve got something that might be important to add here, you might want to bring it forward. Like now.”

I cross my arms.

I’m f*cking stubborn like that.

Irritated, he huffs out through his nose, then he shakes his head and throws his arm up in surrender.

“You do this shit all the time, Jackie. You keep shit bottled up inside you because you don’t trust anyone. I don’t know where the hell that all started, but Jesus, I’m your damn brother. I’m the one person you should trust.”

“Whatever.”

Don’t judge me. It’s all I’ve got right now.

“And who the hell knows, maybe if you’d put a little bit of faith in me at some point before now, you wouldn’t be in this, whatever it is you’re in the middle of. Maybe you’d have realized, despite what that warped, paranoid brain of yours thinks half the time, we’re on the same side. Maybe this shit that you’ve gotten yourself into, wouldn’t be so f*cking shitty.”

I take a deep breath and let it out.

Slow.

I reach for my cig and remember it’s lost in the Chevelle somewhere. So I start to head that way.

Nick follows.

Most of the time, when he lectures me about the ins and outs of sharing is caring and I need to be more open about the cases I’m working on with him, it’s kinda like white noise. However, the way he put it this time, it hits me hard. It’s a ton of bricks weighing on my chest, and I can’t take the pangs of guilt wailing away at me anymore.

Who am I kidding? He’s not in on anything shady.

He’s Nick motherf*cking Stiles.

There isn’t a deceitful bone in his big ass body.

So I tell him. Fucking everything.

Almost everything.

I tell him the important parts.

As my brother lets it all sink in, I shoot off a text to Green to let her know I’m with Nick and that I’ve gotta follow a lead.

Then I add, Do not leave with Walker. Whatever you do.

She doesn’t need to be with the brothers Stiles when everything goes down. She’s not experienced with this kind of bad. I’d hate for yet another person to get hurt because of me.

I’d hate for her to get hurt. Period.

Before Nick can say anything, like that I need to turn everything I’ve got over to him and let the police handle this case from here on out, I clarify some things for him.

“Listen. You’re right, Nick. I’m not generally one to give a flying f*ck about who’s right, who’s wrong, and who’s going to jail for something that may or may not be going on at any given second. I might not always have a working moral f*cking compass, but I’m kinda in the middle of this shitstorm, and I’m not going home until that kid is safe.”