When he throws another punch, not only does he miss me but he falls right the fuck into me.
“I got ya.” We fall to the ground, and it’s only now I see the state he’s in. He’s got a rag around his neck and a rope, that’s been cut, hanging from one of his wrists. He’s dirty and his lips are cracked. I can’t imagine the fuck-heads who brought him here have even fed him.
His eyes roll into the back of his head, and he lets out a sigh of relief. He tries to talk but it’s all jumbled.
“Settle down.” I try to get him to see reason, but he’s frantic.
“He heard shooting.” His voice is strained and rough. He swallows. “And he left, but he won’t be gone long, Jackson. We gotta go!”
“What? Who? Who left?”
“Me.” The semi-familiar, deep voice surprises me. I hadn’t even heard him come in, and I wonder why Nick didn’t fucking warn me somehow. I twist around to get my bearings and prepare for a battle of sarcastic wit, when boy-toy Connor’s fist meets my face.
For a split second, I wonder if Green knows his role in this fuckery. The next thing I know, there’s a white flash, some hot pain, and then nothing but black.
X X X
Massive amounts of cold water wake me.
I almost have myself convinced I’m dreaming until I breathe in the smell of hay, shit, and pot again.
To my right, tied up again, is Stix. To my left, Nick is still bleeding and on the verge of passing out. In front of me, is the head dick.
“Connor.”
“Mr. Stiles.”
“You’re Anonymous?”
“Not exactly.” He grins at me like we’re playing a fucking game here. I’ve had enough games to last me a lifetime.
“Meaning?”
He smiles but doesn’t answer me. Not that I expected him to.
“Man,” I cough out. “Green is so kicking your ass.”
He laughs but gives nothing away.
I still don’t know her role.
Which pisses me the fuck off.
“I gotta say, you really got me with this one. I was expecting dirty cops, and instead, I got a bad accountant.” I try to bait him some more. Let’s see where this goes.
The dick-bag laughs some more. “The police in Redemption don’t have what it takes to make this kind of plan happen, Mr. Stiles.”
I spit out some blood. “You mean the plan where we fall in love and run away together? That plan?”
My gut pays the price for that one.
I cough out, “Shit.”
“That’s enough, Mr. Riley.”
Asshole. Of course, he’s here. I guess Hank had some ambition in him after all.
I’ll worry about his sorry ass later. Right now, I need to keep this conversation going, seeing as I can’t exactly seem to get myself out of this situation.
Yet.
“Why shed the shadows, Connor? You at least had the cover of mystery going for you. Now all you’ve got is”—I look up at him and it hurts. But fuck it—“bad looks and even worse decision-making fucking skills.”
A deep guttural laugh and he proceeds, “You haven’t put all the pieces together yet, have you, Mr. Stiles?” He tsks. “And Emma said you were smart. Pity.”
Hank strolls over with a tablet in his hand. He turns it on and starts up a news app. When it begins the live streams, Graham Black is holding a live news conference.
I look around for Green. You know, out of curiosity’s sake. I find her off in the background looking worse for wear and checking her watch. When she looks up and sees me, she tucks some hair behind her ear and looks away.
Typical.
“I’m guessing this is where you think I’m going to confess to my crimes. Explain my plan?” Now Connor’s baiting me? The stupidity of that comment makes me want to laugh. Too bad my ribs are aching too much to make it happen.
“Nah, I’m good.” I stretch my neck to wipe the blood off my face and onto my shirt. “Cops are making too much money off their drug rings. You want in with no middle man, so you’re staging drug theft within gangs and killing kids.”
Hank turns the volume up on the tablet.
“Simple, really. Pay attention, Mr. Stiles. You’ll appreciate this news conference.”
On the breaking news, Black’s voice has a solemn, grave tone to it. I make a note so when I hear it in the future, I know when he’s lying through this fucking teeth.
“Tonight’s shooting incident on the outskirts of Redemption just goes to show that drugs and corruption are a major threat in our community.”
A picture of Nick pops up on the screen followed by mine, and the kid’s.
“Detective Nick Stiles, the lead detective on the case, was gunned down in the line of duty.” His expression grows dark.
I look over. Nick’s clearly not fucking dead. I nudge him a little, and he groans, which is good. He’s conscious. Kinda.
“With the growing number of drug killings in this city, now including one of our own, we have no other choice but to legalize marijuana! It’s the only way to get drugs off the streets and stop the violence.”
Clapping and murmuring goes on in the background. The crowd has mixed feelings, clearly.
That’s when I read the captions on the pictures.