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

“Okay.” He adjusts in his seat. “What else?”


“Then there’s the fact that ex-cops are living on the streets like homeless people, and they may or may not have witnessed other cops visiting Thomas’s headquarters once or twice.”

“Okay, that is bullshit.”

“I thought that too, at first, but then there’s the crème de la crème.”

“Big words; I’m scared.” Nick’s not blowing smoke. Neither am I, if I’m being fucking honest.

“You should be. Because why in the hell would Walker want me to come work for him if he wasn’t trying to manipulate me out of working this case?”

He scowls over at me. “Say what?”

“Your team specifically.”

“You are so full of it. You know that?” He’s laughing. He literally thinks this is a joke. Or hopes it is, maybe.

“I’m not lying.”

“When? When did Richard Walker request your presence on the Redemption police force?”

“Today, actually.”

That quiets him down. “I thought he was interviewing candidates for a special assignment today.”

“Guess I’m the special assignment.”

Nick thinks. He thinks a lot. Then he insists, “He can’t be shady, Jackson. I’ve known the guy my whole career. He mentored me. It was because of him that I went out for detective, for Christ’s sake.”

“Did you see him slip Dad that piece of paper?”

“What? What piece of paper?”

“Don’t know; I couldn’t get a good enough look at it. I was working on that when you so rudely interrupted my ass.” Still am, actually. “And I think Walker might have been the contact Green was supposed to meet there tonight.”

And why in the hell hasn’t she texted me back yet?

Dammit. This is why you do not get involved on a personal level with people during a goddamn case. The word is right there, plain as day.

Personal.

Too late, asshole.

As I struggle internally with myself over just exactly how personal things are with Green, and whether or not that’s a good thing, it occurs to me that all this bullshit isn’t something Nick is ready to hear yet. And I don’t have any locked and loaded proof. So I humor him on his whole Walker’s a good guy theory.

“Maybe I’m wrong, though.” And maybe I just have bad timing.

“Damn right.”

“Fine.”

“Great.”

“Idiot.”

“Jackass.”

His lips curl up ever so fucking slightly, and I know we’re good again for the time being.

Siri tells me to turn down a dirt road I can barely see this time of night. “I think we’re here.”

“W─” There’s no need for Nick to finish asking that question. Movement from outside catches our attention, and I slam on the brakes to avoid running smack into the chain-link fence in front of us.

The movement outside has me checking my rearview mirror, but it’s too late. We’re surrounded.

And Green is a terrible fucking listener because there she is, standing on the side of the road with Walker, slightly surprised to see me.

“The fuck?”

“What’s Emma doing here?” Nick asks me through the side of his mouth.

“I have no fucking clue. But, hey, look. There’s your boss.” I tell him through the side of mine. Good guy, my ass.

When Green pulls her revolver out of the holster hanging from her hip, part of me wants to congratulate her for getting rid of the ankle kit. The other part of me wants to kick my own ass for giving her the idea to change it up in the first place.

There’s no expression on her face as she points the gun at us and motions for me to get out of the car.

I take that back; there is an expression. It’s called betrayal. How fucking stupid can I be in the span of a week?

I turn the engine off and give my brother a look.

Once upon a time, back in high school, if anything was going down, we’d share this look to let each other know it would all work out; we had each other’s back. It was kinda our thing.

Right now, I’m not sure what he’s thinking, but I’m getting a bad feeling about this situation. And I’m sure as hell not so confident that everything’s gonna work the fuck out.

We open our doors and slide out of the Chevelle, slow and easy. Hands up. We know the drill.

“Hi, Stiles.” Green gives me a half-smile.

I nod once for her. “Judas.”

“Kinda wishing you weren’t here right now.”

“Kinda wishing I hadn’t banged you last night.”

“Don’t be like that.” She looks sincerely offended.

Hypocrite.

“Like what? Regretting that my dick was inside an evil temptress less than twenty-four hours ago?”

“Stiles…” she warns.

“That I shared shit with you I haven’t shared with-”

“That’s enough.” The sound of someone’s voice, off in the dark distance, interrupts me. I peer out into the night to try and see who it is. I want some confirmation that it’s Black. But I see nothing.

When I’m back to Green, she tucks some hair behind her ear.

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