Jackson Stiles, Road to Redemption (14 page)

I gotta say, I’m impressed. Using a heel as a deadly weapon. Not bad.

“Calm down,” Thomas tells his lackeys, even-keeled.

I, however, am not so calm.

I keep the S&W trained on the big man in charge as I keep an eye on Dice, hoping Thomas doesn’t hold this shit against me.

Wishful fucking thinking, dumbass.

“I’m gonna ask you again, Tom. Can I trust you on that?”

He nods. Slowly. “You can trust me on that, Jack. I’ve got no beef with Donnie. Or his brother.” He says that last part a little louder than I’d expect him to. Then he warns me, “Now, you come back here again and you better hope you’ve got an archangel on your shoulder. People don’t generally question my actions, much less twice in one day. You get me?”

His voice is cool and eerie, and if I’m being a hundred percent honest, it sends a chill up my spine. Not that I’m gonna let his sorry ass know that.

I pull the gun back and uncock it.

“You really believe in angels, Tom?” I ask him sincerely as I holster it away.

“Don’t you?” The way he looks at me makes me think the wrong answer could get me a bullet to the head. So I don’t give him one.

“I get you, Tom. Thanks for the info.”

I give Green a nod. “Get in.”

She points down the street at the Honda she came in. “But my car─”

“Get. In.”

Seriously? I need to fucking tell her twice?

Her survival instinct kicks in, and she hurries to the other side of the car, pulls open the door, and slides in. I’m not even halfway down the street before I start grilling her.

“Do you have a death wish or something?” I glare over at Green, and her expression says it all. She’s shell-shocked.

Jimmy sits up in the back and checks behind us. “That was intense, man.”

“Well, if you hadn’t shown up all─” Green waves her hands around. I have no idea what the fuck that’s supposed to mean.

“Your boyfriend know you’re playing house with Thomas Flint’s gang?”

“He is
not
my boyfriend.”

“That guy? Dice? Scary.” Jimmy’s still revisiting what just happened. I flash him a look through the rearview mirror that hopefully says
shut the fuck up
and go back to sparring with Green.

“Then what is he?”

Why did I ask that? That’s not what I was gonna ask.

“He’s…” She can’t answer. Either because she doesn’t want to admit out loud that he’s her boyfriend, or she doesn’t know what they are yet.

I have no idea why I care either way.

“Did you see the size of his─”

“Shut up!” Green and I both tell the kid.

“Jeez.” He throws himself back into his seat with the emotion of a thirteen-year-old girl. The car goes quiet after that, allowing me a few minutes to think and calm down.

I don’t exactly wanna get back on the subject of the boyfriend, so I change the subject.

“Anyone teach you those survival tactics or was that a natural instinct kinda thing?”

“What?” For the first time, I notice she’s shaking. Maybe our run-in affected her more than she showed out there.

“Nothing,” I mumble. I take the opportunity I have to think about what just happened myself.

If Thomas didn’t have his guys do Donnie that means either someone from his crew did it out of order, the kid had an enemy, or it was the cops. My gut is telling me it’s the cops, but I don’t get why. Donnie was small time. Other than that murder he was wanted for, that is. Which brings me to my next point.

How does a kid with nothing but petty theft-and I do mean petty─and street racing on his record suddenly turn to murder?

I didn’t kill that guy.

His plea from the night I took him in echoes in the back of my mind. My stomach churns again at the thought of handing an innocent kid over to the slaughter house.

I am such a fucking moron.

“Two questions.”

Green must be warping out of scared shitless stage and into real life again.

Yay.

She doesn’t wait for me to give the go ahead.

“Why did you lie to me about knowing anything having to do with Donnie Leary, and how do I get my car back?” I’m not exactly disappointed with her ability to interrupt my thoughts. I
am
a little peeved she’s backing me into a corner.

“Lying is part of my job, Green. And you know you had no business getting your nose all up in Thomas Flint’s world, right? I mean, do you have any fucking idea how lucky you are I showed up?”

She lets out a huge, sarcastic laugh. “Excuse me?”

Offended.

“What?”

“You are such a chauvinistic pig, you realize that,
right
?”

“Chauva… I saved your
ass
back there.”

“Um. I’m sorry, but I’m pretty sure I was the extra gun you needed when that Dice guy pulled his on you.” Her head jerks to accentuate certain words, and her hands fly around so much I’m surprised they haven't hit me. Again.

“You’re a liability that shouldn’t have been there in the first place.” She starts to defend herself, but I’m not done yet. “Do you know how to stay out of trouble, though? No, you’re Emma motherfucking Green. You’ve gotta be
all
up in trouble’s face like it’s nobody’s business,
interviewing
the gangbanger.”

I use air quotes for like two seconds, and she barks at me about putting my hands back on the steering wheel.

When I glance up into my rearview mirror, I see Jimmy snickering behind me.

“Even if I hadn’t been interviewing that guy. And trust me, I was interviewing him and happened to have gotten some very interesting information, thank you very much. You still had a two-against-one situation with that Thomas guy and his friend. There’s no way you would have─”

“They aren’t friends, Green, trust me, and I’ve taken more than two guys on at a time before.”

I say it and she skips a beat, then starts fucking laughing. I don’t know if she’s officially lost her fucking mind or just giving up on making any sense at all.

“What?”

And now Jimmy’s laughing too. “That’s what she said, man.”

Then I get it. One guy. Taking on two guys. Ha. Ha.

“What-the-fuck-ever.” I go back to driving.

“I bet that was very
hard
,” Green jibes.

Jimmy snorts. “He probably had some
stiff
competition.”

“Fuck you both.”

They roar with laughter. Between the two of them, they might be acting fucking twelve right now. So I pull over at the 7-Eleven we’re about to pass. “Get the hell out.”

“Oh, come on, Stiles, lighten up. We almost died back there.”

“Oh, so now you can admit it.”

Her mouth twists up on the side, and I notice the dimple it creates in her left cheek.

“I might not have thought that visit through all the way,” she says, then she adds, a little quieter, “I’m glad you were there.”

Her admission is unexpected, to say the least. And the way she says it, the way her voice falls, just slightly, the graininess it gives off… it’s nice.

Unwilling to let her get inside my head again, I look back at Jimmy. “You got anything else to say, genius?”

He shakes his head, trying not to smile. So I pull out onto the street.

Truth is, though, if it wasn’t me they were laughing at, I’d probably be chiming in myself. It’s difficult to hide the amusement. I think Green notices the grin that spreads across my lips, but when I look over at her, she’s quick to turn and focus on what’s outside the window.

I fight the urge to push the stray hair tangled around her ear out of the way. No sense in sending out the wrong signal.

Right?

Besides, I need to get her home.

“Gonna need an address if you don’t want the boy-toy sending the troops out after you, Green.”

She lets out a sigh as if she’s actually sad our little adventure is over. Then she nods and gives me the address.

I recognize the part of town but I figure I better not pass judgement just yet. Maybe she’s on the outskirts.

“I’m Stix, by the way.” The kids puts a hand out to her, and she takes it with a genuine smile.

“Emma.”

X X X

“Nice place. You must be living the dream over at
The
Chronicle
,” I tease her when we pull up to one of the swankiest apartment complexes in all of Redemption. I’m really only half teasing, though. I kinda wanna know how she can afford this place.

Tabloids don’t pay
that
much.

“Not as much as you’d think,” she mumbles as she gathers her things. “It’s Connor’s place.”

“
Connor
?” She’s dating a guy named
Connor
?

Green eyeballs me in a way that practically begs me not to give her any more shit about him tonight. For some reason, I’m inclined to give her a break.

“We’ll get your car back,” I promise her.

“Before or after they vandalize it?” She’s only semi-serious.

“Before.” Hopefully.

Green nods and gives me one of her cards. “My cell is on there. Call me when I need to get my battle gear ready.”

I stifle a laugh. “Will do.”

She leaves me sitting there, and instead of pulling away right off the bat, I watch her go. I’m not exactly sure what the fuck to think of the woman any more.

Why is she so interested in this case? And how in the
hell
did she have the balls to pull a gun on Flint’s guy like that?

When she gets to the front door of the building, she turns unexpectedly and catches me watching her. I feel her gaze from here and find myself wondering if the blush in her cheeks is back.

I smile at the thought of it.

She’s quick to break the connection between us, but instead of making a smooth getaway, she runs smack into the revolving door.

The sides of my mouth tug into a much wider grin, and a chuckle escapes me. As much as I’d like to stay and see what else she can physically harm herself with, I throw the Chevelle into gear and take the lingering speculation of the mystery that is Emma Green with me.

DON’T DO ME ANY FAVORS

JIMMY STANDS at the counter inside my favorite sub shop. While he tries to make up his mind what the fuck kind of sandwich he’s in the mood for, I take a step back and give Green a call.

It’s not that I want to. I have to.

Something she said earlier has been nagging at the back of my brain.

“Hey, can I get chips too?” I nod and wave off the kid. Why do I give a shit if he gets chips?

“Emma Green.” She’s answers all bubbly like and whatnot. Like she wasn’t just almost killed by Redemption’s most notorious and unforgiving drug lord.

“Green. It’s Stiles.”

“Oh, good, now I can put you into my contacts. What’s up?”

Awesome. I’m a
contact
now. That’s exactly what I need.

“Hey, that interesting tidbit of info you got from Thomas’s guy earlier?”

“Yeah?”
Coy.

“What was it about?”

Hesitation, check.

“Why should I tell
you
?”

Flirtatious banter, check.

Misguided assumption that she’s got one over on me, check.

Clearly, she doesn’t know me well enough to know how much I enjoy the hell out of a challenge.

Jimmy gets his food. I slide up next to him and give the cashier my card for our lunches. He points to the cookies in the glass case next to us.

Why not? “Can we get a couple of those?” I ask the cashier. He wants to know which ones, so I nod to the kid, and he tells him what he wants.

“Can we get a couple of what?” Green asks from the other end of the line, confused.

“Not you. Listen, I was thinking.”

“Might want to be careful how much you do that, Stiles.” She snorts and I shake my head at how she just laughed at her own damn joke.
Amateur.

“Anyway…”

“I’m not sharing my intel with you.”

“Why’s that?” I haven't even asked the fucking question yet.

“Because you don’t think I can handle writing this article. But I’m going to prove to you, and everyone else in this God-forsaken town, that I can write a
real
story.”

See? Even she can admit she’s been blowing smoke up this city’s ass.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Green.”

“Oh really?”

“Really. See, I
know
you can handle writing the fucking article.”
Unfortunately.
“What I don’t think you can handle is dealing with drug dealers who’ve killed a lot of people for a lot less than writing something up on them in a tabloid.”

“Ha!”

“That’s funny?”

She’s quiet for a minute.
Not good.
Jimmy points to the large drink cup. I nod again.

“Okay,” Green says finally. “I’ll tell you what my informant said, and you give me some details on Donnie Leary’s death.”

Not happening.

Must divert.

“Informant, Green? Really? That guy was hardly an informant. He was barely a human being.”
More like a primate on steroids.

“Do we have a deal or not?”

Should have known she was more of a tunnel vision kinda gal.

“How about you tell me what you found out, and I give you some pointers on how to steer clear of Thomas’s crew in the future?” That’s fair. Right?

“Goodbye, Stiles.”

“Wait!”

Shit. I jumped the gun.

I can’t tell her what I know about Donnie. If I do, she’ll run the story. If she runs the story, she’s gonna exaggerate. Exaggerations will get her killed. More importantly, she’ll get me killed.

And probably Jimmy.

“I’m listening. But not for long.” I picture her standing there, doing her nails or fucking putting lipstick on or something, thinking she’s got this in the bag. But I still have an ace up my sleeve.

“You still need your car back, right?”

“I’ll get it myself.”

She is so fucking stubborn.

But so am I.

“Okay then.”

Silence grips the conversation.

“Dammit,” she breathes from the other end. And I grin.

Gotcha
.

“I’ll pick you up in a couple hours.”

X X X

Starving, apparently, Jimmy’s halfway through his sandwich by the time I’m off the phone with Green. I enter turkey and pickles heaven when I bite into mine. Partly because I just got a leg up on the smart ass of the year. Mostly because of the double meat they packed into my order.

This day is turning around, and hopefully, whatever Green’s got in the form of information can help me in my investigation into Donnie’s death. If not, I’m risking my life to go get a car that’s most likely about two to five years past its life expectancy.

Truth is, I have no idea if her car is still gonna be in one piece or not. For all I know, they’ve stripped it and sold the parts by now, but then again, where’s he gonna sell Honda parts?

“Thanks for lunch, man.” Jimmy’s mouth is stuffed with meatballs and cheese. I gotta laugh at the kid. He’s like one of those depraved, abandoned dogs you see running around the homeless parts of town.

A lot like one of those dogs, actually.

“You know you’re a…” A slow moving cruiser passes the food joint, and I watch it closely to make sure it’s not gonna come to a complete stop. If so, we’re outta here.

“What?” he asks, taking another bite out of his sandwich.

“Huh?” I try to blow it off.

“You said I’m a… and then zoned out. What’s up?” The kid turns to see what I’m ogling. I don’t want him bolting on me because of a highly suspicious-looking cop.

“Nothing. You gonna eat or what?” He faces me again to make sure I’m not stealing his grub and that’s that. Except for the fact that I have a funny fucking feeling about that cruiser.

It’s difficult to see in through the tinted windows of the sub shop, though. Especially when it’s sunny out. I’m probably overreacting.

Hell, even I know I’m full of shit on that one.

I need to get the kid somewhere safe. Not that I have a whole lot of options. My circle of trust includes questionable suspects from over a dozen cases I’ve been involved in.

Relax, I’m kidding. I have no circle of trust.

Tricky was kind of my only choice, and with that opportunity being snuffed out like a cigarette under a church pew, I’m kinda screwed.

Speaking of which.

I pull the long, tobacco-filled paper out of my shirt pocket and set it down beside my food.

“You can’t smoke that in here, Jackson.” One of the employees, Linda, tells me from behind the counter. Like I didn’t know that shit. I give her a friendly nod anyway. I don’t need to piss these people off. There aren’t many establishments that give me free double meat these days.

Truth be told, I wasn’t gonna smoke it anyway.

I just need to see it. So I can deny it the satisfaction of owning my ass.

“Listen, I was thinking, kid.”

“Yeah.” He shoves a handful of chips into his mouth.

“You should probably stay at my place.”

“Really?” His expression lightens about fifty fold.

“For a few days. ’Til we can figure out the sitch.” I don’t want him to get all fucking giddy about it.

Too late for that, though.

“Dude, this is so awesome. I won’t be a pain, I swear, and that bathroom thing, don’t worry, I’ll clean it up.”

The what?

“What bathroom thing?” I dare to ask, and when he starts to explain, I stop him. “Never mind, I don’t wanna know.”

He laughs, and I go back to eating my sub while scanning the street to make sure that cruiser didn’t double back.

It’d be nice to take the next half hour or so to think some things through before I head off to Green’s apartment building. Unfortunately, my offer to let Stix have a place to sleep that doesn’t entail boxes or getting killed throws the kid into a rant that lasts roughly forty-five minutes.

Once we’re done, I scope the streets one last time for any more marked
or unmarked
cars hanging around. I don’t see any, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t out there, and I don’t wanna think about whether or not they caught a glimpse of Stix. If they did, and the cops are part of some elaborate murder plot involving Donnie Leary, we’re screwed.

X X X

Back at my place, I pull the key off my ring and hand it to Jimmy. “You can sleep on the couch until we figure out a better deal for you.”

He reaches for the key, and I snag it away. I need to lay down some ground rules before I leave him again.

“Do not touch my fucking computer or anything in the seven-square-foot area that is my bedroom. Got it?”

“Got it.”

He reaches for the key again.

“And don’t fucking break any more of my locks.”

“Okay.”

“And I want a full report, in detail, on how you managed that fuckery.”

He laughs. “Fine.”

I hand him the key.

“Where are you going anyway?”

I breathe out heavily. “I gotta get Green’s car back for her.”

The kid smiles.

“What?”

“Nothin’,” he insists before he bails out of the Chevelle. I watch him all the way to my door, making sure no one’s lurking around watching him. Or me.

When I spot Lilah across the street, I realize I probably shouldn’t have waved to her earlier. This time, I don’t acknowledge that I see her. I simply drive off. She’ll get the hint, eventually. Hopefully. Poor kid needs a life.

X X X

Green’s waiting outside her apartment building when I arrive. Sorry,
Connor’s
building. What the fuck does this guy do for a living anyway? The Grand is one of Redemption’s most expensive places to live.

When she slides into the car, I’m tempted to ask her how long she’s been seeing him. Then I remember, I don’t give a shit.

“You’re late.” She slams the door—not too hard—just enough to send a message. She likes punctuality.

“You’re welcome.” I send her my own message. As in, I’m doing this out of the kindness of my fucking heart.

She gets comfortable. I divert my eyes from the way her legs rub up against each other and how her breasts rise and fall in a slow, seductive way with each breath she takes.

I’m officially a hormone-induced teenager.

“Like what you see, Stiles?”

“What?”

That’s what you call getting busted for fantasizing about taking off her clothes.

My eyes snap to hers but I’m not embarrassed. She doesn’t seem to be either as she grins over at me. She wants it to come off like she’s screwing with me, I’m sure, but it’s not that fake shit she throws at my brother or the criminals she likes to hang out with. No. This one’s sincere. I can tell it’s different. It’s not forced, and is she blushing?

“Trying to tempt me, Green?”

She tilts her head and stares straight ahead.

“Didn’t know that was even possible, Stiles. I was beginning to think you were a heartless terminator.”

“Ouch.” I grab my chest. “That hurts.”

I stop at the exit that leads out onto the highway and wait for some traffic to go by.

“Sure it does,” she mumbles, annoyed probably, but she’s also smiling.

“You’re in a good mood.” And no, I do not want to know why.

“I’m always in a good mood.”

“Bullshit. Nobody’s
always
in a good mood.”

She reaches for the stereo, and I grab her hand before she can fuck with the stations.