Jackson Stiles, Road to Redemption (21 page)

Murders.

“Okay, we know Donnie, Decker, and at least one other kid have all been associated with gangs at some point or another,” I start.

“And none of them have a track record for using or dealing drugs before they were killed,” she adds, closer now. “We assume, anyway.”

“Right. And they were all killed by cops, maybe even from the same precinct. I’ll need to check on that. But I definitely know Donnie was out of the gang business before he died.”

I make a mental note, and even as I am, I fucking know where this is leading.

Green and I lock eyes. Because sometimes saying shit out loud like that gives you the missing piece of information you were looking for.

Kinda like finding a new perspective on something.

Or a new opinion on some
one
.

“Do we know if the money for the drugs found on these kids was ever recovered?” Green asks. I fucking love the way her mind works.

“Shit.”

“Stiles…”

“Green, did you mean it when you said you wanted to help this kid?”

“Of course I did.”

“Because this is fucking huge.”

If cops are using kids to push drugs so they can make money off it, and the public finds out about that bullshit, the entirety of the police force could be questioned going forward.

Including Nick.

I’ll worry about that later.

“Do you have any idea the chaos this would send Redemption into? If not some of the surrounding areas as well?”

“Do I have an idea? Green, I think we just cracked open a can of worms the police force didn’t think they’d have to worry about for a long time coming.”

She looks up at me like I just saved the planet or some shit, and the way it makes me feel is… mean I can’t… why is she looking at me like that?

And when did she get this close again?

There’s a tightness inside my chest, and the blood is rushing through my veins so fast I’m lightheaded for a second or two.

“Stiles, I─” Before she can finish the thought, I plant a straight-up, full-on, no-holds-barred kiss against her lips.

It lasts a little longer than it should, but hell, what the fuck else was I supposed to do here? Between the shampoo and the lotion, the arm grazing, and that look of wonder she was giving me a few seconds ago, I could no longer control myself.

I half expect her to push me away. Maybe clock me again. But she doesn’t. She lets me assault her mouth like I just learned how to do this shit. When I let myself think about what the fuck I’m doing, I stop.

The room spins for a split second, which is fucking weird. Green’s got this shocked expression on her face. Maybe she’s waiting for me to explain myself. I don’t know. But I can’t. So instead, I say the first thing that comes to mind.

“You taste like cherries.”

And I want to taste more of that shit
.

“I know.” She’s breathless and shaking. “It’s new. Usually I buy generic ChapStick, but they were out. I grabbed the first thing I saw and─” I press a finger against her lips to shut her up.

“I fucking love cherries.”

Her expression morphs into something more seductive. Expectant. “Good.”

This time, I don’t think. I’m tired of fucking thinking tonight.

I slide a hand around her neck and pull her mouth to mine again. Her body softens and her arms ease around my waist like they’ve done it a thousand fucking times already.

Somehow, this, whatever it is, has turned into something else. If I’m being honest, it did the first time our lips touched.

That’s a sign.

I should stop here, right?

I mean, come on, we all know I should stop here.

Instead, my feet shuffle backward, and she moves with me. When I find the couch, the same damn couch I was avoiding a while ago, I collapse onto the cushions. Before I know it, Green is on top of me, straddled, flushed.

My hands rest on her hips, itching to move, but in the end, it’s not my decision.

She leans in and kisses me hard. My hand tangles in her hair, and after a couple attempts to test the waters, my tongue meets hers. We move like teenagers in some ways. I’m trying to be slow but everything’s moving at an urgent pace. It’s comfortable but not. New, but not.

Her hands rest against my chest at first then move to my shoulders. I’m pretty sure she’s aware of what’s going on between my legs, but she doesn’t seem to be bothered too much by it. Even when I move her hips against me for some kind of relief.

Not that it helps much.

I’m gonna need a lot more than a fucking grind against my dick to make this itch go away.

Green lets out a small sound that sends blood rushing toward my head.

The one that’s trying to think straight, that is.

As her hands reach around my body to pull herself closer, she spreads her legs a little. If I don’t cut this short immediately, we might very well defile the couch soon. Followed by the coffee table. Maybe the bed after that; I’m not sure. Kinda torn between some wall sex and being fucking comfortable.

Who am I kidding? That shit will definitely all happen.

Jesus, this feels good.

She
feels good.

Baseball stats, baseball stats, baseball stats.

Why can’t I think of a single goddamn baseball stat?

Regardless how very much I’m interested in having Green’s body lying naked on my bed at some point in time this evening,
today
, whichever, I pull up on the emergency brake.

Either because I’m an idiot. Or intelligent.

I’m going with intelligent.

I break the kiss and let my head fall back, frustrated with my poor judgement.

Green’s breathing is heavy. She’s flushed and confused, if I’m reading the look on her face correctly, which I’m pretty fucking sure I am.

“Was that another thank you? Because I don’t know if I can handle such niceties.” Her voice is throaty and sexy as hell.

Not helping with the whole wanting to do the right thing here.

I smirk up at her, mildly breathless, my damn self.

“Well played.”

She hums. As we sit there for another minute, she works to control her breathing. She might be good at composing herself in some ways, but her skin is still warm to the touch. I know because my hand has somehow made its way inside her shirt.

Something she’s suddenly very aware of.

“Stiles?”

“Yeah?”

“That’s my boob.” She points.

“Right.” I pull my hand out and wiggle my fingers for her. “All done.”

Jesus, I need a cigarette.

Where is that rascally motherfucker?

Green pushes against my chest to sit up straight while I adjust my dick and try not to be too damn obvious about it.

“Sorry about that,” she starts, with only slight embarrassment. She’s back to reality. “I don’t know what that was.” She pushes some hair behind her ear as she lets out a short laugh.

“I think I do.”

Hormones, ladies and gentlemen. Complicating shit, one horny bastard at a time.

“Well, whatever it was,” she pulls at her top to make herself presentable again, “it was unprofessional, and I apologize.”

I let out a chuckle. “Unprofessional. Seriously?”

That’s what she’s calling it?

“Yes.” She stands and pulls her jacket off the edge of the couch. Like standing and covering herself up is gonna make me forget about the curves I now know lay underneath all that fabric.

I put a hand behind my head. “Well, technically, I started it.” Which is the odd thing because, typically, when I start something, I end it. And I end it well.

Okay, not so well, sometimes.

I digress.

“True. You did. But I ended it.” This statement right here is where I see how Green has this way of trying to come off as completely focused when really she’s got about a million things going on inside that head of hers.

Does she regret what just happened is the question. Or is she trying to play like she regrets it so I’ll drop it.

“Pretty sure that was me, too.” I can’t help it. It’s in my nature to contradict every fucking thing she says.

“Yeah.” She scowls and ponders something. Maybe she does regret it. That gets me thinking again.

Do I regret it?

“Well, anyway.” She turns away from me to start cleaning up the Chinese containers. “Let’s forget it happened and try to figure out our next steps on the Donnie Leary thing.”

I could push her buttons some more. Avoid the questions swarming inside my own head about the fuckery that just evolved here. Have a few more laughs maybe, but when she mentions Donnie, I’m pulled back from the bliss. She’s right. We need to figure this shit out.

It’s the exact thing she needed to say to get me to drop the teasing.

Did she know that? Or was it a fluke?

Regardless, she’s right about the unprofessional thing. Or however you wanna spin it. It’s one thing to flirt, but getting physically involved with a woman in the media?

Another one, that is.

Bad idea on a good day. Getting involved with a woman who’s as savvy as Green? Very bad idea.

The upside? Even though she tries to hide it, I can see she’s blushing. And I have to say, I fucking love that I put that color red in those cheeks.

“You should probably get home.”

I say it, half hoping she’ll leave, half hoping she’ll fucking stay. When Green checks her watch, panic flashes across her face.

She’s leaving.

“Home. Right.” She drags her fingers through her hair to keep it from looking like she just dry humped a colleague, then she starts pulling her boots back onto her feet.

“I’ll walk you down.”

“I’m so sorry about that.”

“Stop fucking apologizing for everything.” Damn. She irritates the hell out of me with that shit.

My tone throws her off, and it shows in her expression. “Okay, jeez. Sor…” she starts to say it again then stops. She reaches for the door, and this time, I’m the one apologizing.

“Green, I didn’t mean─”

“I know what you meant.”

We don’t speak until we’re at the bottom of the stairs. Even then, I’m kind of at a loss for words.

Lilah’s murder scene is empty except for the police tape.

A lump gets stuck in the back of my throat when I think about her again. The rage I feel for being the cause of yet another kid, too young to be dealt a grisly death, starts to build up.

“Hey.” Green’s hand is on my arm. At first, I don’t want to look at her, but she turns me around in such a way I’d look like an idiot kid trying to avoid eye contact with his parents if I didn’t. So I stare into those emerald eyes of hers, and she tells me point blank.

“This wasn’t your fault.”

I nod but we both know that shit’s not true.

“Jackson.” I can’t decide if I love or hate it when she says my name like that. For now, I kinda fucking hate it.

“You’re going to figure this out.” She says it like she means it. “The connection between Lilah, Stix, and the other murders, I know you’ll figure it out.”

I swallow down the guilt for the time being.

“I’m going to help you.”

She checks the time again. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll check in later.”

“Right.” I wave her off, and as she pulls out of the parking lot, a familiar cruiser pulls in.

Air leaves me, heavy and filled with the unknown.

As Nick parks and starts to get out of his vehicle, I’m still wondering if what Green said tonight is true.

Am I gonna figure this shit out? Or die trying?

“What’s wrong with you?” he asks as he approaches. The look on his face screams half worried, half amused.

“What? Nothing’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? And why the fuck are you here at oh dark thirty?”

“Not dark, Jackie. The sun?” Nick points. “It’s right there.”

Smart ass. “Beside the point.”

“I need to talk to you.”

“About?”

“Was that Emma?” He hooks a thumb over his shoulder.

“It’s not what you think, Nick.” I head back inside. I can’t do this shit right now. My brother
or
Emma.

“Dude.” He laughs from behind me. “It’s totally what I think.”

It’s so not what he thinks. Green and I are probably the furthest thing from girlfriend and boyfriend two people can get. I mean, we kissed.
More than kissed.
Participated in Grind-Fest 2016, if I’m being honest. But so the fuck what? Who gives a shit if she gets me going like no other woman I’ve ever met.

Ever.

I mean that intellectually speaking as well as physically, by the way. She doesn’t let shit slide, and I respect that.