Read Online Jackson Stiles, Road to Redemption by Jo Richardson - Free Book Online
Authors: Jo Richardson
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shoulder.
“And?”
“And you seemed to be in the middle of a pretty heated conversation with them.”
I reach a hand inside my jacket. My pocket’s empty.
Dammit. What did I do with it?
I could really use a drag right about now.
“I assume you were talking about Mr. Leary.”
“I don’t have time for this shit.”
Must have left it on the counter, this morning. Damn, the Chevelle is so close I can almost touch it.
It’s right there.
“Why was the conversation so abruptly ended as soon as your brother arrived?”
I’m getting a headache. She literally gives me a fucking headache. How many people can I say that about?
“Of course, I didn’t know he was your brother when I made that observation.” She chews on the inside of her cheek and waits. The back of my neck itches. I need a smoke like I’ve never fucking needed a smoke before.
I don’t enjoy being backed into a corner by annoyingly intuitive tabloid reporters. Since I can’t find the one thing that might take away the stress of this situation, I divert.
“Why would you wanna do me any favors, anyway?”
“Huh?” Suddenly she’s not the pushy reporter any more. She’s caught off guard. I can tell by the way she takes an inadvertent step backward away from me.
Booyah.
“Why do you care if I have family drama or not? Or better yet, why do you care if I’m uncomfortable about it? You seem to like making people uncomfortable.”
“I wanted to help.”
This, my friend, is humor. In case you didn’t recognize it through her steely disposition or the fake-ass innocent expression on her face.
“Ha! Bullshit.”
“Okay.” She admits it, surprisingly enough. “Jeez, I guess I figured if I did you a solid, you’d give me some information.”
I gotta give it to her. At least the truth is coming out of her mouth this time. Funny as it may be.
“First of all, that wasn’t a solid. I know how to handle myself with my own brother, and secondly, I don’t owe you shit.”
Green’s cheeriness fades. I just burst her bubble in record time. Not that I feel bad about it, but now I’m kind of curious.
“What exactly did you think you were gonna get out of me?”
She shrugs and tries her hand at the eyelash batting thing. It’s not as good as the flirting, let me just say. “Like I said, it seemed like maybe you knew those officers.” She nods sideways, back toward the crime scene. “I was hoping you could tell me what happened. Give me a scoop.”
Approach with caution signs are flashing all around me. She has got to be kidding me.
“You can cut the crap, Green. My brother’s gone, and I’m not falling for the cute act.”
Mainly because my traitor dick twitches every time she does that shit. Not to mention the fact that information in an everyday reporter’s hands is scary. The truth in Emma Green’s hands? I don’t even wanna think about it.
“And why in the name of Lucifer would I… Ya know what? Never mind.”
“But—”
“You already know what happened. The entire tristate area knows what happened. It was on every news channel around. Gunshot to the back of the head. Donnie go bye-bye. End of story.”
I leave out the fact that I might have been able to save the kid had I taken my head out of my ass long enough.
“Why do I get the impression you don’t believe that?”
Green is a little too observant for her own good. That’s what’s going to get her hurt some day.
“No idea. Maybe your radar is off.” That’s believable, right?
She raises an eyebrow at me, telling me no, it’s not fucking believable.
“What?”
She takes a deep breath in and let’s it out slow, making me wonder if she’s seeing the same therapist I am. “How about I buy you that Bonefish dinner I told your brother you owe me. Then you can tell me all about the gunshot to the head .” She air quotes that last part and smirks when she’s done. She actually thinks she’s being influential, here.
I smile for her.
Hell, why
“And?”
“And you seemed to be in the middle of a pretty heated conversation with them.”
I reach a hand inside my jacket. My pocket’s empty.
Dammit. What did I do with it?
I could really use a drag right about now.
“I assume you were talking about Mr. Leary.”
“I don’t have time for this shit.”
Must have left it on the counter, this morning. Damn, the Chevelle is so close I can almost touch it.
It’s right there.
“Why was the conversation so abruptly ended as soon as your brother arrived?”
I’m getting a headache. She literally gives me a fucking headache. How many people can I say that about?
“Of course, I didn’t know he was your brother when I made that observation.” She chews on the inside of her cheek and waits. The back of my neck itches. I need a smoke like I’ve never fucking needed a smoke before.
I don’t enjoy being backed into a corner by annoyingly intuitive tabloid reporters. Since I can’t find the one thing that might take away the stress of this situation, I divert.
“Why would you wanna do me any favors, anyway?”
“Huh?” Suddenly she’s not the pushy reporter any more. She’s caught off guard. I can tell by the way she takes an inadvertent step backward away from me.
Booyah.
“Why do you care if I have family drama or not? Or better yet, why do you care if I’m uncomfortable about it? You seem to like making people uncomfortable.”
“I wanted to help.”
This, my friend, is humor. In case you didn’t recognize it through her steely disposition or the fake-ass innocent expression on her face.
“Ha! Bullshit.”
“Okay.” She admits it, surprisingly enough. “Jeez, I guess I figured if I did you a solid, you’d give me some information.”
I gotta give it to her. At least the truth is coming out of her mouth this time. Funny as it may be.
“First of all, that wasn’t a solid. I know how to handle myself with my own brother, and secondly, I don’t owe you shit.”
Green’s cheeriness fades. I just burst her bubble in record time. Not that I feel bad about it, but now I’m kind of curious.
“What exactly did you think you were gonna get out of me?”
She shrugs and tries her hand at the eyelash batting thing. It’s not as good as the flirting, let me just say. “Like I said, it seemed like maybe you knew those officers.” She nods sideways, back toward the crime scene. “I was hoping you could tell me what happened. Give me a scoop.”
Approach with caution signs are flashing all around me. She has got to be kidding me.
“You can cut the crap, Green. My brother’s gone, and I’m not falling for the cute act.”
Mainly because my traitor dick twitches every time she does that shit. Not to mention the fact that information in an everyday reporter’s hands is scary. The truth in Emma Green’s hands? I don’t even wanna think about it.
“And why in the name of Lucifer would I… Ya know what? Never mind.”
“But—”
“You already know what happened. The entire tristate area knows what happened. It was on every news channel around. Gunshot to the back of the head. Donnie go bye-bye. End of story.”
I leave out the fact that I might have been able to save the kid had I taken my head out of my ass long enough.
“Why do I get the impression you don’t believe that?”
Green is a little too observant for her own good. That’s what’s going to get her hurt some day.
“No idea. Maybe your radar is off.” That’s believable, right?
She raises an eyebrow at me, telling me no, it’s not fucking believable.
“What?”
She takes a deep breath in and let’s it out slow, making me wonder if she’s seeing the same therapist I am. “How about I buy you that Bonefish dinner I told your brother you owe me. Then you can tell me all about the gunshot to the head .” She air quotes that last part and smirks when she’s done. She actually thinks she’s being influential, here.
I smile for her.
Hell, why
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