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

“No idea.”


“Technically, it’s not your case. You’re not a police officer, and he’s a minor who can’t legally hire you.”

I don’t answer him. He can’t make me.

“Tell me you did not take money from that kid, Jackson.”

I shrug. “Not technically.”

If we want to get technical, I won money off his brother, who I helped put in the ground, so his brother paid for my services. Yeah, I know. It sounds asshole-ish to me, too.

“Unbelievable.” My brother grumbles over in the passenger’s seat. “How does a kid with no means pay you to help him find his brother’s killer?”

I breathe in deep. This is gonna be ugly. I just know it.

“It’s complicated.” As in, he doesn’t.

“I’m gathering that.”

Things get quiet again between us until my brother tells me how he really feels.

“Drug money?”

“No.” Seriously?

“You sure? ’Cause─”

“No.” I cut him off with a judgmental glare. I’m a little pissed he’s insinuating I’m an idiot for not knowing the answer to that fucking question. “Not drug money.”

He thinks on it some more, but since I don’t have time for his almighty BS session, I keep the ball rolling on what’s important here.

“Why do you think Dad was there tonight?”

Nick, who’s been nothing but a jabber-fest of fuckery so far on this road trip, is suddenly tight-lipped.

“Nick.” I look over to find him glaring out the window.

Ah, shit. No wonder he’s been shining the spotlight on my actions the whole ride.

“Nick, do you know why Dad was there tonight?”

He breathes out as he confesses. “He’s kinda helping me out with something.”

“I’m sorry. What?” The fuck did he just say? Did he really say what I think he fucking said?

And side note: What. The fuck?

“What do you want me to say, Jackie?”

“Our father, who hasn’t been sober a day since Mike died, that guy? You asked him to help you out?”

“Believe me. I wouldn't have if I didn’t feel like I had no other alternative. He’s got old connections, and it’s a two-fold return.”

“Two-fold?”

“Yeah, I mean, he needed a distraction, and I needed someone Black thought was…” He scrunches his eyes into slits and shrugs.

Jesus Fucking Christ.

“You needed a patsy.”

He’s glad I didn’t make him come out and say it.

“I wouldn’t put it that way.” He knows he’d put it that way.

For about half a minute, you can slice the silence with a dull knife.

“Besides, you were busy.” Until Nick makes a dig to try and lighten the mood. Or deflect from the fact that he used our drunk of a father to lure out the bad guys.

Either, or.

“Dumbass.” I make it known he’s not the brightest bulb in the box. He lets out a halfhearted chuckle. It’s about the only thing he can do at this point.

“So how’d all that work out for ya, anyway?”

Big bro gets serious on me. “I’m not sure; I haven’t heard from him since dinner the other night. I was completely surprised to see he even showed up tonight.”

“Fuckin’ A.” Fucking. A. People. “He tell you Ma kicked him out?”

His head spins so fast I’m surprised he doesn’t get whiplash. “What?”

So, guess not.

“Yep. Last night, I think.”

“Shit.”

“I’m the idiot?”

“Dude, I know, okay? I was trying to figure out a way to get to him when you showed up.”

Un-fucking-believable, this night.

“So what’s your theory, anyway?” he asks, and I laugh. Kinda. “Come on, Jackson. I know you have one.”

“On or off the record?” I ask him, and when he opens his mouth to answer me, I have to add, “’Cause this shit can’t get back to Walker.” He opens his mouth again, and I tell him, “Or anyone else in the precinct.”

He purses his lips.

“What?”

“You done?”

I think it over with a nod of my head to one side, then the other. “Yeah.”

“Okay. Off the record. What’s your fucking theory?”

Here goes nothing.

“It started with the cops who showed up at Donnie’s murder scene.”

“What about them?”

“A couple of them were the ones I handed him off to in the first place.”

“And?”

“And I think they, or one, or I don’t fucking know, some of them might have had something to do with Donnie getting out of jail that night.”

“They couldn’t possibly have taken the kid out once he was─”

“There’s no paperwork on him.” At my admission, Nick’s face goes from convince mode to confused in less than two heartbeats.

“You didn’t get the paperwork?”

This is gonna hurt. “I got the paperwork. Or I thought I got it.”

“How do you think you got something then didn’t get it?”

“Galley handed me what I thought was the paperwork I signed. It was blank when I checked it later.”

“Jesus!”

“Yup.”

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