Jackson Stiles, Road to Redemption (33 page)

“So if you’ve got something that might be important to add here, you might want to bring it forward. Like now.”

I cross my arms.

I’m fucking stubborn like that.

Irritated, he huffs out through his nose, then he shakes his head and throws his arm up in surrender.

“You do this shit all the time, Jackie. You keep shit bottled up inside you because you don’t trust anyone. I don’t know where the hell that all started, but Jesus, I’m your damn brother. I’m the one person you
should
trust.”

“Whatever.”

Don’t judge me. It’s all I’ve got right now.

“And who the hell knows,
maybe
if you’d put a little bit of faith in me at some point before now, you wouldn’t be in this, whatever it is you’re in the middle of. Maybe you’d have realized, despite what that warped, paranoid brain of yours thinks half the time,
we’re on the same side
. Maybe this
shit
that you’ve gotten yourself into, wouldn’t be so fucking shitty.”

I take a deep breath and let it out.

Slow.

I reach for my cig and remember it’s lost in the Chevelle somewhere. So I start to head that way.

Nick follows.

Most of the time, when he lectures me about the ins and outs of sharing is caring and I need to be more open about the cases I’m working on with him, it’s kinda like white noise. However, the way he put it this time, it hits me hard. It’s a ton of bricks weighing on my chest, and I can’t take the pangs of guilt wailing away at me anymore.

Who am I kidding? He’s not in on anything shady.

He’s Nick motherfucking Stiles.

There isn’t a deceitful bone in his big ass body.

So I tell him. Fucking everything.

Almost everything.

I tell him the important parts.

As my brother lets it all sink in, I shoot off a text to Green to let her know I’m with Nick and that I’ve gotta follow a lead.

Then I add,
Do not leave with Walker. Whatever you do.

She doesn’t need to be with the brothers Stiles when everything goes down. She’s not experienced with this kind of bad. I’d hate for yet another person to get hurt because of me.

I’d hate for
her
to get hurt. Period.

Before Nick can say anything, like that I need to turn everything I’ve got over to him and let the police handle this case from here on out, I clarify some things for him.

“Listen. You’re right, Nick. I’m not generally one to give a flying fuck about who’s right, who’s wrong, and who’s going to jail for something that may or may not be going on at any given second. I might not always have a working moral fucking compass, but I’m kinda in the middle of this shitstorm, and I’m not going home until that kid is safe.”

I lean up against the Chevelle and try to calm my thoughts. Because like it or not, time is ticking the fuck away while I stand here explaining shit to my brother, who’s probably about to tell me something along the lines of,
sorry about your luck.

“What if you can’t do it, Jackson?”

“What?”

“What if you can’t keep him safe? Then what?”

“That’s not a fucking option, Nick.”

He nods.

He fucking gets it.

But then, something happens I wasn’t exactly expecting.

He hits the remote lock on his keychain, and I hear the beep beep of his car somewhere out in the darkness. The bright screen of his phone highlights his face. He sends a quick text of his own and waits at the passenger’s side door of my car.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

He grins over at me.

“Let’s go get the kid.”

ARE WE HAVING FUN YET?

RURAL FUCKING REDEMPTION.

The last time I was out this far toward the coast was four or five years ago with Nick and the boys. It scarred me for life. Three hours at a pumpkin patch with toddlers will do wonders for your sense of belief in crowd control, AKA birth control.

Listen, don’t get me wrong. I like the little shits and all. I mean they
are
my nephews, but if I’m being honest, bringing a kid into this fucked-up wormhole wouldn’t exactly be my greatest accomplishment. It would be the opposite of great, actually. It would be fucking idiotic.

I don’t know how Nick and Mia deal, but I have my suspicions.

Liquor.

Lots and lots of liquor.

Moving on.

According to Yahoo maps, the address Flint sent me lays somewhere along Redemption’s farmland sector. Some places out here are still running well but others, near the outer perimeter of the city, have been abandoned for eons. So really, why am I surprised this is where Stix might be? It makes perfect sense. I can only hope I get to the kid while he’s still alive and not in time for him to be the center character of the world’s next greatest horror flick.

Nick’s unsubtle throat clearing drags my focus away from planning.

“Where’d this piece of information come from again?”

I should have known that question was coming.

No stones unturned and shit.

“The number came up as unknown.” I hesitate before verbalizing the rest of the answer. “I’m pretty sure it was Thomas, though.”

Wait for it
.

Nick chokes. “Thomas?”

I’m not saying a
damn
word.

“
Thomas
, as in Thomas Flint?” He wants clarification but come on. We don’t know any other Thomases that might have this kind of intel.

“The same Thomas who sold guns in high school and was rumored to have killed several of our classmates, one of which was supposed to be
you
. That Thomas?”

See? He knows who the fuck I’m talking about.

He didn’t actually have me on a list, by the way.

Turns out, I was more fitting that I get a fist to my face.

What can I say? I make an impression on people.

It was undeserved, by the way.

Mostly.

“That was a rumor. We’re cool now,” I assure my brother flippantly. Now I know Thomas didn’t exactly say that, but let’s not get into semantics here. He did let me walk away without an extra hole in my head. That has to account for something.

“Exactly when did this happy reunion take place?” Nick’s expression goes from slightly curious to I’m having a hard time comprehending what you’re even saying in about two seconds flat.

I hunch my shoulders. “You know, recently.”

“You’ve been to see the guy.” He’s not asking, which is a good thing. I’d hate to have to lie to his face.

“Maybe.”

What?

Nick breathes out slow and easy. With a slight shake of his head, he turns his face to view the scenery outside.

“You really have got a death wish, don’t you?” His voice is rough. Cracked. The kind of tone that makes your chest cringe with guilt. Now I kinda wish I
had
lied.

“Why do say that?”

“You know that guy’s crazy, Jackie.” He looks over at me. “And not in the
oh, that’s just Thomas,
kind of way. He’s criminally insane. Why would you go down there?”

I’ll admit I hadn’t really thought it through at the time. But, since when do I think shit through when it comes to finding out what the fuck is going on?

“It was important.”

He lets out a sarcastic huff and nods his head while he mumbles. “Important.”

A red light allows me to check my messages. There’s nothing from Green. So I shoot off yet another text to her.

Tell me you’re safe.

Then I get back to the conversation at hand.

“Yeah.”

“Seriously, Jackson.” Nick puts his worry face on for me, and I can’t stand it anymore.

“I went down there for the kid.”

“The brother of the guy you picked up─”

“And consequently sent to his untimely death, yes. That kid.”

Why hasn’t Green texted back yet?

The slump of Nick’s body catches my attention. His brow squeezes together like he’s attempting to put some pieces of a puzzle together telepathically.

Like that’s a thing.

“And you met him, how, again?”

He never has been satisfied, ever, with the simple idea of letting silence fill a car ride. I guess I can’t blame him. It is a little awkward finding out that your little brother, who most assuredly isn’t on the police force nor does he have access to the kinds of backgrounds and records you do, knows about as much as you do with regards to the super-secret undercover case you’ve been working on.

Of course, he doesn’t need to know it was really Green’s contacts, not mine, who gave me said information.

I’ll save that bombshell for another time.

“He showed up at my office after Donnie died.”

“First name basis with your perp, huh?” Enter my brother’s super-secret identity—Captain fucking Obvious.

“Fuck off, Nick,” I warn him.

“Hey, look, I’m just trying to figure this shit out. I mean, you’re not exactly the knight in shining armor kinda guy.”

Ouch.

“No offense.”

“None taken.” Much.

“I’m just saying this is out of character. Running head-on into a war you don’t know a whole hell of a lot about. Not really your thing, Jackie.”

“I’m not running into a war,
Nickie
.”

“Then what are you doing?”

“I’m…” What
am
I doing? “It’s a case. I need to solve it. That’s all.”

“Why do I get the impression it’s more than that?”

“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.”

“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?”