Jackson Stiles, Road to Redemption (Road to Redemption #1)(100)

Hank turns the volume up on the tablet.

“Simple, really. Pay attention, Mr. Stiles. You’ll appreciate this news conference.”

On the breaking news, Black’s voice has a solemn, grave tone to it. I make a note so when I hear it in the future, I know when he’s lying through this f*cking teeth.

“Tonight’s shooting incident on the outskirts of Redemption just goes to show that drugs and corruption are a major threat in our community.”

A picture of Nick pops up on the screen followed by mine, and the kid’s.

“Detective Nick Stiles, the lead detective on the case, was gunned down in the line of duty.” His expression grows dark.

I look over. Nick’s clearly not f*cking dead. I nudge him a little, and he groans, which is good. He’s conscious. Kinda.

“With the growing number of drug killings in this city, now including one of our own, we have no other choice but to legalize marijuana! It’s the only way to get drugs off the streets and stop the violence.”

Clapping and murmuring goes on in the background. The crowd has mixed feelings, clearly.

That’s when I read the captions on the pictures.

One of them, in particular, that is.

“You’re gonna make this look like one of your crime scenes.” I keep the conversation going because a) I need to think and b) I don’t want to f*cking die. At least, not yet. I’ve already promised my liver it’s going to be the reason I croak. I never break promises.

Connor claps his version of a creepy, slow golf clap, and I am really getting irritated with this dickhead.

I raise my head to where it doesn’t hurt too much and tell him, flatly, “Lame.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand any of it.” He checks his nails for imaginary dirt. “These so-called children you say I murdered are nothing but criminals who would have, no doubt, corrupted the fine city of Redemption worse than it already is. I did them a favor. And the tax money Black will bring in by legalizing these drugs will improve roads, add benefits to our schools, increase─”

“Salaries?”

He doesn’t like my assumption. So he decks me again.

I guess I hit a nerve.

“Blah, blah, f*cking blah.” I roll my eyes and spit out blood. But, seriously, how the hell am I getting us out of this shit?

“Regardless,” he says with a wave to Riley. “Too bad your so-called proof will be taken to your grave.”

Riley raises his gun. Probably one that can’t be traced back to him. “Now, who’d like to go first?”

He points the gun at me, and I gotta say, I’m a little ticked he didn’t wait for an answer from Nick. I mean, maybe he wanted out first. Not that I can see an upside to that, but hey, you never know.

As Riley clicks the safety off, I should be staring his ass down, but my eyes stay trained on Green who, I’m almost certain, flinches when she realizes what’s about to go down.

Out of the darkness, another voice interrupts the plan.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Hank.”

The slow and steady voice echoes across the room and sounds like a version of my father who might have existed a long time ago. It certainly doesn’t reflect the irresponsible, angry drunk I know today. But there he his, plain as day, standing about fifty feet from us with a loaded-looking piece of machinery that reminds me of something out of a war movie in his hands.

“At least, one of your boys will go down before you can get a shot off, Mr. Stiles,” Connor tells him.

“Not if my friend up in the rafters has anything to say about it.”

His steely demeanor is enough to make me wanna go clean my room without an argument as I peek up at the four-by-fours adorning the ceiling above and wonder if he’s bluffing or not.

Please do not be f*cking bluffing.

When Hank’s eyes flash upward as well, a shot goes off.

Now, I don’t know what kind of a shot my father is or anything, but judging from the girlie scream that just came out of Connor, he’s not half bad.

Meanwhile, I take the opportunity to rush Hank and head butt him for decking me a few minutes ago. Fucking ow. He’s knocked off his game long enough for Walker, of all people, to point a gun in his face.

“Don’t. Fucking. Move, Riley,” he says. Hank complies, letting his face fall back onto the floor.

Maybe he needed a nap.

I hear sirens outside and realize that Dad was, indeed, f*cking bluffing. A genius bluff if I do say so myself, but still…

The cavalry is still a ways away, probably out by the fence, but close enough to catch a glimpse of the red and blue lights flickering against the barn walls.

I look back at Green, who’s giving me the stink eye now.

“That’s right. I called them.” Her brow is angry.

“I─”

“Jackson.” My dad’s strong arms surround me, and he squeezes the life out of me for longer than I remember him doing in about twenty years or so.

Sure, I could get caught up in the moment. Hug the old man back, let bygones be bygones. Right now, though, all I see is Walker standing in the sidelines, making like he just saved the f*cking day, talking into his cell phone to some unknown person.

I stalk toward him. I kinda want to shoot him, but I also know that would be a really stupid f*cking thing to do.