Jackson Stiles, Road to Redemption (Road to Redemption #1)(22)

Now that he’s settled down and I’m not wrestling with him anymore, his expression falls.

I’m lucky he didn’t pull the trigger to that gun on pure adrenaline.

“What’s your name?”

I give him some space, confident he’ll stay put for the time being. Then I sit my ass down on the corner of my desk and try to figure out where I’m planning on going with this, or why I care.

“Stix.” He wipes his face with his sleeve and glares off at the wall. It’s not difficult to imagine why he’s called that. He looks like he’s walking on a couple stilts. But I’m not looking for what he’s known as out on the street.

“Your real name.”

“Fuck you.”

Oh, I see. We’re playing it that way.

Hatred oozes from him, which, let’s be honest here, it’s to be expected. I don’t have the patience for playing games or trying to calm the spirit of the angry little shit, though. So I retaliate by playing it my way.

“Well, hey there, Fuck You, I’m Jackson. And this place of business is owned by, that’s right, me. On top of which, lucky you, I’ve got every f*cking right to take you down to the Redemption City Police barracks and turn your ass in for trespassing, attempted burglary, and possibly even assault with a deadly weapon. What do you think you’d get for that, Fuck You?”

His expression doesn’t change. He tries to come off as cool and uncaring, but I can see the way his entire body twitches at the thought of getting arrested.

He’s nervous.

He licks his lips and jerks his head away.

I continue on.

“’Cause maybe this isn’t your first carnival, Fuck You. So you’ll probably get somewhere around, oh, I don’t know, a couple years. Hard time. Maybe even a boyfriend this time.”

I actually doubt he’s ever done time. It’s nice to give people the benefit of the doubt, though.

The kid stays mum, but I can see his jaw tightening.

It’s cool; I have a few more for him.

“I hear the guys at State have a thing for skinny boys with pretty faces and tight asses.”

“All right.” He cuts me off, angry I got the best of him, worried that I’m right. “Jesus.”

I fold my arms when he doesn’t go any further than that.

“I’m waiting, Fuck You.”

“It’s Jimmy, all right? Jimmy Leary.”

That’s called breaking your opponent, people.

Sure, it was a bit harsh, considering he’s somewhere under the age of twenty-one, but he did enter my establishment with the intent to harm me. I needed to set the bar high.

“Okay, Jimmy.”

And, by the way, it’s not like I couldn’t have found that information out on my own or anything. I like to hear it from the perp’s mouth, so when push comes to shove, they can’t pull the old it wasn’t me bullshit.

“Wanna tell me what you were planning on doing with that gun?” I nod over toward it still laying on the floor from when he winged it at me a few minutes ago.

He shrugs. “Get some pay back. Get out of Redemption.”

Forget about the pay back.

“Why would you wanna get out of Redemption?”

He shrugs again. This time he doesn’t answer me. He simply stares off at the corner of the office, exuding the angry teenager thing like it’s his job.

He reminds me of a former me. Daring someone to give a shit. Not trusting them even if they did.

I give him a minute while I walk around the desk and think.

The envelope Jim Galley handed me the other night sits on top of the thousand I won racing Donnie. With the additional ten-K I landed from Redemption’s police force, I can afford to give Jimmy some, but not all of it. I’m gonna need to pay a few bills if I want to survive another month.

“You know where you’re going?” I fan the money until it looks like I’ve gotten to about half, then I hand it to the kid.

He looks disgusted knowing where it came from.

“I’m sorry about what happened to your brother.”

“You should be,” he spits as he snatches the cash out of my hand. He opens his mouth to say something else but stops himself.

“What?”

Jimmy shakes his head. “Fuck it.”

“You talk to your mother with that mouth?” The kid laughs at my insinuation and shakes his head at me.

“Don’t have a mother.” The way he says it isn’t enough to tell me whether he’s never had one or recently lost her. Either way… awesome.

“Dad?”

He shakes his head.

“Grandparents? Uncles? Aunts? Godparent?”

Old girlfriend?

A teenaged-type huff answers that one for me.

So now I’m not only dealing with attempted burglary and assault with a deadly weapon, but he’s got no goddamn legal guardian either. Thanks to me.

I don’t need this shit. But I don’t need him thinking I pulled the trigger, either.

“I didn’t kill your brother.”

He spits an unconvinced huff at me. “Then who did?”

I’m not about to tell him my theories. This isn’t something a minor needs to get involved with.

“I don’t know.”