Jackson Stiles, Road to Redemption (Road to Redemption #1)(23)

Red and blue lights flash outside as a cruiser passes by, and Jimmy hits the floor. It’s not something that strikes me as odd, I mean, hellooooo, gangbanger, but still, inquiring minds want to know.

“Someone looking for you, kid?”

He checks to make sure the cops have moved along before he stands up again. He wipes his jeans but doesn’t answer me.

“If you’re worried about certain criminals coming after you, don’t. Whatever Donnie did to deserve a bullet had nothing to do with you. It’s over.”

Thomas Flint doesn’t generally hold grudges against family members and friends. It’s some warped version of a code he lives by.

“I’m not running from Flint.” Funny he knows the exact person I’m talking about, though, right?

“Then who?”

And the shrugging with this kid. I know I didn’t shrug this much when I was his age.

“Fine.” I’m done playing Doctor f*cking Phil here. “You know what? I don’t really wanna know, anyway. Good luck.”

He doesn’t exactly look at me when he tells me, “He thought you were a good guy, ya know. Said he had a good feeling about you.”

Ouch.

I asked for that, I guess.

“And you would know that how, exactly?”

“I was at the race.” I should have known. Now I’m getting his full attention. “He almost felt bad taking your money.”

Turns out the kid didn’t need to shoot me with that gun. He’s doing a fine job of stabbing me in the chest with his words.

“’Course, that was before you beat him. And then turned him in.”

See what I mean?

“Hey, if you didn’t… you know…”

Murder his brother. That’s what he’s getting at.

“Maybe you could help me.” Now that’s a laugh. He doesn’t even f*cking know me. “And figure out what really happened to him. Thomas didn’t have a beef with him. He was getting out. Everyone knew it.”

“Can’t.” I tell him flat out.

“Why?”

“Case is closed, kid. There’s nothing to help with.”

He lets out a bitter sigh. “Maybe you didn’t kill him,” he tells me. “but you made it possible for someone else to. Helping me is the least you could do.”

Is he kidding me with this shit?

Like I need another guilt trip today.

“You wanna know what the least I could do is?”

It’s a rhetorical question. I answer it, regardless. “The least I could do is not turn you in for pulling a f*cking gun on me tonight.”

His face says it all. In fact it perfectly matches his brothers disappointed expression the night I handed him over to RPD.

“Whatever, I’m out of here.” He pushes some of his dirty blond hair out of his face and starts to go. He leaves the gun. It’s probably not his anyway.

This is the part where I let him leave, forget about him and his brother and the fact that nine times out of ten under-aged kids trying to go it alone are dead within a year.

That’s the smart thing to do. That, and distancing myself from this situation as fast as possible.

Easy peasy. I’ll be done with the Learys, and I can get on with my f*cking life.

Only lately, I’m not all that smart. And Donnie Leary’s easy grin keeps sneaking its way into my head, reminding me of what a goddamn idiot I was to leave him in the first place.

“Hold on.” I stop him at the last possible moment.

I’m at two parts hoping he ignores me, one part hoping he doesn’t.

His hand is on the door knob. His feet remain still.

Last chance.

“I might know a guy who can help you get out of Redemption, undetected. Regardless of who you’re running from.”

He lets go of the knob.

“It might take a couple days.” I don’t plan on pushing him about who he’s trying to get away from. Something tells me I don’t wanna know.

The kid tries to stay cool about my offer, but I see the twitching in the sides of his mouth, the relief in his body language as he takes a step back into the office, and the hope in his eyes.

All surefire signs that I’m probably gonna regret this shit.

He closes the door, and that’s that.

I’m officially involved. Awesome.

“How did you even find out where I work, anyway?” He plops down onto the sofa, which is great because now the sofa’s gonna be soaking f*cking wet, too.

“I saw you at the funeral today. Bummed a ride from a buddy of mine and followed you back here.” He’s still shivering. I grab a towel from the bathroom and toss it over to him. Can’t have the kid getting pneumonia, now can we? I can’t afford my own doctor's bill much less his.

“That was six hours ago.”

I get one last shrug for the evening. “I had to go find a gun.”

Nice to know he thought this shit out. I wouldn’t want him making any rash decisions or anything.





UNEXPECTED EMPATHY


REDEMPTION IS A PRETTY OLD CITY. Not as old as dirt, maybe, but old enough to have its very own set of f*cked-up issues. And big enough to bury them when she wants to.

On the maps, the borders come together. Kinda like a star, if you look at it funny. That’s what Ma says, anyway. Dad always told us it was more like a badge. Of honor. Get it?