Jackson Stiles, Road to Redemption (Road to Redemption #1)(24)

Yeah, me either. I seriously think he told us things like that to come off like the wise elder of an important family or some shit when really he’s just a bully with no mission but to bend people to his will─no matter the cost.

Moving on.

A mile or so inside the border, on the western-most parts of Redemption, is where the homeless have set up camp. Just beyond that are the drug-saturated areas.

Correction, the drug and arms-saturated areas. Mostly rural.

So it basically works like this: The gangs run the outer rim of the western half of Redemption, using the homeless as kind of a shield from the inner, more straight-laced parts of the city, AKA, where the police patrol more often.

Graham Black, the city’s current ass-kissing do-gooder, makes it a point to get his face out into the media on a regular basis, threatening the gangs and promising to “clean up Redemption, if it’s the last thing he does.” The gangs laugh in his face, pushing their drugs through the homeless sections of town; the drugs go into the schools, home with the kids, and into pretty much every well-to-do neighborhood located within a twenty-mile radius of downtown.

Hell, Black’s own son was busted on more than one occasion with drugs on his person. Selling them, mind you. He was arrested the second time, despite the fact that he’s the mayor’s kid, and charged with possession. He made a run for it, was consequently nabbed, by yours truly, and long story short, his dad doesn’t like me much.

He’s not the only one.

Where was I going with that?

Right. Black’s latest campaign.

Ready for this? He’s gonna legalize pot so the drug lords won’t have the power they do today.

I know. Blank stare syndrome. Been there, done that. Many times. But what are ya gonna do?

All he’s essentially done is make it Thomas Flint’s business to ensure that never happens.

So, my question is, why would Flint pull additional negative attention to himself at this point in the game? Allegedly, not only did he kill a kid who, according to his brother, was trying to get out of the game, but then he left him in the middle of the street for anyone to find?

Not that any of this BS is mine to worry about. I’ve got a good gig going with the men in blue, taking on their overflow of shit jobs they can’t be bothered with. Hell, they have an entire line in their annual budget dedicated to yours truly. Why muck it up over one kid who may or may not have been a decent human being?

Right?

If I can get Stix out of town quietly, maybe find him some long lost relatives to go stay with, I can say I did my good deed for the decade and get on with my life as we know it.

“Okay, so, no mom and/or dad is in the picture?”

Jimmy shakes his head.

“And you’re sure you don’t have any uncles or aunts lingering around?”

He grimaces. “Not that I know of.”

This is going well.

“We’ll worry about that later. For now, there’s a guy on King Street I want you to stay with.” The kid’s face looks like he just ate a lemon.

A bad one, at that.

“What?”

“Isn’t that over by the old market area that closed up?”

“Yeah? So?”

He shuffles his feet around and avoids answering me as he pulls the towel tighter around him. A teenager scheme, I’m sure, to pry some pity out of me, but I don’t have time to dick around here.

“What?” Usually, I’m a patient motherf*cker when it comes to youth, but nowadays, not so much. Especially this particular youth.

“I mean, that’s like homeless nation.”

I chuckle at his description. “What, are you scared?” This is, after all, the same juvenile who pulled a gun on me knowing I was slightly more experienced than him.

A lot more experienced than him.

“No,” he insists, a little defensively. “I just… I mean… That’s Flint’s territory, man. What if—”

It doesn’t escape my attention that he resembles his brother when he gets worried like this.

“You said Flint didn’t do it,” I remind him.

“He didn’t. I mean, I don’t think he did.”

“So?”

“So, I mean, what if I’m wrong?”

Jesus f*cking Christ.

“If you’re wrong, it still doesn’t matter. This guy I know, he’s not gonna rat you out.” Tricky’s good people. Well, he’s bad people. But he’s the good kind of bad.

“Can’t I just stay with you?”

That’s funny.

“Um, no.” Okay, that came out a little less sensitive than I planned.

I’m lying. I don’t do sensitive.

“Why not?”

“Because I live the f*ck alone, kid.” Is that not obvious?

“But─”

“The answer’s no.”

As in no f*cking way. Absolutely the f*ck not. And over my dead motherf*cking body. I don’t do guests. It cramps my style and makes my ass twitch.

He’ll be fine with Tricky, who technically doesn’t live in the homeless area, by the way. He’s on the cusp. So, close but no cigar. Besides, if it was Thomas that killed Donnie, that’s the last place he’ll look; and if it’s someone else, they’ll figure he’s a goner in there, anyway. And that’s if they find out where he’s staying.