Jackson Stiles, Road to Redemption (Road to Redemption #1)(66)

I cut her off. “Thing is, Green. I can’t speak for this Decker guy, or the kid before that, but I met Donnie. Face to face. He didn’t seem-”

“Stupid?”

“Or the pot lord type. Nobody at that drag race was smoking either. It’s not jiving.”

“Not for a pot ring theory, anyway,” she adds to my thoughts.

“Right.”

If the cops were using them as pushers, it makes zero sense they’d kill them. Unless… “Maybe the kids didn’t have a rap sheet that showed the drugs because they were middle men. Maybe they ended up knowing too much.”

That happens a lot. But still… kids? Minors?

“So, these cops.”

“Yeah.”

“You think they killed those boys then planted the pot on them for some reason?”

“Maybe.” It doesn’t quite sound right in my head, though.

“What would be the purpose in that?” She never runs out of questions, I’ll give her that. She’d make a good detective.

“That, Green, is the million dollar f*cking question.”

“How do we get some answers?”

Good question.

Answers.

My gut tells me they lie within a certain kid who’s been on the run since his brother died.

Stix.





INFORMATION OVERLOAD


THE AREA I found Stix in last night is a ghost town now. No fire burning in a trash can anywhere. People are no longer lingering in the streets. No talking or laughter from anywhere, whatsoever. Not even wild dogs or stray cats are milling around this shit hole.

It’s in this moment I wanna kick myself for giving Stix my number but not getting his.

A side alleyway provides a spot for me to hide the Chevelle while I take a look around. In case someone decides they want to stop by and look around, too.

This whole, being responsible for another human being thing? Not working for me. What the f*ck was I thinking, not touching base with the kid last night?

I start to cross the street. I’ll begin with the abandoned building Stix was hanging out in front of.

I know what I was thinking.

I was thinking about Green too much.

The way her body shifts when she gets excited. How she leans to one side when she’s annoyed with me or trying to make a point without actually saying anything. How badly I wanted to take her to my damn bed and disappear inside her until all this bullshit went away.

Since when do I let typical male idiocy interfere with a job?

“Hey! Jackson!”

A pint-sized whisper-yell from a few stories up grabs my attention. I don’t have to look to see it’s Stix hiding in the shadows of a room with no window. I do anyway and give him a short nod to let him know I’m coming up.

After I check, all inconspicuously like, up and down the street, I duck inside and take the stairs two at a time until I run smack into the kid waiting for me at the top.

Here he is: his brother dead, and now Lilah. Certain bad people may or may not be hunting his ass so they can add him to the list of people who mean nothing to them, and he stands there with that bright-eyed and bushy-tailed expression on his face.

One thing’s for sure, he’s a whole hell of a lot like his brother.

“I’m so glad you’re here.”

“What the hell, kid?”

“Hey, where’s Emma?”

“She’s not here. You wanna tell me why you’re so happy to see me?”

“How come she didn’t come with you?”

Seriously?

“Stix.”

“Sorry, I just thought─”

“What. Is. Going. The f*ck. On?”

He blinks a few times. “Oh, right. Okay. So that guy I told you about?”

“Uh huh.”

“He got drunk.”

“That right?”

“Real drunk.”

“Ooooookay.” Apparently, there was a party.

“Yep.”

The f*ck? “Good to know, kid.”

“Like, talkative drunk,” he reiterates. Now I’m not only ticked with the situation at hand, but with the under-aged smart ass too.

“There a point to this conversation?” I turn to head back downstairs. This lead is officially dead.

“Well.” Stix follows me down. “I mean only if you wanted to know that he happened to say something about how he remembered Donnie hanging around in this other homeless community he used to frequent a while back.”

This peaks my interest.

I stop and wait for him to catch up. At my side, Stix gives me another golden nugget of information.

“And how he remembered these cops who used to drive through all the time getting people all riled up.”

“Yeah?” I start heading down again, this time I wait for him to keep up. Stix nods. “And how they zeroed in on Donnie and had a little talk with him one day.”

“Really.”

“Yup, and then he said he remembers specifically how freaked out Donnie seemed after they left. That he mumbled something about how he was screwed if he stuck around here much longer.”

“A drunk remembered all that, huh?”

Call me impressed. Or more like skeptical.

“Yeah. Only he wasn’t always a drunk, homeless dude, it turns out.”