Jackson Stiles, Road to Redemption (Road to Redemption #1)(67)

Make that curious.

“Okay, I’ll bite. What’d he used to be?”

“Cop.”

“Um.” What? “The f*ck?”

“That’s what he said.”

Outside on the street, my bubble for the day is officially busted. “The guy was f*cking with you, Stix.” I shake my head and grab my keys, disappointed I even entertained the idea this conversation might be going somewhere.

“I don’t think so, Jackson.”

“He saw you as an easy target, thought he’d steal your money if he made like your buddy. Or maybe he wanted more than that.” I look over at him. “He try anything last night?”

“No. Ew. Gross man.”

I shake my head and unlock the car. The car door sticks for the umpteenth time this month so I have to jiggle the handle a little but it opens. Eventually.

Stix laughs and tries to hide it.

He f*cking sucks at hiding it.

Jimmy’s insistent, though. “I’m telling you, I think he was on the up and up.”

“Why in the hell would an ex-cop be on the streets, Stix? Think about it.”

“He didn’t go into that much.”

“Of course not.”

“But he did say the reason he was still there was because he needed to finish the job.”

“What job?”

“He told me, back in the day, his captain had heard some rumors about high traffic drug deals going on around here. Told him he was the only guy they felt they trusted enough to put him in the zone.”

Of course, he was.

And of course now I’m wondering how very “back in the day” he’s talking here.

Like, my father’s time “back in the day”?

The engine revs when I start up the car. To most, she probably sounds pretty normal, but I can hear the rattling as we head out. There’s not much that gets under my skin more than sinking money into a car. I’ve got a lot more interesting things I’d rather be in debt over. Trust me. When it comes to the Chevelle, I make it happen. She needs to be treated right.

I’m about to consider this conversation over when something Stix said strikes a chord inside my gut.

“What did you say?”

“What?”

“Something about rumors and drug deals.”

“Yeah, yeah, he said that’s why he was there staking out some high traffic drug deals that they heard were going down in the area. He said their informant told them cops were dealing.”

Okay, I’m not gonna pretend that scenario doesn’t get me thinking. This could be my best bet at nabbing Jim Galley and whomever the f*ck he’s got working for him.

“He say why he wasn’t with the force anymore?”

Or, maybe not.

“Nope, didn’t really wanna talk about that much.”

Figures.

“Your brother happens to tell this ex-cop, turned drunk homeless guy, why he was screwed?”

“Nope. He said after that, Donnie kinda disappeared. He looked for him but said the next thing he saw on Donnie was…” The crack in his voice tells me where he’s going with this.

“When he was murdered.” I finish the kid’s sentence at almost a whisper.

Stix’s eyes focus on the street outside when I say it. I’m not one to beat around the bush, and I’m not about to start so I can spare the kid’s feelings. They’re pretty much crushed anyway.

How he got this guy to start talking about Donnie is beyond me, but the details he’s giving, I gotta admit, doesn’t sound like something he could have made up. The part about the drug deals going on, that puts my already suspicious nature on high alert.

“He give you a name?”

“Nope.”

“Okay. Where was he off to this morning? I’m game for taking a crack at getting it from him.”

“That’s the thing.”

“What? What’s the thing?” I had no idea there was a thing.

“Last night, he was asleep in his cardboard house near the bonfire, and this morning, he was gone. So was his house, and the rest of the group that was here last night.”

“And you were where?”

“I found a warmer spot in that building.”

“Why the f*ck didn’t you call me first thing, kid?”

“I─”

“You know what?” I raise a hand. “Never mind. I don’t have time, and you don’t have a good enough excuse. Let’s go.”

If I ever needed a f*cking cigarette…

It’s not long before I notice the shit-eating grin on his face. “What the hell are you smiling at?”

“You called me Stix back there.” He’s absolutely f*cking ridiculous.

“That’s your name, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” I mentioned his grin is irritating as shit, right?

“All right then.” I’m not being defensive. More like, I’m giving a kid a lesson on stating the f*cking obvious.

As I drive along and zone out on the lane dividers, I don’t know if it’s a good idea or not to tell the kid who I think might be responsible for his brother’s death.

What makes my mind up for me is when I ask myself if he was any other client, what would I do?