Jackson Stiles, Road to Redemption (Road to Redemption #1)(89)
Not that he needs to know that.
Dice throws me a shit-eating grin as he strolls away to go retrieve Thomas’s weapon. I clear my throat and push forward with my purpose for being here despite the small pangs of fear growing inside my gut.
I swallow down the basic instinct to run. Instead, I say what I came to say.
“Listen, while we wait for your gun, I need to ask a question.”
“You’ve asked all the questions I want to answer, Stiles. If I were you, I’d leave. Now.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Not gonna lie. It’s taking all I have to make my feet stay right the f*ck where they are.
He shakes his head.
“Your funeral.”
“I’ll make a deal with you. Since I’m about to eat a bullet anyway, why don’t you humor me. Explain why you’re in bed with the R.P.D. and killing minors.”
Thomas freezes. So does everyone else who’s within earshot. They back away from him as he turns around to face me.
Fucking finally.
I’m more pissed than I am scared. He just confirmed my suspicions.
“That got your attention, huh?”
“What makes you think I’m killing kids, Jack?”
“Oh, are you offended?” I turn a cold stare toward him. “My bad.”
“You should explain yourself.”
“That’s cool. You want me to spell it out for you. Okay. Three cases over the past nine months have been tied to drug deals gone bad. All three kids were found with the drugs on them but no money. All three were mysteriously associated with your gang. And all of them”—I take a step closer—“every last f*cking one, was either shot and killed or later killed by the good old boys in blue.”
His face pales a lighter shade of white than usual. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen the guy show even the slightest bit of emotion. At least, not since we were kids.
“Maybe you have some kinda deal with some of them. Or all of them. I don’t f*cking know. Maybe you’re a snitch. Not my f*cking business, and quite frankly, I don’t really give a shit. But now, another one—someone I’m personally responsible for, I might add—is missing. I’m not taking it too goddamn lightly, Tom. So tell me where the f*ck I can find him, and I’ll get out of your hair.”
He thinks over what I’ve said for a few seconds as Dice returns with the requested gun. My heart is beating so hard I’m surprised no one sees it. Or hears it.
Lucky for me, I know how to stay cool on the outside while I’m freaking the f*ck out on the inside.
Years of practice.
Flint puts a hand up to Dice and narrows his eyes at me a little. I try to breathe. It’s not easy, and the air is so thick I could chew it. If I had an appetite, that is. When Thomas waves his lackeys off, my heart begins to slow again.
They leave us. Dice, in particular, is hesitant, but Thomas gives him a pat on the shoulder and tells him something, quietly. Dice, makes a good name for a pet, don’t ya think, does as he’s told.
Good dog.
Thomas motions for me to follow him, and I do, but I’m acutely aware of where my car is at all times. No harm in being prepared to make a quick run for it, if need be.
“You don’t want to be here, Jack.”
“Preaching to the choir, Tom, but I need some f*cking answers, and I don’t exactly have the kind of time on my hands to dick around, so…”
He stops abruptly and faces me head on. He studies my eyes, my face, my stance. With a drop of his shoulders and a shake of his head, he lets out a small puff of air.
“My brother was one of them.”
No clue what he’s talking about, or why he seems to think it’s important to this conver-f*cking-sation.
“You don’t have a brother.”
“Had.”
“Have, had, whichever. I’ve known you since we were kids. You never had a brother.”
“I did, though, Jack.”
He doesn’t say another word. He just holds my stare. His face is withdrawn, like he’s sick at his stomach.
Funny because it’s not unlike the way I feel every time I think about…
Mikey.
That’s when it hits me. Only it doesn’t make sense.
“Your last name is Flint. There were no Flints on the list.”
He nods as he takes a drag of his cigarette, and I’m not gonna lie, I might be salivating. A little.
“Different fathers. Different state.”
He flicks the butt out into the night air.
“Which one?”
“Robert Decker. My baby brother,” he confirms in a low voice.
“How did I not know, or anyone else for that f*cking matter, that you had a brother?”
“Nobody here knew he existed. I knew he’d be a bargaining chip someday. I just didn’t plan on the police exacting that bargain, otherwise, I would’ve taken further precautions.”
“Precautions?”
“Unlike you, it didn’t take me long to figure out how this world works, Jack.” He’s talking about the wonderful world of drugs, of course. “My mother left my father for one of many extracurricular activities.”
“He cheated.”
Thomas nods. “One of these relationships resulted in my brother. I didn’t know about him until I was older. When we found each other, I was already making hand-over-fist in my current business. I had the means to give him things I never had.”