Jackson Stiles, Road to Redemption (Road to Redemption #1)(90)

What a f*cking sweet heart.

“College.”

“Precisely. He was a senior when they caught up with him.”

He starts to walk again.

I follow but I don’t like it.

The Chevelle is becoming smaller and smaller. My concern is growing larger and larger.

“Who’s they, Tom?”

He doesn’t answer me straight away. Instead, he decides it’s story time.

“Back in the day, detectives would harass my people on a daily basis.”

“That’s surprising. Police giving gangs a hard time. Go figure.”

Thomas gives me a look of warning for the sarcasm. It’s more than likely gonna get me killed someday.

Hopefully, not today.

And don’t think it escapes my attention that he specifically said detectives.

As in, Nick is a f*cking detective.

I really f*cking hope he doesn’t have anything to do with this shit.

“About five or so years ago, that harassment switched gears from getting drugs off the street to getting money into their pockets. It started out with two of them, then another joined in, then another. I’m not sure how many are in on it now. It’s enough, though.”

“Enough for what?”

“Enough to make sure we sell exactly what they want, when they want, and how often they want.”

I hear the words he’s saying. Hell, I’ve thought it a thousand times myself. But to face the fact that it’s truth? That’s not something I was ready to take on today.

“Didn’t you ever wonder why drugs were not a problem, Stiles?”

I lift a shoulder. “Never really my problem until recently.”

“Yes. I know.” He raises a brow to go with the grimace he flashes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

His grimace turns to a frown. “Only that you have been a predictable piece of the puzzle for many parties involved.”

Ouch.

That kinda hurt.

Someone was actually counting on me being me.

Thomas sees that he’s made his point and moves on.

“About two or so years ago another player entered the game. Completely outside of the police department. Said he represented some very important people. People who wanted to improve the economy.”

He waits for my mind to play catch up but I’m already there. Immediately, Graham Black comes to mind.

“Go on.”

“He wanted me to hand over members of my gang, my family, to his contacts to show he was doing his job. Cleaning up the city, he called it.”

“And?”

“I told him to go f*ck himself.”

Classic.

I’d laugh, except Thomas adds another tidbit of information to that enlightenment.

“When my brother’s death was announced on the news, I knew immediately what had really happened. Before long, his face was being plastered all over the area as a drug dealer and murderer.”

Jesus f*cking A.

My mood just crashed and burned.

“I’m sorry, man.”

Why I’m sorry, I have no idea, because helloooooo, gangbangers. But still, a part of me wants to rip Graham Black’s head off for pulling something as low as that shit.

“The next time I was contacted by that man, I wasn’t so quick to tell him to f*ck off.”

The way he says it, combined with the look of regret and purpose he’s giving me, tells me everything else I need to know.

Everything I don’t particularly want to know.

He looks away. Ashamed maybe. Air leaves me and my gut clenches.

“You gave him Donnie’s name.” I can barely f*cking say it. The kid’s face flashes in front of my eyes. I think about the sincerity in his expression and how he grinned over to wish me luck the night of that drag race.

“They killed my brother.” Thomas’s rage is growing. “All the f*cking work I did.” He scowls at the buildings that stand abandoned across from us. “The money I invested to protect him. To keep my brother out of this shithole. It was all for nothing.” Anger bubbles out him uncontrolled now.

I’m right there with him.

“And you f*cked another kid. Right in the ass.”

He spins on me. The gun Dice brought him at his side now. I hadn’t even noticed he’d taken it.

“What would you have me do, Stiles?” He waves the gun at me. “You want me to keep saying no to him, and he kills someone else I love?”

I can’t really say I give a shit if he shoots me at this point or not.

It might just put me out of my own misery.

So I lay it on him straight.

“Donnie was getting out, Tom. He wanted something more than this shithole.” To put it in familiar terms for him.

“Yeah? Well, so did my brother.”

At this point, he doesn’t give a f*ck either.

I want to choke the life out of this *.

“You give him Stix’s name?”

Swear to f*cking God, I’ll actually do it if he says yes.

He shakes his head. “I didn’t.”

I’m relieved in a way. I also believe him. Why would he lie at this point?

Lucky for you, dickhead.

I have to remember to breathe in and out for a while after that. It’s quiet on the street with Thomas holding his gun and me with nothing on me because I left that shit in the car like a f*cking idiot.