Badlands by C. J. Box Read Free Book Online Page B

But there’s fifteen or twenty pounds of them in here, maybe more.”
    Kyle blinked. Fifteen or twenty pounds sounded like a lot, but not when compared to potatoes or dog food, he thought.
    â€œThat ain’t all,” T-Lock said, digging into the duffel. He came up with a large Ziploc bag bulging with smaller bags of what looked like black pebbles. Kyle frowned. Rocks?
    â€œThis is called black tar,” T-Lock said. Kyle wondered who would want black tar. To himself, T-Lock mumbled, “Gotta keep this shit away from your mom.”
    T-Lock shoved the bag of black tar back into the duffel and held up two thick bundles of cash. The money was tied together into bricks by thick rubber bands. It looked like used money, not clean bills. Kyle could only see the denomination of the bills on the top and bottom of the bricks—fifties, twenties.
    â€œI ain’t counted this yet, either, but do you know what this could mean?” T-Lock asked.
    Before Kyle could answer, T-Lock said, “Yeah, I know, the bills are marked. But there are ways around that.”
    He showed Kyle where someone had run a light purple highlighter pen up and down the sides of both bricks.
    â€œI heard about this trick,” T-Lock said. “All you have to do is shine a black light on the edge of a bill and that mark will show up. Otherwise, you’d never know. They do that so the courier can’t skim.”
    Kyle had no idea what T-Lock was talking about.
    â€œBack to the subject. I said, ‘Do you know what this could mean?’” T-Lock said, his eyes bulging again as he thrust out a brick of cash in each hand, “It means we can take care of your mom.”
    Kyle hadn’t thought of that but he instantly warmed to the idea.
    T-Lock said, “You don’t know this, but your mom got a notice from the landlord last week evicting our ass. These pricks around here can charge big money for rental houses now that the oil boom is on. They don’t need hardworking people like us anymore.”
    T-Lock only worked when it was warm outside, which wasn’t often in North Dakota. The rest of the time, like now, he hung around the house in his T-shirt and jeans and flip-flops. Freezing. Kyle didn’t know what else T-Lock did during the day. He guessed he watched TV.
    â€œWell, your mom didn’t want to tell you we might have to move, but it’s been worrying her sick. She’s a good lady, Kyle, you know that. She works her ass off to give you a good home and stuff to eat. You love your mom, don’t you?”
    Kyle nodded.
    â€œYou don’t want her to go back downtown to work the pole again, do you?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œDamn right you don’t. I don’t either, even though it was good money and it paid the rent,” T-Lock said wistfully.
    Kyle had overheard his mom and T-Lock arguing about her job as a dancer. She wanted to quit for a long time and her hours were being reduced now that the club owners were bringing in professionals from around the country. She’d told T-Lock she was used as a backup when one of the “hotties” didn’t show up. T-Lock argued that she should keep the job since he didn’t have one.
    Kyle wanted his mom to be happy. If quitting her job made her happy, Kyle was on her side.
    Luckily, she’d quit dancing and had recently gotten a job at McDonald’s in Grimstad when they started paying $17 per hour plus benefits. It was weird seeing her come home in that McDonald’s uniform, but usually she had a bag or two of cheeseburgers and fries for dinner. Sometimes it was Big Macs or Filet-O-Fish, Kyle’s favorites.
    â€œYour mom,” T-Lock said, “she’s struggled for you. Just struggled,” liking the word enough to say it twice. “She got clean and convinced them people to let you come back. And she’s stayed clean. She doesn’t deserve to get thrown out of her own house,