Deserted - Cara Dee Page 0,2
me,” Gray said distractedly. “When I was—” He stopped himself. He didn’t wanna go there. “I lost someone,” he went with. “Before he died, he asked me to find his little brother.”
“I understand,” Dominic replied. “In Philly, I assume?”
“Yeah. And the thing is, all I have to go on is a name and his age.” Gray did his best to push the image of Jonas out of his head. Their final few seconds together had been sheer purgatory. “My friend and his brother didn’t have a family, and the kid—he’s eight—has been raised to stay away from the authorities. He’s not a stranger to the streets.”
“Got it.” Dominic went quiet for a beat. “I’mma be honest wit’chu, Gray. I hesitate because Philly can be fucking rough. I guess I wanna make sure you know what you’re getting yourself into—’cause while I definitely want you to help this kid, I don’t want you to get hurt even more.”
Gray wasn’t sure how to respond at first. He appreciated the concern, maybe, but Dominic didn’t know the hell Gray had already come back from. Unless the same situation waited for him in Philadelphia, he wasn’t scared. Perhaps that was naïve of him…
It didn’t matter.
“I made a promise,” he said quietly. Resolutely. “I’m not looking for trouble or anything. I just wanna find the boy.”
“Yeah, I get it. The problem is, my only contact—that I believe would work the best—will take you straight to trouble, so to speak. It’s a guy I worked for on and off when I lived on the streets myself.”
Oh. So, Dominic really knew Philadelphia that way.
“Would it kill me to just talk to him?” Gray asked, somewhat patiently.
Dominic sighed. “No, probably not. He owes me a favor, so you’re gonna have to run with that.”
“I won’t cash that in,” Gray protested. “I only wanna talk.”
There was a hint of a smile in Dominic’s voice when he answered. “No, you don’t. You wanna find someone, right? You want information, and information costs with these people.”
These people. Fucking great. Gray had barely escaped from one criminal organization, and now, by the sound of it, he’d be going up against another.
“That’s not my life anymore,” Dominic said. “Cash in the favor. It’s not like I have a use for it, but you will—trust. It’ll also make him listen to what you have to say.”
“Okay.” Gray swallowed his nerves and pushed forward. “Thank you. How do I find this guy?”
“There’s a bar. I’ll text you the address. You go over to the bartender and ask for Mick—he owns the place. You ask him—only him—for Kellan Ford. And you tell Mick to relay the message that you’re a friend of Dominic Cleary. Got it?”
“Got it,” Gray copied. Jesus Christ, he better not get himself into a mess now. “You believe this is necessary?”
“Unfortunately,” Dominic responded grimly. “Street kids in Philly who don’t wanna be found?” He let out a whistle. “They’re resourceful little shits.”
Despite it all, Gray mustered a little smirk. He’d heard from Jonas that his brother was feisty. Feisty was good.
Gray would just have to suck it up. End of.
Slumping down on the bed in his little room, he sighed and brought his duffel bag closer. Darkness had fallen by the time he’d wrapped up his call with Dominic Cleary, taking the last of the heat of the South with it. Tomorrow, he’d be far enough north that his wardrobe of sweats and hoodies would need some additions.
First things first, though. He tugged off his T-shirt and threw it next to him on the bed. Clothes still didn’t feel great on him. It was as if his skin had become hypersensitive. The softest of fabrics felt scratchy and confining. For months, he hadn’t been allowed to wear anything other than underwear; one would think he’d relish the opportunity to dress however he wanted. Instead, he preferred nothing but a pair of sweats.
The wounds that covered his entire torso had mostly healed, but some of the scars weren’t pretty, and his skin was dry in places. He could feel them, especially when he wore clothes. A tiny thread could brush over an uneven surface of his skin, and he’d shudder in revulsion.
He dug through his bag and did a quick inventory of his belongings. Some clothes, his meds that he had to take before bed, toothbrush, toothpaste, phone charger, few pairs of boxer briefs, socks, and the piece of paper with instructions for breathing exercises in case he had a panic attack. His