Chapter One
Seven years earlier
In a futile attempt to shield himself from the pouring rain, Brandon Gilbert lay huddled in a doorway near the Port Authority Bus Terminal in midtown Manhattan. Thoroughly soaked and shivering, he squeezed into the corner of the large, now waterlogged cardboard box. The once protective box sagged over his head, allowing the cascading water to run like a river down his back. At six feet, Brandon had a hard time finding any place to keep dry, and it seemed at this point the battle had been lost.
Why he’d thought coming to New York City was a good idea, he couldn’t remember. Perhaps it was the anonymity he needed, or the fact that he could reinvent himself, now that he had papers and a new identity. But nothing had prepared him for the stark loneliness of this huge city; he had no steady source of food or shelter, hardly anyone to talk to day after day.
Brandon shifted in the box, and a fresh torrent of rainwater poured over him. The dank smells of the city coupled with the uncaring stares of people as they rushed by caused unwelcome tears to spring to his eyes. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He and his foster brothers were going to stay together, take care of each other. The three musketeers, that’s what they’d laughingly called themselves.
Until Ash unexpectedly disappeared, leaving Brandon and Luke behind, never to be heard from again. Then in a night of frantic upheaval he still didn’t understand, Brandon found himself on the road to a new life, ripped away from the only person he knew truly loved him—Luke. Where was Luke? Brandon remembered long ago how his brother had dreamed of coming to New York City to live, so when he first got to the city, he’d foolishly tried to locate him. He went looking for a phone book but couldn’t find any. The few times he’d gone to the public library to use their computers, he’d searched forLuke Carini, but there were no listings with that name. Discouraged, he’d stopped.
And now he was alone. Not a single person who cared about him, plus he could never go home again. Why was he even bothering? If he was smart, he’d go to the river and jump in. No one would notice or care.
A tall silhouette holding an umbrella loomed in front of him, cutting off the dim light of the gray, dripping skies. Terrified, Brandon shrank back farther into the dark corner of the doorway.
“Don’t be afraid. I’m not here to hurt you.” The figure squatted in front of Brandon, and the face of a middle-aged man came into view. His smile radiated warmth and peace, emotions almost alien to Brandon.
“What do you want?” Brandon clutched his thin jacket around him. “I don’t have any money or anything.” At that moment a gush of water sluiced down over his face. In his eighteen years, Brandon had never felt so alone and lost.
“I don’t want anything from you, except your promise to take my help. I’m with an organization that helps runaway youth.” The man’s calm smile miraculously settled Brandon’s racing heart. “You have no place to go, am I right? Let me take you someplace where you’ll be safe and secure.”
“Who are you?” Though hope flared hot and bright in Brandon’s chest, he knew enough to be wary of men offering help.
“My name is Gabriel, Gabriel Heller. I’m a New York City schoolteacher, and I volunteer on the weekends with the Department of Homeless Services.” He pulled out an ID and a pamphlet and offered it to Brandon. “Here, see?”
With some trepidation, Brandon took the laminated card and the pamphlet the man offered after brushing a hank of wet hair out of his eyes. The identification checked out as the man had stated. Gabriel Heller worked for the Department of Education. A teacher. Brandon bit his lip as he read over the mission of the organization and how they planned to help.
“Here.” He handed back the items, his thoughts racing.
All his life, Brandon had wanted to be a teacher; school had been the only outlet he had to escape his home life. Teachers had been his saviors, and until that last, horrible night with his foster father, his plan had always been to go to college and get a job teaching young inner-city children.
“So, have I passed the test? Will you come to the shelter with me?” Gabriel’s lips curved in a wry smile. “This isn’t a night fit for even a New York City rat to be outside. I’ll set you up with a social worker and get you a place to stay. What’s your name?”
A yearning Brandon had thought dead burst to life, almost choking him with its intensity. Things like this, good things, never happened to him. “Randy. My name is Randy.” Close enough to his real name, Brandon, Randy was the name he’d chosen when he ran away, making sure no one could find him.
“Okay, Randy, come on. I’ll get you out of those wet clothes, give you a hot meal, and a place to sleep.” Gabriel stood and held out his hand. “You don’t have to figure out the rest of your life tonight.”
The force of the pelting rain lessened, and the gray of the sky shifted to a lighter haze. Brandon stood and pulled off the wet strips of cardboard clinging to his hair and body. “I don’t have any money to pay, and I don’t take charity.” Some vestige of pride he’d thought long gone, emerged. “I’ll work for whatever I have to.”
A smile crept over Gabriel’s face. “How old are you?”
“Almost nineteen.”
Brandon heard Gabriel sigh. “What’s wrong?” Was he too old? Now that the chance was in front of him, so close he could reach out and brush it with his fingertips, Brandon wanted it. Desperately.
“I don’t suppose you have your high school diploma?”
“Yes, I do.” His chin lifted. “I was going to go to college.” He slanted a quick look at Gabriel through the wet strands of hair that hung in his eyes. “I wanted to be a teacher too.”
They’d reached the van Gabriel had left parked down the block. Another man waited behind the wheel.
“Antonio, this is Randy.”
“Hey, man. No night to be outside. You don’t know how lucky you are Gabriel found you. He’s a life changer.”
Brandon’s eyes met Antonio’s in the rearview mirror. Something tight loosened in his chest, allowing him to return the smile. “Yeah?”
Antonio nodded. “Yeah. Last year I was in your shoes: no home, no job, and no place to go.” He started the engine and put the windshield wipers on to clear the windows. “Today, I got a place to live and a job helping Gabriel getting guys like you off the streets. I’m even going to college now.” His voice rang with quiet pride.
