There was one person I knew who could find my mother, even in death. I didn’t contact him lightly, knowing that if I asked this of him, I would owe him in the future.
Even with all the shit that we’d endured over the last several months, the woman who gave birth to me never left my mind.
“King, good to hear from you.”
“Hey, Dread, need a favor.”
“A favor? Or a job?” he asked.
“Take your pick.”
“Must be serious,” the man said before I heard the sound of a door slamming on the other end of the line.
I looked over my shoulder at Jonah, who didn’t look at me. He stared straight ahead until someone moved in the hallway, then his head swiveled. I knew Tank was safe. I waved to Jonah and moved further down the hall.
“I need you to find someone.”
“If you’re calling me, then this isn’t a simple missing person.”
I blew out a frustrated breath. I was taking a chance trusting Dread with this information. He was the president of the Twisted Dragons MC in Cocoa Beach, Florida. A co-ed MC that had a knack for finding what was missing.
Twisted didn’t begin to describe the men and women in this club. But they got results, and right now, that was what I needed.
“Need you to find the woman who gave birth to me.”
My request was met with silence. I waited for Dread to say something. I knew the truth of my lineage had made its way around the biker world.
“Darcy Murphy?” he finally asked.
“Yeah, the only thing is, she died.” I sat in a chair in an empty hallway. My knees threatened to give out on me as I talked about the woman I would never know.
“After I was born, she changed her name to Gretchen Foster.” I paused. “Dread, I’m gonna tell you something to save you some time, but I suggest you keep this fucking quiet.”
“What’s going on, King?”
“After my mother left me with my grandparents, she became Gretchen Foster and met someone. She had another son a little over a year later.”
“Who did she meet?” Dread asked cautiously.
I looked up and down the hallway, ensuring I was alone before answering, “Kane Baudelaire.”
“Jesus fuck, King. Fucking Morpheus?”
“Yeah, before he became fucking Morpheus.” I pulled the band from my hair and let it fall around my shoulders so I could run my hand through it.
“Ravage is your fucking brother?” Dread shouted into the phone.
“How the fuck do you know who Morpheus’ son is?”
I could hear the diabolical smile in his voice when he answered, “Because I’m fucking me.” I shook my head. Dread was a cocky son of a bitch, but I had to admit, he was good at what he did.
“I don’t know what happened to Darcy after Ravage was born, but I do know she died seven years ago. And she had atleast one other son besides me and Ravage. He died before she did.”
“But you don’t know where either of them is buried?”
“I don’t know what name she was using when she died. It could have been anything. After Gretchen Foster, she was Bridgit Mahoney. And I know nothing about her son.”
I heard the sound of a pencil scratching on paper. Dread was a bit old school when it came to what he did. He swore he found more information with good old boots on the ground than what could be found through computers.
