Oh, hell no. There won’t be any more tears.Even if I went the rest of my life without seeing him cry again, it would be too soon.
That reminded me. I’d left my offering out in the hall.
I hoped the rats didn’t carry it off.
“My most prized possession is ruined!” he bemoaned.
“What?” I shot out.
Fine. I was jealous. Vehemently.
He sniffled. “I mean, itwasmy most prized possession until all the things you gave me.”
I was going to regret asking this, but what the hell? “Why?”
He hugged the coat tighter. “Because when I ran awayfrom home, I had nothing. Just a few dollars in my pocket and the clothes on my back. Those first few weeks on the street were so hard. A couple times, I thought I was going to die.”
This conversation made me want to die. But please, go on.
“I wasn’t from here,” he explained. “From Buffalo, I mean.”
“Where are you from?” I asked, glancing around so I could pull up the coffee table and have a seat.
There was no coffee table.
There was a derelict old bean bag over in the corner. It probably had fleas. And maybe an infestation of lice. Or something else equally heinous. It was so raggedy and deflated that I wondered if it had any stuffing left in it. And also, I think it was made of burlap. The itchy kind.
My skin crawled just looking at it, and I had visions of throwing open the only window in this place and tossing it out into the alley. Seriously,onewindow. I’d seen better jail cells.
And the windowsill was crowded with plants.
Like he’d rather give them light than have any for himself.
“A small town right outside of New York City.”
His reply brought my head around. New York City was a tough place. At least in the parts that weren’t overflowing with money. There was lots of underground activity there and a few resident hitmen that weren’t “on the books” like me and mine (aka Kieran).
And yeah, just because they were “off the books” didn’t mean they were off my radar. I knew. I be knowing lots of things. “You better not have gone into the city,” I warned.
“I did,” he said.
It was as though he lived to raise my blood pressure.
“I was there for about a month. But I was scared all the time. I was a lot younger. The people were…” His voice trailed off, and I had the sudden urge to drop a bomb over the entire city and wipe it off the map for putting that look in his eyes. “But there was this one guy.”
“Guy? What guy?” I demanded.
“I’d been mean and skittish, but he was nice.”
“Does this nice guy have a name?” I inquired.
He shrugged, and I gritted my teeth. “Garrett Redding,” I growled.
“Anyway.” He brushed off my clear threat and went on. “He saw me in an alley and asked me if I needed help.”
Well,la-di-da. I took a bullet.
“I was too proud to admit I was freezing, starving, and scared as hell. Plus, trusting people on the street was a good way to get dead.”
