Darkness Before Dawn Part 2

"I dunno where Benny's at, but you know he won't get near you. The maid's not here today and they have company tonight, so the kitchen needs to be cleaned," Dean says as he hands me my silverware.

As soon as I take a bite of the bagel with cream cheese I get grossed out and toss it back on the plate. I get up and let him escort me, pa.s.sing the men sorting out pills and powder on the table in the middle of the room. I walk up the stairs behind Dean and finally into the house, and a shudder runs through me when my bare feet meet the cold marble floor of the mansion. I look around, taking in the details of my luxurious surroundings, a far cry from the murky bas.e.m.e.nt below. When we walk into the open kitchen, I eye the clock that reads 11:00 as I roll up my sweat pants to just above my ankle and my sleeves to my elbows before filling the bucket Dean hands me with water and Pine Sol. The intense smell of the product makes me gag, but I take a deep breath and block everything out of my mind as I begin to clean, scrubbing and wiping down the surfaces while Dean calls some restaurants and finds out about food delivery.

By two o'clock, my hands feel sore, but I'm done and the place looks spotless. Dean looks impressed when I tell him that I think I'm finished. He walks over to the fridge, pulling out two beers and handing me one. I give him a wide-eyed stare, not sure if he's really offering it to me or just testing me to see if I'd take it.

"What? You don't drink Bud?" he asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Umm...not usually, and I'm not sure if I should. What if they get here and get mad that I'm in the kitchen drinking?" I really can't afford to make anybody angrier than they already are. My bruises are gone, but my body is sorer than ever. I don't even want to think about getting hit right now-and for a Bud Light? Definitely not worth it.

"Chick, just drink the d.a.m.n beer. We'll take them downstairs."

I shrug and take it from him, letting the cold bottle sooth the pain in my hands before taking a sip of it and making my way back downstairs.

"Are you going to be upstairs the whole night then?" I ask him, sitting down cross-legged on the mattress.

"I dunno," he replies with a shrug. "I got some s.h.i.t to do tonight, so I'll probably do that and then come back."

Panic must be written all over my face at hearing he'll be gone tonight, while who knows what sort of people are here for some twisted dinner party, because he chuckles.

"What kind of party are they having?" I ask.

"It's not really a party, it's just men getting together for dinner and drinks. No big deal, but you don't gotta worry about it. They'll be busy upstairs. Benny won't come down here in the middle of all that."

I humph my response because I highly doubt that. The only reason Benny's been absent to begin with is Dean. Once he gets wind that he won't be here, he'll definitely come down here to bother me. I don't voice my concern about it because it's clear that Dean believes what he believes and isn't going to sway from that. Who knows, maybe he's right.

"I heard from a trustworthy source that your dad did that s.h.i.t on his face, you know?"

My lips pause on the brim of the beer bottle and I lower it from my mouth. "What...that scar?" I ask, horrified.

"Yeah. I heard he did it after he found out Benny supposedly killed you and that other kid."

"Cole," I say quietly.

"Cole your boyfriend?" Dean asks surprised.

"No, Cole your uncle. Obviously my boyfriend!" I deadpan with an eye roll.

He laughs, finding my outburst amusing, which makes me want to chuck the beer bottle in my hand at him. Instead, I take a couple of deep breaths and focus on the brown grout in between the tiles.

"s.h.i.t. I kinda feel bad for the guy now. Going through that as a kid and now losing his girlfriend. No wonder he's going out of his d.a.m.n mind."

A loud gasp involuntarily escapes me and the bottle slips from my hand, clinking on the floor. Luckily I'm low enough that it doesn't cause it to break, and it's empty enough that it rolls a little but doesn't spill.

"You've seen him?" I ask, trying and failing to steady my breath.

"Yeah, I've seen him. He's been acting a fool everywhere he goes, kinda hard to miss."

My already broken heart cracks a little more as my imagination wanders to Cole getting drunk and doing G.o.d knows what. I know I should have more faith than to doubt him, but d.a.m.n if these unwanted thoughts don't cross my mind anyway. It's not like it's the first time I've thought about it. I know Cole's coping methods are pretty slim. He gets drunk and gets laid, that pretty much sums it up. I close my eyes and will the tears from spilling. I can't think like that; he wouldn't do that to me.

"Look, chick, I told you I'd help you get out, and I will. Hanging out with a kidnapped girl isn't my idea of a fun time. Not that you're not fun, but I have a bad feeling about this. I don't see a good ending to it either. Gimme a couple more days."

I blink before looking at his serious face and nodding. When he leaves me alone with my thoughts, I finally let my sobs break free. I miss my family so much that I get actual chest pains when I think about them. I need to keep my head up and stay positive, come up with a plan to get myself out of here. I need to break free, and even though Dean says he's going to help me get out, I keep plotting ways to do it on my own.

f.u.c.king h.e.l.l. That's what this place feels like without her. There's not enough oxygen to fill my lungs as I look around the lifeless apartment. Our apartment. Every day in this place brings memories of what we had. All the laughs, the fights, the s.e.x. Those memories haunt my waking hours. I walk over to the guest room, where I've been sleeping since that night. That dreadful night, when I landed in the f.u.c.king Twilight Zone.

I replay that day at least a hundred times in my head every day. I got out of my meeting early and went straight to the airport after making a pit stop. I got on the first flight available and called her when I landed. I called Bruce after not reaching Blake's phone. When his phone kept going to voicemail, I started panicking and called Aubry, Aimee, Becky, Greg, and Mark. I was even desperate enough to call f.u.c.king Russell. A few minutes after I got home, Mark called to tell me that Bruce was in the hospital. That's when my chest started to ache worse than it ever had before. I put my hand in the breast pocket of my jacket, right over my heart, and felt the velvet box that I'd brought back from New York.

According to Mark, Bruce had gotten knocked out with a hit in the back of the head, and shot in the leg. He said he didn't see anybody, didn't see it coming. He had been watching some guy across the street that he'd seen Blake speak to a couple of weeks before, and was blindsided when he got hit. He said he knew it had something to do with that guy.

I shake my head from the awful memories and pull out my phone to call Aimee. I've been avoiding her and Aubry and anybody that reminds me of Blake, really, which has pretty much made me a f.u.c.king hermit. An hour later, when I open the door for them, I'm greeted with two shocked faces.

"Hey," Aimee greets, giving me a half-a.s.sed smile.

"Hey, sorry I've been...out of touch," I reply as I hug her.

"I haven't wanted to see you either," Aubry mutters quietly. "You look like s.h.i.t, by the way."

I raise my eyebrows. "Uh...thanks?"

I offer them something to drink before we settle down in the living room. After small talking about nothing of importance, I figure I might as well bring up the reason I called. Might as well get this s.h.i.t over with.

"Aimee, I've been thinking that maybe your parents...our parents, whatever...can help me look for Blake. They have a lot of pull, so maybe...I don't know, maybe I can meet them and we'll go from there?"

Aimee's eyebrows hike up. "Sure, I mean, I guess it wouldn't hurt to try. Are you ready to meet them? Do you want me to tell them?"

I let out a breath and scratch my beard. "I guess. It's not that I don't wanna meet them, it's just...I don't know, Maggie was my mom," I say in a shaky voice before clearing my throat. "I remember some things from when I was with you guys, but it almost feels like that was in a different life."

"I know, but they'll be happy to see you. I'm just glad I haven't seen much of them, because I don't know how I would have kept this whole thing to myself."

"Yeah, well, the only way I wanted to meet them was with Blake by my side, but seeing my f.u.c.king father on TV giving news conference after news conference with my girlfriend's face on the screen is wearing me down."

She sighs. "I know, trust me, I know. I'll see when their schedule looks clear so we can go over there. I'll have to figure out when Dad can see me so I can break the news to him first anyway."

It sounds so businesslike. I know he's the mayor, but d.a.m.n. Whatever. I don't really give a s.h.i.t. I need him on my side. He has the power to help me find Blake; and that's all I care about right now.

I wake up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat and my chest heaving. I just had the worst dream to date, just thinking about it makes me shudder. I get up and take a shower, hoping to rid myself of the sweat and my nasty dream, but it replays in my head every time I close my eyes. Blake is sitting on a dirty floor, tied up, with a man caressing a knife lightly over her body. I close my eyes tight and try to erase the images from my head. It was only a nightmare. A f.u.c.king nightmare, but every day I wake up wondering if they're feeding her, hurting her, touching her. My stomach turns at the thought and I double over in the shower, coughing up some of the bourbon I drank earlier. They better not f.u.c.king touch her. I know she's alive, I can feel it with every fiber in my being.

When I walk into the lobby of Mark's office the next day, I'm greeted by the blond that's always here. I remember Blake telling me that she couldn't stand them. Them. I guess there are two of them. Whatever, they look and act the same to me. This one is practically salivating as she eye f.u.c.ks me. I try not to roll my eyes, because I don't have an appointment to see Mark, and I really don't want to barge into his office, though I will if I have to.

"Mr. Murphy," she coos as she leans forward, blatantly trying to entice me with her fake t.i.ts. "It's great to see you again. Do you have an appointment with Mr. Lewis?"

I grin at her, noticing her eyelids flutter before I feed her my bulls.h.i.t. "I don't, actually. I was wondering if you could squeeze me in." I drop my voice as I say the last words, and I swear this girl is about to come in her tight a.s.s pencil skirt.

She clears her throat as she smooths the front of her skirt. "Well, Mr. Lewis is a very busy man, Mr. Murphy. His morning is booked. His next client should be here in ten minutes. He won't be happy with me if I squeezed you in," she replies breathlessly.

I walk toward her and lean on the desk and ask, "Are you sure about that?"

With great effort, I don't cringe at her shiver or the strong perfume that consumes the airways as I stand so close to her. Blake rarely wears perfume and when she shivers, my c.o.c.k instantly starts twitching. This bleach blond Barbie look alike is just not Blake...and the perfume she wears makes her smell like an old lady.

"I'll...umm...see what I can do, Mr. Murphy," she replies, fl.u.s.tered.

I grin again, wondering if it looks genuine or more like a grimace before turning back to the waiting area when she picks up her phone and makes the call.

"Mr. Murphy, you may go inside," she says right before I sit down.

"Thank you, Miss-"

"Tanner," she replies huskily.

"Miss Tanner, you have a good day, now."

When I get to Mark's door, I don't knock. I just push it open and walk straight toward him.

"Mark. What the f.u.c.k?" I bite out.

He rolls his eyes dramatically, and I swear I'm going to punch the motherf.u.c.ker today.

"Cole," he says flatly. "What a surprise."

I slam my fists on his desk. "Do you think this is a f.u.c.king game? My f.u.c.king girlfriend has been missing for almost a month. The cops won't even look for her anymore. I have no help, I'm about to meet my long-lost f.u.c.king parents because I'm that d.a.m.n desperate. So I'll ask you again, what the f.u.c.k do you know?" I growl.

He takes a deep breath. "You're going to meet your parents? Cole..."

"Don't even think about giving me your advice," I grind out.

He closes his eyes and rubs his forehead. "Cole, the people that are involved in this are big time. I can't have this conversation," he says as he looks around making a face at me.

I crinkle my eyebrows. "What the f.u.c.k does that mean?"

Mark stands up quickly, making his chair fly behind him and hit the gla.s.s wall.

"Listen, Cole, I know you're p.i.s.sed, sad, and scared. Trust me, I am too, but it doesn't give you the right to disrespect your f.u.c.king G.o.dfather. I suggest you shut the f.u.c.k up, and go take a f.u.c.king walk. I'm going to lunch in five minutes. We'll talk about this when you've calmed down."

As he says this, he's stalking toward me. He grabs my arm and pulls me toward the door. He's f.u.c.king kicking me out. This a.s.shole thinks he's going to kick me out? Is he f.u.c.king crazy? I snap my arm from his and push him off me. I can tell it's taking a lot for him not to push me back. I decide that I'm going to wait for him to leave on his little lunch break for his meeting, and I'm going to follow him around until he tells me what he knows. f.u.c.k. This.

I push past him and walk out. I hear his footsteps behind me, but I refuse to look back. I walk toward the elevators and hear Miss Blondie say my name, but I don't turn around. When the doors open, I step in, and Mark steps in behind me. The doors close.

"d.i.c.khead, did it ever occur to you, that maybe, I'm being f.u.c.king recorded and I can't talk about certain things in my office?" Mark asks angrily.

I narrow my eyes at him. "Does that mean you're gonna answer my f.u.c.king questions?"

"Yes, a.s.shole. I'll take you to lunch, but I swear, you disrespect me again, and I'm going to teach you some f.u.c.king manners."

I rub my face with my hands. My beard is itchy and hot and I f.u.c.king hate it. I know Blake would hate it, but I'm not shaving until I find her. Even if I start to look like Santa Claus, or Jesus. I'm not f.u.c.king shaving.

"I would apologize, but you're past pushing my f.u.c.king limits, Lewis."

We take a cab to a little Irish pub. From the outside, it looks s.h.i.tty. I'd never noticed it before, and I drive by here often enough.

"How long has this s.h.i.t hole been here? Is it even open?" I ask, confused.

Mark shakes his head. "I wouldn't bring you for lunch if it was closed. And it's not a s.h.i.t hole."

Inside, the place is nice. The booths are kept up, there's a huge bar in the center of the place, a stage across from it, a dance floor in front of that. Foo Fighters are blaring through the speakers.

"s.h.i.t, this place is actually nice," I say as we scoot in a booth.

"I know," he replies with a smirk.

"So, do you know who took her?"

"Yes," he sighs.

My eyes shoot out of my face. "You've known this whole time?"

"Yes," he says in a grave voice. "It's complicated, Cole."

"f.u.c.k complicated!" I shout. "Stop f.u.c.king telling me things are complicated. I f.u.c.king know complicated. I've lived complicated. My f.u.c.king girlfriend...oh my G.o.d, Mark. Oh my G.o.d. Mother of f.u.c.king f.u.c.k. Is...please tell me it's not the same people," I whisper.

Mark looks me in the eyes, and the pain I see in them answers my question. f.u.c.k.

"Who are they, Mark? What do they want? Why her?"

The waitress comes and gets our drink orders, and we order our food so she won't bother us again until it's ready.

"Cole," he says sternly. "If I tell you-" I make a face. "When I tell you, you have to promise me that you'll let me handle it. Please let me do this."

I pound my fist on the table, making our waters spill over a little. I practice on my breathing so I won't lose my temper again.

"Mark, just tell me," I demand through gritted teeth.

"Blake's father's last name is Brennan. Her mother's was Benson. As in Brian Benson."

He says it with such a.s.surance, as if I'm supposed to know who the h.e.l.l that is. As if he's saying...oh s.h.i.t, Brian Benson? My eyes shoot up to his. Son of a...no way. I shake my head vehemently as I look into his expectant wide blue eyes.

"Brian Benson?" I whisper hoa.r.s.ely. When he nods his head, I want to die.

He nods his head. "-is Blake's grandfather."

My head feels like it's inside a hamster ball, spinning and hitting everything in sight. Brian Benson is like the f.u.c.king G.o.dfather. No, not like, he is the f.u.c.king G.o.dfather. He's the mob boss of mob bosses. Brian f.u.c.king Benson. Oh my G.o.d. It's all starting to come back to me. Blake's grandfather's farm. My farm now. What the f.u.c.k?

"Why the h.e.l.l do I own Brian Benson's farm?" I whisper.

Mark's eyebrows shoot up. "His farm?"

I shoot him a look. "Don't be stupid. I know that you know."

Mark looks confused. "No, I really don't. What the h.e.l.l are you talking about?"