Darkness Before Dawn Part 3

I let out a breath and rub my forehead, trying to rein in my impending headache.

"Forget it. How do I find Brian?"

He chokes on the sip of water he's taking. "What?" he coughs out.

"Brian. How do I find him?" I ask, exasperated.

"You don't, Cole. Are you out of your f.u.c.king mind?"

"Yes, I f.u.c.king am," I shout. "I've been out of my f.u.c.king mind. I'm dying over here. I can't breathe, I can't sleep, I can't think! My mind is running marathons half the time. You know what? Forget it! I'll figure it out my own d.a.m.n self!"

He exhales sharply. "Calm down!" he bellows. "I'll take you to him. I'll f.u.c.king take you to him!"

My eyes bug out of my face. "What? How?"

He tells me to let him handle that and that he'll take me to meet Brian soon. I just need to give him more time, but he's running out of time with me. Meanwhile, I can't even begin to process how the h.e.l.l Mr. f.u.c.king Big Time Attorney knows Brian motherf.u.c.king Benson. Well, he is a criminal attorney, maybe he's pulling in a favor. I don't care what he's doing, I need to find my girl.

A couple of days later, I'm standing outside my building waiting for Mark to pick me up and take me to see Brian. I hear Mark's Aston Martin before he pulls up to me and unlocks the doors. Before my a.s.s even hits the seat, he's handing me a flask. I take it, giving him a confused look as I bring it up to my lips.

"Trust me, you'll need it," he says as he speeds off.

We're silent during the ride, no sounds other than the cool breeze powering out of the air vents. Comfortable silence is just about the only thing I can handle right now because I sure as s.h.i.t don't want to talk, and I don't care much to hear what he has to say. Instead, I focus my attention on the LED lights that glow against the darkness before us, the only thing illuminating our journey. As my mind drifts to Blake, I stop paying attention to the roads and signs around me. Again I wonder why they have her, what they're feeding her, and where they're keeping her.

I put my face in my hands and feel the steel of the flask hit my forehead. The pain in my chest is becoming unbearable. Why couldn't they f.u.c.king take me? I'd gladly take her place. G.o.d, please let her be okay. She has to be okay. I don't realize I'm breathing heavily until Mark places his hand on my shoulder and looks at me with concern. I take a couple of deep breaths to calm down before staring back out into the night.

We pull up to a mansion with a ma.s.sive iron gate that has the initial B in the middle. Mark opens his window and punches in a code to open the gates. He has the d.a.m.n code?

"How do you know Brian?" I ask cautiously.

He turns to me with a smirk. "Oh...he's my father."

My jaw drops and all I can do is gape at him while he laughs at the shock on my face.

"Are you f.u.c.king kidding me?" I growl when I finally come to my senses.

Before he can even make a coherent reply without laughing at me, I'm standing in front of the large oval dungeon door in the front of the house. Mark rings the doorbell as I nervously wipe my sweaty hands on my pant legs. Moments later, we're greeted by an elderly woman dressed in a French maid outfit. No joke. I try not to laugh but surely that is just about as weird as it gets. I nod my head and smile politely, as Mark greets her with a hug. He turns and introduces me to Ethel and I shake her hand before we walk past her.

We approach what I'm a.s.suming is a smoking room, because it smells like straight wood and cigar smoke. When we walk in, a gray-haired old man is sitting on one side of a poker table reading a newspaper.

"Pops," Mark greets, making the old man look up over his paper.

My stomach drops when I meet his big, piercing gray eyes. Brian f.u.c.king Benson. Any doubt I may have had about him being related to Blake vanishes along with my dignity, because I'm pretty sure I'm going to sell my soul to this guy so I can get my girl back. The longer I stand staring into his stormy eyes, the bigger the hole in my chest gets. Those eyes have haunted and saved me for the past twenty-six years. I clear my throat so I don't start crying like a little b.i.t.c.h in front of one of the most notorious men I've heard of.

"Nathan," the old man says as he searches my face.

I clear my throat again, trying to get rid of the f.u.c.king golf ball stuck in it. "Cole...but yes, sir," I say as I extend a hand out to him.

He shakes it. He's a tall man, almost as tall as I am and he's wearing khaki shorts and a polo. I don't know what the f.u.c.k I was expecting him to be wearing, but it sure as s.h.i.t wasn't this.

"You've grown up, son," he says with a smile. I must have made a face because he starts laughing. "Were you expecting me to scream or be a p.i.s.sed off old man?" he asks, amused.

"I didn't really think about it, sir, but I didn't expect you to be wearing regular clothes, that's for sure," I reply honestly.

His laughter fills the room, and Mark joins in shortly after. My mind is still reeling as I watch him hug Mark tightly and kiss him on both cheeks before turning back to me.

"Don't sir me, call me Brian. You used to call me Grandpa as a kid, but I don't expect you to remember that. Sit," he says, pointing at the chair across from the one he was sitting in. "Mark filled me in on everything. I gotta say, I was shocked as s.h.i.t when I found out about Blake. I thought they were trying to play me, until Mark here came to me about it. Anyway, I'm expecting company tonight, so we need to air this s.h.i.t about before they get here. There will be no mention of Blake around anybody else in this house. Understand?"

His eyes go cold when he says the last part to me, and suddenly the stories about how ruthless he is are a little more real to me. I know I can take this man down in a fight, but the intensity in his voice makes me shake in my f.u.c.king boots.

"Yes, sir," I reply. "I just need to know who took her and I need to get her back."

He picks up the set of dice in front of him and starts shaking them in his right hand, his eyes never leaving mine.

"I know who has her, they won't hurt her, son," he says firmly.

"Is it the same people that took us when we were kids?" I ask, working my jaw.

He nods and sadness pools his thunderous eyes before he fixes his stare on the die in his hand. Their gray is so much like Blake's, that I feel my throat tighten again and have to avert my own to the door just in time to catch Mark, who had seemingly left the room, stepping back inside.

"You tell him?" Mark asks Brian with a nod to me.

Brian takes a breath and looks at me. "I'm sure you are now aware of who I am. You've probably heard things; some true, some not. The men that took you were like family to us until we started having some issues over twenty years ago over some land...and other things that you don't need to know about. But I beat them out on something and that was the last straw for them. You dad was in charge of approving proposals in the city at the time, each of us turned our own things in. Everybody knew that because of the relationship I had built with your dad, I would get the approval. One of the guys thought it would make a difference to kidnap you and Blake. One thing we had in common is that we never involved children in our business. That night things just..." his voice trails off. "Anyway, Blake's father went nuts after that and did some things he can't take back. And there's just been bad blood between us and the O'Brien's since then. We've managed to keep them buried," he pauses and throws the dice down onto the green table. "Until now. They got something we want. I already told them I'd give them what they want. But he's not after that anymore, it's become some sort of obsession of his. Blake's pops don't know about it, don't know about you either, and I wanna keep it that way as long as I can. If anything happens to her and he finds out she was alive all this time, when he thought she was dead, he'll...f.u.c.k, I don't even know what else he can do," he says as he eyes Mark, who raises and drops his shoulders in response.

"So Jamie O'Brien is the one that has her?" I ask, ignoring the rest of the story.

Brian shakes his head slowly. "No. Him and I go way back and despite this s.h.i.t, we have the same ideals. One of his guys does. It's complicated, kid. We'll handle it though," he replies, looking at Mark again.

"You talk to Benny?" Mark asks.

He scoffs. "f.u.c.king kid wouldn't know his head from his a.s.s. I talked to Alex, though," he replies with a sigh. "Alex ain't gonna hurt the girl, Marky, you've seen her."

What the h.e.l.l does that mean? I'm ready to ask questions, but Ethel interrupts us to let Brian know his guests have arrived. We say our goodbyes and leave through the back door.

On the way home, we're quiet again, even though I have so many questions to ask, but for some reason I keep getting stuck on the stupidest one.

"Mark." My voice slices through the silence as I pivot my body as much as I can in the tiny seat. "Why the f.u.c.k is your last name Lewis?"

He gives a carefree laugh. "I changed it after they took you. I refused to hide, so I changed it and continued law school instead. They know who I am, of course, but the rest of the world doesn't need to know that a criminal attorney is the son of...well..."

The fact that he can't even say it makes it funnier than it is. The mix of confusion, anger, and anxiety drives me into a hysteric laugh and tears start rolling down my face as I clutch my stomach. Mark slaps my shoulder, which makes me laugh harder, and finally joins me laughing.

What a strange, f.u.c.ked up world we live in.

"So Brian is Blake's grandfather, and...you're her uncle...from the farm?"

"Nope, that must've been my brother. I rarely visited the farm," he replies with an exhale.

My clattering teeth echo in the dark empty room, as I lay in the fetal position, holding myself together, trying to keep myself warm. When the door bursts open, I hold myself tighter and squeeze my eyes shut as I try to control my breathing. Please think I'm asleep. Please think I'm asleep. Sometimes Alex comes in here and sits on the floor staring at me when he thinks I'm asleep. Most of the time I hear him weeping as I lie here with my eyes shut, waiting for him to leave. Sometimes he mutters apologies under his breath as he touches my face lightly, and I try my best not to flinch or cry. Then he leaves quietly after bidding me goodnight. I don't feel well enough to pretend right now, though.

"Blake," he whispers roughly.

My heart begins to slow down, and I open my eyes as I stir my body.

"What?" I ask groggily, sitting up on the uncomfortable mattress. My back is killing me from this d.a.m.n mattress. And the smell. I just can't take it anymore! The smell of chlorine overpowers any other lingering scent and just thinking about it makes me gag. I can even smell it through my stuffy nose from the terrible cold I have, which is pretty telling.

"How do you feel?" he asks, leaning over me and touching my forehead softly, making my stomach churn from the cigarette smell on his clothing.

"Like s.h.i.t. How do you think I feel?" I reply weakly.

"I'm going to take you to the doctor in the morning," he says in a concerned tone.

I cough out a laugh. "You really think Alex or Benny are going to let you take me out of this place?

"Don't worry about them. You're going to die if you stay in here without a doctor. You've had a fever for four days now."

"They'd be happy to let me die," I reply tiredly.

"They need you alive, Blake. Trust me."

"Trust you," I whisper, mostly to myself.

"Yes, trust me. I haven't done you wrong, have I?" he asks, his hazel eyes narrowing at me angrily.

I shake my head slowly.

"Besides, you know better than to say anything or try to run. He's already warned you before. If you say anything to anybody, Cole's dead. If you try to run, we'll add Aubry to that," he says flatly.

A whimper escapes me. "You're a heartless son of a b.i.t.c.h," I say hoa.r.s.ely.

"You have no idea," he replies. "So don't f.u.c.k with me. I like you and I don't agree with what they're doing, but if I have to pick between my life and one of theirs, it sure as f.u.c.k isn't going to be mine. Understood?"

I nod yes with tears in my eyes and remind myself that even the nicest people can't be trusted.

He groans. "d.a.m.n it, chick. Just be good and nothing will happen. I brought you something for your fever, drink it and go back to sleep. I'll come get you in the morning."

I do as I'm told and watch him leave the room. Leaving me in the darkness, nursing my ailments with my tears-again.

I go to sleep thinking of Cole. Wishing it was his arms around me, instead of my own.

I wake up sometime after Dean left, my stuffy nose not letting me go back to sleep. After a while of just staying in bed, I get up and dress before lying back down to wait for Dean. I look up when I hear the door unlock and find Benny staring at me angrily. My instinct is to push myself back, toward the wall. He's pushed me around, and I still have a couple of bruises on my arms from the last time he was here.

"Dean's taking you to the doctor today, girl. Don't you for a second think this is your chance to escape. Try something, your famous boyfriend gets. .h.i.t first. Got it?" he says in his icy voice, gruff from his smoke-filled lungs.

"Got it," I whisper.

"I can't hear you. Speak up, girl," he spits.

"Got it," I say loudly. I stiffen when he stalks over to me. He grabs me by the throat and squeezes, cutting my breathing as he pushes my head roughly into the wall.

"Don't f.u.c.king talk to me like that," he spits.

"BENNY!" Dean screams as he rushes toward us and tears him away from me.

Benny looks over to Dean and hacks out a maniacal laugh. "You keep playing knight in f.u.c.king shining armor for her, don't you?"

Dean's eyes narrow. "I'd rather keep her safe while you figure out what the f.u.c.k you're going to tell Jamie when he finds out."

"I call the shots 'round here. f.u.c.k Jamie! He didn't do s.h.i.t when her pops did this to me, did he?" Benny screams as he points to his face.

I clasp my mouth with both hands. It's not that I care that my father did that to this monster, sad excuse for a man. My father is a stranger to me anyway, but the thought of him being anything like these people doesn't sit well with me. I clutch on to my stomach and try not to lose my breakfast.

"She had nothing to do with that," Dean responds as Benny walks away.

"She had everything to do with that!" Benny shouts over his shoulder not turning back around.

Dean looks at me with guilt in his eyes, and for the hundredth time since I've been here, I can't figure out why he's chosen this life for himself. He crouches down directly in front of me.

"You okay?" he asks, searching my face. I nod rapidly, my heart still drumming loudly in my chest as he helps me up.

I follow Dean out of the room in the bas.e.m.e.nt and up the stairs. When we make it to the top step, I squint at the brightly lit house. We round the corner and end up in a living room where the walls are white and the decor is opulent. Not what I expected. I hear loud male voices and instinctively plaster myself to Dean's back, clutching on to his shirt. I feel his body stiffen under my hold, and he turns around, placing me by his side. His hazel eyes are looking at me, wildly confused.

"I'm scared," I whisper, because I am. I'm scared out of my mind.

His eyes soften. "Don't be scared. I got you."

I nod, but his words don't soothe me. Nothing about this place makes me feel safe, not even him.

He leads me toward the back door, the opposite direction of the voices, and outside. He holds my hand tight in his, and I know it's not to make me feel safe, but to make sure I don't run.

"Blake, remember what I told you. You run, Cole's dead. You wouldn't want that, now would you?" Dean asks in a soft voice that contradicts the severity of his threat. He says he wouldn't kill for anybody, and I wonder how much truth is in that. It doesn't matter, the threat is there and I have no desire to find out whether or not they'd do it. I can't afford to mess around, for all I know these are the people who killed Maggie. That thought alone churns my stomach.

"No, I wouldn't," I whisper. "I won't run, I promise."

"Good."

I take a deep breath and let the fresh air fill my lungs. I've smelled the nasty smell in the room for so long, I'd forgotten what breathing clean air is like. When the sun hits my face, I begin to weep quietly. When Dean opens the door of the pick up truck we're riding in, I wipe the tears from my eyes. He gives me a sad look and slumps his shoulders.

"I'm sorry, chick. Really. This is just the way it has to be," he says as I climb in.

I don't believe that he's sorry. If he had the chance, I think he'd do it all the same. He followed me around for who knows how long. He told me I had a price on my head. He knew about my f.u.c.ked up past, saw my lovely life, and he still tore me from all of it. I try to huff in response, but instead I fall into a full-out cough attack. As he pulls out of the immense driveway and into the neighborhood, I look for anything that may look familiar. Most of the houses are huge and far apart from each other. It's very much a white picket fence community. I'm being held hostage in the middle of a safe, high cla.s.s neighborhood. The irony.

We drive about twenty minutes, listening to Nickelback, of all things. Might as well kill me now. We pull up to a cottage-looking house and he tells me to wait so he can open the door for me. I let out a frustrated breath, which makes him laugh. I don't understand why we stopped here to begin with. He drags me to the front of the house and knocks on the door three times. An older gentleman with a white beard in a doctor's coat greets us. This can't be the doctor he brought me to. I'm sweating a fever that I've had for almost a week, I've been coughing up a lung, vomiting, and he brings me to see this old man at his house?

I narrow my eyes at Dean and stomp inside. The old man looks at me over his gla.s.ses and extends his hand out to greet me.

"I'm Dr. Kellogg. Dean tells me you've had a fever for a couple of days and haven't been feeling well?" he asks patiently.

"That's right," I reply with a cough. I extend my hand. "I'm Blake." I look around, quickly averting my eyes from his curious look. The house is cozy; I can tell he has a wife to look after him.