Darkness Before Dawn (6 page)

"Mr. Murphy," she coos as she leans forward, blatantly trying to entice me with her fake tits. "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 bullshit. "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 ass 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 cock 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, flustered.

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 fuck?" I bite out.

He rolls his eyes dramatically, and I swear I'm going to punch the motherfucker today.

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

I slam my fists on his desk. "Do you think this is a fucking game? My fucking 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 fucking parents because I'm that damn desperate. So I'll ask you again, what the fuck 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 fuck does that mean?"

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

"Listen, Cole, I know you're pissed, sad, and scared. Trust me, I am too, but it doesn't give you the right to disrespect your fucking godfather. I suggest you shut the fuck up, and go take a fucking 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 fucking kicking me out. This asshole thinks he's going to kick me out? Is he fucking 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. Fuck. 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.

"Dickhead, did it ever occur to you, that
maybe,
I'm being fucking 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 fucking questions?"

"Yes, asshole. I'll take you to lunch, but I swear, you disrespect me again, and I'm going to teach you some fucking manners."

I rub my face with my hands. My beard is itchy and hot and I fucking 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 fucking shaving.

"I would apologize, but you're past pushing my fucking limits, Lewis."

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

"How long has this shit 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 shit 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.

"Shit, 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."

"Fuck complicated!" I shout. "Stop fucking telling me things are complicated. I fucking know complicated. I've lived complicated. My fucking girlfriend...oh my God, Mark. Oh my God. Mother of fucking fuck. 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. Fuck.

"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 assurance, as if I'm supposed to know who the hell that is. As if he's saying...oh shit, 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 hoarsely. 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 fucking Godfather. No, not like, he
is
the fucking godfather. He's
the
mob boss of mob bosses. Brian fucking Benson. Oh my God. It's all starting to come back to me. Blake's grandfather's farm. My farm now. What the fuck?

"Why the hell 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 hell are you talking about?"

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 fucking mind?"

"Yes, I fucking am," I shout. "I've
been
out of my fucking 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 damn self!"

He exhales sharply. "Calm down!" he bellows. "I'll take you to him. I'll fucking 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 hell Mr. Fucking Big Time Attorney knows Brian motherfucking 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 ass 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 shit 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 fucking take me? I'd gladly take her place. God, 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 massive 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 damn 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 fucking 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 assuming 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 fucking 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 bitch 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 fucking 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 fuck I was expecting him to be wearing, but it sure as shit 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 pissed 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.