"Yeah, well, the only way I wanted to meet them was with Blake by my side, but seeing my fucking 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 damn. Whatever. I don't really give a shit. 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 fucking 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 fucking 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 fucks 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 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.