There Is No Light in Darkness (26 page)

Mark looks at me with sad eyes for a long time before he nods his head.

“Blake,” he says softly. “I’ll always watch over both of you.”

“Promise me, Mark. If anything happens to me, please promise me,” I whimper, no longer in control of my sobbing. “Promise me that no matter what he says, you’ll have two security guards on him. Promise me,” I scream.

“I promise, I promise. Nothing is going to happen,” he says sadly.

“It already has, though,” I reply weakly. “It already has.”

He doesn’t correct me. He knows as well as I do that things we cannot control—and things I do not understand—are happening.

“Do you want to go out for lunch?” he asks.

I don’t hesitate. I’m dying to get out of this office. Maybe we’ll go somewhere we can speak more freely. I send Cole a text message, saying that I’m out to lunch with Mark. I can’t tell him what it’s about over text, or he’ll leave work early. I ask Bruce to please get two of his guys to watch Cole without him noticing.

Mark and I arrive at a Lou Malnati’s Pizzeria, home of the best deep-dish pizza—in my opinion anyway. We sit at a small table in the back of the restaurant and order one large cheese pizza and a pop each.

“So is this the part that you tell me how you and I are connected?” I ask.

Mark laughs. “You never give up, huh?”

“Nah,” I say, smiling sadly and shaking my head.

“Blake, does it matter who I am? You know I’m taking care of you guys.”

“I also know you helped take us,” I retort, raising an eyebrow.

“Touché.”

“Mark, be serious. Why were you involved?” I ask.

He lets out a breath and closes his eyes for a second before he answers.

“I was young—too young. I guess you could say that I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I was at a point in my life where I was trying to do the right thing but still wanted to be cool. My brother was always walking on the wrong side of the law; I wasn’t. The guys that took you—were involved in horrible things. Hell, my entire family was. They came to our house that night looking for him. Since he wasn’t there, they took me. At first, I thought it was cool because I was going to live my brother’s life for a little while. Then, they held me at gunpoint and asked me where Camden lived. I thought it was a joke. Everyone knew where Camden lived. I took them there, thinking they would let me go. They didn’t. They got Nathan and threw him in the back of the truck with me. The leader of the two drove to your house,” he paused and took a sip of pop, his eyes watering. I wasn’t sure if it was from the sizzling pop or from the memory. “They—” he started in a hoarse voice before he cleared his throat. “Nathan cried the entire ride over. He was screaming for his parents. He kept looking at me as if I should help him, but I didn’t know how I could. I didn’t want to get us both killed. When we got to your house, they wouldn’t let me out of the van. They were talking about it in the car. They said they were going to take your dad as ransom. I knew they wouldn’t kill anybody there. I didn’t think they could have possibly been that stupid.

“When I heard the gunshots coming from inside, I got out of the van and ran to the house. The main guy stopped me and told me that if I did anything stupid, he’d put a bullet in ... in your head. I told him I wouldn’t, and he gave me two needles with a tranquilizer in them. Nathan had followed me out and was sticking by me when I looked in the kitchen. The other guy, whom I’d never seen before, was carrying your dad on his shoulder. I thought he was dead. When I looked at the floor and saw ... I had to step back out. One of the guys grabbed Nathan and took him back to the truck while I went to the side of the house to compose myself. I put on a brave face for you—or I tried to. I had only seen you a couple of times before that. I went in and gave you the tranquilizer, hoping to numb you from your pain and rid you of that awful memory. I’m so sorry, Blake,” he said, tears streaming down his face.

My shoulders are shaking in quiet sobs as I listen to him. We’re getting looks from the people around us, but we don’t care.

“I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t know what they were doing. I did what I could for you and Nathan. The head guy took off in another car with your father and left us behind with the other guy. I tried to pay him off. I promised him things. I knew who he worked for, and I knew that he wasn’t happy about the predicament he was put in. He agreed to leave and never come back. I had you guys to deal with, and they wanted you dead, so I took Nathan to Maggie’s because I’d heard of her from my mother, and I took you to Shelley’s,” he says, taking a deep breath and meeting my gaze, “because she was my mother.”

I feel the air constrict in my lungs as I sit there, completely dumbfounded. I was looking for the truth, and now I had it. After a couple of minutes of pulling ourselves together quietly, the pizza arrived. We had both lost our appetites, and even though we both agreed that this was our favorite pie, we couldn’t finish it. We could barely eat the slices we had on our plates.

“Do you know the guy with the glass eye?” I ask as I play with the melted cheese on my plate.

He sighs loudly, making me look up and see his mournful eyes. “I did. I knew him well, once upon a time.”

I nod in response. “It’s a lot to take in. I guess it’s different, hearing it from your perspective, since you were older than us and actually remember it.”

“I remember it every day, and every day, I wish I didn’t,” he replies solemnly.

Chapter Twenty

Present

5 months later

Everything is blooming outside of the full-length windows of the two-bedroom apartment Cole and I bought together a couple of months ago. We decided that we’d look for a bigger place later—when we really need one. Our place is close to Soldier Field and to any job that I’ll get once I pass the bar this summer. (Knock on wood.) Aimee and I have been studying for a couple of months now. We’re both excited to put the killer that is law school behind us and get on with our lives.

As I rummage through the kitchen drawers, looking for a spatula to decorate a cake for Cole’s birthday—which is today—I stumble across the Christmas card we sent out months back and smile. It’s a picture of Cole and me standing in front of the tree in Rockefeller Center in New York, as we do our best Home Alone “scream face” expressions. I tuck the picture back in the drawer when I hear the shower turn off. I go back to icing the cake and turn around when I hear the bedroom door open. I turn and find Cole dripping wet, with a towel wrapped around his waist. His wet long hair is flicking up and down every time he blinks, and his crooked grin tells me he’s up to no good.

“Why are you wet?” I ask, crinkling my nose.

“I thought you were going to sneak up on me in the shower,” he says with a fake pout.

I laugh. “Aww, poor baby. Get back in the shower; maybe I’ll make an appearance in a couple of minutes.” He smiles, flashing one dimple and winks at me before turning around—fully aware that I’m gawking him—and lets his towel fall to give me a view of his perfectly sculpted ass. I gasp loudly, which makes him laugh before facing me to show off his very hard—all over—body. I toss the spatula aside, throw off my While-I’m-Wearing-This:-I’m-The-Boss” apron, and run to jump on him, wrapping my legs around him as he squeezes my bottom and walks us into our room.

That night, Aimee, Aubry, and Mark come over for cake and ice cream. We all settle down around the living room, talking about anything and everything. Cole, Mark, and Aubry get into a heated conversation about street lights—yes, really, street lights.

“Why it is that you didn’t go into law school, Cole?” Mark asks with a laugh.

Cole smirks. “Because I don’t like bullshitters.”

I slap Cole playfully on the shoulder. “Hey! I’m not a bullshitter!”

He grabs my hand and pulls me into his lap. “You are, and I love you anyway,” he says before stopping my reply with a searing kiss. I’m breathless when I pull away. “Asshole,” I mutter against his lips before smearing his face with the piece of cake I had left on my plate. We spent the rest of the night, throwing cake all over each other. When Aubry shoves a blob of ice cream down the back of my shirt, I decide play time is over. After we clean up and everybody leaves, Cole and I shower and lie in bed grinning at each other.

My heart is overflowing with love for him, for us, for our life together. As I look into his loving green eyes, I think of all the years I’ve known him and all the years that I will continue to know him, and it makes me smile brightly. I am so thankful for him. He’s never given up on me, no matter how crazy and impossible I get. And I do get crazy and impossible—often.

I lean into his face, and just as I’m about to kiss him, I whisper, “I love you, Cole.” He doesn’t return my kiss, and his face is priceless when I back away. He looks at me in awe before leaning up on his forearm to look at the time.

“Eleven fifty,” he announces when he looks back in to my eyes. “That was the best birthday present I have ever gotten,” he replies, brushing my lips with his. “Say it again,” he murmurs before sucking my bottom lip into his mouth and letting go.

“I love you,” I say with a smile.

His eyes are glistening as he positions his body over mine. “I love you, Blake. More than you’ll ever know,” he says softly before he captures my lips in his again.

The next morning, I wake up smiling, until I recall telling Cole that I loved him. I take a breath and look over, expecting for him to be missing half his face. I literally put my hand over his heart to make sure it’s still beating. Ugh, I am so paranoid. I lay my head over his chest, and wrap my arms around him tightly, as I silently pray that nothing bad happens. During breakfast, he makes me tell him I love him about a hundred times and kisses me each time I say it. Aimee picks me up for school later, and Cole goes off to work. He’s working at a local news station today, talking about whatever sport is on this time of year. Probably baseball—it seems like baseball is always on ... or soccer.

The day goes by and that night is similar to the one before—minus the guests and the cake fight. I have never been so happy in my life, and find that I can’t stop smiling. Cole has had the same goofy grin on his face since I told him I love him. It sort of makes me wish I would have said it to him years ago. I’m as superstitious as a baseball player. I roll my eyes as I think that, but it’s true.

A couple of weeks later, Cole mentions that he has to fly out to New York, and will be coming home late because he couldn’t get an earlier flight. We kiss goodbye before he heads to the airport and I get ready for class. Aimee isn’t going to pick me up for today because she has to go to an event with Aubry tonight. We agree to get together at our usual Starbucks for coffee, and walk together from there. I’ve come to love Aimee like a sister, and I’m glad she and Aubry are doing well together. They moved into an apartment nearby ours shortly after we moved. I’m glad they didn’t stay at our old place. After the break-in situation, I’d been wanting us to get out of there.

I feel eyes on me as I walk to Starbucks and look around anxiously. To my left, I find a man staring at me while he smokes a cigarette. The way he’s leaning against the wall with his legs crossed at the ankles, as if he owns the place, makes me frown. His brown hair is gelled back, and he’s wearing black boots, dark jeans, and a black cashmere sweater. He reminds me of a modern-day James Dean with his rugged good looks. I look away from his intense gaze quickly, because I don’t want him to think I’m interested in him or anything. I can still feel his eyes on my back when I stroll by him.

I continue down two more blocks, shaking away the oddness of that situation, and arrive at Starbucks. Aimee is still not here, so I get our usual drinks and grab a table by the window. My heart drops as I’m rummaging through my messenger bag, looking for my phone, and hear a loud machine gun go off. I look around frantically, knocking over my cup of coffee in the process, and spot Derek as he walks behind me. Damn it. Derek is a heavy-set guy in his thirties that comes in here every day, playing his machine gun app as he strolls in and out of the coffee shop. The first time I heard it, I cringed and yelped loudly. After the third time, I decided to talk to him. I figure that if he comes in here one day with a real machine gun, he may spare my life for being nice to him. I put my phone on the table and pick up the cup. Thankfully, it was mine and already half empty.

“Hey, Blake,” Derek calls out as he walks by again.

“Hey, Derek,” I smile.

I look back outside and jump in my seat when I see the same guy that was watching me earlier. He’s standing across the street, staring at me, with a cigarette in his hand—again. I feel my knee begin to bounce under the table as I bite my finger nails. Why is he staring at me like that? Is he following me? Where’s Bruce? I look around anxiously for him and spot him on my side of the street. I let out a slight sigh of relief.

Once again, I think of movies—the ones where the unsuspecting girl gets abducted in broad daylight—and I get paranoid. I call Aimee; she tells me she’s almost here, but I quickly tell her to go to school instead. I don’t want her to be spotted with me, just in case. Mark said once that the people involved in mine and Cole’s kidnapping start stripping off your loved ones first, and I can’t let that happen. Aimee is confused but agrees to meet me at school. I don’t know what to do. Should I call the cops or Bruce? What is standard protocol for a situation where a good-looking guy is creeping you the hell out by watching you? That’s all he’s done—watch me—but it’s the way he’s watching me. He’s looking at me as if there’s nothing going on around him. This guy could seriously be mental. He could be a killer or worse: a killer and a rapist. Well, I’m not sure if that’s worse, but right now I can’t think straight. Derek passes by me with his stupid app on full blast, and I jump in my seat again and let out a growl of frustration. Damn it.