Mark scowls at him. "He would've called Pops by now if he knew!"
Connor sucks his teeth. "You think Dad and Grandpa always give you the inside scoop or something? You're a lawyer, dude!"
"First of all, WHO THE FUCK IS DEAN? And can someone get a pen and paper and start drawing out the family trees and everyone's connection to everyone else?" I demand. And I mean it, this shit gets exhausting and keeping up is impossible. I should've brought Aubry so he could give me the cliff notes on these people and their complicated issues.
Connor laughs and walks over to me, sitting on the couch in front of me, as Mark follows him and takes a seat on the other side of the couch I'm on.
"Dean's a good guy, don't worry about him, he's family. Anyway, Alex and Benny are the guys that took Blake. They work for Jamie. Blake's parents and them go way back. Like waaaay back. They were all best friends, grew up together, ran with the same crowds. They were all friends until Benny started fucking shit up," Connor explains befo
re taking a swig of beer.
Talk about information overload. I think my brain just exploded. I sit here dumbly staring at Connor for a bit with my mouth hanging open, still processing everything and trying to figure out why, but still come up blank. I just keep mulling over the Dean is family part.
"What do you mean Dean's family? Whose family is he?" I ask.
Connor exhales. "Look, like I said, our families used to be close. Even after that whole thing went down, some of us stayed close. You have nothing to worry about with Dean. Benny's the scariest motherfucker in the equation."
I shake my head. "You guys use the term family really fucking loosely. So why did they take me and Blake? Why the hell did they take you?" I ask Mark, turning my body to face him.
Mark shrugs. "Wrong place, wrong time. Benny started complicating things when your dad was working in the city and Jamie O'Brien and Brian Benson couldn't come to an agreement over some stuff. There was a lot of money involved, Benny took it a step further and kidnapped you and Blake. I still don't know why the fuck they took me, to be entirely honest with you. I've learned to let it go though. I got sick of trying to figure it all out, and I was fine with knowing that you and Blake were safe. At least I did something right."
I nod in agreement and appreciation because he's right, if it wasn't for him, who knows where we'd be right now. I just can't believe all of these people were friends before all of this and lost their ties because of one guy.
"Why did that Benny guy start so much shit? What's his deal?" I ask curiously.
"He's a psycho, that's his deal," Connor says, as Mark nods his head in agreement.
"He's never been right in the head, but I think greed is the root of his problem," Mark adds.
"We're all greedy," Connor mutters below his breath.
"Yeah, and we're all fucked up," Mark replies with a shrug before taking another swig of beer.
I've been staring at the door, waiting for Dean to come in any minute, but the minute never seems to come. I've already been to the bathroom ten times since I woke up, and each time I feel like somebody is drilling my lower back—that's how much it hurts. I run my hands over my neck for what seems like the millionth time since I've been here. I was wearing the necklace Cole gave me the day they took me, and I miss having it around my neck. Not that I need it to remember him, but I hate that they took it from me. When will they stop taking? I don't even want the answer to that question.
My ears perk up when I hear the door unlock quietly, followed by the quickening heart when I see Dean appear in the threshold wearing a pair of dark jeans and a black hooded sweater that's fitted to his body. His hair is damp and messy, not his usual style. We haven't spoken about the moment we shared the other day. In fact, we haven't spoken much at all. He's been here every day since, but our conversations are always short and to the point. He asks how I'm feeling, gives me my food, and leaves. Sometimes I could swear he's standing right outside the door and the thought that he'd rather leave me alone here bothers me endlessly. It was nothing, dammit!
My eyes travel down his body and I notice the brown paper bag in his hand as he strides over to me and sits down beside me.
"Hungry?" he asks casually.
I nod and he hands me the bag. When I open it I find a sandwich, chips and a can of pop.
"Are you going to talk to me or run away like a little girl?" I ask when I finish chewing my first bite. His chuckle makes my eyes roam over his lips before I look into his eyes.
"I haven't been running away like a little girl, chick. I just...it's not right for me to have almost done that and then come back in here wanting to do more. It's just not right. Even I know that."
The side of my lip twitches. "Since when do you care about what's right or wrong?"
"Are you testing me? If you start testing me, I'll cave," he says with a half smile, walking closer to me.
I shake my head vigorously and put my hands up. "Nah, I think we should just be friends."
He stops walking and laughs loudly, throwing his head back. "It's not you, it's me?"
I crinkle my nose. "Something like that," I reply with a laugh.
And just like that, we're back to being us.
"Tonight's the big party here," he whispers as I take a sip of Coke. "I'm going to leave the door unlocked for you and this under the bed." He pulls out a small flip phone from his back pocket and slides it under the mattress. "Listen to me very fucking carefully, Blake, because I don't want this to get fucked up. You don't use that phone—period. I call you, it vibrates, you get it and do not pick it up. You'll see Unknown Caller on the screen, and you get up, turn the bathroom light on, lock the door and close it. Then you leave this room and go the back way to the right of the kitchen, everyone will be in the yard. You open the front door and fucking run— not walk, not jog—you fucking run, do you understand?" he whispers harshly.
I nod, my eyes wide, mouth slack just staring at him. "And then what?" I whisper back softly.
"You run out of the gates and make a right, my truck will be there. If you're not there twelve minutes after I call you, I'm coming for you."
"Okay."
"Okay? This is important shit, Blake. We can't fuck up," he says, his eyes growing serious. "Run it by me. Tell me everything you're going to do."
So I do.
Three times.
I tell him step by step exactly what I'll do when the phone under my mattress vibrates. By the time I repeat it a third time, my words are strained and I have tears in my eyes because it's real and I can't believe I'm finally getting the hell out of here. As he stands up, he eyes me sadly and cups the back of my head, gently tugging the hair in my ponytail and tilting my head to place a soft kiss on the top of my head.
"Everything will be fine, chick. I'll see you later," he whispers before walking out and closing the door. I hold my breath and lean forward on the mattress, sitting on pins and needles, waiting to hear whether or not the door will lock. When I can no longer hold my breath, I exhale, my heart beating erratically at the realization that he left it unlocked. This is real. I'm that much closer to my escape. After looking at the back of the door for what feels like an eternity, I stand and pace back and forth a couple of times while rubbing my lower back with both hands. I plop down on the mattress and look around the empty, dark room. The only light shining is coming from the squiggly lines on the messed up TV on the old brown dresser. I am so not going to miss this place. When the pain in my lower back begins to worsen again, I close my eyes and lie on the bed, placing an arm over my eyes even though I'm trying to fight my exhaustion in efforts to stay awake. I can't miss the call.
Eventually, I gasp awake at muffled vibrations and sit up quickly, sliding my hand under the mattress to get the flip phone. My heart hammers against my chest when I read Unknown Caller on the screen. I clutch it in my hands and get up swiftly, moaning from the pain in my back that I no longer have time to worry about. I speed to the bathroom and flip the light on, look around and blink away the tears that threaten to surface as I recall the dreadful memories I've had in here. I turn around and step back into the room, locking and closing the bathroom door behind me. I leave the television on and put on the pair of tattered flip flops they gave me before heading to the door. I roll up my too-long-to-walk sweats up to my knees and place one hand on the knob, taking a deep breath.
Butterflies swarm my core as I turn the doorknob and open the door slowly, sticking my head out to make sure nobody is around. I tiptoe out and close it quietly behind me before placing the lock on it. I allow myself to dwell on it for a couple of seconds before shaking my head and continuing to tiptoe toward the stairs. A shiver runs through me as I ascend to the main story of the house, standing for a count of two and rocking on my heels as I clutch on to the doorknob with a shaky hand. I slip off my sandals after I turn the knob and open it slightly, listening acutely to the muted conversations. I tuck my head in, tilting it to the right, then left before stepping out and shuttin
g the door behind me. I stride to the right, walking as quickly as I can on the palms of my feet, passing the kitchen entrance, a formal living room, a dual staircase and lavish entryway before I reach the front door. The house is well lit but quiet on this side, just as Dean said it would be since the party is going on out back. I open the door and breathe a sigh of relief when the fresh air greets me. I bend down to slip my feet back into the sandals and look at the phone in my hand, but it's still blank. I contemplate opening it and calling the police, Cole, anybody, but Dean's words ring louder than my gut feeling, so I opt against it. I continue my walk across the vast lawn, listening to Frank's Sinatra's melodic voice and the mix of men's loud chatter and women's laughter.
I am thoroughly disgusted that they are having a full on party, all while thinking that I'm locked up in their basement. A part of me wants to run out there, scream my head off and let everybody know that they kidnapped me, but the smarter part of me just wants to get out of here as soon as possible. My breathing is ragged as I continue shuffling my feet to the gate, which I'm supposed to walk out of and meet Dean on the other side. I pick up the pace a little when I reach it and hold one of the cool iron bars between my hands, pulling it a little. When it doesn't budge, I put my strength into it, pulling it with both hands. I let out a breath and wipe my sweaty hands over my sweats before trying again. A sudden sharp pain stabs my abdomen, making me gasp and let go of the bars to place my hands on my midriff. I look down at myself and squeeze my eyes shut. "We're going to be okay. We're going to be okay. I'm going to get us out of here," I whisper, channeling this baby and praying for our safety.
The sound of rustling behind me jars me out of my thoughts and makes my head snap in that direction. My stomach drops when I see a large figure approaching me in the darkness. I don't need light or sound to tell me who it is, I'd know that body, that walk, anywhere. The fact that it's coming my way causes my heart to kick into overdrive. I whimper, turning my body slightly to hold on to the bars and begin to pull again with all my might, making the gate finally creek in motion.