Blackness Takes Over & Blackness Awaits (46 page)

“Not happenin’, Cass. I’m in the middle of some shit right now.” I’m getting shorter with each response.

“Shit more important than your child?” she scoffs. Wow, and so the manipulation begins. I knew she’d get here. It’s her thing. Sweet and soft with you until you’re lulled into a sense of safety then, bam, she hits you with the manipulative crazy shit. This is why we’re not together. This is why I should have stayed the fuck away from her. Maybe Kid could get me custody if the baby’s mine? That thought turns my stomach. What if Kid isn’t around to help…no I can’t go there. I need to get off the phone and figure out a way to find Kid regardless of the FBI being involved.

“If I knew it was my child we could have this conversation. We don’t, so we’re not. I need to get off here. Cassie, please do right by this baby. No matter if it’s mine or not, do right by this baby,” I implore.

“Dylan, what’s goin’ on? You’re freakin’ me out a little,” she sounds human again.

“I’m just busy. I really need to go. Remember what I said,” I remind her gently. “Bye Cass.” I hang up before she can respond.

The eyes in the sunroom are still on me.

“Say what you gotta say guys,” I instruct. Let’s get this over with.

“Doesn’t know if it’s yours?” Kav’s first out of the blocks.

“No.”

“She keepin’ it?” O’Sullivan’s next.

“Yes.”

“She pushin’ you to go back to Seattle?” Cal chimes in.

“Yes.”

“Convinced it’s yours?” Finn joins the chorus.

“Yes.”

“Refusin’ to do the amnio and CVS?” Aidan’s last to join twenty questions.

“Yes.”

“Trap!” the five of them yell in unison. We all chuckle at that. First time I’ve laughed in days. It hurts.

“Seriously, when we get Kid back, she’ll figure it out. It’s her thing,” O’Sullivan suggests.

“Don’t really wanna drop this at her feet after what she’s been through,” I say softly. I can’t imagine her wanting to deal with my shit, much less help, after whatever horror she’s enduring.

“You don’t, she’ll kick your fuckin’ ass,” Kav warns. I smirk at that, knowing he’s right. If I don’t let her help me she’ll definitely kick my ass.

“Let’s get her first, then we’ll figure out my train wreck of a life,” I insist. They all nod in agreement and we go back to silence.

“I can’t fuckin’ sit here anymore. I’m goin’ nuts!” Cal huffs standing up. “Tell me there’s somethin’ we can do.” Cal looks around the room at each of us, willing us to fix this somehow.

“O’Sullivan,” Finn perks up with an idea, “your third, ten times removed, cousin you called to deal with Liam and his friend.” O’Sullivan nods confusedly. “He still less than on the up and up?”

“I don’t know. He’s not really around the tree at Christmas, ya know. But I’m sure he’s not curin’ cancer or anything,” he snorts.

“Call him. See if he knows anything. See if he can find anything out,” Finn rattles off excitedly. I can feel my pulse picking up strength at the idea. O’Sullivan studies our faces for a second and then pulls his phone out.

“My pop’ll fuckin’ kill me for this,” he says as he puts the phone to his ear. We all wait with bated breath.

“Kieran?” he pauses for a long moment. “Hey it’s Brian…Yeah man I know. It’s been a long time…Not so good cousin. You remember that mess you helped with a while back?” O’Sullivan waits and listens to whatever his cousin is saying for a few breaths.

“Right, well you remember Shannon? Someone in Mancini’s family grabbed her over two days ago. We got nothin’. My pop’s got nothin’. And now the FBI is in on it and we’re all sittin’ here with our thumbs up our asses. Need your help again, man.”

I’m sitting on the very edge of the sofa pleading for this person I don’t know to help us. My adrenaline is pumping, my heart is pounding, and I feel a little flicker of hope beginning to spark within me.

“Yeah I know the place. Give us a half hour,” he pauses again before standing up. “No fuckin’ cops. I’ll leave my brothers here…Later.”

We all jump to our feet to go wherever and meet the criminal cousin. The six of us file out of the sunroom trying to look nonchalant. I’m doubtful it works but everyone is distracted so we’re good. Kav lifts his chin at Ryan and Adam who fall in step with us as we head out the front doors. Taylor’s nowhere to be seen and I’m thankful. I’ve avoided that prick like the plague since we’ve been here. I don’t want him with us for this. He used to be a cop so I’m sure he wouldn’t be welcome where we’re going anyway.

“Where are you all headed?” Dr. Callaghan asks eyeing our group. Mr. Kavanagh and he are headed in the house as we’re headed out. They were probably getting an update from the mobile command center that’s still in the driveway.

“Gotta get the hell outta here for a bit, Dad. We’re goin’ nuts waitin’,” Aidan lies. His father nods but Mr. Kavanagh continues to eye the group.

“What’re your plans?” Mr. Kavanagh asks his sons.

“Gym,” the three say in unison. Good lie. Mr. Kavanagh gives us a chin lift before tossing his keys to Kav.

“Thanks Pop.” With that the watchful fathers move in the house.

“Where to?” Kav asks O’Sullivan as we make our way toward the cars.

“Brannon’s in Canaryville,” he responds and we split off. Kav, O’Sullivan, Cal and I hop in Kav’s dad’s Mercedes S-Class while Aidan, Finn, Adam and Ryan climb in Aidan’s G-Wagon. We set a blistering pace headed down the I-94, riding in silence, each of us willing the car to move that much faster, hopefully toward Kid.

Shannon

“With your father?” Nicky questions softly.

“Yeah. Haven’t been able to remember my last conversation with him. I guess bein’ left in a room by myself for hours on end my mind finally cut it loose,” I say in a huff. Not the way I wanted to remember. “I need to go to the bathroom.”

“I’ll carry you,” Nicky says standing up from the side of the bed. I don’t want to be carried, but after my fit on the floor a few minutes ago I know I can’t walk to the bathroom. He scoops me up like I weigh nothing keeping me wrapped in the warmth of the comforter striding out of the room and into the bathroom where I killed a man. I still feel nothing.

“Can I put you down? You think you can get yourself on the toilet on your own?” Nicky asks looking deeply into my eyes. I nod and he gently lowers my feet to the floor holding my torso to his chest. I get my footing and take a ginger step toward the toilet and find I can walk fairly well. He lets me go and I take the three further steps to the toilet on my own. I turn and Nicky is still in the bathroom watching me.

“You gonna watch?” I ask annoyed.

“No, I’ll turn around.” He won’t even leave me in the bathroom alone. I may be a little annoyed, but I’m also a little happy he’s watching me so closely.

“Any time now.” I raise my brow at him. He smirks and spins. I drop the comforter and suck in a sharp breath between my teeth when my battered ass and thighs hit the seat.

“You all right?” Nicky questions making a move to turn.

“I’m fine. Just stings a bit.” He stays with his back to me until he hears the flush of the toilet. I’m just tucking the comforter around me when he scoops me back up and carries me back to my torture chamber.

Once back in the room he eases me down onto the bed and sits next to me as I curl up on my side. I’m so tired. Who knew taking a piss could be this exhausting. I let my eyes drift shut for just a moment.

“Shanny, we really need that key. We’re runnin’ up on some deadlines here,” Nicky says eagerly raking his hand through his chestnut hair.

“Nicky, I don’t know where it is,” I breathe out exasperated.

“If I don’t do somethin’ to you soon or get the information shit’s gonna look more suspicious than it already does,” he says pointedly. That gets my attention. I shakily push up onto my elbow staring into his deep blue pools.

“What does that mean, Nicky?” I ask sweetly and cautiously. He rakes his hand through his hair a few more times.

“I’ve got a reputation for bein’ brutal and quick. You’ve been here for more than two days and I haven’t done shit to you. This room is wired with cameras so the whole team knows you’re just layin’ in here. I turn off the feed when I’m in here but they can tell I’m not doin’ shit when I’m in here.”

“I don’t know what to do. I don’t know where it is. I’ve been thinkin’ about it a lot and I can’t figure it out. What do we do?”

“We’re gonna make my team believe that I’m rapin’ you right now,” he says in a rasp. My eyes bug out and I push further away from him. “I’m not gonna rape you. But you’re gonna scream and I’m gonna let you get a few good hits in on me. It’ll buy us a good twelve hours. When we’re done I’ll give the team a bogus key location to send them out lookin’. While they’re gone you and I’ll try to figure out where it really is.”

“I have not a fuckin’ clue where it is, Nicky. What if we can’t figure it out? What happens when they come back without it?”

“We’ll figure it out,” he says demonstratively. “We need to get to this because I’ve been in here a long time.” I hesitate for a moment and then nod in agreement to his plan. “Can you sit up?” I slowly but surely push my beaten body to a seated position. He reaches behind his head and pulls his T-shirt over his head. Dude’s ripped. He’s not Kel but his body is well maintained.

“Make it believable,” he says with a smirk. I take a few moments to get my head around this situation. He’s not going to hurt me. He’s helping me. He killed the rapist for me. He’s taken care of me. I now get to kick his ass. I lunge forward and connect my fist with his jaw snapping his head to the side. When his gaze snaps back to mine I can see the shock (I hit like a dude). I offer him a smirk and then start screaming at the top of my lungs. I hit him a few more times and claw his chest until I feel flesh beneath my fingernails. I become so entrenched in what I’m doing that I’m shocked when he grabs my wrists and throws me down on the bed pinning me beneath him. I’m panting and dazed. I look up into his eyes and see worry.

“Are you okay?” he asks almost panicked in tone.

“Yeah,” I say on a short breath.

“You went somewhere else just then. You were screaming Liam.” FUCK! That’s not good for business.

“Sorry. It must have brought back some other memories.” I try to sound unaffected but I’m freaked. He watches me for a moment and then releases his grip on me to stand up. I get a good look at him and I’ve done a number on him. His nose and lip are bleeding and his chest looks like a lion got a hold of him and used him like a scratch tower. I’m also completely naked again. I grab the comforter and raise it in front of me.

“I’m gonna have to take that. I wouldn’t rape a woman and then give her a blanket,” he informs me apologetically. I tentatively hand him the blanket and bring my knees up to cover myself from view as best I can. He swipes his hand over his face and chest a few times and then rubs his blood in the middle of the mattress. I quirk an eyebrow at him.

“Try to keep that spot between your legs when you lay down.” I feel the blood drain from my face as I realize what he’s asking of me and why. I nod, just barely. He studies my face for a moment longer then turns on his heel leaving me in the blackness. I lay down on my stomach feeling the wet spot of the blood between my legs. I close my eyes, willing myself to fall asleep knowing this could have been a lot worse. Maybe I’m not going to die after all.

Kavanagh

We make illegally good time and pull up at Brannon’s thirty minutes after we set off. None of us talked on the drive, too much nervous energy. I did rock some Five Finger Death Punch during the ride…mood music.

“Let’s do this,” O’Sullivan says and we file out of the car meeting the rest of the guys on the sidewalk. Brannon’s is a hole in the wall and frequented by a rough crowd most nights. I push through the heavy beaten wooden door and scan the room. It’s pretty packed for a Monday night, not overly full though. O’Sullivan spots his cousin at a table near the back of the bar. Kieran Delaney has led a rough life and it shows on his face and body. There are multiple scars on his face from fighting that are accentuated by premature wrinkling from a cigarette a minute habit. His frame wouldn’t give it away but he’s made a name for himself bare-knuckle fighting since he was fifteen. He looks more than ten years older than us when he’s only actually three.