Chapter 7

Mark felt like taking his shotgun he went hunting with and blowing his head clean off.

His first mistake had been calling Brandy to come over to keep him company, which involved a fifth of Jack Daniels and a lot of sex. They didn't see each other often, only when he needed a release and Brandy was more than willing to give him anything he wanted. Of course, Mark used protection, already knowing Brandy didn't use birth control and he wasn't taking any chances. It made Mark feel sick every time they finished and normally he would kick her out of his bed right after sex. He normally called a cab for her, flat out refusing to let her sleep over with him, but last night had been different.

They both were so wasted, they passed out after sex.

So now Brandy was looking at him through her dark brown eyes with happiness shining in them and Mark felt like dying. "You need to leave; I'm goin' out of town for a few days." He rumbled, his back turned to her and sighed when she slid her hands up his broad muscular back.

"I don't think you want me to leave." She tried using a sultry seductive voice, Mark pulling away from her instantly. "I think I should go with you."

Mark froze when he heard that, slowly turning his head until green locked on dark brown. "What?" He wanted to make sure he'd heard her right, arching a slow eyebrow.

Brandy smiled wickedly, slipping from the bed, still naked from head to toe. "I said," She paused, rubbing against him, kissing his chest. "I want to go with you wherever you're going, baby. We could make it a weekend getaway with all your favorite things?" Trying to sound convincing, Brandy batted her fake eyelashes up at him, smiling softly.

This didn't turn Mark on at all and he pushed her away at arm's length, picking up her black dress –if he could even call it that- and tossed it at her. "I don't think that's a good idea. You need to get dressed and go home." There was NO way she was going with him to Dallas, Brandy had officially lost her mind.

Brandy frowned, not believing how distant Mark was acting toward her. "Okay…" She had to think of something and reached out to grab his arm, trying to get him to look at her. "Why won't you even look at me? Don't I make you happy, Marky?"

Mark pinched the bridge of his nose, wanting to strangle this woman, but knew he wouldn't make it to Dallas if he did. "My name is Mark, not Marky." He cringed, that nickname leaving a bad taste in his mouth. "And you know you should've gone home last night after we fucked. I don't want a relationship or anythin' with you, Brandy." Mark had made it perfectly clear he didn't want anything from her except a night of sex every once in awhile.

"That's not what you were saying last night!" Brandy snapped, shoving her legs into the black dress she wore over to entice him, scowling angrily. "You were saying how much you loved me and how much you wanted me in your life. You didn't just fuck me, Mark, you MADE LOVE TO ME!"

"Whatever I said last night I didn't mean and I was under the influence of Jack Daniels." Mark stated in a growl of his own, already feeling his head pounding from her yelling.

"Oh likely excuse, you piece of shit!" She shouted, slipping into her three inch stiletto heels, tears falling down her cheeks. "You've used me for the last fucking time!"

"Then stop answering your goddamn phone whenever I do call!" Mark shouted, fed up with Brandy's attitude and yelling, wanting her out of his house. "Just get the fuck out of my house, woman, damn!"

"NO! You're not just going to dismiss me like I'm some kind of whore!" Brandy cried harder, burying her face in her hands, trembling from head to toe. "You said you loved me, you said that last night! I thought we were happy! Don't I make you happy? Why can't you just give us a chance? I love you, Marky…"

"MY NAME IS MARK!" He roared, causing her to jump about three feet in the air, the sound of his voice shaking the foundation of the house or so it seemed. "NOW GET THE FUCK OUT! I DON'T LOVE YOU, I LOVE SOMEONE ELSE! WHILE I FUCKED YOU LAST NIGHT, I WAS THINKIN' OF MY EX, JUST LIKE I ALWAYS FUCKIN' DO! NOW GET THE FUCK OUTTA MY HOUSE BEFORE I THROW YOUR ASS OUT!"

Brandy was too terrified to speak and simply bolted out of the room, the front door slamming shut a moment later downstairs music to Mark's ears. He hadn't meant to blow up at Brandy, but the woman didn't take no for an answer. She wasn't the one he wanted, there was only one woman for Mark and nothing would change that.

With a pounding headache to start his morning off, Mark went to take a much needed shower, not wanting to smell like Brandy's perfume, which made his stomach churn. He still had packing to do and Mark had to email the hospital for directions, rubbing his temples because the hangover was literally kicking his ass. He didn't know what possessed him to drink a whole bottle of Jack Daniels with Brandy, consuming most of it because of his size, and honestly didn't want to know.

After the shower, Mark popped two aspirin and grabbed some water, wearing a pair of skintight blue jeans with a long sleeved hunter green thermal shirt that hugged his arms and chest perfectly. It had a design on it that had tan throughout the artwork, so Mark tied a tan bandana around his head, pulling his black hair back in a tight braid. He was riding his motorcycle all the way to Dallas and knew he was already running late, packing his things as quickly as possible. It was going on eight AM and Mark was supposed to leave at seven, so he'd already missed an hour of on-road time.

"Fuck." He muttered, scrubbing a hand down his face in frustration, and groaned when his cell phone went off. "What?" He demanded irritably, busy trying to finish gathering things he would need for Dallas.

"We gotta problem." Steve grunted, scrubbing a hand over his bald head.

"Austin, I'm kinda busy at the moment…" Mark didn't need any more distractions, especially since he had to get on the road immediately if he was going to make it to Dallas by noon.

"Well boss man, ya better make time because the company might be sued." Steve stated, his tone serious, still not believing what happened.

"What happened?" Mark immediately stopped what he was doing, green eyes narrowing.

"Bobby got hurt installin' security at one of the jewelry stores in town. Apparently, the damn box slipped and cracked him in the shoulder. The dumb sumbitch didn't move and now he's cryin' and screamin' bout suin' us." Steve explained, causing Mark to literally roll his eyes in the back of his head, beyond irritated by now.

He was pissed.

"What did the fuckin' doctor say?" Mark growled, slamming his fist down on the kitchen counter, wondering what else could go wrong today.

"Nothin', the doctor said the shoulder isn't even dislocated, but Bobby is complainin' of a lot of pain so the doc gave him some pain killers. He won't be able to work today." Steve snorted, not believing a word Bobby had said to the doctor. "It smells like a load of bullshit, if ya want my honest opinion."

"No shit." Mark could smell bullshit a mile away and this definitely sounded like Bobby was just trying to make a fast buck at Mark's expense. It wasn't happening. "Look, I gotta get on the road to Dallas, just keep an eye on him and keep me informed. You're in charge while I'm gone."

Steve blinked, then cursed because he'd completely spaced Mark's trip to Dallas. "Fuck, I forgot ya were leavin' today, man. Damn I shouldn't have called…" He felt like a big asshole right now and Steve didn't apologize to Mark often.

"No, I'm glad you did." Mark stopped him, running a hand down his face in frustration. "I'll be gone a few days, I wanna make sure this new guy lives up to CSI's standards." Glen Jacobs had a hell of a resume, but Mark wanted to see how the man worked with his own eyes.

"Hopefully he doesn't disappoint 'cause we really need someone who can kick serious ass in Dallas." Steve said, nodding over at his beautiful blonde girlfriend, who batted her eyelashes back at him. "So I'm in charge eh?"

"Yeah, if you fuck my business up, I'll kill you." Mark threatened, meaning what he said, and looked around one last time while finishing up his quick cup of coffee. "Okay I really gotta get movin', keep me posted on Bobby's ass. He's fired when I get back, so put an ad in the paper for a new installation tech."

"You're serious?"

"Yes, get it done Austin." He clicked his phone shut and rubbed the edge of it against his forehead, sighing heavily. "Goddamn problems…"

He grabbed his bag and walked out of the kitchen toward his garage, wondering which motorcycle he wanted to take for the long trip. He decided on his silver Titan, one of his favorites that he'd built from scratch. Mark slipped his things in the saddlebag and made sure it was fully secure before straddling the beast, running his hands along the handlebars. He pressed the garage door opener and slowly backed the motorcycle out, looking down at his silver Rolex, groaning.

It was going on nine o'clock.

Just before Mark could fully get the bike out, a flash of lightning lit up the sky and a downpour followed seconds after. Mark couldn't win, cussing violently and actually kicked his motorcycle, which angered him even more. He ripped his things out of the saddlebag and groaned when the bag tore apart, his clothes flying everywhere.

"MOTHER FUCKER!"

After getting another bag of fresh clothes, Mark hopped in his black Silverado and peeled out of there, grumbling about what a horrible morning he was having. He glanced at the clock once he arrived on the expressway and gripped the steering wheel tightly, gritting his teeth. He was running THREE hours behind schedule now, which meant he wouldn't arrive in Dallas until after one.

Sighing, Mark pulled out his cell phone and went to his email, having been taught to do this in order to start his business. Keeping his eyes on the road, Mark proceeded to send a quick email to the hospital from his personal email address, demanding to know the directions. He meant to do it sooner, but his morning had been complete hell and Mark still hadn't called Glen to finalize plans to meet at the hospital.

"Yeah?" Glen grunted, having recently gotten up, his voice still gruff with sleep.

"Glen Jacobs?"

Glen's eyes shot open, knowing exactly who it was, nodding. "Mr. Calaway, I was waitin' for your call." He said, immediately sounding more awake.

"Yeah well, I've had a rough mornin' so I won't be makin' it to Dallas until after one…" He trailed off, biting back a groan when he had to slam on his breaks, running right into a traffic jam that seemed to go on for miles. "Make that after two, possibly three…"

"Alright, so what time do you want me at Dallas Memorial?" Glen asked, glancing over at Keela, who slept peacefully in bed with a soft smile on her face. All he wanted to do was join her back in bed, though Glen also knew he couldn't screw this job opportunity up.

"Make it three, I just ran into a fuckin' traffic jam." Mark was beyond angry by now and knew if he didn't get off the phone, he was going to end up crushing it in his large hand.

"I'll be there, see you then."

"One other thing, Jacobs," Mark paused briefly, popping in a CD. "My name is Mark, no Mr. Calaway. I'm not formal." He then hung up, his phone buzzing, signaling he received an email from the hospital.

Mark read the directions and saved it before sending another email since the traffic was stopped dead on the expressway. He let the hospital know he was running late and would be there as soon as he could, a heaving sigh escaping him. He still couldn't believe the tantrum Brandy through, wondering if the woman was daft or just plain stupid.

Telling her from the very beginning he just wanted sex every once in awhile was about as plain and clear as he could get. That was the first and only time Brandy ever stayed the night with him and Mark couldn't remember saying the L word during sex. Hell, he was thinking of Nalani because that's what always happened, it was always HER.

It drove Mark crazy and made his sexuality rise, which was the only way he could get through sex with Brandy. Besides Brandy, Mark hadn't slept with anyone else in three years, feeling guilty every time he did have sex with her. He was a man though and had needs that only a woman could fulfill, refusing to lie dormant. He waited one year for Nalani to return and when she didn't, Mark had gotten piss poor drunk and found the first easy lay he could find…Brandy.

Growling, Mark leaned back against the seat and got another email from the hospital, telling him to take his time. Mark snorted and decided not to reply because he was never late when it came to his business, very angry at himself for losing control last night. He was paying for it now, annoyed when the throbbing in his head started up again. Mark popped two more aspirin as the traffic began to slowly move forward, going from ten miles an hour to twenty.

This was going to take forever and a day.

Mark couldn't have been happier when he saw the Welcome to Dallas sign, breathing a sigh of relief. It was a little after two thirty, which was fine because he had to get to the hospital first to finalize a few things with the owner. Mark pulled into the parking lot of Medical City Dallas Memorial and cut the ignition, slipping out of the Silverado.

He grabbed a few things out of his bag, some paperwork he needed Glen to fill out before heading inside, sighing when his cell phone went off while walking toward the entrance. "What Austin?" He demanded gruffly, hoping this day ended quickly so he could get some rest in his hotel room.

"Bobby quit, that sumbitch is gettin' a lawyer, but the doctor won't give him anythin' to make a case!" Austin shouted, a machine going in the background and what sounded like gunshots. "I gotta go; I'm at the police station trainin' these damn rookies on the new guns!"

"Just let me-" The words died on his lips when Mark walked inside the hospital, his eyes instantly going to the woman who was behind the receptionist desk.

"Mark? Mark?"

His phone dropped to the floor, wondering if this was a mirage, and felt all the breath suddenly leave his body at the sight of her.

It was Nalani.