Chapter 16

Shortly after Nalani revealed her secret to him, Mark left for three days.

"I'm goin' out of town for a few days, got some business to handle." Mark had said, packing a bag with just a pair of jeans and a shirt, trying to push the anger away.

"I-Is everything alright?" Nalani had asked, walking over to touch his arm, her blue eyes pleading with him to tell her what was going on. "Mark…"

He pressed his finger to her lips and replaced it with his lips, softly kissing her. "I'll be back in three days, I promise." He rumbled, caressing her cheek with the back of his hand. "I love you, darlin'."

"I love you too, please be careful." She whispered, leaning into his touch, and pulled him down for another heart stopping kiss, not wanting to be alone. "Hurry back."

"You can count on it." He murmured, pecking her lips one final time before walking out of the bedroom with his bag in hand, knowing he had to do this.

Mark couldn't believe Nalani's family, the woman he wanted to be with for the rest of his life, had been the ones who were murdered at the hands of the crew. He knew Steve, Kevin and Cena had nothing to do with it because they'd both been together that night the news reported about the Kensington murders. He had to find Scott and put this to an end once and for all, wanting justice for Nalani's family.

Nalani could only watch him out the window, not realizing a pair of ice cold blue eyes were watching her every move.

Neither did Mark.

Mark had gotten a hold of a close personal friend named Bill, who was a retired private investigator. He owned a funeral home in downtown Houston, though Mark knew the man would help him out with this. Before starting CSI, Mark had worked at Bill's funeral home when he was much younger, back in his high school days, even before getting involved with the crew, having a fascination with death.

Bill showed him the ropes, mildly surprised that a young man would want to actually dig graves and work with the dead, but Mark proved to be quite a helper. He was a big guy so lifting heavy caskets and whatnot actually helped Bill out tremendously. Mark worked for him for around five years before suddenly quitting out of the blue, saying he was pursuing something more challenging. Bill was actually thinking of making Mark a bigger part of the business, but the man had walked away before he even had a chance to offer it.

Pulling up to Moody's Funeral Services, Mark cut the ignition and dismounted the bike, looking up at the building through dark shades. His long black leather trench coat flowed behind him as he headed up the stairs toward the front doors. To strangers and onlookers, Mark was an intimidating presence, standing at six foot ten, clad in black skintight jeans and a sleeveless buttoned up black shirt. His hair was pulled back in a tight braid, a bandana wrapped around his forehead and black fingerless leather gloves covered his huge hands.

Before his hand could even reach up to knock, the doors flung open and there stood Bill, Mark's long time mentor. "I was wonderin' when you'd show up. C'mon in, Deadman." He chuckled, having given Mark that nickname shortly after he started working at the funeral home.

Mark couldn't help chuckling as well, stepping inside as the door closed behind him, following Bill toward his study. "How are you, Bill?" He asked as they walked, a lot of memories flowing over Mark from when he was younger.

"I'm fine, a little on the heavy side as always." Bill joked wholeheartedly, having never been ashamed of his weight. "Want somethin' to drink?"

"No thank you." Mark rumbled, lowering himself on the couch, while Bill took his usual spot near the crackling fire in his huge leather recliner. "You know why I'm here."

Sighing gently, Bill nodded as he reached over on his coffee table, procuring a manila folder. "I've found some information, but not a lot." He admitted, hoping it was enough for his long time friend. "I found out where three out of the four men are that you're searchin' for, Deadman."

Without preamble, Mark reached over and took the folder, immediately flipping through the contents. Bill had found out where Brad, Nick and Jack were, but nothing about the one man he really wanted to find…Scott Mitchell. That didn't mean Mark was going to give up, he was a man on a mission and it clearly showed in his eyes. Bill had done what he could and Mark was very grateful, smiling at his mentor.

"Whatever trouble you're in, Mark…"

"I'm not in any trouble, Bill, I assure you." Mark quickly stopped the old man, not wanting him to worry, frowning slightly because Bill was getting up there in age. "I just gotta track them down and get some information on Scott Mitchell."

Bill sighed wearily, not liking the sound of that. "Mark," He paused, wondering how to say this and stood up from the recliner. "Just be careful, son."

He nodded, patting Bill's shoulder gently. "I will, I'm not gonna hurt him or anythin'. I just need to find some things out." He lied smoothly, fully planning on killing Scott and burying his body six feet under for killing Nalani's family. Of course, Bill didn't need to know that. "Take care of yourself, old timer."

"You too Deadman, you too." Bill watched as Mark walked out of the study, closing his eyes as the doors shut and stared into the fire.

Revving his motorcycle, Mark peeled out of there with the manila folder in his saddlebag, having the first address in mind. Bradley Silverman wasn't really a friend, though Mark knew he and Scott were incredibly close and he would find out what he needed to know. Nick currently lived in San Antonio, which was a little over three hours away from Houston. Mark was ready for a long ride, knowing Brad probably wouldn't welcome him with open arms, but he honestly didn't care.

He had to know what happened that night at the Kensington mansion and who ultimately was responsible for the rape and deaths of Nalani's family.

~!~

Brad chuckled as he ran his hand up the length of his flavor of the week's leg, groaning at how soft her skin was. Mallory was her name, though Brad had no idea what her last name was, not caring. She was here to satisfy him, to make him feel good and always did a fantastic job, which is why he paid her well.

"Oh yeah…that's it baby, fight it…"

While Brad's rape fantasy was coming alive, the door suddenly swung open, having been kicked off its hinges, a real frightened scream emanating from Mallory. "WHAT THE FUCK?" Brad shouted, hopping off of her in seconds, though she knew better then to move from that spot. "Hey asshole, you wanna have your goddamn brains blown outta your head?"

"If you shoot me, Brad," A deep dark voice sounded, the tall figure shrouded in darkness as the rain poured heavily outside, lightning streaking across the sky. "You better pray you don't miss."

Brad instantly lowered his gun he grabbed off of the coffee table, his eyes almost shooting out of their sockets. "Leave now." He ordered, tossing a few hundred dollar bills at Mallory, who blinked up at him.

"Master?"

"NOW Mallory." He ordered gravely, the woman scrambling off of the couch to pull her skirt on, if it could even be called that.

Mallory fluttered her long lashes as she sauntered past the dark figure, his smell causing her to sigh almost wistfully. "Are you sure you don't want me to stay?" She purred, suddenly reaching out to run a single nail down the man's chest. "We could have a ménage à trios?" She suggested seductively, gasping when the dark figure wrapped his hand around her tiny wrist, bringing her to her knees.

"I suggest you don't touch me unless you want your fingers broken one by one, slut." He growled, causing her eyes to shoot open as fear consumed them, her body trembling slightly. "Now do what your…master…says and get the fuck out." He then tossed her bodily out the door, slamming it shut with authority.

Anyone else who would've done that to his property would've had a bullet in their head, but this wasn't an ordinary man. "Mark." He walked over; naked as the day he was born and flipped the lamp light on, staring back at his friend from long ago.

He nodded once, folding his massive arms in front of his chest. "Put some damn clothes on, this isn't a social visit, Brad." He ordered, walking over to lower himself on a nearby chair, deciding to keep his leather trench coat on.

Brad did as he was told and pulled on a shirt and jeans, left unbuttoned, fully intending to call Mallory when Mark left. "It's been a long time…" He trailed off, not knowing what else to say to this man.

"I know and I'm glad for it." Mark stated, no remorse in his voice and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "We need to talk about the last robbery you ever did." He watched the color slowly begin draining from Brad's face, his jaw tightening. "You enjoy raping women, possibly young girls, and using them to fulfill sick fantasies eh?"

"Look man, I don't know what the fuck your deal is, but you need to get to the point." Brad stated, no longer backing down from Mark, even though deep down he was deathly afraid of him and always had been. "What do you wanna know?"

Mark leaned back against the recliner, stroking his goatee thoughtfully. "The Kensington mansion." He watched as Brad picked up his beer and took a long swig out of it, simply arching an eyebrow. "What happened that night? I thought the crew just wanted money, not to murder innocent people."

"It's not like that, Mark." Brad said in a quieter voice, lowering his eyes from his former friend. "I haven't thought about that night in nearly three years…"

Snorting, Mark stood up from the recliner to grab a beer out of the fridge, daring Brad to stop him from doing so. "Time to open up that chapter, boy. I want to know what happened and why a seventeen year old girl was raped and murdered along with her father." He walked back over and settled in the recliner, cracking open the can.

Brad felt sick to his stomach, having vowed to never talk about what happened that night again, but Mark seemed adamant about it. "You're not wearin' a wire, right?" He suddenly asked, eyes narrowed and watched as Mark opened his trench coat to reveal absolutely nothing, his shirt fully unbuttoned.

When Brad wasn't satisfied, Mark proceeded to drop his pants, showing the insides of them along with his boots, everywhere that Brad could've possibly thought a wire was planted. Mark went commando, so there was no boxers or briefs to look into, which Brad was thankful for. It was bad enough he man was standing stark naked in front of him while Brad inspected the clothes, finally tossing them back to the ex-crew member.

"Satisfied?" When Brad nodded, Mark quickly redressed and sat back down for a third time, his beer once again in hand. "Now talk."

"Scott was a madman that night, Mark. I've never seen him so pissed off in my life. He kept muttering how he was going to make that little bitch pay…" Brad swallowed hard, looking out the window and closed his eyes briefly as the memories of that night flowed over him. "I was dating Nicole Kensington at the time, the seventeen year old girl. Scott had just broken up with her older sister, but I can't remember her name. I met her once, when Nicole brought me to the mansion to introduce me to her father, Michael. That's when I figured out the whole thing was a setup for Scott to exact revenge on his ex's family. I couldn't do anything; Scott pulled me aside and threatened that he would end me if I said a word to anyone. We were best friends and I didn't think anything of it, I thought he was just going to rob them as part of his revenge scheme. But I was very wrong…"

"Go on." Mark ordered, his eyes narrowed, knowing exactly who that older sister was.

Brad sighed and held his hand up in a one moment gesture, walking over to grab a bottle of Jack Daniels, needing something harder. "He planned it all out to make it seem like he didn't know the people in the mansion, but I knew better. I swear to fuckin' god I had no idea what he was planning that night…" He set the glass down and poured himself another shot, tears stinging his eyes. "He was pissed that you, Steve, Kev and John backed out of the deal, but that it was still gonna happen. So we went to the mansion after I knew Nicole would be in bed. I actually called her a few hours prior and talked to her, promising her everything would be alright…"

Mark could tell the man wanted to breakdown and simply sat there in silence, waiting for him to continue.

"We broke into the mansion after using the code Nicole gave me to the main gate and it was easy from there. Michael had a very bad habit of leaving the mansion unlocked because the gates were tall enough to supposedly keep intruders out." He actually snorted bitterly, slamming down another shot. "Scott killed the guards and butler, ordering Nick and Jack to take care of the maids quietly. He didn't want to wake Michael right away and started searching for the jewels and anything of value. The place was huge so Michael didn't hear anything that was going on, but when Scott killed those guards, I knew something instantly wasn't right. I followed him reluctantly upstairs and stopped him, demanding to know what was going on. I NEVER thought he would actually want to…hurt Nicole…" He swallowed hard, her name sending stabs of pain through his heart. "Scott turned to me and said, 'if you know what's good for you, you'll let that little whore get what's comin' to her.' Mark, I wanted to kill him, I wanted to end him right then and there and almost did. I pulled my gun out and was gonna shoot him right in the head to protect Nicole, but Nick and Jack were behind me. They held me down and dragged me to the bedroom, where Nicole was just getting up out of bed…"

Mark never knew what a cold vindictive bastard his former friend could be, especially seeing the mental and emotional state Brad was in right now.

"They held me down while Scott took a knife out; threatening to kill her if she didn't do exactly what he wanted. I shouted at Scott, demanding to know what was going on and…" Brad turned around with tears in his eyes and lifted his shirt to expose a three inch scar across his abdomen, immediately pulling it back down. "He sliced me, man…he sliced me and forced me to watch what he did to her. He raped and cut her repeatedly…and I couldn't save her. I couldn't save her…" Brad dropped to his knees, burying his face in his hands as the sobs tore through his big body, not caring how weak he looked to Mark at the moment. "They forced me to watch Scott take her life and I'll never forget the terrified look in her eyes as Scott slit her throat. I screamed for her and tried breaking free, but I was losing a lot of blood from my wound…I fell unconscious and woke up in the hospital the next day here in San Antonio. I guess Scott didn't want Houston authority to catch up to him because he knew I'd talk, so he threatened my sister."

"Lacey…Where is she now?" Mark asked in a mere whisper, not trusting his voice at the moment, his hands clasped tightly together.

"She's safe in Los Angeles. Scott is on the run from everyone, Mark. He's not even in Texas anymore I don't think." Or so Brad thought, though neither he nor Mark knew that while Brad poured his heart wrenching pain out, Nalani was currently being attacked. "If you're looking for him and you do find him, put a bullet in his nether regions for me."

"So what's with the whole rape shit goin' on with that whore?" Mark demanded somewhat angrily, standing up from the recliner and towering over his former friend with deadly green eyes. "After what happened to Nicole, I would think ya would stay far away from those sick fantasies."

"I'm fucked up, man, seriously fucked up. After Nicole died, I lost all sense of humanity and just did what I wanted. I haven't hurt anyone and Mallory doesn't mind, she actually has the same fantasy." Brad stood up to his feet shakily, wiping his tears away and downed another shot. "I'm not a good man, Mark, I never was. I never should've gone that night, but Scott promised no harm would come to Nicole or Michael. I made him promise and he broke it…all because he wanted revenge on the older sister."

'Nalani.' Mark thought, closing his eyes, not believing Scott had actually dated the same woman he was in love with. "So Scott is the one who did it?" He wanted to clarify, causing Brad to nod. "Nick and Jack just held you down after killing the father I'm assuming?"

Brad nodded again; remembering the gunshot that rang throughout the mansion, which had been when Scott threatened Brad outside of Nicole's bedroom.

"Where are Nick and Jack now?" Mark demanded, wanting to pay those two bastards a visit, cracking his knuckles as the sound emanated around the small trailer.

"Dead." Brad's eyes stormed over with hidden rage, gritting his teeth. "And buried."

"When was the last time you heard from Scott?" Mark pressed, needing some kind of information, knowing Brad had ended both Nick and Jack's lives, not blaming the man.

"Austin, Texas, but like I said he's probably long gone from this state by now."

Mark left Brad's trailer and headed toward Austin, deciding it wouldn't hurt to search the town, hoping to find the whereabouts of Scott Mitchell.