Chapter 20

What the hell was going on with Nalani lately?

Mark had no idea and didn't even want to try figuring it out, feeling a headache coming on just thinking about it. Something was wrong with her and Mark contemplated several things it could be, one of them actually exciting him. He wondered if she was pregnant, they hadn't really talked about having kids and he knew how skittish Nalani could be when it came to serious topics like that. If she was indeed pregnant, Mark was going to be the happiest man on the planet because he wanted nothing more than to have Nalani be the mother of his children.

So if she was pregnant, why was she keeping it from him? Did she think he would be angry about it or something? Hell, Mark tried convincing her for the past two years that all he wanted to do was take care of her, be with her, for the rest of his life. He wanted to marry her and actually began proposing a few months ago, but Nalani stopped him.

"Not right now." She said, having stopped him from digging into his pocket, the tears in her eyes breaking his heart. "Please, it's too soon, Mark."

As much as he hated admitting it, Mark knew she was right because they'd only been together for a few years. With everything Nalani had been through, he could understand why she was hesitant about the very thought of marriage. She had to watch as her father fell apart with drinking after losing the love of his life, Charlotte, during giving birth to her deceased baby sister Nicole.

Nalani had told him everything and ever since that night she spilled her feelings to him, she'd grown distant from Mark. He didn't like it and wanted to do something, but what could he honestly do to prove to her he loved her unconditionally? It had to be Nalani's choice to come to him, which she had about her past secrets and Mark tried rectifying it by tracking his fellow ex-crew members down, not able to find them anywhere.

"Damn it." Mark growled, slamming a shot down as the whiskey burned down his throat, head lowered. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Get shitfaced and deal with yer problems tomorrow." Steve said from beside him, having joined Mark at the bar. "Unless ya wanna talk to me 'bout it."

"Go fuck off, Austin." Mark wasn't in the mood to be teased, downing another shot, and waved his hand to Eric to keep them coming. "I'm definitely gettin' shitfaced tonight, no doubt 'bout that."

Steve knew Mark and Nalani had been on the rocks the past two months and wondered what was going on, having kept his mouth shut. Mark was a complete bear at work and Steve was deeply tempted to go over to his house while Nalani was home alone, kick the door in and demand to know why she was hurting his best friend like this. He knew Mark would probably kill him and bury his body six feet under in his backyard. Steve liked his head where it was at and decided to just casually ask Mark about it, having demanded the man go out with him to a bar to knock back a few.

"No I'm not gonna fuck off cause I'm sick and tired of yer ass bein' all grumpy and shit at work. Enough is enough, the guys are gettin' pissed when ya snap at'em for no goddamn reason!" Steve snapped, blue fire lighting his eyes while Eric slid him another longneck on the bar. "Now what the fuck has gotten ya so damn riled up, Calaway?" He was going to beat the truth out of his boss if Mark didn't start talking.

Groaning, Mark knew he wasn't getting out of this without spilling what was going on between him and Nalani lately. "Nalani." He grunted, downing a third shot, wanting to get completely obliterated tonight so he could just go home and pass out. "Eric, switch to Jack Daniels." He needed something stronger for this conversation.

"What 'bout Nalani?" Steve demanded, having a feeling that's what had Mark in a funk recently. "What did the bitch do now?"

"Do ya want that beer bottle cracked upside yer skull, Austin?" Mark growled angrily, clenching his fists tightly and had to let go of the shot glass before he shattered it. "She's not a bitch, don't call her that ever."

"Then what the hell is goin' on?" Steve decided to stick with beer, having a feeling he would be dragging Mark's heavy ass out of the bar by the time the night was through. "Talk to me, I'm all ears."

Mark sighed heavily and shrugged his shoulders, finally tossing his hands up in the air. "I don't know and that's the fuckin' truth. I don't fuckin' know what's wrong with her."

He was hesitant to tell Steve about the connection Nalani had with the Kensington mansion, deciding he couldn't keep it to himself anymore and Steve was discreet. He wouldn't go running his mouth to everyone, knowing both of them hated talking about what they were nearly apart of all those years ago with the crew. That was part of their pasts neither man liked delving into, regretting a lot of things they did, but knew there was nothing to do except atone for them with CSI. That's the main reason why Mark decided handing jobs over to Steve, John and Kevin. They were his closest friends, the ones who got out of the crew before their lives were completely destroyed and helped him open CSI.

So in all honesty, the company was split into quarters, each man owning twenty five percent of it, though Mark was deemed as the main boss. He honestly didn't mind and they all voted on it fairly, all the guys having the same thought that since it was Mark's original idea he should at least be the main boss with them quietly in the background. Mark tried denying that title, but as time progressed it just seemed natural and pretty soon he was main boss everyone contacted for jobs, giving them to his men whenever they came in.

"We need to go talk somewhere else."

Mark was already on his feet, grabbing the entire bottle of Jack Daniels Eric forked over along with his shot glass and longneck chaser, heading to a booth in the back away from prying ears. Steve followed, knowing whatever Mark was about to tell him wasn't going to be pretty, sighing heavily. They both sat down and Mark poured another shot, pinching the bridge of his nose before downing another shot, needing the burn in his esophagus to get through this explanation.

"Nalani…" Mark swallowed hard, closing his eyes as he lowered his head, the guilt overwhelming him. "The Kensington mansion…"

Steve's eyes widened slightly because Mark hadn't mentioned that part of their past in quite awhile, wondering what Nalani had to do with the murders, seeing how broken Mark was about it. "What happened?" He asked quietly, his stomach tightening as a sick feeling overtook him, suddenly needing a shot of Jack Daniels.

Mark was silent for at least ten minutes, his head remaining lowered, allowing the liquor to flow through his body, not sure how to go about explaining this. "Steve, it was her family." He finally admitted, not able to look at his best friend. "Nalani's family are the ones that Scott and those assholes murdered…"

His blue eyes shot open as far as they could go, Steve's jaw dropping almost to the floor. "WHAT?" When Mark growled at him to shut his mouth, Steve immediately closed it, blinking. "S-She's a KENSINGTON?" He whispered in disbelief, gaping when Mark nodded and suddenly needed another shot. "Jesus fuckin' Christ…"

"Her baby sister, her name was Nicole…" Mark couldn't go on, knowing exactly what happened to that poor seventeen year old girl who he now knew as Nalani's deceased younger sister…her ONLY sister. "They…"

"Don't." Steve couldn't handle much more right now, holding his hand up, remembering how long it took him to actually get a good night's sleep after hearing about the brutality of that little girl's death. "I can't…"

"And you think I can?" Mark growled, slamming his fist down on the table angrily. "How do ya think it felt havin' my girlfriend cry and sob her heart out to me about her family being murdered, her sister raped? Ya think that was a great time for me too, Austin? I had to sit there and listen to everythin', hear the pain in her voice and keep my mouth shut so she doesn't know 'bout my involvement in the crew."

"Fuck…" Steve cursed, closing his eyes tightly shut because the images of the past began resurfacing. "Does she know you…?"

"No and she never will." Mark vowed in a deceptively calm voice, his eyes pure acid by now. "After she told me, I left for three days to try to track those son of a bitches down and managed to find one…"

Narrowing his eyes, Steve grabbed the shot glass before Mark could, needing a few after what he just heard. "Who?" He demanded after taking one, passing the glass over so Mark could down one, wondering who Mark managed to find from the crew that wasn't apart of CSI.

"Before I get to that, I went to Bill first."

"Moody?" Steve blinked, wondering why the hell Mark would go to his mentor, the man who showed him everything there was to know about running a funeral home. "How the hell did that go and how is the old bastard?"

Mark chuckled ruefully, no humor in his tone, knowing Steve and Bill went way back as well because he used to dig the graves for Bill. That's how Mark and Steve met, becoming instant friends. "He's hangin' in there and no worse for wear. He used to be a PI and I asked him to track down some of the mother fuckers. He managed to find Bradley." Steve and Bradley did not get along so when Steve growled at the mention of the man's name, Mark smirked, getting the tiniest bit of enjoyment from his discomfort. "He gave me what I needed and I managed to find the bastard, caught him in a session actually…" Mark smirked wickedly at the memory, remembering the look of aghast on Bradley's face. "Needless to say, he was stunned to see me."

"Goddamn it why didn't ya bring me with? I'da paid good fuckin' money to see the look on that jackass's face!" Steve growled, keeping his voice low because they didn't want others overhearing the conversation. "So what happened?"

Mark shrugged, leaning back against the booth, remembering what Bradley told him as sadness suddenly entered his eyes. "I was gonna kill him." His voice had dropped an octave, dead serious. "I was gonna kill him, Steve."

Swallowing hard, Steve leaned back as well and was almost hesitant to ask his next question, but did it anyway. "Did you?"

"No." Mark sighed, lowering his eyes again because the look in Bradley's eyes would forever haunt him until the day he died. "I couldn't, not after what he told me…"

Steve sat there in silence while Mark went through the whole story Bradley told him about how he'd been forced by Scott and the others to watch as his seventeen year old girlfriend was raped by all of them. One by one they would take turns and take her in every position known, stabbing her repeatedly with each of their blades. They all had blood on them except Bradley, who was forced to watch the decimation of Nicole Kensington. When Mark finished, he wasn't surprised at the murderous look in Steve's eyes, nodding wordlessly to let him know he wasn't alone.

"What a sick mother fucker." Steve finally said, once he could speak, that story making him sick to his stomach as he stared at the liquor, suddenly needing a glass of it. "What the hell is wrong with him to…to do somethin' like that?"

"I have no idea and don't really wanna know." Mark admitted, running a hand through his long black hair, downing another shot because that story made him ill. "You should've seen the look on Brad's face while he told me the story, man. I know ya hated him and I did too, but he was completely broken and even admitted he's not a good man, that his involvement shouldn't of happened."

"I hope all those bastards die for what they did to those people." Steve whispered, clenching his fists in tightly, actually blinking tears away from how intense that part of his past struck him.

A sick smirk crossed Mark's face, followed by an evil chuckle that resonated around the table, watching Steve's blonde eyebrow slow raise. "Well I know for a fact two of those pricks are dead." He stated, downing another shot, feeling a nice little buzz coming on and took another shot to intensify it.

"You mean…"

Mark nodded grimly. "Nick and Jack are dead and buried, his words." Mark clarified, not blaming the man one bit for killing the two men who forced him to watch as Scott killed a seventeen year old girl.

"I knew he was fuckin' around with a young gal back then, but damn it was Nalani's sister?" When Mark nodded, Steve couldn't help shaking his head in pure disbelief, frowning. "That poor woman's been through hell. So what the hell are ya gonna do? Why do ya think she's distant from ya?"

"I don't know and I wish I knew. I wanna help her through whatever's goin' on and she shuttin' me out. It's drivin' me crazy, I wanna just grab her and shake the shit outta her and demand to know what the hell she's thinkin'…" Mark's southern accent was very strong because of much liquor he consumed, taking one shot after another, the buzz quickly turning into obliteration.

Steve wasn't too far behind, both of them passing the glass back and forth between each other. "Do ya think it has anythin' to do with the murders? Do ya think she knows ya were nearly part of it?" He slurred, hiccupping a little bit, knowing this was not a suitable conversation to have while being piss poor drunk.

"Don't know, but I'm gonna find out even if it kills me." Mark vowed in a growl, the bottle of Jack Daniels nearly gone, both of men stumbling on their feet from the booth. "I-I need to get home…" Mark slurred, trying to blink as he stumbled a little, Steve holding onto him and Mark used him for leverage.

Eric realized what was happening between the men and called them respective cabs, glad they didn't fight him when the yellow cars arrived. Mark somewhat fell out and was jolted awake when the cab came to a halt outside of his house, tossing him a few bills. He stumbled out of the car and tried clearing his blurred vision, not believing how drunk he was.

Hell, he had to talk to Nalani tonight, drunk or not. After spending nearly twenty minutes unlocking the front door, Mark finally stumbled inside and tossed his keys somewhere unknown, heading for the stairs. He barely made it up two before passing out, the darkness overtaking his entire body.

"Nalani…" He whispered just before going cataleptic, his big body heaving on the stairs.