20
The relief Benito was counting on never came. Not even when Asa had given his word that Benito and his family would be safe forever unless Benito broke the terms of their agreement.
“Stay out of London. Stay legitimate. Don’t talk to anyone from the road. You’re dead to anyone you ever knew from this life.”
Only Luis Pope was left off the list, but Benito couldn’t see that line of communication ever opening up. As perspective returned with every mile he got away from the city, he was beginning to realise that maybe Luis’s actions had been for Asa’s benefit, not Benito’s. A message... that if an arsehole like Benito could go straight, anyone could.
Even Asa. Benito couldn’t fathom why Luis cared, but perhaps he was a better man than the rest of them combined.
On the train home, Benito let his mind wander to the tail end of the conversation he’d had with Asa before he’d handed the money over and walked away for good.
Asa leaned back on the couch, the picture of relaxation. “I’m not sorry about shanking you. I hope you know that.”
Despite his thundering heart, Benito rolled his eyes. “I saw the joy in your face, you sick fuck.”
“I’m not a sick fuck. But you were. Admit it—you needed that pain. You’d been untouchable for too long.”
“Jealous, Asa?”
“Fuck you, Martell. Oh, wait... I already did.”
It had taken a moment for Benito to catch up. For the loose threads of the last few days to separate into their appropriate sections. And then it had clicked.
Benito uttered the name of his contact.
Asa’s expression turned predatory. “He flipped six months ago. I’ve been riding you ever since, waiting for you to fuck up.” Then the malice in his smile faded. “I didn’t think it would be like this, though. I thought I really would have to kill you.”
“Is that what you wanted?”
“No, fam. Or I’d have done it years ago.”
Benito came back to the present with a shudder. Until Asa’s blade had pierced his skin, he’d never thought about either one of them killing the other. For long months after, he’d thought of little else. It should’ve unnerved him that Asa had been a lifetime ahead of him the whole time, but it wasn’t that making him shiver—it was the realisation that he was glad they’d both lived to laugh about it.
The train ambled into Milton Keynes Central. Benito stumbled off and walked home. His bed called to him.Sleep. For as long as the sandpaper in his brain would allow. But first, a deeper need propelled him to his car, and he drove to Bletchley on autopilot.
He parked in the same spot the police had moved him on from months ago. Turned the car off and waited, letting the cold of the frosty winter day seep into him. He didn’t sleep, but as he rotated his attention between Rosetta’s flat and the bus stop, strains of consciousness abandoned him.
Time slipped away.
School’s end came and went.
Benito thought he’d spot Gianna the moment she got off the bus, but she surprised him with a sharp knock on his window.
Startled, he sat up and opened the door.
She was on the phone. He waited without trying to pretend he wasn’t listening.
“I’ll tell him,” Gianna said. “Yeah. I know. I thought he was dead.”
Her word choice shook any remnants of sleep from Benito. He snatched the phone from her, but the screen was blank. Whoever she’d been talking to was already gone. “Who was that?”
“It was Mum, you freak. She said you’ve been out here for hours and she’s worried you’re cold. She tried calling you, but your phone is off.”
Benito fished his phone from his pocket. Sure enough, it was dead. “I haven’t been here that long.”
Gianna scowled. “You’re a bad liar. Mum says you’re to come inside right now.”
“Oh yeah? She said that, did she?”