Mickey turned his gaze to the window. He stared with bottomless eyes at the same view Benito had for the last twelve months. “This is some heavy shit. Are you telling me you’ve been shafting your boss this whole time and he knew about it?”
“Yup.”
“How are you still breathing right now?”
“Nino,” Benito said.
“What?”
“The driver. He was closer to Asa than I thought, and Asa was all kinds of grateful I didn’t leave him to die or get picked up by the feds. He took his money back from me and let me go.”
“For good?”
Benito nodded. “Yeah. It’s hard to believe, but it’s true. I’m out for real this time.”
Mickey said nothing. He kept his gaze on the shopping centre while his brain worked to dissect the convoluted tale Benito had told him. Perhaps it helped that he understood road life enough to fill in the blanks.
Or maybe it didn’t. Maybe he understood it so well he hated Benito more than ever.
“What happened to the money?” Mickey said suddenly. “The stuff you buried in the woods?”
“I told you... I gave it back to him.”
“Your bounty money?”
“Yup.”
“So if you hadn’t been caught, you were going to pay him with his own money?”
“Yup.”
“You’re a cold motherfucker.”
Benito shook his head. “Nah. I thought I was, but it wasn’t worth it. I thought I was dying the other night, after the fire, but the truth is, I’ve been dying for years. If Asa hadn’t got ahead of me and finished the game, I think I would’ve driven my car into the sea.”
“I wish that didn’t make sense to me, but it does.” Mickey’s hand hovered over Benito’s forearm. He curled it into a fist, then flexed it again before he finally made contact with Benito’s tingling skin. “And this all happened on Friday?”
“The raid happened on Friday. That’s why my car had dust and blood in it. I thought I got it all before I came to you, but I was so fucking tired I must’ve missed it. I didn’t see Asa until Monday, though, and by then I didn’t give a shit. I’d already lost you.”
“You did give a shit, about Gianna and your mum, even if you didn’t care about yourself.”
“Right.” Benito was done. He had nothing left. He gripped the windowsill, white knuckling it, holding himself up.
Mickey read him and slipped an arm under his shoulders. He walked Benito to the bed and sat him down, then crouched, his hands warm on Benito’s knees. “This is a mess,” he said bluntly. “I can’t see a way out.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, it’s so fucking complicated, I can’t see how you could ever have made it work. You could’ve told me the truth and nothing would be different.”
“Maybe we wouldn’t have got this far. You’d have walked away weeks ago and—” Benito couldn’t say it. He couldn’t give voice to the possibility that he’d never have felt about Mickey the way he did right now.
He hung his head. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“Don’t.” Mickey squeezed Benito’s thighs. “Don’t be acting like I’m something better than you. I didn’t leave the road by saving some fuckboy’s life. The old me would’ve left him to die.”
“No, you wouldn’t.”
“I wouldn’tnow. And neither would you. Youdidn’t. And that’s why I fucking love you.”