16
Mickey’s goodbye kiss was seared on Benito’s soul. Lips tingling, he melted into the night and returned to his own car. He’d left it outside the fried chicken shop, not giving a single fuck about the baby road boys and slingers gathered near it, but as he got closer, fresh paranoia licked at his veins. Cloaked in darkness, kissing Mickey by the garages had felt safe. Right, even. Fuck, nothing about kissing Mickey had ever felt wrong. But now they were apart again, the danger of it hit Benito square in the gut.You’re a fucking idiot. If Asa’s got eyes on you, he’s got eyes on Mickey too.
Nauseous, Benito slid behind the wheel of his car. The lie he’d told Mickey crushed his chest, and the ache to put it rightburned.So put it right. Tell him the truth and walk away. Keep him safe.
But if Asa already knew about Mickey, it would make no difference. The connection was out in the wild to stay.Benitohad taught Asa that. And Dante, when he’d convinced the older Pope brother to go after the only man his little brother Luis had ever loved.Karma’s a bitch. You deserve this shit.
Maybe.
But Mickey didn’t.
Benito started the car and drove away from Barnfield in a daze, heading to the city centre for the first pick up of a long night on the road. He hit the dual carriageway and opened the windows, blasting the scent of cigarette smoke with fresh air so he wouldn’t break his five-star streak on the Uber app.
He hit the city and collected his first fare, a couple who hopefully wouldn’t screw on his backseat like another had last week, while Benito had driven on, silent and fuming in the front. He was a stoic taxi driver—discreet and non-verbal—but every man had his limits, and unsolicited p-in-the-v action in his car was one of Benito’s, apparently.
The fare took him to Newport Pagnell and past Mickey’s gym. Despite seeing him less than an hour ago, Benito’s chest tightened with longing, a deep, deep yearning that merged with fear and anxiety until he choked on it.
Unsettled, he drove on, back to Milton Keynes and out east towards Bedford. It was a journey he made four times before the burner phone rang in the early hours of the morning.
Startled, though he couldn’t say why, Benito pulled over and answered it. “What?”
“End game,” his contact whispered. “Asa’s made me, so I have to get away. I’m leaving tonight with every fucking penny I can find. Where’s my cut from the last few months?”
Benito tensed, every nerve strained to breaking point. “Somewhere safe. Let me know when you land and I’ll get it to you.”
“I need it now.”
“That can’t happen. If you’ve been made, they’ll be watching you. We can’t meet until the heat dies down.”
“We don’t have to meet. Just leave it somewhere for me.”
“No.”
Silence.
Then a snatched intake of breath. “You’re not understanding me. If I can’t get my money, I can’t get away, which means I’ll have to open my fucking mouth to protect myself.”
“You think Asa won’t whack you if you give me up?” Benito laughed without humour. “Damn, you’re a fucking idiot.”
“At least I’ll know you’re not sitting pretty with all my cash.”
“You won’t know anything. You’ll be pig feed on his uncle’s farm.”
“He doesn’t do that.”
“Doesn’t he?”
More silence. It was the worst game of chicken Benito had ever played. Whichever way it fell, he lost.
He stifled a sigh. “Look, I can’t help you tonight, but if you tell me how I can finish this shit for good, I’ll give you everything you’re owed and more as soon as it’s done.”
“You can’t finish it. Don’t you get it? It’s too big. He’ll snuff you out like you’re nothing.”
“I am nothing,” Benito snapped. “I just need—”Fuck.He pressed his fist to his mouth, swallowing a shout of frustration. “Okay,” he tried again. “I’m hearing you. I’ll get you what you need tonight, but you’ve gotta give me something in return.Anything.”
“I don’t know anything. That’s how I know they’ve made me. They shut me out.”
“Who’s they?”