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NM: What was your dinner?

This was one of the weirdest conversations of Bennett’s life. He’d given this man a blowjob two nights ago. Now they were discussing his post-game recovery meal.

Bennett: I had steak, brown rice and broccoli

Bennett: High protein and carbs

Bennett: Not exciting

NM: I will cook something better for you

Bennett: You cook?

NM: Sì, certo

The phone went silent. Bennett stared at the screen for longer than he should have, then finally put the device face down on the nightstand. He definitely wasn’t feeling disappointment. This was exhaustion, his post-game body demanding rest, and he didn’t need to stay up late texting like a teenager, not when he had to get to the rink early tomorrow for physio.

But there was still the issue of the four names. He hadn’t resolved what Nico planned to do about them. Instead, the mobster had distracted Bennett with flirtatious banter and inane questions. No doubt this was intentional, and now Bennett felt foolish. He should be trying to protect those four teammates from being found at the bottom of Lake Ontario wearing cement shoes.

Picking up his phone, he scrolled through the entire conversation and realized how easily he’d let Nico guide the topic away from Bennett’s teammates. Fuck me. He was too old to get played so easily.

Bennett: Nico don’t do anything about those names

Bennett: Because not all of them were at the club that night

NM: How do you know this?

Bennett: Because I’ve been looking into it

NM: And hiding from me what you learn

Bennett couldn’t deny it. They weren’t a team working together to solve a mystery. They were a sociopath and a hockey captain, working independently to try to find the same man. Let me talk to them, he wrote. Don’t start breaking kneecaps.

NM: You think this is what I do?

NM: And I do not take orders from you

Bennett: I know what I’m talking about when it comes to these guys

Bennett: Let me handle it

It took longer than anticipated for a reply to come. He’d almost fallen asleep when his phone finally buzzed.

NM: I need to get to a meeting

NM: And last I checked, I was the boss

NM: I will give you a reminder of this on Monday

Bennett put his phone down, rolled over, and tried not to think about what would happen on Monday.

CHAPTER 12

The restaurant was empty at this hour, except for a single table in the back, which Nico used for discreet, late-night meetings. Like this one.

“Mr. Mayor.” Nico placed his demitasse cup in the saucer with a snap. “Do you believe I am fucking stupid?”

The other man folded his hands and tried to appear calm, but Nico could see the sweat building along Thomas O’Connell’s thin hairline. Good. Because Nico was pissed. O’Connell said, “No one in this city thinks you’re stupid, Marzano.”