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The Don cleared his throat abruptly, making Ben shake in the seat next to him. He was a heavy-set man, but Ben knew that whatever he lacked in energy, he made up for in sheer viciousness. He could crush him the way an ox steps on a soda can.
“So you are admitting that you let her go?” the Don inquired.
Ben nodded, hesitant to look up.
The Don shifted in his seat, his knee lightly pressing against Ben’s thigh. Ben felt his gray eyes on him, aged but still fierce.
“Now, why would you go and do that to your Don, Benny? You are such a good boy.”
Ben wasn’t afraid of the end. It was a cool slip into darkness. He was fine with it. It had never scared him in the past, but that was because he was living a fast and hard lifestyle, one that he didn’t want to be laying on his deathbed regretting.
But Liz had changed all of that. He wanted to live for her, with her, pleasing her heart, soul, and body until their end days and beyond. If he couldn’t have that, he would plunge a knife into his own heart.
Better to let the Don raise the Beretta that was tucked under his leg, press it against his skull, and blast that bullet into the core of his brain. Then, there would only be that sweet warmth.
He shared everything like water spurting out of a faucet.
“When I hired her, I thought I could use sex to keep her quiet and be loyal, but things changed. I let her go, Don, because that woman that you ordered me to kill is also my fated mate,” Ben said, still trying to look away and at the floor. “I know that you understand how that feels. I physically and emotionally cannot do it.”
The moment Ben finished his sentence, the Don grabbed hold of his thigh. His hands looked like wrinkled paper, fingers thick as sausages but with some sturdy strength behind them. Ben waited for the cold gun to come out and take him out, brains and skull exploding like wet cake.
“Benicio,” the Don said softly. “Look at me, young man.”
Ben breathed deeply, then told himself it was time to meet his maker. He lifted his head, which felt like a bowling ball on his shoulders, and found an expression on the Don’s face that he wasn’t expecting.
Tears formed in the old man’s eyes, and his eyebrows were pressed down with amused concern. He squeezed and jostled Ben’s leg with an excited tone of voice.
“Benny, Benny, Benny!” he exclaimed. “You are such a good boy, and most of the time, you use that brain in your head. But that isn’t the case today!”
The Don clapped his hands together and threw his head back into the seat. He then began to cackle, grasping his chest, then began to nearly hack up a lung from the cigar smoke. The entire time, Ben was utterly lost, the scent from the smoke curling through his nostrils and staining the insides with an ashtray flavor.
“I’m … I’m sorry, Don,” Ben muttered. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
The Don wiped away a few tears, clearing his throat once more and sounding like a small critter had crawled inside and died. He took Ben by the shoulders, shaking him like he was a marionette.
“Don’t you see, boy?” he started, eyes bright and ecstatic. “I am a shifter like you, so I know the pangs of the heart when it comes to finding our mates. It doesn’t happen for everyone, but when a woman can turn your cat into a kitten, you can’t turn your back on that!”
Relief cautiously rose inside Ben like an oncoming wave. Except, the force was something that would carry him up and onward, home and into the arms of the only soul he’d ever wanted to blend with.
Home to Liz.
“You ... you understand?” Ben stammered in disbelief.
The Don flashed his yellow and brown disintegrating teeth. “Romance is sprouting in your heart like fresh roses. I know how it feels,” he touched his chest. “I would have never asked you to take her out if I had known you were sweet on this dame, Benicio.”
Ben was beyond thrilled. He knew the Don was a shifter, but the idea that he would see past his disloyalty through an understanding of their shared nature wasn’t something he had even considered.
“So you aren’t going to kill me?”
Ben still leaned over next to the Don, his large back straining in the turtleneck he’d decided to wear on that chilly day. The Don used the opportunity to slap it, shooting through Ben’s body with the lightest of stings as he once more burst into hysterical laughter.
“Of course, I am not going to kill you, Benicio,” he said, chuckling. “As you said, there is no way you could have ever laid your hands on her. In a violent way, anyway.”
The Don gave him a wink, bringing the cigar back to his dry lips. He heaved in a massive drag and let out a thick billow of smoke, and it filled the vehicle with disgust.
Normally, Ben would have cringed, likely even gagged from the explosion, but at that moment, he couldn’t feel the annoyance, only restrained jubilation.
He needed to find her, get her back, and fall to his knees. He would crawl to her, hold her close, and tell her the entire truth. He had wanted to be hers from the moment they had met.
