Page 127 of Beni

Yeah, there was that anger.

“Maybe I can fix it,” Neil added quickly. “You know, work something out with Jerome, or—”

“Nah, that’s never going to happen.”

Apparently, knowing you were going to die was kind of like going through the stages of grief, in a way. Neil was running through the gamut of emotions—disbelief, pain, bargaining, and anger. All of it, really.

Beni let him have his moment.

Thing was, he was already over it.

A form coming out of the shadows on the left side of the warehouse, behind Neil’s position, had Beni speaking up again to keep the man’s attention on him. The less fight and trouble they had here today, the better this would be.

Shitty as it was.

“See, last night at the club,” Beni said, “that was all orchestrated. Your new friendship with Cory? Planned, so you would be there with him last night. Tommaso drinking too much, and talking out of his ass about business, and the shipment being moved? Done with a purpose. Because if it was you, then you’d have the keys to the warehouse—you’d have to check before you would pass the info off to the gang, so they could steal it.”

That form—Joe Rossi, also known as Shadow for his work as a hitman in the Outfit—now stood directly behind Neil, but the guy didn’t realize it. He was seconds away from death, and it would not be an easy one for him, although it would be mostly clean.

Beni stuffed his hands in the pockets of his slacks, murmuring, “Sorry it had to go down like this, but when you play games with the mafia, just know you will always lose. Because we can’t afford not to win.”

Joe unwound the wire in his hand. Neil didn’t even get the chance to react before it was wrapped around his throat, and he was yanked against the other man’s chest. Fight or flight kicked in for him, but it was fucking useless. Like his feet kicking at the floor—Joe was unbothered—or his hands clawing at the wire at his throat.

His eyes bulged.

Skin reddened.

Lips went blue.

Choked, and fought, and everything.

Beni at least gave Neil the respect of watching him die, although he reclaimed his seat on that metal chair for the duration of the show. It lasted longer than he expected, but then again, this was the first time he witnessed someone die by a wire choking them out.

Damn.

Dying was hard work, apparently.

“Are you on your way back yet?”

Beni chuckled as he wiped his hands on the paper towel that Joe silently offered to him. The single sink on the right side of the warehouse had come in handy once they were finished with business. Joe stepped up next to wash his hands.

“Well?” August asked on the phone.

“Almost,” he said.

“Good, because I’m getting hungry, and I can’t be held accountable for my actions at that point.”

Beni grinned, giving Joe a nod—his silent thanks for the man’s work here today, his help after, and all the rest. Joe answered it back with his own. “And what does that mean, August?”

“I’m just saying that I was planning on going back to your place after this movie with Cam, but if you’re going to make me wait longer, then we might go out and have some fun.”

Mmhmm.

“But then I can’t bring you home that takeout you like from down the street.”

She hummed under her breath.

“And we can’t watch that series you DVR’d to binge, either.”