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“I know, I know. Pretty rich coming from me. But maybe—”
“Maybe what?”
“Maybe that’s why I’m the best person to find this guy. I know what it’s like to lie and hide and cover up something so huge. Maybe I can recognize it in someone else.”
Lauren looked disappointed, her otherwise smooth brow wrinkling. “Bennett, being gay isn’t a crime. This guy is drugging girls at bars. The two things aren’t even close.”
“Of course not. I know that. Even though it does sometimes feel like being gay is a crime in this league. Rape, they forgive. Being gay? Not so much.”
She placed her hand on his, rubbing gently. They both knew the truth sucked. After letting go of him, she went back to her food. “So the guy, this one who is asking for your help? Why doesn’t he go to the police?”
“He’s a businessman here in Toronto. But . . . ” This was where he didn’t know how much to say. Nico hadn’t confirmed he was in the mafia, but it seemed pretty fucking definite as far as Bennett was concerned.
“But, what?”
“But I don’t think he’s a fan of the authorities, if you know what I mean.”
“Uh, no. I don’t know what you mean. Do you mean he’s a criminal?”
“I think so. He’s Italian. From Italy.”
She put a hand on his shoulder and spun his chair so they were facing each other. “Wait. It’s a stereotype maybe, but are you saying he’s in the mafia?”
“It appears to be the case.”
In a blink, her expression went from confused to outraged. “Bennett! Are you crazy? You’re sleeping with a mobster?”
“You’re jumping to conclusions again.” Unable to meet her gaze any longer, he angled toward his food and concentrated on the steak like it was the most important thing on earth. “It happened once and it wasn’t a big deal. And it won’t happen again.” Lies and more lies.
“Oh, my god. You fucked a guy who’s in the Toronto mafia.”
Bennett didn’t want to say that he thought Nico was the head of the Toronto mafia, based on what clues he’d been able to piece together. Lauren would really lose her shit then. “Like I said, it wasn’t a big deal.”
“This feels like a big deal. Is he hot, at least?”
“Very.”
“Scale of one to ten?”
“Thirteen.”
“Goodness! Okay, then. But Benny, this guy could be dangerous. He could hurt you.”
Bennett took a drink of water then set the glass on the island. “I know, but you don’t need to worry.” Bennett didn’t think Nico would hurt him. Annoy him? Edge him to death? Confuse him? Yes, yes, and yes. But he didn’t believe Nico would actually physically harm him.
“Well, too late because now I’m worried. But I guess there is one upside. At least he won’t tell anyone you’re gay.”
“Why not?”
“It’s just as dangerous for him. Last I heard, the mafia is about as tolerant of that sort of thing as the NHL.”
“I suppose that’s true.”
They both fell silent, eating side by side, and Bennett’s mind turned all this over. Lauren was wrong—Nico could still tell people Bennett was gay without implicating himself. Bennett might retaliate and try to out Nico, but who would believe him? And what would be the point? If Bennett were outed, he’d be an outcast, not only in his own locker room, but the league. Toronto would probably trade him, and he’d be lucky to ever see actual NHL ice time again.
“So,” Lauren said, forking up some noodles. “We can assume this guy on your team, the one spiking drinks, is raping these girls, right?”
Bennett took a sip of water, thinking about her question. “Unless he gets off on drugging them and it’s not sexual.”
