Benito propped his elbows on his knees, keeping them still. Being unnerved by Asa was new to him. How had he forgotten how potent Asa could be when he had the upper hand? “You said it was personal, but I was happy to wait. Luis brought me here.”
“Pope’s emotional,” Asa said. “Being happy makes you that way, apparently.”
“You’re not happy, Asa?”
“Not yet. I have a better shot at it since you saved Nino.”
Benito nodded. “I thought so.”
“Of course you did. That’s your thing, isn’t it? Is that why you pulled him out? To get to me?”
“I didn’t know you cared about him until you called. If you hadn’t, we wouldn’t be here.”
“No? Not even now you have the Ps I asked you for?”
“How do you know that?”
Luis abruptly stood. “I don’t need to know this shit. If you two aren’t going to kill each other, I’m out.”
“We’re good,” Asa said before Benito could speak. “Just ironing out some details.”
Luis gave Asa a long look. “Don’t be a cunt.”
“Can’t now, can I?” Asa retorted. “You’ve showed him my arse.”
“I showed him you’re human. And so is he, man. He’s out the other side. Let him be.”
Asa nodded.
Luis left without looking at Benito again, and Benito wondered if that was it. If Luis had bullshitted him all the way here, and now Asa was going to finish the job.
He waited for fear to grip him.
It didn’t come. He took his bag from his shoulder and held it out. “You’re right. I have it.”
Asa laughed and reached for the tea mug on the coffee table. “I know I’m right. I knew it before I made you. There isn’t anyone else on the road persuasive enough to turn my muscle into rats.”
Persuasive. Benito let the bag drop as he took the word and tried to apply it to the mess his life was in. Another involuntary laugh spilled out of him. “So . . . you’re telling me you know I’m gonna give your money back to you and ask you to set me free?”
“Yup,” Asa said easily. “I should be more lairy about it than I feel.”
“What’s stopping you being lairy about it?”
“A few things. Nino for one. The fucking cheek of it for another. You’re an audacious motherfucker, Martell.”
“That amuses you?”
“It has to. Or we’re back where we started.”
“That would suit you, though, wouldn’t it? To have a reason to stomp me out for good?”
“Not really. Getting rid of you is hassle I don’t need, or I’d have done it in the first place.”
“You kept me on a fucking noose,” Benito snapped. “It would’ve been easier if you’d killed me.”
“Easier for you. What about that kid in the block? Your sister? You think her life would be better without you?”
“What do you care?”
“I don’t. But I’m not a monster. And I’d been watching them long enough to know she’d be fucked if I left her with just your ma to take care of her.”
Being so exposed should’ve left Benito reeling. And furious with himself more than ever. He’d taught Asa to look deeper when he was trying to get under someone’s skin. If he’d taken that and turned it on Benito . . . well, fuck. Wasn’t that something?
“I need to know,” Benito said. “Are you gonna kill me now? You know what I did. The disrespect. The money. The product. I’d kill me if I wore your crown.”
“You want my crown, Martell?”
“No.”
“What do you want?”
Benito let his mind race, flipping through every dream he’d ever had. Every heart he’d ever loved. Every soul he’d take to his grave, even if he never saw them again. “I want to live,” he said, so quietly he barely heard himself. “I want to take care of my family and be a better man.”
Asa nodded. “You should give me that money then. So we can talk about that with a clean slate.”
“Are you fucking with me?”
Asa drained his tea mug and leaned forwards. “As tempting as it is, no. I’m not. I want what you want, man. And if I’m good to you, maybe somewhere down the line someone will be good to me.”
20
The relief Benito was counting on never came. Not even when Asa had given his word that Benito and his family would be safe forever unless Benito broke the terms of their agreement.
“Stay out of London. Stay legitimate. Don’t talk to anyone from the road. You’re dead to anyone you ever knew from this life.”
Only Luis Pope was left off the list, but Benito couldn’t see that line of communication ever opening up. As perspective returned with every mile he got away from the city, he was beginning to realise that maybe Luis’s actions had been for Asa’s benefit, not Benito’s. A message . . . that if an arsehole like Benito could go straight, anyone could.
Even Asa. Benito couldn’t fathom why Luis cared, but perhaps he was a better man than the rest of them combined.
On the train home, Benito let his mind wander to the tail end of the conversation he’d had with Asa before he’d handed the money over and walked away for good.
Asa leaned back on the couch, the picture of relaxation. “I’m not sorry about shanking you. I hope you know that.”
Despite his thundering heart, Benito rolled his eyes. “I saw the joy in your face, you sick fuck.”
“I’m not a sick fuck. But you were. Admit it—you needed that pain. You’d been untouchable for too long.”
“Jealous, Asa?”
“Fuck you, Martell. Oh, wait . . . I already did.”
It had taken a moment for Benito to catch up. For the loose threads of the last few days to separate into their appropriate sections. And then it had clicked.
Benito uttered the name of his contact.
Asa’s expression turned predatory. “He flipped six months ago. I’ve been riding you ever since, waiting for you to fuck up.” Then the malice in his smile faded. “I didn’t think it would be like this, though. I thought I really would have to kill you.”
“Is that what you wanted?”
“No, fam. Or I’d have done it years ago.”
Benito came back to the present with a shudder. Until Asa’s blade had pierced his skin, he’d never thought about either one of them killing the other. For long months after, he’d thought of little else. It should’ve unnerved him that Asa had been a lifetime ahead of him the whole time, but it wasn’t that making him shiver—it was the realisation that he was glad they’d both lived to laugh about it.
The train ambled into Milton Keynes Central. Benito stumbled off and walked home. His bed called to him. Sleep. For as long as the sandpaper in his brain would allow. But first, a deeper need propelled him to his car, and he drove to Bletchley on autopilot.
He parked in the same spot the police had moved him on from months ago. Turned the car off and waited, letting the cold of the frosty winter day seep into him. He didn’t sleep, but as he rotated his attention between Rosetta’s flat and the bus stop, strains of consciousness abandoned him.