 
UNDER COVERS

Handcuffed Book One

By

D.I. Monroe

_The Chase:_ Handcuffed Book Two

Will Be Released July 2013

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Under Covers: Handcuffed Book One

1st Edition Copyright D.I. Monroe Publishing 2013 at Smashwords.

Cover Art and Design by Absolute Kreative

This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locations are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used fictitiously. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real.

No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, either by electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is for a reviewer who may quote brief passages in the review. This publication is presented to you for informational purposes only and is not a substitution for any professional advice.
Chapter One

" **I** 'll have another one, Mike."

"Aren't you working tomorrow?" The bartender gave him an easy relaxed smile, but poured his bourbon none the less, setting it down on the stainless steel surface with a clang.

Ben Callow dug his hands into his pocket and placed a five dollar bill next to the glass, breathing out a heavy sigh.

"Not quite," he replied, his face set in a grim smile. Everyone at Bar Ontourage knew what he did for a living. It was his local, in a way, despite still being a good thirty minutes walk from his apartment. Ben was in there at least once a week and Mike always had a friendly word for him; made him feel welcome when other places downtown might not.

He would have to stop going there. Find somewhere else to hang out if he wanted a drink. Somewhere they didn't know him by sight or by name.

He did have work tomorrow, yes, but tomorrow was also the day everything changed. Tomorrow was the day he became someone else. Tomorrow was the day he was no longer Benjamin Callow of Chicago Police Department's Organized Crime Division. He was Benny McKenna, top marksmen and assassin; a criminal of the first order, available for hire to the highest bidder, and the highest bidder was hopefully going to be –

***

"Dr Flowers," the Chief announced in his usual gruff morning manner, causing a barely concealed snorting from Sergeant Nina Ackers, one of Ben's closest friends in the department, sat two rows behind him for the debriefing. He turned, raised an eyebrow at her and smirked before turning back to talk to his boss.

"I take it that's not his real name, Sir."

"No, Callow. It's a pseudonym, obviously. No one knows his real name. Most people he deals with haven't even met him."

A brown manila file was pushed across the desk towards him.

"What's this?"

"Hitman by the name of Arlen Kesson. You'll be interviewing him this afternoon, but as of now, you're officially undercover."

The other officers in the room gave Ben a little round of applause. He grinned and stood up, taking a mock over the top bow before grabbing his coat. He had to admit he was excited about his first undercover job. It was what he'd been working towards for so long, spent all that time in training for.

Nina caught up with him at the lockers as he was getting out his things.

"Does this mean we can't be friends anymore?" she asked with a smile.

"A hitman can hardly be friends with a cop now, can he?" Ben answered, teasing her back in return.

"Well then, I guess this is goodbye." She held out her hand, quite serious now, the smile vanished.

"I guess it is. But not for too long. Hopefully."

They shook hands. It was quite formal, considering the things they'd been through together as partners and friends, but it was appropriate given the situation.

"You'll get him."

"I'll try my best."

***

It wasn't until he was in the back of a dark blue Mercedes being driven towards the Metropolitan Correction Center in Downtown Chicago that he opened the file on Arlen Kesson. The first thing that caught his eye was the standard police mug shot of the man from when he was arrested, then his name in capitalized bold letters on the heading of the top sheet of paper. Underneath that, his date of birth, weight, height, all the little details.

He skipped ahead to Kesson's biography, and more specifically, his criminal career. Somehow, he'd come into contact with someone who worked for Dr Flowers, and had managed to get himself a recommendation, an initial interview with another employee and his first job. A Latino gang had apparently come to Flowers, asking if he could arrange a nice clean hit for them. They didn't want a turf war or retaliation, just something that couldn't be traced back to them, someone they wanted out of their way. Flowers was handy for things like that, and extremely accommodating when the right money was flashed his way.

Kesson had been handed the job and had done very well. Word got back to the man at the top. He was impressed. Kept his eye on the newcomer. The report went on to say that Kesson was one of the few criminals to have had face to face contact with Dr Flowers, although the details and intricacies of their meeting were severely lacking, something Ben Callow was hoping to make up for on his little prison visit.

A special room had been set up for them, away from the other prisoners, a nervous looking guard standing on duty at the door. He only looked about twenty and was obviously new to the job. Ben thought he'd seen him before somewhere but couldn't be certain. Sitting down on the hard backed, uncomfortable folding chair, he re-read the notes in the file whilst waiting for Kesson, only looking up again when he heard the creaking of the door, the guard stepping to one side whilst the criminal was shown on through, hands cuffed behind his back and led in by two other prison wardens.

Arlen Kesson was a tall man, impressive and muscular, broad shoulders and a shock of short wild ginger hair on top of his head that looked like it hadn't been brushed in months. He looked different from his mug shot, but those pictures never really did anyone justice, and he'd obviously not been shaving either, a ginger beard starting to grow thick around his cheeks and lips.

Ben decided to begin politely, nodding his head towards the chair opposite.

"Mr Kesson. Take a seat." Kesson was pushed towards it by the two wardens, not particularly giving him a choice on whether he wanted to sit or not. "Thank you." He gave a small smile to the guards, his eyes darting towards the door indicating they could now leave them alone together.

"Anything you want, just give us a shout," one of them replied, shuffling out, the heavy lock clanging shut behind them.

"You know why I'm here?" he asked gently, trying to make eye contact. Kesson stared at the table, seemingly in a world of his own. When he finally did speak, it was an almost inarticulate grunt.

"Yeah. About Flowers."

"That's right." Ben drummed his fingers against his thigh, watching Kesson's reaction.

"I'm not telling you anything."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not a snitch."

"You're in prison. He can't hurt you here."

"That's not the point."

Ben turned over the pages of the file casually, pretending to read it.

"According to this, you're one of the only people to have seen Dr Flowers face to face."

"That's right." Kesson looked up for the first time, a proud half smile dancing across his lips, his eyes showing a tiny bit of fire and spark.

"You must have been pretty special."

"I was."

"How come? What made you so special?"

"I was the best."

"At killing?"

"At everything."

"And Flowers wanted to meet you?"

"Yeah. Find that hard to believe?" He glared at Ben challengingly.

"Not at all." Ben closed up the folder and looked Kesson dead in the eyes. "What does he look like then? This Flowers?"

"I'm not gonna tell you that," the assassin scoffed, sitting back and folding his arms.

"Did you like him?"

"What sort of a question's that?"

"Well...?"

"He was my boss."

"That wasn't the question."

Arlen Kesson tutted and looked away, sucking the air in through his teeth as if he was becoming impatient with Ben's interrogation.

"Yeah. Yeah, I liked him. I looked up to him, respected him."

"I bet you were pretty honored that you were one of the few guys that got to actually meet him."

"Yeah, yeah I was actually. I was proud."

"I can tell."

The conversation continued along a similar path, but other than wondering whether the man might be gay, Ben could get no further information from him, save the fact that they had been introduced to the gang in a bar down town. He was willing enough to give the name. It was no secret that most of the criminals in the area went to hang out there. Scavengers. Ben had heard it himself on numerous occasions, had been in there once or twice to interview suspects. It was never a particularly welcoming venue for a cop, but he wasn't a cop anymore. He was Benny McKenna, just a low down good for nothing criminal who was a crack shot and handy with a rifle.

He was well aware of the fact that he might be required to kill someone in the line of duty, in order to maintain his cover. He'd heard about cops having to do it in the past, feeling guilty about it afterwards, the faces of their victims haunting them. He'd be lying if it said it didn't concern him, but there were certain procedures in place to take care of things like that.

He would presumably be given the name of a target, a location, a time and a place where they were going to be, where he would carry out the mission. If he could relay those facts back to his superiors at the CPD, they could arrange for the intended target of the hit to be prepped and made aware of the attempt on his life, for the death to ultimately be faked. Ben would put the shot slightly wide and blood packets would be set off in the target's chest as soon as the bullet burst through the window. The man would fall to the floor, and to all intents and purposes, be dead. He would then be swiftly got out of the country.

These plans were all well and good, but they were relying on the fact that he would be informed in advance of his target, that he would be firing at him from a long distance, and that their target was going to be someone who would be happy to cooperate with the police and whom the police would be happy to offer asylum to in return for his cooperation instead of the arrest many of Flowers' targets so rightly deserved. There were a lot of variables in the situation, too many, as far as Ben was concerned. He would just take every moment as it came.

His interview with Arlen Kesson over, he returned to his apartment to think things over. He wouldn't be setting foot in the police station again for a long while, so he safely stowed away his badge and standard issue revolver into a small locked drawer at the bottom of his bedside cabinet. Then he sat down on the sofa with a sigh and wondering whether he should head over to Scavengers that evening. In the end, he decided not to. This was his first day on the job and he needed to ease his way into his new way of living, although really, that was probably just an excuse. He wanted to relax, have a couple of drinks. He couldn't go back to Bar Ontourage though. Not anymore. Dragging over his laptop, he decided to look for a couple of bars downtown, and specifically any that were near to Scavengers. It was possible that he might be able to combine work with pleasure after all.

***

Two hours later, he found himself in North State Street's Downtown Bar and Lounge, a friendly enough, lively little place with a decent atmosphere. He ordered a whiskey and soda and stood at the bar, glancing round the room and eyeing up the talent. He had his eyes on a dark blonde haired guy in his early twenties, sat alone in a corner looking rather bored and sipping on a beer, and after watching him for a few minutes he decided to go over and introduce himself, knocking back his whiskey and setting it down on the bar.

"Hey," he raised his head in a half greeting, pulling up one of the small stools and sitting down opposite him, resting his elbow on the table. He'd always been fairly confident in the flirting department, but for some reason, he felt even more so now, now he was someone else.

"I'm Benny." He reached over to shake the man's hand.

"Scott," he replied with a small smile, accepting the shake. "Or Scotty. I don't mind."

"Scotty's cute. Like it. Suits you."

He thought he saw a faint blush on the blonde's cheeks after his compliment, which was quite endearing. "Where are your friends?" he asked, turning to look round the bar, presuming he must have come with someone.

"I don't have any," Scotty laughed. His laugh was pretty cute too, Benny noticed. "Well, I do have friends," he corrected himself, probably realizing his previous statement made him look like an unsociable loner. "It's just...they're not...y'know..."

Benny was pretty sure he knew exactly what the young man meant, he just wanted to hear him say it, so he could make certain. It was always best to make certain. He'd got himself into a couple of fights before now due to him getting the wrong idea about people and not checking before he made a move.

"They're not what?" he pushed, pretending he was clueless.

Scotty hesitated and looked at him for a moment, possibly thinking the same thing – that he'd got the wrong impression of Benny and now he was going to end up with a fist in his face.

"Y'know...gay."

Relieved, Benny gave a small smile and nodded. "Right, yeah. Well, this is a gay bar, I believe so, you're in the right place."

Scotty laughed, his shoulders dropping as the tension was released. "Yeah, yeah, that's true. But not everyone in here is so...always best to check, I find."

"Yeah, I couldn't agree with you more. Fancy another?" He pointed towards Scotty's now almost empty glass.

"Please," the blonde said with a smile, handing it over to him. "Thank you."

"Please and thank you in the same sentence, I must be doing well," Benny teased, getting to his feet and strolling towards the bar.

Moments later, he returned with two drinks and the pair of them got chatting again, talking about inane subjects like films and TV shows, music, comparing stories about past dates and relationships. Benny managed to avoid the subject of his job. Scotty had never asked, and he never asked Scotty, not because he wasn't interested, but because he didn't want Scotty to turn the question back round on him. Avoiding it altogether was easier and more preferable to making up a lie. He couldn't tell him he was a cop, because he wasn't anymore, and he couldn't exactly tell him he was a hit man either, not if he wanted to get him back to his bedroom that night.

The drinks continued flowing, both of them taking it in turns to buy rounds, and Benny shifted his seat so he was sat next to him instead of opposite, leaning in close as they chatted and flirted. At a natural pause in the conversation, he caught the other man's eye then glanced down at his lips, his intentions obvious. There was a brief moment, whilst they both looked at each other, and then they were kissing, immediately passionate due to the alcohol, only one thing on their minds. This wasn't a date or a romance, they were both just after a quick fuck. Or at least, that's what Benny was after and what he was going to get. He needed to release some of the stress and worry over his new position, get himself mentally psyched up for tomorrow evening's venture into the criminal underworld. He pushed his tongue into Scotty's mouth, snaking his right hand round the young man's back and grappling slightly at his shirt, tugging on it as they kissed, his head tilting to one side to deepen their embrace, lips firmly locked together for a good thirty seconds or so before Benny broke off, grinning at the man, who looked quite breathless and giddy.

"We should go back to my place," Benny said. "It's not far from here and I've got some whiskey in."

"Sounds good," Scotty agreed eagerly, wiping his wet lips with the back of his hand and getting to his feet, glugging back the rest of his drink before reaching for his coat.

Benny's place was close. They could have walked there, but that would have taken half an hour and with the passion already fired up between them, they didn't really have any time to spare. He doubted they'd even get chance to drink any of the whiskey. Maybe afterwards. As they left the bar, they walked a couple of feet apart, hands shoved in their pockets. It wasn't that Benny was ashamed or embarrassed about being gay. His colleagues at CPD all knew, his family did, his friends outside work. He just didn't flout it openly in the street, mainly to avoid disparaging remarks and trouble from homophobic idiots, but especially now, with his new undercover job, he'd be spending a lot of time Downtown round the bars and clubs. If any of them spotted him, it could blow the whole operation – he doubted a gay gangster would be welcome amongst any crowd.

Luckily, Scotty obviously had the same opinion and the same way of operating, and even in the taxi cab on the way home, they sat separately and without touching, looking like two friends on their way back from a night out. They didn't even talk. They'd pretty much exhausted all topics of conversation in the bar, and the only thing they were interested in now was getting to Benny's. As soon as the door of the apartment closed behind them, it was a whole different story. Scotty, who had gone in first after Benny had politely held the door open, suddenly spun round with a renewed energy and practically pinned Benny up against the wall, pressing their lips together urgently. With a gasp of surprise and delight, Benny's hands swiftly moved to push off Scotty's coat, dropping it to the floor, then gave a gentle shove away from him to break their kiss, causing Scotty to look a little hurt and disappointed as he staggered back, thinking Benny was rejecting him.

"Bedroom's through there," Benny simply smirked in reply, nodding his head towards the direction of the room. "I'm gonna fetch us those two whiskeys. If you're not undressed and in bed by the time I come through, I'm calling you a cab."

Scotty's eyes sparkled, a small grin on his face at the challenge. He stared at Benny for a split second, then darted through to the bedroom, discarding clothes as he went. Benny laughed to himself and quickly fixed up the drinks as promised, pleased that he'd managed to end the evening well. It was a good start, and he was already feeling more confident about tomorrow.

He shouldered open the door to the bedroom, his hands otherwise occupied with the glasses, to find Scotty had managed to accomplish his task, and was sat propped up by the pillows looking rather pleased with himself. Benny was instantly struck by his slightly muscular frame and quite beautiful pale skin. He obviously worked out a little bit, or at least, was just starting to. He set the drinks down on the dresser near the door and stared at Scotty as he undid the buttons of his shirt, slowly getting out of his clothes, almost teasingly.

"Hurry up," the young man said, obviously impatient. His hand slid to underneath the duvet, the cloth starting to move up and down as he palmed himself, his tongue darting out to run across his lips as Benny finally dropped his boxers to the floor and stepped out of them, completely naked as he clambered onto the bed and flipped back the covers. Scotty turned towards him and their bodies were pressed up against one another in an instant, their lips clashing in a passionate kiss as Benny ground his hips towards the other man's, their erections rubbing teasingly.

Placing a palm on Scotty's chest, Benny gently rolled him onto his back, flipping a leg over and mounting on top of him, leaning down to continue their kissing, one hand already roaming towards the first drawer of the bedside table where he kept his provisions for nights such as this one, fishing out a small bottle of lube and a condom which he set down beside them on the bed, sitting up and breaking their kiss, slightly breathless already. Scotty wriggled around and rolled onto his tummy, tucking his knees up to his chest and exposing his ass to Benny's attentions, obviously eager. Benny leaned over his back and trailed little kisses down the man's spine, scraping gently with his teeth and awarded with a gasp from Scotty, who pushed himself face down into the pillow to silence himself. Enjoying this reaction, Benny flipped open the lube and squeezed some out onto his fingers, greasing them up slightly before reaching down and locating Scotty's tight little hole, teasing his entrance to get a further gasp from the young man, before expertly slipping a single finger inside, feeling Scotty tense around him.

"Ahh...more..." His voice was a hoarse, begging whisper, barely audible.

"Patience," Benny purred, leaning down over him and sucking at the tender skin on his neck, moving his finger back and forth slowly.

"I like it rough. I can take it."

"We'll see about that," he smiled, then without warning pushed up a second digit to join the first, beginning to rock his hand into him, twisting his fingers round and spreading them as wide as he could, Scotty writhing and moaning beneath his touch. He could feel himself throbbing hard and aching, longing now to be inside him. He grabbed Scotty's right leg with his free hand, yanking it into the air and ducking his head underneath it, the momentum causing the young man to fall flat onto his back in one swift move. He yelped in surprise, finding himself now looking up at a grinning Benny.

"I want to see your face when I fuck you." He crooked his fingers round and brushed the tips against Scotty's prostate, watching as his head tossed to one side, eyes rolling to the back of their sockets, before Benny automatically forced up his third finger using the pleasure as a distraction, stretching him even further. He smirked and wrapped his hand around Scotty's cock, teasingly rubbing him up and down.

"Do it," said Scotty, desperately arching his back towards him. "Please..."

"Alright, alright." He released the man's erection and reached for the condom then ripped open the packet with his teeth, shook it out, and rolled it smoothly onto his already leaking length, his heart rate quickening with the anticipation. Scotty eagerly got himself ready too, lifting up his legs and wrapping them around Benny's back, his heels already digging in to bring him closer. With a final couple of thrusts from his hand, he slowly pulled back his fingers to a gasp from Scotty, his entrance tensing and twitching as he got into position and leaned forward slightly on his knees between the man's thighs, lining himself up so that he could easily replace his fingers with his cock. Then he looped his hands under Scotty's legs and gripped him loosely, glancing up to see the contortions of pleasure on his face and the sudden groan as he pushed his hips forward, fighting against the initial resistance of the muscles until he felt himself slip all the way in. He bit down on his lip and closed his eyes, letting out a low moan. Scotty's hands flew around his back, fingernails scraping at the skin and holding onto him tightly.

"Fuck..."

"You OK?" Benny opened his eyes again and looked at him, giving them both a moment to get used to each other before he started to do anything else, although Scotty felt so incredibly warm and tight around him it was rather distracting and increasingly difficult to control himself. He rocked into him ever so slightly.

"Yeah...yeah, I'm fine," Scotty managed to choke out, taking a large breath and letting it out slowly.

"Good." He smiled and leaned over to kiss him, the angle naturally forcing him a bit deeper. As their tongues met, Benny felt the tension slackening off around his length and decided to start moving, pulling back gradually, almost all the way out again, before driving back in.

"Mmm..." Scotty loosened off his vice like grip on Benny's back and starting to run his fingertips up and down casually. "More of that."

Smiling, Benny repeated the process but this time a little quicker, then again, and again, gradually building up into a steady pace, the sensations pooling around his abdomen. He closed his eyes and leaned over Scotty, hooking his arms under the man's shoulders and resting his head down on his chest, hearing his heartbeat raging through his ears as he started to snap his hips back and forth.

"Yes," said Scotty, reaching down to squeeze Benny's ass. "Faster...do it. Come on...fuck me. Don't be a pussy."

Benny quickly sat back up, not sure he'd heard right. "Did you just call me a pussy?" he queried, stopping all his thrusts in an instant and staring at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Maybe," the man said, a little smile tugging on his lips.

"You cheeky son of a bitch. Right. That's it. You're gonna get it now."

He took hold of Scotty's hands by the wrists and pinned them back onto the pillow either side of his head, keeping him there whilst he allowed himself to lose control, pounding hard and fast into him, the bed rocking and shaking with the power of his thrusts.

"Oh yeah...yeah, oh...oh God..." Scotty moaned repeatedly, his eyes half closed, his head tossing from side to side in ecstasy. Benny knew he couldn't keep up this pace without toppling over the edge, but he didn't care, that was what he was driving for now, the sweat starting to prickle the back of his neck as he pushed them both closer to a climax.

"Jesus." His vision blurred as the pleasure quickly overtook him. He passed his right hand over Scotty's chest and further southwards, grasping his erection and pumping it in time to his thrusts as they became increasingly more jilted and uneven, his movements faltering as he finally hurtled into a powerful orgasm. His hips gave an involuntary jolt and he felt Scotty filling up his hand with ejaculate and both their stomachs damp too, the young man arching his back off the bed and giving a loud inarticulate cry. Benny collapsed forwards into the sticky mess, his chest aching from the exertion, his body tingling. For a moment the two of them simply lay there, needing the time to recover before Scotty gave him a gentle shove.

"Can't breathe. You're fucking crushing me." Groaning, Benny forced himself to sit up, rolling to one side and slipping out, causing Scotty to shudder and whimper. He flopped onto the pillow, exhausted. Finding Scotty beside him, he snaked a hand round the man's waist and brought them together for a kiss.

"Thanks. Needed that." He gave a quiet sigh.

"So did I," Scotty agreed, grinning.

Turning away, Benny lay on his back and eased off the condom, tossing it carelessly onto the floor.

"Mind if I get a shower?" Scotty asked, quite politely considering what they'd just been doing.

"First room on your left," Benny pointed with his finger as he struggled to his feet, legs still weak, and stumbled towards the dresser to collect the two glasses of whiskey. "Hurry up. Your ice has almost melted."
Chapter Two

**T** he alarm blared like a siren, unapologetically reaching into his quite pleasant dreams, dragging him out and back into reality with an annoyed groan. He'd forgotten to reset the time yesterday. It was still waking him up as if he was due to go in for work. Damn 8am.

"Shit." Benny half sat up in bed, leaning over to grab his phone and turn the stupid thing off. Then he slumped back down onto his pillow, closing his eyes again and snuggling up against Scotty's back. The blonde hadn't even moved, obviously not disturbed in the slightest by the noise. He looked quite sweet when he was sleeping, hair all fluffy and messy.

He soon drifted back off himself, waking naturally a couple of hours later feeling much more refreshed. He rolled onto his stomach lazily and pushed himself up, dropping his feet out from underneath the duvet and onto the floor, then checked his watch. Nearly half ten. Better. It wasn't as if he had anything to get up for today, and apparently Scotty didn't either. He wondered briefly what the young man actually did for a living, but resisted the temptation to ask. As he'd decided the night before, that would only bring the conversation round to his own occupation, something he wanted to avoid. He walked to the other side of the bed and shook him awake gently.

"Want coffee?"

"Mmm...uhh..." Scotty turned over, his eyes stuck together. He rubbed them with the back of his hand and yawned.

"Wake up for fuck's sake," Benny rolled his eyes. "D'you want coffee?"

"Please. And toast."

"What d'you think this is, a damn cafe?" He chuckled and opened up the bedside drawer, taking out a fresh pair of boxers that he hopped into as he made his way through to the kitchen, boiling up the kettle and popping some bread in the toaster for them both, lathering his own up with peanut butter before carrying everything through on a tray.

"I don't do this for everyone, y'know," he said. "Breakfast in bed. Jeez."

Scotty sat up and fluffed the pillows, reaching out his hands to take the tray and settle it down on his thighs.

"This is perfect, thank you." He smiled.

"I wasn't sure whether you wanted peanut butter or not. Or sugar. In your coffee. You didn't say. Or milk for that matter. I just made it like mine. Milk, one sugar."

"That's fine."

They ate their simple breakfast in silence for a while, Benny sat down on the edge of the bed, cradling his coffee in one hand, slowly beginning to wake up properly and start to think about the rest of his plans for the day.

"What time is it?" Scotty asked after a while, the hint of worry in his voice.

"Near 11."

"Oh shit!" He whipped back the covers, coffee jilting out from the edge of his cup with the quick movement.

"Hey, careful! What the hell's the matter with you?"

"I'm gonna be late." The cup slammed down on the bedside table and Scotty was grabbing up his clothes in a panic, hurriedly struggling to get dressed.

"For what?"

"Work."

Benny raised an eyebrow and kept silent. He'd seemed perfectly happy to wake up so he assumed he didn't have anywhere to be. Must be an afternoon job or something.

"Sorry I've gotta dash off," Scotty looked a bit guilty as he hastily buttoned up his shirt then walking towards the door, a quick glance over his shoulder before he showed himself out of the bedroom. A few seconds later, he heard the front door of the flat banging shut. They hadn't swapped numbers in the end. Scotty hadn't asked and neither had Benny. He never did. Sometimes he felt like a damn idiot for not doing so. He could name a handful of guys he would have liked to see again, relationship potentials, but the day after he always either felt too shy or too proud to ask for their details, and he reasoned that if they didn't ask, they mustn't be interested.

He wandered through to the main living area and dug in the drawer of his desk for his secret stash of cigarettes. He was giving up. Most of the time that worked out fine, but occasionally not. Lighting one now, he wandered over to the window and stared out onto the street. Scotty was crossing over the other side of the road, breaking into a jog.

Taking a drag of his smoke, he returned to the bedroom and spent the next half an hour deciding what to wear for his evening out. What kind of clothes does Benny McKenna wear? What kind of man was he? The kind of man he was last night. Confident, smooth, slightly arrogant. It was like researching for a role in a play. He'd been good at drama when he was at school. Acting. That was what he was doing now. Becoming immersed in the part. He'd heard about cops who got so embroiled in their undercover work they forgot who they really were, started to act like their aliases all the time, couldn't switch it off. It was always a worry, of course, but he was sure he wouldn't be one of those guys. He knew who he was. He was too strong willed to lose sense of himself.

***

Arriving at the club just after seven, Benny leant his elbows on the bar and ordered a scotch on the rocks, tossing some cash over at the bartender. Knocking it back in one, he immediately requested another and pulled up a bar stool, perching on the edge and hoisting his feet onto the stainless steel rest, casually scanning round the punters. He remembered quite a few of them from police photographs but thankfully had never had any direct dealings. He doubted anyone would recognize him, especially with the stubble thick on his face. He hadn't shaved for two days and intended to keep it that way as an extra precaution.

"Another." He slapped some more money down onto the bar. He could feel the scotch lining his stomach nicely, warming his insides.

"Please." The bartender was looking at him expectantly.

"Do people often say please in here?"

"No. But it'd be nice if they did."

"It'd be nice if you got me a fucking drink," Benny replied, amazed that someone so cocky and arrogant could get away with working in a place like this. Unless he was someone's son or nephew. Someone important. That was always a possibility. Nepotism.

"Yes, sir." It was a fairly enthusiastic response, but he could sense the hint of sarcasm behind it and the unnecessarily aggressive way he planted the glass down in front of him with a clang.

"You've got another customer over there," he pointed to a woman at the other end of the bar who was looking frustrated and impatient, happy to be rid of the guy for a few minutes at least, until he wanted another.

Sighing slightly and twisting round in his seat, he watched as one of the men he'd had his eye on, Alan Rencow, a fraudster and thug in his early forties, got up from the main group and headed towards the bathroom. Deciding he should give this a go, talk to him, say he was new in town and looking for work, Benny stood up and began to trail him, circling the ice around his glass absent mindedly as he walked, focused entirely on Alan's back and not really looking where he was going.

It _was_ hardly a surprise then, when he went thud into the shoulder of another guy walking past, a young blonde who'd just come out of the men's. It _was_ a surprise, when he gathered his senses to apologize, only to realize he was face to face with an equally shocked Scotty.

"Ronny!"

"Benny," he corrected him, smirking. The guy looked suitably embarrassed. "Don't worry about it."

"What are you doing here?" Scotty asked with a small frown.

"I was about to ask you the same question." He looked over the man's shoulder to see his original target Alan Rencow had long since disappeared into the bathroom. No matter. He could catch him on his way out, by which time he'd probably be finished talking with Scotty.

"I..." He looked like he didn't quite know what to say. "Well, I dunno. I'm just...my friends come here."

"Right." Benny took a sip of his drink and glancing round. "Not the nicest dive in the world. What they doing hanging round a place like this?" He was so used to asking probing questions as a cop, it was a difficult habit to break.

"I dunno." Scotty shrugged his shoulders then quickly turning the question back on him. "So, what are you doing in here then? If it's so bad."

"I like bad places," Benny gave a small smile.

"And bad people?"

"Definitely."

Scotty paused and looked at him strangely for a moment, his brow furrowed, obviously thinking something over. Benny raised an eyebrow. "Are you a bad person, Scotty?" he asked, keeping the tone light and teasing. "Because I sure as hell like you. I wouldn't want to break my track record."

"I can be bad, yeah," he said, not giving much away. It made no sense to Benny why a guy like Scotty would be frequenting a club like Scavengers unless he had criminal connections. That was why he didn't have to get up early for work like most people, but still had somewhere to be that afternoon. He still had a job. It just wasn't like any ordinary kind of job. It was a theory anyway, and one he was quite determined to test with his pertinent questions. It was as if the two of them were speaking in a secret code, weighing each other up.

"What about your friends?" Benny pushed. "Are they bad?"

"Maybe." Scotty stood a little taller, facing him down.

"Maybe, I might like to meet them."

"Why would you want to do that?"

"Because I'm looking for people to be bad with."

Scotty opened his mouth to say something but before he could speak, Benny had added, "and I don't mean in a gay way." Just in case there was any confusion on that point. Scotty closed his mouth again and looked somewhere past Benny's shoulder.

"I'm here on business," he replied. "I'm not staying."

"That wasn't what I asked you. I don't give a shit if you're staying or not."

"You never told me what you did for a job," Scotty glared at him, his attitude switching slightly, becoming more defensive and accusing.

"Neither did you," Benny snapped back.

"Well?"

"Like I said, I like to do bad things with bad people. Use your imagination."

Scotty stared at him silently.

"And I need a job," he continued. "I'm running out of money, that place of mine doesn't come cheap."

"What line of work?" Scotty asked cautiously. "Specifically."

By now, Benny was almost one hundred per cent sure the man was mixed up in some kind of criminal world and although it was still taking a risk, he'd been offered a way in more easily than he might have expected. He had a chance and he had to seize it.

"Killing."

Scotty blinked a couple of times but otherwise showed no change of expression. His tongue came out and ran across his bottom lip, then he stared past Benny's shoulder again before looking back at him.

"You won't want to talk to my friends then," he answered.

"Why not?"

"We're not in that line of work."

He smirked. "No, I didn't think you were. You don't look like the type."

"Hey! I could kill if I wanted!"

"Sure you could," he teased, prodding him in the stomach and swigging back the rest of his scotch. "So, you seem to know a little about something. Who would I need to speak to?"

Scotty hesitated, gnawing at his lip.

"Look, I just moved here like two weeks ago, cut me some slack, I don't know nobody."

"There's a guy called Floyd," the blonde finally answered. "He does that type of

thing. Knows a few people."

"Does he come in here?"

"Yeah. He should be in later. He's like um...pretty tall, broad shouldered, muscular type, y'know, I think he was in the army. Short hair, dark brown. Um...he has a scar on his chin. Normally wears a light blue suit, always very smart."

"You seem to know this guy pretty well."

"Yeah, I've done business with him a couple of times."

"And what exactly is your business?" Benny asked, still not sure where Scotty stood in the grand scheme of the criminal underworld.

"Petty theft, mainly. Credit cards, that kind of thing."

"And here's me thinking you're just some ordinary guy I picked up in a bar. Surprised you didn't try and rob my wallet."

"If I hadn't had to rush off, I would have done," Scotty answered with brutal honesty.

"And I would have put a bullet in your head and thrown you in the fucking river." Benny stared dead into the other man's eyes, wanting him to be unsure whether this was a joke or a serious threat, a warning. This didn't seem to have much of an effect on Scotty. He merely stared at him and shrugged his shoulders.

"And here's me just thinking _you_ were some ordinary guy I picked up in a bar."

"Hey, I picked you up," said Benny. "Not the other way around."

"Right, yeah. Yeah, I suppose you did," the blonde conceded with a shrug.

"We should do it again sometime."

"I'm not sure that would be a good idea," Scotty replied. It wasn't the answer he'd been expecting, or hoping for. He quite liked Scotty. He was almost boyfriend material, definitely worth a second date at least.

"Why not?"

"I don't see anyone more than once. It's nothing personal I just...don't like to get too close." He glanced at his watch. "I'd really better go. I'm supposed to be meeting this guy in five minutes to sell him some stolen cards."

Benny grabbed his hand and shook it firmly, trying to hide the fact that he was disappointed. 'Don't like to get too close'. What kind of a goddamn stupid reason was that? He felt like he'd just been dumped. "Well, I'll see you around then, Scotty."

"Yeah, maybe....um, Benny." He had to think about it, but he got it right.

"Benny McKenna."

"Scotty Moresco."

"And this Floyd guy. He got a surname?"

"Yeah. Brennan. Floyd Brennan."

"Thanks. And if I say you told me about him, he's not gonna fucking shoot me or anything? You and him on good terms, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah it's fine. You can mention my name." Scotty nodded, smiling at Benny's swearing.

"Perfect. Thanks."

He returned to the bar and slid his glass along to bartender, a tall, thin guy in his twenties and quite a contrast to customers he spent his nights serving. "Another scotch."

"Right away, sir," he replied cheerfully, gracefully reaching for a clean glass and spinning it from one hand to the other. Show off. He was English too. The accent was unmistakable, quite posh, obviously well educated. Benny couldn't help wondering how he ended up working in a place like this.

He perched on the bar stool and watched Scotty approach a bald black guy lurking by the main entrance. They shook hands and the two of them walked out onto the street together. Having received his drink, he kept his eyes on the door and waited for the arrival of Floyd Brennan.

***

Floyd Brennan matched Scotty's description perfectly. Tall, broad shouldered and muscular, in his early forties with short and very neat dark brown hair sporting a beautifully ironed light blue suit with a purple shirt. Someone should tell him those two colors didn't exactly match. He supposed everyone was too scared to mention something like that. Benny remained seated as he watched the man approach the bar, squinting slightly to look for the tell tale scar on the chin, a final check to make sure he was about to approach the right guy. Confirming it was there just like the young thief said it would be, he picked up his drink and walked over, before Brennan had the chance to pay for his own, waving a ten dollar bill in the air.

"Let me take care of that."

Used to being looked after by other members of the criminal fraternity, Brennan simply shrugged his huge shoulders and nodded.

"Fine."

Benny edged the cash over the bar and was promptly given some change that he slipped into his pocket. "Actually, I've been meaning to speak to you. You are Floyd Brennan, right?"

"Depends who wants to know," the man gruffly replied.

"My name's Benny McKenna," he held out his hand. Floyd stared at it for a moment before slowly reaching out his own, clasping Benny's fingers in a firm confident shake. "I just moved into town a few weeks back. Looking for some work."

"Oh yeah?" Floyd took a sip of his drink and eyed him up suspiciously.

"Yeah. You were recommended by Scotty Moresco."

Floyd frowned and turned his head back to the bar, staring at his drink.

"His ain't my line of work, kid."

"It ain't my line of work either. And I'd prefer it if you didn't call me kid."

"I'll call you what the hell I like." Floyd had spun round in an instant and was squaring up to him, a couple of inches taller, glaring him down. Benny stared straight into his eyes, his face betraying nothing but inside his heart was racing with adrenalin, getting a bit of a kick from the potential danger.

"No. No, you won't," he said, keeping his voice steady and cold, not backing down. Floyd remained completely still, then slowly turned back to face the bar, picking up his drink and knocking it back in one, slamming his glass down.

"Get me another and we'll talk."

Benny got out another note and waved it towards the bartender, who promptly delivered a second drink with his usual panache.

"Here you are, Mr Brennan, Sir." The glass was settled down gently in front of them

"What kind of work you looking for then?" Floyd asked.

"Your kind."

The man smiled slightly and lapsed into thoughtful silence.

"You know what this involves, I take it?" He said after a while, leaning his elbows on the bar and shuffling a bit closer to where Benny was stood.

"Of course I do."

"How experienced are you?"

"Over ten years."

"How come I ain't heard of you before?"

"I've been working abroad," Benny replied casually. He'd thought of all this. His back story. "England."

"England?" Floyd scoffed, as if he couldn't believe that any decent hit men could ever get work there.

"Yeah. If you ring up a guy named Tom Whitley, he can give you a decent reference for me. I can get you his number. There's also Mick Spencer and Davey Morley and - "

"Alright alright," Floyd waved him to silence dismissively. "Give me all the names some other time. My memory's shit for names."

Benny nodded. Inside he was smiling. That was what he'd been hoping for. The names were all made up, but if he'd bothered to ask for details, he had up to five individual direct numbers through to England, not to gangsters or criminals or hirers of hitmen, but to five MI6 agents who had been briefed on the undercover operation and were acting as Benny's fake references, who would know exactly the right things to say to satisfy any prying potential employer. It was looking like they might not be needed after all, which was even better.

"You any good then?"

"Very good. The best." Benny couldn't help feeling like he was in a job interview, although it was certainly the weirdest job he'd ever applied for.

"Modest too," the big guy mumbled sarcastically. "You'll have to prove it though," he warned. "And you won't get paid first time. It's just a trial."

"Fine. Whatever. I'll do what it takes." Benny took a sip on his drink, weighing up whether he should ask the next question that was on his mind, but deciding to take a leap down that road anyway. "Have you ever heard of a guy named Flowers?"

There was a visible tensing in Floyd's body that betrayed him. "Where've you heard that name?"

"Around. People have heard of him all over, y'know. Even in England. He's got a good reputation. Regular work that pays well. I want a piece of the action if I can."

Floyd tossed back his head and chuckled. "Yeah...yeah, I bet you do. Listen, you can't just walk in here and demand to work for Flowers. I don't know who the hell you are."

"So, you work for him then?" Benny asked enthusiastically. "You could get me a job if you wanted to?"

Floyd said nothing, but again, his silence spoke more than his words.

"What did you say your name was again?" he eventually asked.

"Benny. Benny McKenna."

"OK Benny. Here's the deal. I'm working a job at the moment. You come with me. You take the shot for me. I get the money, obviously. But if you get it right, and you don't mess up, I'll put in a good word for you and get you a paid job next time."

"Sounds reasonable," Benny said with a shrug, finishing off his drink.

"Who's the target?"

"Never you mind who the damn target is," Floyd snapped at him, that flash of anger behind his eyes again. "Just meet me outside here tomorrow morning at 7am."

"Bit fucking early."

"Do you want the damn job or what?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course. Tomorrow morning at 7. I'll be there, Floyd." It was the first time he'd called him by his name, and he wondered whether he would get away with it, instead of referring to him as 'sir' or 'Mr Brennan' as most people probably did. There was a small flicker across his rugged features, but he said nothing other than, "yeah, yeah you better be. Now fuck off would you, I'm supposed to be having a quiet drink."

***

And that was it. He had his first foot in the door. And it was all thanks to a quick fuck he'd picked up in some seedy downtown gay bar. His last steady boyfriend had always said he didn't see the point of one night stands. Well screw him. They were useful.

He had another quick drink sat at the other end of the room, his eyes still looking over at Floyd occasionally.

"I'd be careful who you talk to in here. Sir." The charming quiet English of the bartender interrupted his thoughts. "Just a bit of friendly advice."

"Right. Well I don't need your advice," Benny said, quickly finishing off his drink and standing up. "I ain't scared of anyone. Not even Floyd Brennan."

"Who said anything about Floyd?" The barman said mysteriously, raising an eyebrow before disappearing off to serve someone else.

Shaking his head at the guy, Benny zipped up his coat and got himself home. He'd lost count of the amount of scotches he'd knocked back, only that it was quite a few and he was staggering through the door of his apartment not sure whether he'd make it to the bedroom before passing out. In the end, he went for the easier option of collapsing onto the couch, remembering to set the alarm on his phone for 6am.
Chapter Three

**A** few hours of sleep later, with the early dawn light pushing its way through his windows, Benny stumbled to his feet and through to the kitchen, bleary eyed and searching for painkillers, hungover for the second morning in a row. He'd really have to cut back on his drinking, but it didn't look like it was going to be anytime soon. He made himself a coffee and waited for his headache to ease off. To be honest, he actually felt like he was still drunk, and hoped his trigger finger wouldn't be too shaky. Recalling the events of the night before, he remembered that in his haste to secure a job, he'd failed to find out whether he would need to bring his own sniper rifle to the meeting with Floyd or whether one would be provided for him. Deciding to leave nothing to chance, he squatted down by the couch and brought out the hard backed leather case that held the weapon, checking his watch to make sure he wasn't running late. This was an important day.

A little better after a strong black coffee, he grabbed his phone and made a quick call to CPD to give a report on his progress. It was his friend Nina Ackers that answered.

"Didn't think I'd be hearing from you again quite so soon." He could hear the smile in her tone of voice.

"Yeah. Well, it's strictly business I'm afraid. Have you got a pen?"

"Yeah, I'm listening."

Benny laid down the details as swiftly as he could, explaining that he didn't know who the target was, but they'd be setting out from the outside of Scavengers at 7am that morning.

"Alright. I'll check with the Chief on this one and get back to you."

"Fine, but make it snappy Ackers, I'm leaving in ten."

"Will do."

Ten minutes later, as promised, he received a text message from an anonymous number. _Take your shot. We'll fix it._

Benny didn't know quite how they planned to fix it, but he realized that was the only information he was ever going to get. The less he knew the better. He had to stay focused on the job and trust that the department were taking care of the rest.

By the time he'd grabbed a quick piece of toast and shower, he was feeling nervous and edgy, worried about how everything would play out. Could he really do this? If it came down to it, could he take that shot, knowing he might possibly be killing someone? He had to. He had no other choice. He had to do this.

Within ten minutes of that thought, he was in a taxi arriving Downtown. He told the driver to pull up a block before, wanting to walk the rest of the distance as an extra precaution. Floyd Brennan was already standing outside. He could see him in the distance as he walked at a quickened, slightly agitated pace towards Scavengers.

"You're late. Not a good start, Kenny."

"It's Benny, for fuck's sake." How hard was it? He glanced at his watch. "And I'm only five minutes late."

"Stop talking. You're already annoying me." Floyd started walking in the opposite direction causing Benny to have to break into a jog in order to catch up, falling into line along side him.

"I wasn't sure whether to bring my own rifle. So I did." He noticed Floyd was carrying an oddly shaped rectangular shoulder bag over his right arm, similar to his own.

"Always better to bring your own. First time I went on a job shadowing a guy, he was fucking left handed. Can you believe that? Gun didn't settle right in my hands."

"Did you mess up then?" Benny asked, enjoying the fact that they were having a casual and friendly conversation between the two of them as they walked along.

"Course I didn't." He tutted, as if the very question was preposterous. "I got him right between the eyeballs, as planned. I never miss."

"I don't either."

"You'd better not do today."

They continued in silence for a couple of minutes, the streets relatively empty at his early hour of the morning with only a handful of people up and about, making their way to work.

"So, who's the target?" Benny asked eventually, trying to sound as casual as possible.

"Like I said last night, kid. It's none of your concern."

"And like I said last night. Don't call me kid."

"You don't take any shit, do you Benny?"

"Not much."

"I like that," Floyd said, much to Benny's relief. "This way." He ducked into the subway, glancing over his shoulder to check Benny was following.

***

Twenty minutes and a short subway ride later, Benny found himself trailing after Floyd down a side alley behind a restaurant, bags of rotting food outside waiting to get collected, the stench reaching his nostrils and making him feel a bit sick. Or perhaps that was just the nerves. Either way he wished he hadn't drank so much last night but was equally as glad he didn't have time for breakfast. It wouldn't exactly make the right first impression if they had to stop so Benny could be sick.

"Hurry up," said Floyd, his gruff impatient voice urging him on. The hitman was already clambering up a tall iron staircase attached to the wall of the restaurant. Benny placed his hand on the railing and his foot on the first step, taking it nice and steady, the structure rattling slightly under their combined weight. It was obviously some kind of fire escape that didn't get used all that often.

"Where are we going?" he hastened to ask, wondering whether Floyd would be in a better mood to reveal anything about their little secret mission.

"Need to get a vantage point."

That much was already obvious. He still had no clue as to their intended target.

At the top of the staircase, Floyd placed his hands on the edge and hauled himself up, swinging his legs over and rolling onto the flat roof. He scrambled to his feet and turned round, offering Benny his hand.

"I'm alright. I can manage." He gripped the edge and threw his legs up onto the roof, copying Floyd's actions. "Gonna have to do all these things myself when I get my first proper job."

"Yeah. You need to be fit to do this kind of work," Floyd agreed. Benny thought he looked quietly impressed with the effort he was putting in, or at least, that was what he was hoping. Standing to his full height again, he squinted into the early morning sun and looked around him. "What now?"

"This way." Floyd started walking towards the other end of the roof where there was a small gap between the one they were on and the one directly opposite them - a small gap with quite a long drop back down to the street. As he looked down, Benny felt his stomach turn over. He hadn't realized they'd come up quite that high. "Ready?"

"Ready for what?"Benny asked. Before he could get a reply, Floyd took a running jump and hurled himself over the gap, landing safely on the other rooftop with a thud.

"Jesus." He looked down at again at the street below; cars and taxis, people on their way to work. His hand had subconsciously gripped into a tight fist, fingernails digging into the soft skin of his palm.

"Come on! Hurry the fuck up!"

It was just a small jump, he told himself, not a big deal. He'd done this kind of thing plenty of times before when he was a cop. Sort of. Taking a deep breath and a couple of steps backwards so he could build up momentum, he raced towards the edge and leapt into the air, Time seemed to freeze as he flew towards his destination, legs kicking at the wind attempting to give himself more speed. And then, thump. In an instant, his feet were on solid ground again and he was stood next to a smirking Floyd.

"Right. Let's go," he said, setting off again towards the opposite side. For a brief moment, Benny thought they were about to jump across and onto another building, but he realized they were now facing a large skyscraper with an easy sights on the various office windows. Floyd dropped to his knees quickly behind the ledge, shielding himself from view and indicating with a swift wave of his arm that Benny should do the same. He crouched down and shuffled his way over, situating himself next to Floyd.

"Get your rifle out then," he said, nodding towards the leather case hoisted over Benny's shoulder.

"Yeah." He shrugged it off and laid it down on the ground between them. He couldn't help notice his fingers were fumbling, an ever so slight shake on his hands that he hoped wasn't obvious to Floyd. When he glanced up, the man wasn't even looking at him anyway. He was peering over the top of the ledge squinting into one of the office windows opposite.

"Right on time."

"We are? What for?" Benny took out the rifle and clicked the two pieces together with expert precision, barely even watching his hands as he did so. He'd practiced this – doing it with his eyes closed – to make it look like it was something he did every day, something he could do in his sleep.

"The meeting's about to start."

"What meeting?"

"That's where we're gonna take him out. In the conference room. In the middle of the meeting."

"Right. Who is he then? This guy?"

Floyd turned on him with an annoyed expression. Benny busied himself setting up the stand for the rifle, avoiding eye contact. "Why you so damn nosy all the time? I don't know who the hell he is anymore than you do. I don't even get a name. All I get is a picture so I know what the dude looks like, a time, a date and a location. That's it. I take the shot and I get paid the same day."

"How do they know you've got your man?"

"I dunno. They just know."

"It is a 'they' then? It's an organization, not just one man?" He tried to sound casual, lifting the rifle up and sliding it onto the stand, slotting it into place.

"I haven't got a fucking clue," said Floyd. "I get e-mails from Flowers with the details. The money goes direct in my bank account. There's no contact with anyone."

"So all you have is his e-mail address?"

"Yes. No. It's a different one every time. What's with all the fucking questions smart ass? Just shut the hell up and get into position."

Rolling his shoulders, Benny placed his eye on the view finder, getting clear visuals on the office directly opposite, where six men were gathering in a room, shuffling papers, greeting each other, starting to take their places round a large conference table. All smiles and coffee and suits and ties. He wondered why anyone would want to kill any of these men, what one of them could have done to deserve having a hit taken out on them.

"Who's the target?" he asked. "You need to actually tell me now before I take out the wrong guy."

"Yeah, yeah, smart ass. Let me see." Benny felt Floyd's large shoulder shoving into his own as he was pushed to one side. "It's the guy with the blue and white striped tie on. Grey hair." He moved back and Benny reclaimed his position, peering back down the view finder and spotting the grey haired man immediately, who was currently taking a sip of coffee whilst checking some messages on his phone. Minding his own business, completely oblivious as to what was to come.

"Whenever you're ready, take the shot," Floyd said calmly, his cold voice sending a shiver down Benny's spine. How anyone could be so relaxed and cavalier about putting a bullet into someone would never cease to amaze him. He slid his finger up against the trigger, his heart pounding in his ears so loud he was sure Floyd would be able to hear it. Now wasn't the time for doubts. He just hoped his colleagues at the CPD had had enough time to implement whatever safety procedures they were planning. He had to just forget about that now, trust that things had been sorted. His boss had told him to take the shot. Floyd was telling him to take the shot. He had to take the shot.

His palms were becoming sweaty and slippy. The last thing he wanted was to mess this up. He had to do it now, before he a complete breakdown and couldn't do it anymore. _Just fucking do it,_ he silently screamed at himself. He repositioned his hands on the rifle, trigger finger flicking back and forth but not quite ready to fire just yet.

"What are you doing?" Floyd asked, obviously noticing Benny's hesitation. "You've got clear sights. Take the damn shot now, before he sits down."

"Yeah. Good plan," said Benny, focusing on the grey haired man's chest. He closed his eyes and quickly squeezed the trigger, the rifle kicking back against him slightly and almost at the same time, the distant sound of shattering glass. When he opened his eyes again and blinked down the view finder, the target was on the floor in a pool of blood, his friends and colleagues gathered around him in a panic. He felt a hearty clap on his back and turned to see a grinning Floyd Brennan.

"Nice shot, Benny."

Benny nodded, his chest feeling tight, suddenly finding it was difficult to speak. He clenched his hands to try and stop them from shaking.

"You alright?...Benny?" Floyd's voice seemed to be surrounded in a bubble, echoey and far away. It took him a few seconds to realize he was even being spoken to, and that the gangster had hold of his shoulder, staring into his face with a worried expression. "Benny?"

"Yeah...yeah I'm fine," he managed to reply. "I just need a smoke." It was quite a poor excuse, but the only one he could really think of. "I always have a smoke after a hit and...I just realized I forgot to bring 'em out with me."

"Oh fucking 'ell, is that it? I thought you were having some kind of damn panic attack then." Floyd laughed, digging into his pocket and bringing out a slightly crumpled packet of cigarettes. He took one out and put it into Benny's mouth, lighting it for him. "There you go, pal. We'd better get going. Pack away."

Taking an almost unnecessarily long drag on the cigarette, Benny closed his eyes briefly and regained some of his nerve, positioning the smoke between his teeth as he quickly dismantled and packed down his rifle, something else he had practiced doing efficiently. Within a couple of minutes they were ready to go.

Floyd led the way, returning them back the way they came silently; crouched low to the floor as they darted across the rooftop; jumped the gap; ran across the next rooftop and back down into the alley way by the restaurant. Then they rejoined the main road and headed towards the subway, Benny finally stubbing out his cigarette before they took the steps underground. They parted where they had begun – outside the Scavengers Bar, where Floyd looked up and down the road for a taxi, hailing one madly by flailing his arms in the air in a rather over the top gesture. As it slowed to a halt in front of him, he opened the back door and turned to look at Benny.

"Give me your number," he said, handing him his cell phone so Benny could input it directly rather than read it out. "I'll probably get an e-mail through this afternoon to say the money's gone in. I'll e-mail back and recommend you for a job. As soon as I hear anything I'll let you know."

Benny nodded. The deal sounded fair and Floyd seemed to be sticking to it. He wondered whether that was how Arlen Kesson managed to get his first job with Dr Flowers. He lowered his head to type in his number, saving it under 'Benny McKenna' then handing it swiftly back to Floyd.

"You ever done this for anyone else?" he asked. "Recommended them in the same way?"

"You need to stop being so curious," said Floyd, prodding him in the chest with his forefinger. "Might land you into trouble someday." With that, he ducked into the open door of the taxi and it drove off, Floyd Brennan just a darkened figure in the back seat. Benny was left standing on the sidewalk with mixed feelings. Pleased that his first 'job interview' had gone well, but starting to doubt whether he could actually pull this off.

He stopped another cab and gave the driver his address, leaning his head back in the seat with a heavy sigh before taking out his own phone from his pocket. He'd been sent a text message from another one of those unknown numbers. It was a different one this time, but he knew it was from CPD. They were starting to operate in the same way Flowers did, he thought with a smirk, sending anonymous messages which they expected you to delete afterwards.

Too dangerous for you to keep calling station. Text to this number in future then delete all correspondence.

He opened up the reply box and text back: _Did everything get sorted this morning?_ By the time he was dropped off at his apartment, he'd received another one:

Everything is fine. Carry on as planned.

Feeling a little more heartened by the answer, Benny paid the driver and went inside, making himself a large lunch, his stomach grumbling. He spent the rest of the day lounging around his apartment, wondering what to do with his time. It was a strange feeling, being lazy on a weekday. He ended up watching porn on the internet, which distracted him for half an hour or so. He was actually almost reaching his climax, wrist moving furiously back and forth, when the shrill sound of his cell phone drowned out the moans and groans coming from the two tanned young men on his computer screen.

"Fuck's sake." He reached for the phone and hit the answer button, forced to leave himself frustrated and hard for the time being.

"Yeah?"

"It's Floyd," came the voice on the other end. "That Benny?"

"Yeah."

"Where are you? Sounds noisy."

Benny quickly reached forward and pressed the space bar on his keyboard to pause the porn. "I'm just at home. What's going on?"

"Not much. Got a mail back."

"From Flowers?"

"Could be. Could be one of the guys who's close to him. It's hard to tell."

"I thought he didn't have anyone close to him," said Benny, prying slightly.

"Well he must have someone," Floyd snapped. "He can't do everything on his own, can he?" So Floyd was just presuming. He didn't know for certain.

"Alright. What did it say?"

"Tonight at Scavengers," said Floyd. "Eight o'clock."

"A job?"

"A test."

"Of what?"

"Loyalty."

"I thought I'd already done that today," Benny said, wondering what crazy things they were going to ask of him next.

"No. That was just a test to see if you could fucking shoot straight. You passed. Tonight at eight if you want any chance of getting a proper job." Then he hung up. Benny stared at the phone for a moment then placed it back down on the table. He glanced at his watch. He had a good few hours, certainly plenty of time to finish off his little extra curricular activity, but suddenly he didn't feel in the mood anymore. Instead he went off to get a shower, worrying about this 'test of loyalty'. He'd heard some of the things gang members were forced to do to prove their dedication to the gang, sometimes brutal and gruesome tasks. He'd seen the fall-out from it. He'd seen bodies lying out in the morgue that had been battered and stabbed and tortured. He just didn't know whether he had it in him to carry out those kind of crimes himself, even in the line of duty. There was nothing he could do about it now. He'd just have to take each moment as it came. That was part of the excitement of being undercover. That was what he'd so eagerly signed up for. Never knowing what was round the corner. Always living in danger. It excited and scared him at the same time.

***

Eight o'clock on the dot and he was in Scavengers again, seated in the same spot as the night before and nursing a scotch served by the same too big for his boots bartender. It was becoming a regular little haunt of his. He'd looked around for Scotty as he arrived but he obviously wasn't in that night, or at least, not yet, and neither were the group of people he'd been with. The bar was busy again and he recognized a few of the faces although there were an equal amount of new ones he hadn't seen before.

"How did you get on with Brennan today?" the bartender asked him unexpectedly. He hadn't even noticed the guy was still hanging around, but he was, sauntering back against the work surface by the sink, a small sneer on his lips.

"Very good," he said. "Not that it's any of your business."

"You're so right, sir. I suppose it's not."

"Is it a habit of yours to listen in on peoples' conversations then?"

"It's difficult to help it with a job like this. You hear a lot."

"Yeah. I can imagine you do," said Benny. "Especially in here."

"Indeed," he grinned. "Enough to get me killed, believe you me."

Another customer approached the bar and he waltzed off to serve him, leaving Benny to roll his eyes. That guy was weird. A tap on his shoulder moments later and the large frame of Floyd Brennan was by his side.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"For what?"

"I've been given some instructions. Things I have to ask you to do. He wants to know whether you would do anything he ordered you to, no matter how stupid or dangerous or ridiculous," he explained. "Just...loyalty without question. Like in the army. You ever been in the army?"

"Cadets. That count?"

"No. Dumbass. So. Would you?"

"I'm not going to do something stupid just for the sake of it," Benny objected. "But...well...danger is an occupational hazard so...I don't fear it."

"Is that a goddamn yes or what?"

"Yes. It's a yes."

"Alright. Good. So..." He turned and looked round the other punters in the bar. "Pick any guy in here. Actually, it doesn't have to be a guy, you can pick a girl if you like. Pick any one in this room, go up to them and start a fight."

Benny stood up and turned to face the rest of the bar, scanning round the faces and taking time over his decision. The fact that he'd been told to pick anyone he liked was a test in itself. He was certain he'd be deemed a coward if he picked on a woman, even though he knew a couple down at the station that could easily put him on his ass. To be quite honest though, most of the women who frequented Scavengers were the skimpy dress up to their ass kind who had big tough gangsters to protect them and probably couldn't fight their way out of a paper bag.

There were a few weedy types who were distinct possibilities, and a few guys just sat on their own having a quiet night, minding their own business, but he quickly ruled out all of those too. Flowers wanted to know whether he had the guts to pick on a tough guy with a bunch of heavies sat with him, and then whether he had the skills and the tenacity to beat them or get out relatively unscathed.

To be quite honest, he felt like hitting the bartender, but that wouldn't earn him much respect seeing as there was a queue to get served. In the far corner of the room, a fat but muscular Italian American type in his mid thirties was sat with three friends. They looked like a team of old school Mafioso gangsters. Definitely armed to the teeth and definitely tough guys.

Without saying another word to Floyd, he jumped up off his barstool and started marching towards them, a determined look on his face, but his stomach twisting up into knots and his heart thumping. He didn't notice the barman's raised eyebrow upon seeing Benny's intended target.

Clamming up as he reached their table, he just stood there for a moment, looking at them. He wasn't even sure he knew _how_ to start a fight. He'd never actually done it before. What was one supposed to say? 'Your mother's a whore' or 'Your suit is fucking stupid'? It didn't take them long to realize there was an uninvited guest hovering in their section of the bar, and the leader of the group, the fat guy, glared back up at him with a snarl on his face.

"Well? What the hell d'you want?"

Benny didn't know what answer to give and for a moment he floundered, then, without further ado, he raised his right arm and flung his fist into the man's flabby cheekbone. That was certainly one way to start a fight.

The punch seemed to happen in slow motion, but everything else occurred like the strike of lightning. His three friends leapt out of their seats in an instant. Drinks went flying as one of them vaulted the table, toppling it onto one side and tumbling into Benny, knocking him to the ground. He felt the dull thud of a kick against his back and rolled onto his stomach, attempting to get to his feet again and failing as three different sets of polished black brogues began thundering into his ribs all at once.

He managed to grab one of the men's ankles as it came to connect with his upper abdomen and yanked it towards him, succeeding in throwing him off balance and gaining a small advantage. He rolled over again away from the source of their attacks and scrambled quickly to his feet.

Just as he thought it was all over a strong hand grabbed Benny from behind and spun him round. The fat man had managed to recover from his smack across the face and was now pointing a smart looking silver revolver right at him. Benny went for his own weapon and was struggling to get it out of his pocket when a gun slid over his shoulder from behind. He turned round to see Floyd standing right next to him.

"Leave it Fred," he said to the fat man. "He's with Flowers."

Fred grunted and rolled his eyes, lowering the gun. "Another of his stupid fucking tests? Jesus Christ."

Benny felt Floyd's arm on his elbow, dragging him away towards the front door.

"I can't believe you did that. Are you fucking crazy or something? Have you any idea who those guys are?"

"No, and I don't really care. You told me to pick anyone and start a fight with them. So, I passed, right?"

Floyd shook his head in disbelief and amazement, the two of them now walking at a brisk pace down the street.

"Did I pass the test?" Benny asked impatiently.

"Yeah. Yeah, course you did. Jeez."

"Have you told Flowers then?"

"I don't need to," said Floyd. "Word'll get back to Flowers within half an hour. He has informants all over the place. I saw a couple of them in tonight."

"What's next then?"

"I'm going home. Don't know about you." He looked up and down the road for a passing cab and waved one in his enthusiastic manner.

"What about the other tests? You said you had a list."

"Oh yeah, well, you very clearly passed the first one so you don't have to do anymore." He opened up the back door for Benny. "Here, you take this one."

***

Benny didn't go home. He needed to relax, let off some steam. He headed for the Downtown Bar and Lounge with the hope of picking someone up, feeling a mixture of relief and satisfaction, with just a hint of stress still left at the back of his mind, that he was trying to avoid thinking about. He'd done it. He'd established himself in the criminal underworld, found a contact in the Flowers network and proved he was worthy to be considered for paid work under the command of the big man himself, whoever he was. All he had to do next was find a way to meet him.

He bought a drink at the bar and surveyed the scene. There were definitely a few potentials in. A cute looking guy in sat almost directly ahead of him near the door to the bathroom caught his attention and raised his head in a sort of greeting. Benny did it back. He was about to approach him when he saw the front door swinging open out of the corner of his eye. He turned to look and quickly span round to face the bar, hiding his face when he realized who it was. Goddamn Floyd. Floyd Brennan in a fucking gay bar. That bastard said he was going home. What the hell was he doing here? He was with one other guy. He didn't know his name but he knew his face. Someone else who hung out at Scavengers. So why on earth were they here?

Curiosity getting the better of him, he turned ever so slightly. Both their backs were now to him so he felt safe enough to twist in his seat a little more, watching what they were up to. They had caused quite a few heads to turn initially, but now most people were ignoring them and had gone back to their conversations. His eyes widened in further surprise as he saw them approach the young man he'd originally spotted by the bathroom door. They leaned over his table and were talking to him intently. Floyd got something out of his pocket and handed it to him. It was difficult to see at that distance, the other end of a large bar, but it looked like a wad of cash. The man took it and slipped it inside his jacket, then stood up.

Then three of them started walking back towards the bar, so Benny quickly turned his back again and stared down at his glass, stirring up the ice and pretending to take a great deal of interest in it. He tried to estimate how long it would take them to get to the exit, counting up the seconds patiently, willing himself not to look round just yet. When he finally did, he'd timed it perfectly, and the three of them had just vanished out through the front door.

He jumped up, determined to follow them. He had to know what they were doing there, why they'd just picked up a guy and possibly given him a load of money, where they were heading. Lingering for a few moments to give them a further head start and reduce the chances of them spotting him, he slowly emerged out onto the street, glancing up and down. They were crossing the road. A black car was waiting on the opposite side, it's door already open. Floyd and the guy from the bar clambered into the back, the other gangster sliding into the passenger seat.

A private hire taxi pulled up beside Benny, its driver winding down the window.

"Are you Thompson?"

"Yeah," said Benny, flinging open the door and jumping in.

"Where to?"

"See that black car over there..." He pointed to the vehicle, which was just starting to pull out and set off. "I want you to follow it, but keep your distance."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Are you deaf? Didn't you hear what I just said?"

"Yeah, I heard you pal but – "

"Just follow the goddmamn car!" Benny snapped, anxious that it was disappearing into the traffic. "I'll pay you extra. This is police business."

"What? Seriously?" The driver began to do a risky U-turn in the center of the road, spinning the car round to follow the black one which had thankfully been caught at a red light.

"Yes. Seriously."

"You don't look much like a cop to me," the driver said, glancing at him in the rear view mirror.

"Yeah well..."

"Have you got a badge?"

"Yes."

Benny noticed he was looking at him expectantly.

"I haven't got it with me, alright," he sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Oh my God, you're undercover, aren't you?"

Benny winced, wondering how he could tell so quickly. Was it that obvious? The driver must have seen his visible tensing and followed up with, "oh don't worry. I won't tell anyone. My brother was in the police so I know all about these kind of operations. Is it drugs? I bet it's drugs. That's what he was in. The Drug Squad. He's retired now. Lives in Florida. Nice place. You know I went to visit him one time and..."

Benny was treated to the man's boring tales of his family for the whole journey, although thankfully he kept true to his word and continued to trail the black car, making sure it was always in their sight line. Eventually it took a right and pulled onto a quiet stretch of road running parallel to the river. It was a nice part of town and home to a series of recently developed apartment blocks, penthouse suites worth a million or two and then further on, a section of large sprawling detached houses and estates, all within their own gated grounds.

"Slow down," said Benny in a whisper, leaning forward. "Keep your distance. Just pull in here."

The two of them watched in silence as the black car disappeared through the slowly opening bronze gates of a three floored white mansion. Benny scrambled to get his money out, throwing the driver a few notes.

"Thanks for your help." He hurried out of the car and raced towards the now almost closed gates, squeezing himself through just in time and emerging inside the grounds. Darting past a water fountain and tall stone statue, he dived behind a perfectly trimmed hedge and hid, peering round just in time to see the car switch off its engine down the end of the gravel driveway. Four men got out – Floyd and his pal, the guy from the bar, and a fourth man Benny assumed must have been driving. They approached the door and he saw Floyd's hand reach out, presumably to push a bell. They waited. Moments later, the door was opened by someone he couldn't see, and the four of them disappeared inside, leaving Benny all on his own in the garden wondering what the hell he should do next.

Now he'd come this far, he had to see this through to the end. Whoever owned a place like this would have to have more than a few dollars in the bank, and with pals like Floyd, it was unlikely they made their money from honest means. Emerging from his hiding place, he ran across the lawn to avoid making a noise on the gravel with his feet, setting off several security lights that made him feel incredibly exposed and self-conscious. Perhaps this wasn't a good idea after all. How was he going to explain what he was doing here? That he was just passing by? That he'd spotted Floyd in the bar and decided to follow him? Then he'd have to give a decent enough reason why he was hanging out in a gay bar in the first place. The best idea was not to get caught in the first place. Just find out what was going on then leave.

Dropping to the floor by the bottom window of the house, he took a moment to get his breath back, feeling slightly sick. Then he got on his knees and slowly edged up, so he could see peer in. The young man from the bar was sat on a plush black leather sofa in an ornate living area, on his own, and looking very nervous. As he watched, a guy came in with a rifle hoisted over his shoulder and nodded with his head towards the door. The kid from the bar stood up and followed him out, leaving the room empty once again.

Craning his neck back and looking up at the two other floors, he could see there was a dull yellow light emanating from a room right at the top. If only he could get in somehow. Frustrated and still not sure what the hell was happening here, Benny ran round the side of the house and managed to locate the back door and another garden of roughly the same size as the front one. He tried the handle. It was locked, naturally. Breaking in would only land him serious trouble. That wasn't an option.

Getting desperate, he scanned his surroundings and spotted a shed which he presumed would be filled with gardening equipment and very possibly a ladder. He ran towards it and with a surge of excitement discovered the door was unlocked and that although it was pitch black and murky inside, he could easily spot the silvery shine of the ladder.

Trying to get it out without making an awful clanging sound was the hardest part. Then setting it up noiselessly against the wall of the house, taking extra care to situate the device in between the windows. Benny's heart was in his mouth. He was certain he would be spotted and killed at any moment. Thankful he wasn't afraid of heights, he started to tentatively climb each rung, making his way up towards the window with the light on, inching ever closer.

The sound of someone coughing made him freeze. Gripping the edge of the ladder, he closed his eyes for a brief second before daring to look down. He could see a man by the side of the house, where Benny had been stood a few minutes previously. He was leaning against the wall and smoking. Benny couldn't be seen from that position, but the guy would only have to turn round and take a few steps towards the back garden and the game would be up. Too late to stop now. He was only a couple of rungs away from his goal.

Continuing his ascent, he finally came to the stop by the side of the window, leaning precariously to the left in order to see inside. What he saw almost made him fall off the ladder altogether.

It was a bedroom. Large and very nicely decorated, but that was hardly what was attracting his attention right now. The guy from the bar, whom he only recognized from his distinctive strawberry blonde hair, was lying face down on the bed and naked from the waist down. A dark haired pale skinned man with a rather perfectly shaped body was mounted on top and pounding hard into him as if his life depended on it. Benny didn't recognize him. He definitely hadn't seen him before. He would have remembered an ass like that, surely. The way it tensed and flexed every time he raised his hips. He felt a small twinge in his pants and for a moment he forgot all about where he was, losing himself in the free porn show right before his eyes.

"Jesus." He forced himself to look away, his breath catching in his throat. He needed to try and work all this out, but not immediately. Not when he was hovering on a goddamn ladder. He looked over towards the guy having a smoke and was relieved to see he'd wandered over towards the front garden and he was safe for the time being. Making his way back down as quickly as he was willing to, he folded the ladder and replaced it back in the shed, leaving the door slightly ajar as he'd found it.

None of this made sense. Did it? He was confused. More confused than the first time he'd seen a half-naked dude on holiday with his parents and got a hard on. Why would Floyd and his pal be picking up someone in a gay bar and paying him to get fucked by...by who? Who was that guy? Unless....Suddenly it _did_ make sense. Suddenly he realized there was a connection he'd been missing all along. The gay connection.

When he'd gone to interview Arlen Kesson, Benny had got the impression he might have been gay. He'd forgotten all about that. It wasn't important. But then there was the scene he'd witnessed in the gay bar, coupled with the porn he'd just been treated to at the window. Floyd and his colleague obviously had instructions to go to the bar, find someone sat on their own and pay them to get fucked by...Flowers. It had to be Flowers. The dark haired, pale skinned guy with the beautiful body and the cute ass was Dr Flowers. Which meant...Flowers was gay. And suddenly Benny had an even better way in, possibly quite literally.

Swiftly exiting the grounds by clambering up the hedge and toppling over the gates, ripping his jacket, he started to walk back towards town, taking out his cell to send a text message to Floyd, whose number he now had saved in his phone book.

I saw you coming out of a gay bar with two guys, you faggot. Something you wanna tell me?

He would blackmail the hitman into getting him an audience with Flowers. Receiving a message back almost immediately, he stopped his walk and ducked into a bus shelter to sit and read it.

Fuck you Benny. It's not like that.

Is that what I should say to the guys at the bar? 'It's not what it looks like'?

You fucking dare.

Maybe you can do me a favor then. I want to meet Flowers.

No can do.

I'm telling everyone right now that I saw you sucking a guy's cock and enjoying it.

The best I can do is pass on your message. It's up to him if he wants to meet you.

***

The living room was even more impressive from the inside. The leather couch wasn't as comfortable as he'd expected though. The big guy with the rifle over his shoulder was stood hovering over him, making him feel a little uncomfortable. In truth, Benny was nervous.

It hadn't taken long. It was the next day at around 2pm. He'd received a text message from Floyd.

He wants to meet you. Lucky fucker. A car will pick you up from outside Scavengers. Tonight at 7.

"What's he like then?" Benny asked, looking up at the heavily set guard.

The man shrugged.

"You've met him, I take it?"

"Well yeah," he answered. "I work here."

"One of the lucky few to meet him then, eh?"

"Yep."

There was a knock on the door and another man popped his head round. He was wearing an identical suit to the guy with the rifle so he took that to mean he probably worked there in the house too.

"You'll need to put this on," he said, handing a blindfold to Benny, one of those ones they give you on an airplane to help you sleep. He'd had to wear one on the journey over, presumably so he couldn't see the location of Dr Flowers' house, although obviously he knew it already. He didn't understand why he would have to wear one again now he was here though.

"What for?"

"You didn't think you were actually gonna get to see his face do you?" the big guy snorted, the two of them waiting with impatient looks on their faces as Benny sighed and slowly raised the blindfold over his head, attaching it against his eyes and rendering his world into darkness. It made him feel even more nervous, one of his senses taken away from him, completely at the mercy of the people around him. Two hands grabbed him from either side and pulled him roughly to his feet.

"Spread your legs," a voice said. "We need to search you for weapons."

He did as he was told and was duly padded down. He hadn't brought anything out with him, guessing he'd probably get searched and it was a waste of time. He swallowed hard, his mouth dry and his hands clammy. None of them knew that he'd already seen Dr Flowers, or at least, the back of him.

"Follow us. Start walking." There was a hand on his wrist, guiding him forwards, and another hand on his back, pushing him slightly. Within a few steps they were out of the living room and he felt the change of material under his feet as they now trod on the slightly thinner carpet of the hallway.

"There's stairs here. We're going up 'em."

He remembered that Flowers' bedroom was on the third floor and guessed that was probably where they were heading. Progress was slow and steady, his two escorts chatting idly to each other about the latest baseball results. Once they'd reached the top of one set of stairs he was eased round to the left, marched down a further corridor, then another left corner to approach the second set of stairs, padding softly up each one, noticing another change in the carpet to a thicker more luxurious brand – only the best for the domain of Dr Flowers.

At the top of the stairs they paused, and Benny realized there must have been a door almost immediately in front of them, as one of the men rapped on it with the edge of his knuckles and waited.

"Enter," came a voice from within. The door was opened and he was given a little shove. He took a couple of steps forwards and into the room.

"Benny McKenna, sir," the man announced him with a flourish.

"Leave us," said the calm, cool and commanding voice he could only assume belonged to Dr Flowers. His accent was difficult to place. Definitely not Chicago. He sounded like he'd been abroad a lot, travelled, picked up different accents from different countries and areas. There was a touch of English and an Australian twang and a Southern drawl and a bit of New York thrown in for good measure. It was certainly unique, and quite mesmerizing.

The door slammed shut behind him as the two men made their exit. Benny had no idea where abouts in the room Dr Flowers was situated, but as he spoke again, that unusual accent was suddenly right by his ear, making him jump.

"So...you're Benny McKenna."

"Yes, sir," he replied, noticing there was a slight tremble to his voice. He took a slow breath to try and get himself together. Flowers was spooking him out already, he couldn't allow that. He had to maintain focus.

"And why, were you so desperate to meet me?"

"I have a lot of respect for you, sir," said Benny. He'd been planning what he was going to say. He had it all rehearsed like a script. "A lot of admiration."

"And do you know why it was I agreed to such a meeting? As I'm sure you are aware, meeting me is...a rarity."

"I have no idea, sir. All I know is, I'm truly honored." Benny suspected the main reason for Flowers being happy to meet him was the way he had performed in the brawl. He knew he'd shown bravery and nerve.

"I saw the video of what you did in the bar," Flowers announced.

"There was a video?"

"Of course," he whispered. "Security cameras." He began to move away, the voice becoming more distant and towards the center of the room.

"What did you think, sir?" Benny asked, wishing he could take this damn blindfold off and see the guy. He kept his hands stiffly by his sides, trying his best to stay calm. He was doing well, he told himself.

"Very impressive. And you did well on your first hit. Target successfully eliminated. Examined the body myself. Excellently accurate shot. Exceptional, in fact."

"What?" He couldn't help it. He just blurted it out. His mind was reeling from the information. How could Flowers have examined the body himself? There was no body. He hadn't actually killed the guy. CPD had fixed it.

"Of course," he continued. "You don't think I'd make it that easy, do you? As soon as I was informed a new man had taken the shot, I insisted on seeing the body for myself. I always do that with new recruits. To make sure they're as good as they say they are. And you are, Benny, you really are...very...impressive."

Suddenly he was beside him again and Benny could feel the man's hot breath on his cheek, sending a shiver down his spine. He felt quite sick, woozy, his legs a touch on the wobbly side. For a moment he thought he might pass out. His boss had lied to him. Told him to take the shot, allowed him to kill someone.

"And there's something else, about you Benny boy," said Flowers. "Something else altogether...and that was the reason I wanted to meet you. Because...I know your secret." Secret? Benny didn't have any goddamn secrets. Only one. Flowers must have found out somehow, found out he was a cop. He had visions of a gun being pressed to his head, the trigger being pulled. He'd been so careful. How had he found out? Perhaps his texts with CPD had been intercepted, his e-mail account hijacked. There must be ways. It was probably quite easy for a guy like Flowers.

"Get on your knees." The sudden order brought him crashing back to reality.

"Sorry?"

"You heard me, Benny boy. Don't make me repeat myself. I really...really...hate it."

This was it., Benny thought. He was going to get executed, on his knees. Shaking and trembling, Benny slowly bent his left leg and made his way down to the floor, fumbling forwards with his hands like a blind man to stop himself falling and making even more of a fool of himself than he was doing already by being such a pussy.

"Now open your mouth." He knew what was coming next. Flowers was going to put a gun in his mouth and blow his head off. He was tempted to just remove the blindfold and punch the guy in the face but he couldn't be sure a gun wasn't being trained on him right that second and ready to fire,

A firm hand came down and gripped his hair, half lifting him up off the floor and causing him to yelp in pain.

"I was told you were a loyal servant, Benny boy," said Flowers, his voice showing a hint of anger now. "That you would do _anything_ for me. Now sadly I'm finding out that's not true. Open up!"

Almost paralyzed with fear, he ever so slowly parted his lips, edging them open bit by bit. As soon as the gap was wide enough, it was forced in.

He was expecting cold, hard metal. What he got was warm and still hard, but definitely not metal. It wasn't the barrel of a gun, it was a rather large cock. Dr Flowers didn't want to blow his head off, he wanted Benny to blow _him_ off.

"See Benny Boy...no need to be scared...your secret's just the same as mine..." Flowers loosened off the grip on Benny's hair, stroking it softly as he began to rock his hips. So _that_ was the secret. Flowers didn't know he was a cop. He knew he was gay. Thank fuck.

Despite his throat being effectively raped by a criminal psychopath, Benny was so relieved he wasn't about to get killed all of his tense muscles instantly and visibly relaxed. And his cock actually tasted pretty damn good. He started to suck on it gently, edging his lips in further to take more of him in. Knowing the guy was right in front of him, he lifted up his arms and wrapped them round Flowers' legs. He was wearing some kind of silk pajamas that were down to his thighs. Benny edged his hands up higher, locating that firm bare ass of his, squeezing the cheeks slightly with his fingers.

"Hands behind your back," said Flowers. "I didn't say you could touch."

Benny wasn't used to being this out of control in the bedroom. He was normally the dominant one, the one calling the shots. It was quite disconcerting, but also an incredible turn on. He quickly whipped his hands behind his back and did as he was told, sucking with a renewed vigor, hollowing out his cheeks and bobbing his head back and forth, swirling his tongue over the tip.

"That's good...that's good Benny boy."

He didn't even object to the new nickname Flowers had persistently adopted for him. He normally would have knocked someone out for calling him something like that, but for whatever reason he apparently already had some kind of weak spot for him. He wasn't sure whether it was his silky accent, his amazing ass or the beautiful pale skin he'd caught a glimpse of through the window and was so desperate to see again.

Encouraged by the reaction, Flowers placed both his hands on the back of Benny's neck, shifting closer and forcing Benny to deep throat him. He choked and gagged, unable to breathe for a few seconds before Flowers gave up and pulled back, removing himself from Benny's mouth

"Need a little more practice at that Benny Boy...but don't worry. I can help."

"Get up." He felt the warm soft hand of Flowers in his, helping him to his feet. The guy obviously moisturized a lot. "Ten paces ahead of you there's a bed. Start walking. When you get there, stop, turn round and take your clothes off. All of them."

Benny took the first tentative step, slightly off balance due to being unable to see and finding it a little uncomfortable to walk now that he had a hard on trapped in his pants. Taking his clothes off was a welcome instruction and as soon as he felt the mattress against his shin after the ten paces was complete, he turned round and unzipped his jacket, pulling it off and dropping it to the floor where he stood. Then the buttons on his shirt, undoing them one by one, as quickly as possible, completely hyped up for this now and desperate to continue.

"My my...someone really is keen," Flowers remarked, noticing his urgency. The shirt fell to the floor on top of his jacket then he kicked off his shoes, lifting up his leg to take off a sock and completely losing his balance, tumbling backwards onto the bed. Flowers gave a low quiet chuckle. His voice had got closer since the last time. Then he felt the bouncing of the bed and the man was on there with him, next to him, his lips suddenly pressed around his nipple, sucking the little bud up between his teeth.

"Oh Jesus," Benny gasped in surprise and pleasure, a hand automatically going to grip Flowers by the shoulder, feeling the silk of his pajama top beneath his fingers. The contact around his nipple was instantly broken off.

"What did I say about touching?"

Benny reluctantly retracted his hand, unable to concentrate on anything anymore as Flowers nipped and bit at the skin on his chest, trailing all the way down to his naval and the buttons of his jeans he hadn't had time to undo. He felt nimble expert fingers unfastening them one by one and he arched up his hips, lifting himself up off the bed so Flowers could drag them down and off his feet, leaving him completely naked and exposed.

"Mm. Very nice," Flowers said approvingly. He felt the mattress released of some weight as Flowers got up and by the time he returned to Benny's side again less than a minute later, he realized the man had now stripped off too, abandoning the pajamas.

Flowers grabbed both of Benny's hands and pinned them either side of his head, his strong vice like grip holding him down as he mounted on top of him and leant down, kissing and sucking at Benny's neck. He knew there'd be marks there in the morning but he didn't care right now. He moaned quietly and gave in completely to the other man's onslaught.

"Let me touch you," he asked breathlessly. "Let me see you."

"Tut tut, Benny boy. I'm not going to give into you that easily."

Flowers moved in even closer, breathing right down his ear, sending Benny's body into tingles. "You're going to have to beg me," he whispered.

Benny had never begged anyone for anything in his life, but then Flowers ran his fingers down further south and danced them across his erection teasingly. "You're going to have to beg me," he continued. "Or I'm not even going to do anything."

"Please." The word came out before he'd even thought about it, his body taking over and speaking for him. "Please," he said it again, more urgently, more desperately. Flowers gave a little chuckle.

"Louder, Benny boy. I can't hear you."

"Please!" he practically shouted.

"Well...seeing as you asked so nicely." He wrapped his hand around Benny's cock and began to stroke it up and down slowly. Too slowly. "You do realize I never let anyone see my face?"

"Yes..."

"And that if I were to...reveal...myself to you...you would have to give your word, to be mine forever. All mine. Whenever I want you."

Benny knew he couldn't promise that. He couldn't possibly promise that. It suddenly occurred to him why Flowers was so interested. He wasn't just a 'loyal servant', an excellent marksman who had proved he had the nerve to kill and the guts to pick on the toughest guy in the bar and beat him in a brawl. He was also gay. As long as Flowers had Benny around, he wouldn't have to dispatch his men off to pick up guys for him and run the risk of them finding out what he looked like or who he was or what he did. Benny was actually in an enormous position of power, despite getting ordered around like some kind of sex slave.

"And if you break your word, Benny Boy," Flowers continued. "...I'll take this nice little cock of yours," he gave it a sharp and quite painful tug to demonstrate. "And I'll slice it off...and shove it right down your throat. Do you understand?"

"Y-yes..." Benny nodded, the man's words sending a chill through his body despite the heat of their fiery passion.

"So, do you give me your word?"

"Yes."

"Say it." Flowers tugged on his erection again.

"I give you my word, sir," Benny hurriedly answered.

"And what is your word? I want the precise details."

Benny swallowed and licked his lips, feeling slightly sick. He'd gone too far to back out now. He had to carry on.

"I give you my word...that...I will be yours forever...whenever you want me."

"Good," Flowers said brightly. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" And in an instant, the blindfold was whipped off.

Benny was partially blinded from having his eyes covered for so long. He blinked several times to give them chance to adjust. The lighting in Flowers' room was dim and warm so thankfully it didn't take too long. And then, finally, he was able to focus on the face that was now smiling down at him.

He'd seen the back of his head before through the window, so the dark hair wasn't a surprise. A short, neat cut, sticking up quite messily as if he'd spent the day in bed, but then he'd been in his pajamas earlier, so perhaps he _had_ spent the day in bed. Dark and carefully defined but quite thick eyebrows that matched his hair color and was a perfect contrast to the eyes underneath them. A striking combination of piercing blue/grey/green. It was actually quite impossible for Benny to pin them down to one unique color, they were so many different colors all at once. He stared into them for quite some time before taking his attention downwards, to the man's wonderful cupid bow lips in a light shade of pink. Then the rest of him. His fantastic soft skin, completely free of blemishes and looking like he hadn't been out in the sun in years, but God it suited him. Benny thought he looked fucking gorgeous.

But there was something else too. Something else he hadn't noticed immediately. There was a familiarity about his face, sure, but it was more than that. It took him quite a while to put the pieces together, by which time Flowers was laughing.

"Recognize me, Benny?"

This was impossible. Everything was different. The hair, the eye color, the way he spoke, even his skin tone. And yet, the dimples when he smiled, his teeth, the construction of his cheekbones. Those were things one couldn't change, even with an exceptional disguise. He was staring up at the face of Scotty Moresco.

Chapter Four

**B** enny frowned and shook his head. This didn't make any sense.

"Recognize me now?" Suddenly Flowers had changed his voice, his accent adapted and morphed into the lighter pitched tones of Scotty. It was only for an instant, then he resumed what Benny could only assume was his normal way of speaking. "Scotty Moresco is an alias," he explained. "The only way I can merge into society, keep tabs on criminal activity without the fear of blowing my cover or drawing too much attention to myself. As well as getting picked up by the occasional cute guy, of course. Gives me a chance to explore my...submissive side." He raised an eyebrow.

How ironic that they'd both been operating undercover, Benny thought, trying to piece everything together. He seemed so different in his personality too. Scotty was slightly shy and sweet, sometimes nervous. This guy was dominant, confident, always knew the right words. Perhaps they were two sides to the same coin. Or was he really just that good an actor. "The hair? The eyes?" he asked, wanting to know how he did it.

"Dyed. Contacts to change my eye color. Fake tan for my skin. Quite effective, is it not? Although, rather an effort to prepare, so Scotty only makes an appearance every few weeks or so. You were lucky to catch him on one of his rare outings."

Benny was speechless. That was why Scotty had said he couldn't see him again, that he didn't want to get too close. And then there was the bartender, warning him to be careful who he talked to – he'd been referring to Scotty all along. Scotty was Dr Flowers.

"See Benny? This is how I know your secret. And guess what?" He leaned forward and whispered into Benny's ear. "You can touch me now."

His hands were released. He didn't know what to do at first, still in shock, but Scotty took the initiative, pressing their lips together in a passionate kiss that Benny couldn't help responding to. He reached his arms up and wrapped them round the man's neck, bringing him in closer, his stomach tingling. Freed from the restriction of being unable to touch him, Benny ran his hands up and down Scotty's back and right down to his ass, squeezing it again as he'd done before, their tongues tangling and clashing against each other. Scotty broke off first, panting and looking at him quite strangely, as if thinking about something.

"No one's ever kissed me the way you do." For the first time Benny caught a sense of genuine vulnerability behind the criminal's eyes and saw a hint of Scotty, the Scotty he knew.

"What am I supposed to call you then?" he asked. If he'd been going around letting people know he was Scotty Moresco, he doubted that was his real name either. "Dr Flowers? Scotty?"

"I've never told anyone my name."

"Well, I'm not just anyone, am I?"

"Aren't you?"

"No," said Benny with a smile. "I'm yours, remember? Yours forever."

"I...I don't know," Scotty hesitated and Benny saw that insecure look in his eyes again. Here was a man who trusted no one, who had no one, no one he could confide in, talk to. A man who was, essentially, lonely and sad.

"It's alright," he assured him in a whisper. "You can trust me." He actually felt bad about lying to the guy. Despite everything that had happened, everything who he was, Benny had a definite soft spot for him. "Come on...tell me your name...or I won't fuck you."

"Excuse me," Scotty said with a smirk, sitting up, seeming quite relaxed now. "You won't be fucking me anyway, Benny boy."

"I won't?"

"No. I'll be fucking you."

"Oh," said Benny. He had suspected as much, judging by the way he'd been screwing the guy from the club last night. Even his bedroom preferences had been part of the act. "It's just...I normally go on top. I guess...you know that."

"Well, that's about to change, Benny boy. I'm in charge round here, remember?" and with that he grabbed Benny's knees and pushed his legs apart, running a hand down to his ass and forcing a finger inside of him without warning.

"Jesus Christ, Flowers!" Benny cried, his body tensing in pain, trying to shrink back from the intrusion. "Haven't you got any fucking lube?"

He smiled and removed the finger, reaching for his bedside table and opening up the top drawer. Glancing over, Benny saw an array of different types of lubes and sex toys of various shapes and sizes.

"Quite a collection," he remarked, watching as Scotty or Flowers or whoever the goddamn hell he was, picked out a lube at random and applied it deftly to his fingers.

"And my name's Andrew. My friends call me Drew."

"Can I call you Drew then?"

The man kissed him tenderly, softer and gentler than anyone had in a long time.

"You can call me anything you like, Benny."

Then he felt the finger between his legs again, slipping inside of him easily this time. He spread himself wider and wrapped his arms round Drew's neck, keeping him close so they could kiss. His lips and the way he tasted were so damn irresistible it was like he couldn't get enough of him. It was a long time since he'd let anyone take control of him like this but he was loving it, soon pushing himself down onto Drew's finger, encouraging him to enter another, wanting more.

It felt strange at first and not entirely comfortable, but the more Drew wriggled his two fingers around, the more he relaxed. He had big hands, did Drew. He hadn't noticed that before, in their previous encounter. He easily located Benny's prostate, making him jolt with surprise and delight.

"Christ...that's the spot," he gasped, feeling dizzy with pleasure.

"See, I know what I'm doing, and you're loving it, Benny boy. You're going to be begging me to fuck you in a minute."

"Am I?"

"I always get what I want," said Drew, thrusting in his third finger. Benny moaned, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. God, he'd forgotten how good this could feel. He'd had a bad experience when he was a teenager, someone being too rough and impatient with him, it had put him off. But Drew wasn't like that. For a hardened criminal he was being surprisingly gentle with him, although he soon found he was getting quite frustrated with only the fingers. Drew was doing a good job, it just wasn't enough.

"More."

"Want me inside of you Benny?"

"Yeah."

"You sure?"

"Come on, stop fucking around, just do it already." Suddenly Benny understood the desperation of all the guys he enjoyed mercilessly teasing, holding back as long as he could stand. "Come on. Fucking do it."

"Swearing won't get you anywhere," Drew said calmly. "Like I said...you're going to beg."

Benny rolled his eyes.

"Please...please for God's sake...come on Drew, please."

"You used my name."

"Yeah."

"Sounds good on your lips, Benny. Say it again."

"Please fuck me, Drew."

He grinned and yanked out his fingers, the sudden and unexpected withdrawal causing Benny to give a whimper of protest. He could feel himself wide open and gaping, his muscles twitching just aching and longing to be filled again. Merely seconds later, Drew was in position with the tip of his length against Benny's hole, easing himself in. Benny tensed up and shrunk backwards, his body resisting despite his mind telling him not to.

"Shh...just relax," came Drew's soothing voice, leaning down by his ear and whispering quietly, pressing his lips against Benny's neck and gently nibbling, all the while forcing his way in deeper. Benny made a conscious effort to drop the tension in his muscles, trying to ignore the massive stretch as Drew's impressive girth practically ripped him apart.

"Jesus..."

"Quiet Benny boy. Almost there. Mm...just a little further." Drew closed his eyes and let out a slow shaking breath. "God you really are tight...and I'm not just saying that."

"Yeah well, you're in a very privileged position."

He kept his hands gripped on Drew's shoulders as the criminal slowly withdrew his hips then slammed back in, quickly setting a fast and determined pace. Benny soon discovered Drew had a lot of stamina, keeping going non-stop for five minutes and making him feel like his brains were rattling round his skull, his eyesight blurring up.

"How you holding up there, Benny boy?" he asked with a grin as they came to a breathless halt, his thrusts slowing down to allow them both a moment to relax.

"Good," he managed, then gave a surprised yelp as Drew suddenly pulled out completely. "What are you doing?"

"Turn round. On your hands and knees." He sat back on his heels to give him space as Benny rolled over onto his tummy then hoisted his knees up, sticking his bum out in the air. He twisted his neck round a little to watch as Drew applied some lube to his erection then shuffled up behind him and entered again quickly.

Benny buried his head into the pillow to stifle a moan, biting up the fabric between his teeth. Drew slid his arms underneath Benny's shoulders and clung onto him as he quickened his thrusts. He was a surprisingly quiet lover, and for the next five minutes the only sounds in the room were Benny's muffled groans, their ragged breathing and the satisfying slap of skin on skin.

Then Drew slowed down again, releasing his arms and sitting up slightly, running his teeth tantalizingly down Benny's spine as he methodically rolled his hips back and forth. Benny loved the way Drew felt inside him. He seemed to slot in so perfectly, filling him so completely and he knew exactly what he was doing, the best ways to take Benny right to the edge then haul him back again just in time, making their session last as long as they could both stand it.

They changed positions again, Benny's legs draped over Drew's shoulders and his hands round his neck, Drew pounding him hard and deep gripping onto Benny's hips. The room had become stifling and sweaty with their body heat, both men lost in the moment. Benny stared up into Drew's determined sparkling eyes, his face a picture of concentration as he pushed himself to the limit, maintaining his furious thrusting and rendering Benny incapable of speech or thought. He simply clung to Drew and lay there, feeling himself spiraling into oblivion.

Drew gave a small grunt, the first sound Benny had heard him make, and he knew he must be close to orgasm, his eyebrows burrowed together in a twisted frown. Benny moved his right hand down from Drew's neck and wrapped it round his length but Drew quickly batted it away, taking control himself and finishing Benny off in a matter of seconds.

It was the most powerful, intense climax he'd had in years. The combination of everything; the adrenalin of the situation, the way Drew felt inside him – the hand job was just the icing on the cake. Benny screamed. He tossed his head back and gripped the silky duvet between his fingers. He pushed his hips up towards Drew and screamed so loud he was certain all the other gangsters in the house would be able to hear him and know exactly what they were doing. He didn't care. He felt it all through his body; from a warm soothing at the top of his head to a soft tingling at the tips of his toes, sensations and pleasure making his mind an utter mess.

At some point during all this, Drew must have come too, but Benny was hardly aware of it until he realized the man was collapsed forward on top of him, breathing heavily and quite exhausted. He held him silently and the two of them lay there, recovering.

Finally Drew raised his head and looked at him. He had a wide smile on his face and looked relaxed, the most relaxed he'd seen him since they met.

"Thank you," he said.

"Thank _you,_ " said Benny, feeling like he'd hardly done any work. Drew placed his hands face down on the pillow and slowly pulled out. Benny took a sharp intake of breath, hyper-sensitive and slightly sore.

"Sorry," mumbled Drew, lying down beside him and wrapping an arm round Benny's waist. He seemed like a completely different person now to the all powerful and rather terrifying Dr Flowers, Benny thought, receiving a small kiss on the lips from his lover as they turned to face each other. More like his alias, more like Scotty. It occurred to him that Scotty Moresco might well be Drew's way of relaxing, as well as everything else, letting off some steam without having the pressure of being the big scary boss of this powerful organization.

"Was it good?" Drew asked, cautious.

"Of course it was."

He seemed relieved. "I'm glad. I want to please you, Benny."

"Thank you," Benny replied, not quite knowing what else to say.

"It's important to me."

"Why?"

"Because I want you to stay in my life."

Benny wasn't really sure what Drew was asking of him. He'd become a little distracted staring into those dreamy eyes of his and was only half listening, thinking about the situation he'd found himself in. Discovering his boss had lied to him was a big betrayal, and now here he was in the arms of a gorgeous killer who seemed to care more about him than anyone else ever had. It was very confusing. He felt like he wasn't sure which side he was supposed to be on anymore.

"I want to be able to trust someone," continued Drew. "You're the only guy I've found who ticks both boxes. Gay and a criminal." He smiled. Benny smiled back. Now wasn't the right time to tell him he was an undercover cop. What exactly _was_ he supposed to do now? Gather as much information as possible. Give Flowers' name and address and details over to CPD. Betray the trust Drew was placing in him. Make him into even more of a twisted, jaded soul than he already was.

"There was one other guy. He was a potential. But then he had to go and get himself arrested." Benny knew he must have been talking about Arlen Kesson. "Don't get arrested, will you Benny?"

"I'll certainly try my best not to," he grinned. "I've done alright so far."

"Just be careful. Don't do anything stupid."

"How did you get into all this?" Benny asked casually. "I mean...you're really at the top of your game and you don't look that much older than thirty. How d'you manage it?"

Drew laughed and kissed the top of Benny's head. "You're flattering me, Benny boy. I'm well over thirty. Nearly forty actually." He sighed and turned onto his back, opening up his arm and beckoning Benny in closer. He nestled up into Drew's shoulder and lay his head there, listening to the man's heartbeat as he began to speak.

"I grew up in England. It wasn't a very nice area. Full of gangs and a high crime rate. When I was eleven years old my dad and I were walking back from the shops when a car pulled up, opening fire indiscriminately on the windows of a pub. We were in the firing line, but they didn't care about that. My dad got hit in the head. I saw his brains splashed out all over the pavement, sat there holding him in my arms crying. My mom had a nervous breakdown, she couldn't cope. She killed herself two months later."

It was an awful story. Benny felt his heart twisting up in painful sympathy as he listened. Drew's voice was quiet and tight, but he carried on talking, seemingly determined to get through it all. Benny couldn't understand why that would turn him into a criminal, however. If anything, surely that would make him want to join the police, to fight crime, but then, people reacted in different ways to tragedy.

"After that I was moved over to Alabama to be brought up by my auntie. All I could think about was taking revenge on those men for destroying my family, but they were so many hundreds of miles away, and I knew I wouldn't get chance until I was older. Instead, I started to get into trouble myself, stealing and fighting. I was a natural leader and ended up running a small gang of boys when I was about fourteen. As soon as I was old enough I moved out and up to New York, where I got involved in a larger gang. They were bumping off rival gang members and I realized it was exactly like when I was in England. They had no regard for any of the innocent people who might get in the way. Most of them were dumb idiots who just didn't care. I wasn't like them. I was always different, clever. I knew there had to be a way to kill specific people without harming others."

"And that's when you set up your little business?" Benny asked, almost wishing he was recording all this as a statement. He would have to remember.

"Yeah. I'd heard about snipers of course, hitmen. So I started asking around, met up with a couple of them, said I was interested in starting this new gang. Then I decided it would work better if it wasn't a gang at all, just an organization, a gun for hire type thing. That's when I dropped into the background, adopted a pseudonym, started doing everything on the telephone or more preferably, through text or e-mail. I moved here not long after, and it really started to take off, all kinds of people hiring me to carry out their dirty work. Not just gangs. Politicians too, wealthy guys wanting to bump off their wives for cheating, even the police."

"The police?" Benny's ears pricked up. Drew didn't seem to hear him immediately, and just carried on talking.

"I swore to myself that I'd never kill an innocent person. That I'd never kill anyone who didn't deserve to die. That's why I don't take every job that comes my way. I turn down quite a few."

"You think you've kept to that?"

"I know I have," said Drew proudly.

"What about Floyd's target the other day? The guy I took out? What did he do?"

"His boss paid me to kill him. He'd been caught stealing thousands from the company's finances, but he had a decent and probably bent lawyer who managed to wiggle him off the hook."

"How d'you know he definitely did it? He might have been innocent."

"No," Drew shook his head. "He gloated about it afterwards, bragged that he was untouchable. I saw the video evidence. It was quite damning."

Benny found it rather quirky that Drew had such unshakable morals for a criminal, although he didn't exactly agree that stealing should be punishable by death. That seemed a bit draconian for his liking.

"You know...you could have just become a police officer," he said lightly. "Help put all these people behind bars."

"The justice system sucks." Drew sat up with a fierce look in his eyes. "The police never caught the guys who shot my father, did they? They're still out there, free to roam the streets and do it again to someone else. This is my own justice system. At least I know for certain what the verdict will be."

Benny nodded, frowning and sitting back against the pillows. On some level, Drew was right. He'd seen it happen too many times in the past – known criminals ending up earning their freedom instead of a jail sentence. It was frustrating and incredibly disheartening, especially to a police officer like him who'd fought to get them in front of a jury.

Drew reached for some cigarettes on the bedside table and took one out, lighting it before passing the pack to Benny.

"What was it you were saying before? About the police. The police have hired you for hits before now?" He wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer, but he knew he had to.

"Oh yeah. The Chief's corrupt as hell. He's into bribes, blackmail, all kinds. And yeah, he's hired me quite a few times to bump off various criminals they're finding it too hard to lay charges on. Easy way out for them, y'see. Less paperwork. Once he got me to wipe out a rogue cop. Some undercover guy who'd got so embroiled in the underworld he'd turned bad himself. That was an interesting one."

Benny's stomach turned upside down. He felt physically sick. Hurt. Angry. Betrayed. His hand that was holding the cigarette started shaking. The room started spinning. His boss was a crook. His boss had paid to have another officer killed. Hell, he'd probably have _him_ killed if he found out what he'd been doing. His world had just been thrown in the air and landed on its head. First of all he finds out his boss allowed him to shoot someone, then he finds out the reason why – because his boss is a damn bent cop.

"Benny...Benny...are you alright?" Drew was holding his shoulder, looking at him, concerned. "You've gone all pale. Benny?"

"I should...probably be going," he said quietly, making a move to get up off the bed. His legs were like jelly. He wasn't even sure he'd make it as far as the door. And he still had to get dressed. Drew was leaping up too and running to his side of the bed, grabbing hold of his arms, cigarette between his teeth.

"Benny, what's the matter?"

"Nothing."

"You don't have to go. You can stay here the night. I don't mind. In fact, I want you to. I didn't want to push you away when I was Scotty, but I had to. Then I saw your work and I knew I had a chance to take it further. I want to take it further, Benny." He realized that was Drew's way of asking him out. He wanted them to be boyfriends, basically.

"I can't...Drew...I really...I really shouldn't."

"Why not? Have I said something wrong?"

"No...no, of course not."

"Just...come and sit down," said Drew, leading a slightly reluctant Benny back to the bed, the two of them perching on the edge of the mattress together. Drew wrapped his arm around Benny's shoulders and shuffled up close to him, their thighs pressing together. "I'm not stupid, y'know."

"I never said you were," Benny answered, feeling a little calmer as he took a deep drag on his cigarette.

"I saw the way you looked when I started talking about that cop. You know him, don't you?"

Benny didn't answer. Drew really was clever. That's why he'd managed to rise to the top so easily, to command such a powerful organization and never get caught himself. Why had the Chief hired him to go undercover and find Dr Flowers if he was already in contact with him and using him on jobs? Had Flowers outlived his usefulness and he was now ready to have him arrested? Or was Benny being set up and his own boss was going to end up paying Drew to bump him off?

Suddenly he started feeling really paranoid about the whole thing. He'd never be able to trust the Chief again. He didn't even feel like he'd have the stomach to work for him ever again. He almost wanted to march over there immediately, hand in his badge and tell everyone at the station how disgusted he was. Even though he knew it was crazy, the softly spoken beautiful man sat next to him was the only thing that was real right now. There was no way he could hand him over.

"Why do you do all this?" he asked.

"Do all what?" said Drew.

"All _this..._ " He waved his arm around vaguely. "I mean, what's it all for? Does it make you happy? Before, you said you couldn't trust anyone. That's not a nice feeling."

"I know." Drew lowered his head and stared at the floor for a moment, his dark eyebrows flickering into a half frown. "I don't have anything else to do. And I still haven't had my revenge for my parents."

"You must know who they are by now through all your...criminal contacts. How come you've never been back there?"

Drew shook his head. "I know who one of them is. For a while I had a man tracing him, but the trail went cold. And the others, I'm not sure. I've got contacts in the police over there but...even they haven't been able to help."

The germ of an idea was beginning to form in Benny's mind. He'd grown too fond of Drew in such a short space of time and although he knew all relationships should be built on trust and therefore theirs didn't exactly have the best start, he felt dangerously close to the man already and an overwhelming sense of needing to protect him.

"What if I was to say I could help you?"

"Help me...how?" asked Drew, looking up from the floor and directly at him. Benny saw that adorable vulnerability in his eyes again. He leant forward and kissed his lips gently.

"If I could get the men who killed your father arrested and put in prison?"

"I don't want them in prison. I want to kill them."

"Why?"

"Because they shot my Dad!"

"An eye for an eye?"

"Yes."

"You really think that's the best way?" But before Drew could answer, Benny was already continuing with, "Death is too good for them, Drew. Death is too easy. Wouldn't it be better for them to lose their freedom completely? To have to spend their rest of their lives locked up, not being able to do what they want, having to think about what they did, day in, day out? And then you can stand back and say, 'you know what, I was better than them. I was better because I didn't have to sink to their level and do the same to them as they did to my dad. I won'."

He knew it was a cliched argument, but it was the best he could think of and he doubted anyone had ever put it to Drew before. He'd never even thought of that as a possibility.

"How could we guarantee that they'd end up in prison? That they wouldn't get off?"

"If we _could_ do it," Benny continued, ignoring the question for the time being. "Would you stop?"

"Stop what?"

"Stop what you're doing. Give up. Do something else with your life."

"Like what?"

"I don't know, Drew. Move to a desert island with me where we can go sea fishing and surfing all day then have sex all night on the beach. I don't care. We'll think of something."

Drew smiled at Benny's suggestion. "That desert island sounds pretty good. Does this mean you're going to stick around, Benny boy?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I will. If you promise me that – "

"You still haven't said how we're going to do this."

Benny hesitated. If he could get Drew to turn away from his life of crime, to abandon 'Dr Flowers' and start afresh, that would probably be the biggest achievement of his career. It didn't matter that he wasn't going to jail. He'd be saving countless lives and putting dozens of hitmen out of a job, at least for the time being. And maybe Drew could even end up doing something more positive with his time. Helping ex-gang members or talking to offenders about giving up.

He knew he was running a massive risk if he told Drew the truth. He'd seen that other side to him. It was entirely possible that most of it was an act, but it was an act he'd been putting on for his entire life, and it would be a hard habit to break. That was the side to Drew he still needed to be wary of, to make sure he kept under control.

"OK, look. You asked me before why I went all weird when you mentioned that cop. And you asked me if I knew him."

"Yeah."

"Well...I did. Thing is Drew...he was...he _is..._ um...my boss. I'm a...I'm a cop." He gave a little guilty smile, his heart wrenching as he saw the hurt, distraught look flash across Drew's face, almost immediately turning into anger.

"No!" he cried, leaping up off the bed. He ran towards the dressing table, flung open one of the drawers and in an instant had a small handgun trained on Benny.

Benny stood up and raised his hands in the air either side of his head, taking two slow steps towards Drew.

"I trusted you!" he was screaming. "I actually trusted you! I thought you were different."

"I am different, Drew. Listen, you _can_ trust me. I meant what I said when – "

"Shut up!" he ran towards him and pressed the gun into Benny's forehead. "I should just shoot you. You know that? I should just decorate my bed with your fucking brains. You promised me. You made a fucking promise! You know what, Benny, I was actually starting to believe I might have been in love with you, which is crazy right, because I hardly know you, but that's what I was thinking, because I honestly thought for one stupid second that you actually cared about me and that I might have actually found someone I can spend my worthless, pathetic fucking life with!"

Tears had started to stream down Drew's cheeks as he ranted and raved. Benny was lost for words, the guilt at having betrayed him worse than he ever imagined it would be. Suddenly Drew turned the gun on himself, digging it into his temple, his finger dancing on the trigger.

"No!" Benny jerked Drew's hand away and it fired up into the air, hitting the ceiling. Footsteps came pounding up the stairs, a heavy fist knocking on the door.

"Everything OK in there, sir?"

"Everything's fine!" Drew shouted back, his eyes locked with Benny's. "Go back downstairs."

"Yes, sir."

They both waited until the footsteps receded, then Benny spoke first, wanting to get in there quickly.

"Tonight I just found out my boss was a bent cop, that he allowed me to kill that guy the other day despite assuring me steps were being taken to make his death look like a fake, and that he was hiring you to take out hits on people. Yet he sent me in here undercover to get as much information as he could on you. Now I don't know about you, but that makes me suspicious. I don't know what kind of game he's playing or what he's planning but I don't trust him anymore than you trust me right now. In fact, I actually trust _you_ more than anyone, and that's why I told you the truth. Because I couldn't bear to lie to you anymore. Because I _do_ care about you, Drew, and I genuinely want to help you. I was the one who asked you out first, remember? When I thought you were Scotty? I asked to see you again because I liked you."

"But I'm not Scotty!"

"Yes, you are. Somewhere in there." He touched the man's chest. "There's a part of you that's still him. And this is how I can help you get justice for your father and your mother. I can use my contacts in the police. I actually know detectives in England who can help us."

Drew looked at him for a long silent moment, then dropped the gun on the floor.

"Why? Why would you do that? How do I know you wouldn't just turn me over?"

"Because the guy running my department is a crook! I don't want anything to do with them until he gets exposed and loses his job and gets what he deserves, and by that, I don't mean a bullet through the head. I mean, he should be in goddamn prison. Like those guys who killed your dad. And because...if I could help you start a new life, away from crime, that would be more fulfilling and satisfying than anything."

"I meant what I said...before..." Drew said, that shy look coming over him again. He stared at the floor coyly, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. It suddenly occurred to Benny how ridiculous they must look. Standing there arguing in the nude. Except Drew. Drew could never look ridiculous. And Benny didn't need to ask which part he was referring to when he said he'd 'meant' it.

He nodded. "I know. And you're right. It is crazy. But...I feel it too." Confident that Drew wasn't about to kill him anymore, Benny took that final step towards him and wrapped his arms round the man's waist, drawing him close for a tender embrace and kissing his neck. He felt him respond, and the two of them just stood there, silently hugging.

"Is your name really Benny?" Drew asked finally.

"Ben, yeah. But I actually prefer Benny now."

"And do you really think we can do it?"

"Yes. Yes, I do. I swear to you, we can."

"How can I trust you?"

"Because I'm not lying anymore, Drew. I've come clean. I'm just...me. Why d'you think I chose the name Benny instead of...I dunno, Dan or Joe? Because I'd probably keep forgetting it. I'm really actually pretty shit at being undercover. Definitely not as good as you anyway."

"Call your friend in England tonight." It came out more of a demand than a request. Drew was so used to giving orders and people following them without question. Benny didn't mind. He rather liked his commanding tone.

"I will do. I'll do it right now if you like."

"Not right now. I'm still holding you."

"Yes," Benny said. "Yes you are."

"I'm good at painting," Drew announced randomly.

Benny pulled back from their embrace to look at him. "Really?"

"Yeah." He pointed up at a large framed picture above the bed. A highly accurate landscape in acrylic, the sun going down over Chicago.

"You did that?" Benny raised a surprised eyebrow.

"Yeah."

"It's brilliant."

"D'you really think so?"

"Of course I do. See, this is something you could pursue further. Painting."

"You sure?"

"Definitely."

Drew looked quite proud of himself. "I've never told anyone before."

"You have a talent, Drew. You shouldn't keep it a secret."

"I love you, Benny boy," he said, reaching up his hand and running it through Benny's hair, looking deep into his eyes. He'd had that said to him before, but never with such feeling and such sincerity. He'd never really believed it. He'd said it back to guys too, but never really meant it. His heart was pounding double time, his stomach fluttering.

"I love you too," he whispered, tilting Drew's head and moving forward, their lips gently meeting in a kiss. It wasn't going to be easy, and they had a tricky road ahead, but as long as they stuck together and were willing to fight for what they believed in, he felt as though the two of them could achieve anything, and that just as one story was ending, another one was beginning.
The Chase: Handcuffed Book Two

Will be released in July 2013 - Find out what will happen to Benny and Drew. Will they find the people who killed Drew's parents?

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