Alert: Leesa Buckley. Admitted to St. George’s Memorial at 12:58 pm. Fractured ribs, broken wrist, fractured orbital bone, liver laceration.
I squeeze my phone hard enough for the screen to crack. I fuckingknewhe’d pull some shit like this.
Robert fucking Beningfield is going to die.
It’s been a while since I’ve been emotionally invested in a kill, but I won’t allow him to keep getting away with his bullshit just because he has money. Too many of these motherfuckers with generational wealth think they can get away with their bullshit, but not while I’m around.
I should have warned Leesa what kind of person Beningfield is, but I wasn’t sure she would have listened. Unfortunately, that fucker is slippery and knows who to sweet-talk women.
He reminds me of my father, but with more money and a chip on his shoulder.
“Fuck,” I mutter, pocketing my phone.
“What is it?” Hill looks at me from the corner of his eye.
“When we get to your place, how about we plan a murder, yeah?”
His smile makes me forget about the mistake I made with Leesa. “Oh yeah,” he replies, pressing his foot harder on the gas.
Chapter Sixteen
Hill
When we stepinto the apartment, Lucian comes out to greet us. “How was the back country?” he asks in a terrible accent, giving me a hug.
“Good. Fun. Eventful.”
He looks at Menace and clears his throat obnoxiously. Rolling my eyes, I say, “Lucian, this is Menace. Menace, this is my best friend, Lucian.”
“Nice to meet you, Lucian,” Menace says in his deep, rolling voice.
Lucian titters, covering his mouth with his free hand. “Nice to meet you, too. I’m a big fan of your work.”
“Modeling?” Menace asks, a smirk on his face.
Lucian shakes his head. “No, your real work. I hope you don’t mind that Hill showed me.”
“Not at all,” Menace says as I take his hand and lead him to the living room. “I wish I could hang it in the fucking Louvre for all to see.”
Lucian sighs as he sits on the couch. “Same. You’re doing a service to the world.”
I roll my eyes again as I saddle close to Menace. “We might have a job to do.”
Lucian’s journalist ears perk up and he sits straighter. “What is it? You got a lead on something?”
Shaking my head, I wave to Menace. “Not me, him. But I don’t know anything either.”
Wrapping his arm around me, Menace pulls me closer and says, “This could be dangerous, for both of you. Robert isn’t the type of person who allows gossip.”
“It’s only gossip if it can’t be proven,” Lucian says. “What type of person is this Robert?”
“His name is Robert Beningfield the fifth. He’s?—”
“Generational wealth, his family owning half of fucking upstate New York,” I finish with a gasp. “What did he do?”
“Before I left, he put three women in the hospital, or at least I suspected he did. Now it’s a pattern that I can’t ignore. I got an alert when we landed that the woman he met at the charity gala was in the hospital. He moved faster with her than the others, but I think she might have told himnoabout something and he lost his temper.”
I snarl. “Those types never like to be told no.”
