Chapter Eight

Mac

Fucking dumbass. That's what I am. I unlock my car and throw my keys on the dash, hitting the palm of my hand against the steering wheel. The final strike hits the horn, and I roar into the emptiness of my car at my assfoolery. I shouldn't have come. But Maren is like a drug and I'm in desperate need of rehab, and fuck if I didn't just suggest an arrangement that will make me OD.

It's obvious I can't escape her. I finally take out that chick who's been hounding me for a date, and Maren is the one singing on stage. Then she almost runs me over this morning in my own goddamn neighborhood. And now? At the coffee shop?

Okay, that one was planned. I saw her blue Honda in the parking lot with a dent mark in the hood around the same size as my hand, and I knew she was in there. I also knew that if I didn't get another taste of her sassy mouth, I was going to go mental.

The jury is still out on that one though, because after that kiss, I can't even see straight.

I told her I'd text her when and where to meet me. I could tell she was uncomfortable that I held the cards. I get the feeling Maren doesn't like being told what to do. But she wants me, maybe as much as I want her. The way she kissed me back. Every time. I knew it the first time I saw her. I knew she'd set me on fire and burn me to the ground.

And I'm here for the inferno.

But I shouldn't be. Because the thing about Maren is that she's too good for me. Beyond her cool exterior, beyond the armor that keeps everyone at arm's length, she's so full of goddamn heart, so brutally honest with everyone. And I'm a lying sack of shit.

I should tell her everything, come clean now so that she'll save us both and just walk away.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I sigh when I see the number light up on the car dash. No name, but I recognize the number from the dozens of times I've taken this call before.

"Yeah."

"Dermot. Jay Abbot here. I was hoping we could go over some of those missing details before we head to print."

I grip the phone so hard, it could break in my hand.

"Listen, dipshit. We had a deal. This doesn't print until the old man's dead. You hear me?" This fucking reporter has been hounding my ass for weeks now, ever since he got wind of some of Benji's rapid sales along with the debt. When Abbot learned Benji was at death's door, the guy was practically salivating.

Benji has fucked over a lot of people. There will be plenty of people who are waiting to dance on his grave. But his name is still worth something in this region, and while he's alive, I'm the keeper of his reputation. All this hotshot reporter sees is a chance to elevate his name with a breaking news story. But Benji isn't a news story, he's the reason I'm still alive.

"Relax," Abbot says, but I hear the nervousness in his voice, "I don't mean now."

"No, you mean when he's dead. Have a betting pool going there, Abbot? Any guesses for when the old man keels over?"

Abbot clears his throat and mumbles an apology.

"Look," I continue, "I'll get you the rest of the information once Benji has passed, not a minute sooner. I can't have you breaking this story while Benji is still alive."

"But you'll call, right? "

I can hear the desperation in his voice. I wonder how old Abbot is, how long he's been reporting. Is this his first break? Does he have an editor riding his cock for this story?

I don't really care about him. If he loses his job over this, fuck it. Not my problem. Who I care about are all the people who will never be paid back for what Benji has done to them.

I don't want to do this. If I could, I'd let Benji's sins die with him. I couldn't give two shits about this fucking story.

But for them? This is the least I can do.

"I'll call."

I hang up, toss my phone on the passenger seat, then peel away from the curb.

The phone rings again, and I'm about to send it to voicemail but stop when I see the name on the dash. It's not Abbot like I thought, but Benji. I push the button to answer.

"Hey."

Benji's breathing is labored, and it takes him a moment to say anything.

"This woman…" He wheezes, and I wait for his fit to stop, "she's stealing…my food. She gives me…shit. Rancid shit."

I sigh, realizing it's going to be one of those days. I hear muffled talking in the background, and I know it's Anna, today's day nurse.

"That's terrible, Benji. Want to put Anna on the phone for me?"

"Who the hell…is Anna," he forces out.

"Your nurse. That woman. Can you put her on please?"

He has another coughing fit, and I feel my body tensing up. Benji has his lucid moments, but they're getting further apart. Every time he slips into the shadows of his mind, I wonder if he'll come back from it.

"Who…is this?" he finally rasps.

"Benji, can you put Anna on the phone." I bark the words, regretting my choice to leave the phone within his reach. But Benji isn't a prisoner, despite the soft foods diet he's on since he chokes on anything larger than a grape. There's so little he can do on his own anymore, and using the phone is one of them. Which makes me feel terrible when I hear more muffled noises, and then Benji yelling in the background.

"Sorry about that." It's not Anna like I expected, but Hattie.

"What are you doing there? Where's Anna?"

I hear the yelling in the background grow fainter, and I know Hattie has moved to a separate area from him.

"Anna's little boy is sick, and she asked if I could stay on. "

"But you worked all night," I say, as if she needs reminding. "Aren't you exhausted?"

"I'll grab a nap when he's sleeping. It's fine."

I can still somewhat hear Benji yelling from the other room. "It sounds like today's been difficult."

"He woke up in a mood and has been calling me an intruder all day."

Hattie is a saint for what she puts up with. Generally, she's great at helping Benji re-center when he gets confused. She's been with Benji long enough that he usually recognizes her, though occasionally he forgets. This time, he seems more agitated than normal. His time is running out, and I'm not sure if I'm ready. At the same time, I know things will be easier once Benji does pass. A lot of problems will be solved, which makes me feel like an ass because we're talking about the man who took me in at a time when no one wanted me.

"I have a few things to wrap up at the office, then I can come home and let you go early." I mentally go over my list of appointments today, thinking of which ones I can cancel.

"Nonsense, Mr. Dermot. Benji is fine, he's just agitated. His afternoon nap might reset him. Besides, he's my only patient, and I have nowhere else to be. I might as well stay here for the job you overpay me for."

I chuckle at this. She's telling the truth. I give each nurse more than they make a year for a job that probably won't outlast the month. But peace of mind, knowing he's well cared for, is priceless.

"When's the last time you stayed at your own house, or even had a night of fun?" she continues. I rub the back of my neck, stalling to answer as I pull into my parking spot at the office. There was a time when I thought having your own parking spot meant you'd made in life. Facing the sign in front of my car with my name on it, it's ironic that it's just the least of the privileges I've gained in this fortunate life. Behind me is a whole office of agents who work under my license, and a staff who answers to me. It's a far cry from the fifteen-year-old thief I used to be, now that I'm more than twice that age.

"It's been a while," I admit, answering Hattie's question.

"It's been never, since you hired me," she pointed out. "You need a break, Mr. Dermot."

I laugh. "Me? You're there more waking hours than I am."

"It's my job, sir."

"And I owe this man my life," I counter. She sighs, but I can practically hear Hattie smiling through the phone.

"With all due respect, Benji wouldn't want you burning out at both ends just for his sake," she says.

She's wrong, of course. Benji was a hardnosed motherfucker who expected everyone who worked for him to give more than they got. He may have taken me under his wing as my guardian, but make no mistake, I was also his employee. I worked from the moment I woke up to the time I went to bed. I earned my meals and his respect, neither of which came easy. Burnout was a foreign concept to this man.

"Don't come home, Mr. Dermot. Go to your house and recharge, or go out and do something fun. Lord knows you need it."

"But Benji. He's being—"

"He's fine, and so am I. It's you I'm worried about. In the past month, I have not seen you rest for a moment."

I want to argue with her, to pull rank and let her know that I'm the boss, and what I say goes. But that's not how things are with Hattie, or any of the nurses who seem to be watching out for me just as much as they care for Benji. I might sign Hattie's paychecks, but she's quickly stationed herself as the one in charge, at least in a motherly kind of way. It's been so long since I've had a mother, I can't help but bend when she insists.

Besides, I have a sweet little brunette who has made a deal with the devil, and I plan to cash in. Tonight could be the perfect night.

"You'll call me if he gives you trouble. And if…" If his heart stops beating .

"I'll call," she promises, "Now, I don't expect to see you again until tomorrow."

After we hang up, I grab my briefcase and set the alarm on my car. I'm greeted as soon as I walk through the double doors, and my assistant Tara jumps up from her desk with a notebook. Immediately, she starts going over what I've missed since this morning. I'm barely listening to her, my mind distracted as I think about tonight's possibilities.

"Tara," I interrupt. She stops her roll as we stand outside my office.

"Yes, Mr. Dermot?" Her eyes are wide, and I realize not for the first time, how eager she is to please me. She's a sweet girl, and admittedly hot as fuck in her pencil skirt and long hair wrapped in a bun, but I don't fraternize at work.

"Make a reservation at the Seafarer Hotel for tonight. Get the largest room they have."

Tara's breath hitches, and I don't miss the moment her eyes move from excitement to understanding and then to disappointment.

"Yes, sir. Right away."