BENNETT

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The man wouldn't give anything up, to his credit.

Despite all the booze running through his veins, despite all the willingness he had shown, he refused to tell him anything important. A good, loyal man.

Not that it meant anything now, with his blood staining the concrete.

Bennett nudged the man with his foot.

No response. He was as good as dead if he wasn't already.

Time to move.

He walked back down the alleyway to the street, then two blocks over to where he had left his car.

Couldn't be too careful.

He slipped into his car and started the engine, turned on the radio.

Some stupid song about falling in love with the bad boy.

He changed the station – a song about having your heart broken by a bad boy.

He turned the radio off.

He needed to make a phone call anyway.


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