Ben had a thing for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Today was one of those experiences. He turned, hoping that none of the cameras saw him. He didn’t make it a full one hundred and eighty degrees before he heard, “Ben Worthington—you’re Congressman Worthington’s son, aren’t you?”

That’s all it took for the mob to move from waiting outside the building (was his father inside? Or someone else) and make their way to Ben.

He should have stayed in his apartment. Kept his schedule of being up all night and trying to sleep during the day. For some reason it was easier for him to sleep then, not that he got much of it. He didn’t see as much blood in his dreams—Javier’s or Bonnie’s. He didn’t see bodies on the ground or hear painful whispers of voices from the past, as loudly during the day.

“How have you been doing? Since the kidnapping? Understandably, your father has been relatively quiet on the subject,” a woman asked.

Except when it suits him, Ben wanted to add. His father used him the same way he’d used Bonnie. It looked good in public, gave him sympathy points even when he didn’t care about it in private.

Reporters surrounded him. A few people took pictures with phones even though they probably had no idea who he was. All they saw were cameras so they reacted when really Ben was no one. He wasn’t even one of the state’s top defenders anymore. Not since the kidnapping.

“And what has Congressman Worthington had to say on the topic?” Ben asked, crossing his arms. He still wore a suit, though he wasn’t sure why he did. The habit was hard to break.

The first reporter to spot him cocked her head slightly, as though confused by the question. “That you’re a hero, of course,” she finally said and Ben bit his tongue to keep from laughing.

His father would never see a hero when he looked at Ben. Ben didn’t want to be that kind of hero, either. It had taken him almost all his life to finally realize it. To finally cut the ties, but he had. Not long before Javier took him as he walked home from work, Ben had told his father who he was. A gay man who hated him. The club knowledge didn’t come until after Javier.

“Oh, am I? Why did he say that?”

“Because you survived. You fought back. You could have given in but you didn’t and now Los Deminos is unraveling. Not many men could have done what you did.”

He doubted his father said that. Hell, it wasn’t true, either. He hadn’t fought back. Mateo, Tristan’s Mateo, had saved him. That didn’t make Ben a hero.

“How are you dealing with the aftermath of such a horrible event?” someone asked.

“When will you go back to work?” this question from another reporter.

“Is Congressman Worthington helping you deal with everything that’s happened?”

And then, “Who are you dating? You’re one of the city’s most eligible bachelors, the popular congressman’s son, who’s not only a powerful defense attorney but who also fought back against one of our most notorious gang leaders.”

At that, Ben couldn’t help but laugh. You’d think his dad would have used Ben’s homosexuality for his benefit as well. He could earn points from the liberal population by accepting his gay son, but that hadn’t been the case. He was far too red for that.

“Why don’t you ask my father who I’m dating? He knows.” Ben couldn’t help taunting. The looks the reporters tossed back and forth to each other said they weren’t sure how to deal with his answer. “If you’ll excuse me.” Without another word, Ben turned and walked the other direction.

Hell, he couldn’t even remember why he’d left his apartment anymore, so after only an hour or so of being out, he jumped on the subway and made his way back to Manhattan.

Halfway through Ben’s surprise arrival on the six o’clock news, his phone rang.

Right on time, Mr. Congressman.

“What the fuck was that, Benjamin? Why would you answer a question that way?”

Ben took a drink of his bourbon. “Do you ever think of her, Congressman? Of Bonnie?”

His dad cursed. “Of course I do. What kind of monster do you think I am?”

Maybe the same kind Ben would turn into.

“But she’s gone. It’s over. There was nothing we could do. She couldn’t deal. Nothing could change that except Bonnie herself,” his father added.

Anger pierced every important internal organ Ben had. He felt like his whole body would explode. Like he had with the whip last night, Ben swung his arm through the air. His glass shattered against the wall of his apartment, dark liquid pooling on the floor.