Benji Dunn Mission: Impossible Novels & Stories

BENJI WISHED HE WAS wearing his normal get-up of starched black jeans and a white button down. It worked when he was just another one of the help, moving things and pointing where things went. But not today. No. He was the ringmaster. And that meant dressing the part in a three piece gray suit paired with his nicest boots. The leather binder Dixie had given him yesterday fit in flawlessly and he clutched it like a lifeline. What would he have done without it?

Levi greeted him cheerfully as he sat on the sofa, drinking alcohol. Benji bowed his head and nervously fidgeted with his hands. “D-Don L-Levi…” Levi grinned and set his glass down on the table. “Looks like you didn’t destroy Ana,” he said. Benji suddenly knelt down and trembled in front of Levi. “I-I don’t want to do it anymore, Don Levi! I-I can’t do it anymore!” He pleaded. Levi chuckled and laughed. “You know what I do to people who back out of my orders.”

He postponed this task, having already reasserted his influence and demonstrated his capabilities. The only unfortunate incident during the mission involved Ben sustaining an injury, requiring prompt hospitalization. It wasn't an everyday occurrence for someone to wound him so easily. Ben held a prominent position as one of the top assassins handpicked by Mr. Daniel himself. The embarrassment he felt after getting injured and failing to accomplish the mission independently was significant. He had never envisioned Mr. Daniel needing to intervene personally.

"You're in no fit state to assist us." Fury surges through me as I interject. "He helps!" I snap, my voice sharp. What does it matter to me that he's a Densel heir? He's no better than Franko or any of the others—just another pawn in this twisted game. His death seems almost poetic, not to mention he was kissing my wife when he had no right. "I'll help," Benji insists, his determination shining through the pain. He reaches for the knife, his fingers trembling as he grips the handle and yanks it free, a small cry escaping his lips as he pulls it from its resting place.

"I'm not lying. My boss is a monster who doesn't bat an eye at murder. If you make him angry, it won't end well for you. "I was the one who rescued you from the factory last night. Seeing how I saved your life, could you cooperate with me? Stop screaming. I don't want to get into trouble because of you too." The woman finally stopped struggling after Benji rambled on. Benji let out a sigh of relief. "I'm Benji. I don't really know who you are. I just rescued you out of impulse. I don't need you to pay me back. I just need you to listen to me right now."

"You're in no fit state to assist us." Fury surges through me as I interject. "He helps!" I snap, my voice sharp. What does it matter to me that he's a Densel heir? He's no better than Franko or any of the others—just another pawn in this twisted game. His death seems almost poetic, not to mention he was kissing my wife when he had no right. "I'll help," Benji insists, his determination shining through the pain. He reaches for the knife, his fingers trembling as he grips the handle and yanks it free, a small cry escaping his lips as he pulls it from its resting place.

He was fighting an uphill battle with himself, and the growing threat wasn't helping. Devin Berkshire was just the beginning of a rebellion Benji was interested in humoring. There had been talk of escaped rogues from raids before in the past. Benji was great at making enemies, so it was natural for other's to come for revenge. But never before had he ever feared they would be successful. He never had a reason to fear, until now.

for a reason! Having been given two weeks to get the job done, Team A contacted their personal contacts and resources all over the world and set things in motion immediately. It promised to be a long and bloody holiday. Team B thought they had the easiest job because they were ordered to keep an eye on Ben throughout his stay with his temporary master. They followed the client who rented Ben from the desert to a city in Mexico but on the night of the second day, Ben's tracker's beacon disappeared from the Mexican map. When they contacted Derrick, he mandated them to retrieve Ben alive. No other outcome was acceptable.

Shoot everyone in our pack deserves it. "Do you know how to reach him," Daniel asks, and Benji stills midstep as he looks at his mate. Mariah glances at him out of the corner of her eye before answering Daniel. "Yeah. But I can't reach him by phone," Mariah whispers, and Benji grabs his hair with both hands. "I knew it. I knew you would get dragged into this deeper than just information," Benji growls and Mariah grabs his elbows. The tiny woman looks so fragile clinging to the burly male, but we all know otherwise. Mariah's looks are part of her cover. Small but lethal...

Charlie Benji’s house wasn’t really what I expected. Although I didn’t really know what to expect. He had an unreadable air about him when it came to trying to figure out the more personal details about his life. He didn’t behave like a street racer or conform to what my idea was of a man who spent his time participating in an illegal underground racing ring in New York City. He ran a shelter for troubled youths for crying out loud.