“You’re grouchy when you get woken up by some PI from Colorado,” I noted.
“Yeah, seein’ as this necessitates me doin’ a bunch of shit I don’t wanna do prior to buryin’ my dick inside my woman, that happens.” When I didn’t move, just continued glaring at him, he went on, “And I get grouchier when she lies there givin’ me the evil eye instead of gettin’ her sweet ass out of bed and gettin’ her laptop.”
“I think I’ve made it relatively clear you bein’ bossy isn’t my favorite thing,” I told him.
“It is when you’re wet for me,” he returned.
It sucked, but he had a point.
And it irked me, but my choices in that moment were either to have a staring contest with Benny, continue our fight, which was kind of ridiculous, or go and get my laptop.
I decided on going to get my laptop, but as I threw the covers off me (and, thus, Benny since I intended to climb over him because his side was closer), I did it bossing.
“I’ll get my laptop and take care of the first part of the operation. You go walk Gus.”
I was climbing over him but didn’t make it when his hands curled under my arms. I let out a surprised noise as he flipped me to my back, covered me, and laid a hard, short kiss on me.
When he lifted his head, he asked, “Satisfied?”
Not hardly.
“That better be a promise of things to come,” I replied.
“When isn’t it?” he asked.
And he had another point, this one excellent.
“Stop bein’ awesome when I have shit to do.”
He grinned.
I scrunched my face at him.
That made him smile. Unfortunately, he did this rolling off me so I didn’t get the full force of it, though, this had its benefits since I could see to my business, he could see to Gus, and then he could get down to fulfilling his promise.
I got my laptop, fired it up, and brushed my teeth. Ben pulled on jeans, his tee, and running shoes, then got our dog and the leash and took off.
I got the email. Then I called Tandy to ask her to ask her friend what colors were used in “Roxie and Hank’s” wedding. I pulled on yoga pants and a cami while Tandy made her call.
Ben came back while I was making coffee. “We good?” he asked, letting Gus off the lead whereupon he waddle-galloped into the kitchen and started jumping up my calves.
I bent to pick him up, and when I had him in my arms for a squirmy cuddle, I told Benny, “Waiting for confirmation from Tandy now.”
Benny nodded and headed down the hall.
I looked down at Gus and asked, “Breakfast?”
He gave my neck a puppy kiss.
I took that as a yes and was finishing up putting clean bowls of water and food down for him when my doorbell rang.
I looked that way just as I felt Benny leave the mouth of the hall and heard him ask, “Who the fuck is that?”
“No clue,” I answered.
He kept heading to the door but did it looking at me. “I thought you couldn’t get in the complex without a code.”
“You can’t,” I confirmed.
Ben didn’t look happy as he kept walking to the door.
He opened the baby door, which was really a supercool peephole, then I heard him mutter, “Jesus.”
“What?” I called, moving to round the counter and get to the living room.
By the time I got there, the door was open and I stopped dead when I saw Sal barge in.
He did this ordering, “Call off them dogs.”
I stared at him.
“Good to see you, Sal. Wanna come in? Have some coffee?” Ben asked sarcastically as he closed the door behind him.
Sal looked at me, took me in top to toe, then greeted, “Beautiful as always, amata.” Then he turned to Benny. “Been on the road for hours, figlio. Not in the mood for your shit.”
Ben moved out of the entryway, stopped, planted his feet, and crossed his arms on his chest. Only then did he suggest, “Maybe you open with tellin’ us what got your ass on the road, we can move on from there.”
“This is my goodwill mission,” Sal stated, jerking his thumb to his chest and leaning toward Benny. “Don’t need no private dicks from the Rocky Mountain state hornin’ in.”
Oh God.
He knew about Nightingale.
This wasn’t surprising. Sal knew just about everything, and if he didn’t, he had ways of finding out. What was surprising was that he seemed proprietary about his “goodwill mission.”
“Sal, they been on this case longer than us and can do shit above board, not knockin’ people around and whackin’ ’em,” Benny pointed out.
“I’m not gonna whack anybody,” Sal snapped.
“What happened to the hit man?” Ben asked. “Or do I wanna know?”
Sal settled back and grinned. “He got an offer he couldn’t refuse.”
I started giggling.
Ben cut his eyes to me.
I pressed my lips together and stopped giggling.
Benny looked to Sal and said low, “This shit isn’t funny. We’re discussin’ a fuckin’ hit man.”
At that, Sal looked like he was starting to get mad and that made my breath start to go funny.
“Got hundreds, maybe thousands of lives on the line this drug is bad and it goes out, Benny. I am not in the business of good deeds, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know this isn’t decent work that needs to get done right. But that isn’t all it is. This is for my Frankie. Do you think I’d do anything to get her ass in a bind?”
I thought that was very sweet and it bought Sal and Gina being on my Christmas card list (and birthday card list, and maybe, if I could swing it and not make Benny’s family lose their minds, an invitation for them to our engagement party).
For some reason, Ben didn’t think it was sweet.
I knew this when he demanded, “Explain that to me.”
“Explain what?” Sal asked.
“Why you’re up in Frankie’s shit,” Ben stated. “Vinnie’s gone, Sal. She’s no longer a member of your family.”
That comment made Sal go from looking like he was about to get mad to just looking pissed.
Not good.
I made a move toward them, whispering, “Benny—” but Sal cut me off.
“She’ll always be family.”
“Explain that,” Ben repeated.
“Family never dies,” Sal returned.
“Your kind does,” Ben shot back, and in normal circumstances, this exchange would not be dangerous. This exchange might even be positive in a getting-it-all-out-there (finally), healing sort of way.
That would be if one of the people involved in the exchange wasn’t a mob boss.
“You don’t get this,” Sal clipped, his pissed-off anger sizzling in the air, “because you had what she didn’t when you were growin’ up. And if you don’t find some way to get it, then you aren’t the man for her. The man I thought you would be. She didn’t have a father growin’ up who gave a shit about her and I”—he jerked his thumb to his chest again—“get that.”
At this news—deep, heartbreaking sharing from Sal about something I never knew—my breath caught and I glued eyes to him that were suddenly stinging with tears as he kept talking.
“You had it all growin’ up, Benito Bianchi. When you don’t, you search for it and hope to Christ that search doesn’t last a lifetime, leavin’ you takin’ your last breath and knowin’ you lived a life never havin’ somethin’ you need. I get why you don’t like me. I get why you wouldn’t want me around Frankie. I also don’t give a fuck. If I can, in some way, give her a piece of what she needs, I’m gonna do it. Gina can give her her part of that, she’s gonna do it. You like it or not.”
“Sal,” I whispered, and his eyes sliced to me.