The Promise (The 'Burg #5)(121)

“And you’re tellin’ me this because…?” Sal prompted.

“I’m tellin’ you this because Frankie told me the guy bought it, she feels weird about it, and she feels weird about the guy’s boss.”

“Fuck,” Sal muttered.

“Yeah,” Benny agreed, knowing Sal again got him. “Her feelin’ weird can die on the vine or it can flourish, and Frankie bein’ Frankie, I’m wantin’ to nip it in the bud before it flourishes.”

“Tell her to keep out of it,” Sal advised.

“Sorry, thought you knew Francesca Concetti,” Benny replied, and Sal grinned.

“Reckless, that one,” he muttered. “And headstrong.”

“And stubborn and crazy,” Benny added, and Sal’s grin grew into a smile, clearly these being traits Sal admired. The troubling part of that was Ben did too. “Told her that she needed to steer clear. She promised me she’d do that and just do her job. Far’s I know, she’s doin’ that.”

“And you’re here because you want me to make some inquiries, find out who whacked this guy and why.”

That was why he was there.

Asking a favor from Sal.

Fuck.

“That’s why I’m here,” Ben confirmed.

“Consider it done,” Sal replied.

Fuck.

“I give, I take,” Sal went on, barely taking a breath before calling the marker.

Fucking f**k.

Ben stared at him through his shades and said nothing.

Sal did.

“When you two get married, Gina and I are invited.”

Ben’s back straightened and he leaned toward Sal, starting, “Sal—”

Sal shook his head, lifted a hand, and dropped it. “Not the reception. We’ll sit in the back of the church. But I’ll wanna see my Frankie happy. I’ll wanna give that to my Gina. And I am not unaware you do not like me much, Benny Bianchi, but I still wanna see you happy. So does Gina. You give that to us, I’ll find out everything there is to know about what’s goin’ on in Indy.”

“That seems too easy,” Ben noted suspiciously.

“That’s because what I do in Indy isn’t for you. It’s for Frankie. But she didn’t ask for it, you asked for it, so you pay.”

He got that and he could pay that marker without too much headache.

Except one thing.

“My parents don’t see you,” Benny stated, and Sal’s face went hard.

“I’m not gonna slink into a church like a snake and Gina’s not doin’ that shit either.”

“I don’t care how you walk in,” Benny returned. “You just do it so my parents don’t see you.”

Sal held his eyes before he jerked up his chin.

Assent.

They had a deal.

Christ.

“Then we’re done,” Ben ended it, and Sal’s face changed in a way Benny did not get, even when he did.

Sal Giglia didn’t want to be done with Benny. With the Bianchis. With family.

How the man could think he could hold on to blood when his business was about taking it, Ben had no f**king clue.

He’d never figure it out and he had another stop to make. Then he had to drop what he was picking up at home before he went to get Frankie from the airport. So he didn’t give that headspace either.

“We’re done,” Sal released him.

“Tell Gina I said ’bye,” Ben murmured, rising from his chair, Sal coming with him.

“Will do,” Sal replied.

Ben gave him a nod, turned, and started away.

He stopped when Sal said, “She was with the wrong brother.”

He turned back, his throat prickling again, and he leveled his shades on the man.

Sal wasn’t done. “Vinnie was a good man, but not for her. She was made for you. Always knew it.”

Ben said nothing.

Sal did.

“She’ll drive you f**kin’ crazy and you’ll love every minute of it.”

Ben kept his silence.

“Happy for you, figlio,” Sal finished quietly.

Since Vinnie died, Ben had spent nearly zero time with Sal, putting up with him at the hospital the night Frankie got shot only because he had no choice.

Now, he was reminded why someone like Frankie would hold on to a man like Sal. Away from him, it made no sense.

But f**k, you got anywhere near, the man was likeable. Always was.

So maybe he had a piece of the puzzle as to why his brother did the shit he did, and having that piece was a miracle.

Ben didn’t tell Sal that, mostly because all the other puzzle pieces did not fit.

He only nodded again and got his ass out of there.

* * * * *

“Can you explain why you’re gonna be here six days but you got enough luggage to be here for the rest of your life?” Benny bitched as he hauled Francesca’s huge-ass suitcase up the stairs of his back stoop, along with her carry-on.

“I told you I’d carry them,” Frankie replied. He twisted his neck to give her a look, so she widened her eyes at him and continued, “You wanna be a protective, take-care-of-my-woman, Italian guy, you can’t bitch.”

She was absolutely right.

Still, it bought him Frankie with wide eyes being cute, so he was going to bitch.