The Promise (The 'Burg #5)(8)

“I am not buyin’ books with pictures of guys with no clothes on them,” Benny said, deep and not easy.

It was worth a shot.

I gave up on that and reeled it off. “Fanta Grape. Diet. Chocolate-covered cashews. Cookies from D’Amato’s. And a Lincoln’s sub wouldn’t go amiss.”

His eyes had narrowed at my mention of D’Amato’s, as it would seeing as they were pizza competition to Vinnie’s.

He let that slide, though, and instead noted, “Babe, Lincoln’s is in Hobart.”

“Yeah? So?”

“Francesca, I’m not drivin’ forty minutes to f**kin’ Indiana to buy you a sub.”

“We have to have dinner,” I pointed out.

“Yeah. So later I’m goin’ in to Vinnie’s to make you a pie.”

My heart squeezed.

I’d heard through the grapevine that Benny had succumbed to Vinnie Senior’s pressure and learned the sacred Bianchi art of making a pizza pie. A friend of mine even shared that Vinnie had put up a new sign for the restaurant, changing it from Vinnie’s Pizzeria to Vinnie and Benny’s Pizzeria.

Since learning Benny had taken over the kitchen at Vinnie’s, I’d wanted one of his pies. Ma always said, a guy who cooked was a keeper (advice she did not take herself). What Ma would say if she’d ever met one was that if you found a guy who cooked and looked like Benny, you should consider surgical attachment.

Of course, I hadn’t allowed myself go to Vinnie’s and have one of Benny’s pies. This was because I would have been run out on a rail if I’d tried.

I stopped thinking about Benny making a pizza and said, “Okay, subs tomorrow night then.”

He tipped his head back and looked at the ceiling.

I needed to move this along so I stated, “I think that’s all.”

He looked at me. “You sure?”

He was being sarcastic.

I didn’t call him on that and just nodded.

His eyes narrowed again.

I attempted to look innocent.

Eventually, he muttered, “Fuck. Be back,” and bent to take the envelope with my prescriptions out of my hand before he started to make a move to the door.

This was a problem, seeing as he carried me in but didn’t carry my bag in. My purse was in my bag and I’d need that to order a taxi.

“Ben, could you bring my bag in before you go?” I called to his departing back.

He turned and leveled his eyes on me. “No. I can’t. ’Cause your shit is in that bag, including your wallet and phone. Got a cell, don’t need a house phone. So you got any bright ideas to take off, you can’t call a taxi, you can’t pay a taxi, and you sure as f**k can’t walk anywhere you could get a taxi. But don’t matter. I’m hittin’ old lady Zambino across the street and tellin’ her to keep an eye out. You know she’ll be glued to the window, I ask. And she’ll call me, she sees you attemptin’ a getaway. I’ll also be hittin’ Tony next door. He’ll keep an eye out back. So you got a bright idea, cara, get rid of it. ’Cause your ass is in that bed until you have a sit-down with Ma, let Pop say his words to make amends, and you and me got a meetin’ of the minds about the future.”

That was when I felt my eyes narrow, even as what he said made my heart beat funny.

“So, what you’re saying is, you actually have kidnapped me.”

“You wanna look at it that way, go ahead. Don’t give a f**k. You took a bullet to the belly, babe. Didn’t hit your gut, but it did damage, so I gave you a week and a half to pull your shit. Now I’m done with that.”

“I think I’ve noticed that since you’ve kidnapped me,” I returned.

“Do you want your pudding and f**kin’ grape soda?” he asked.

“Yes, because that’ll give me something to throw at you,” I answered.

“Okay, both those are off my shoppin’ list,” he shot back. “Do you want your pain meds?”

I snapped my mouth shut because the pain was nagging. I could ignore it while plotting my escape or arguing with Benny. When neither was an option open to me, I had a feeling I couldn’t.

He watched me snap my mouth shut, hesitated only a moment, and then strode back to the bed.

He, however, didn’t hesitate to lean in and wrap a hand around the side of my neck and dip his face so close, I could see those eyes now warm and gentle in a way my heart really wanted to melt. I just wouldn’t let it.

“You’re crazy-brave, babe,” he said quietly. “You proved that a week and a half ago. You’re crazy-beautiful and I ’spect you been that way all your life. You’re crazy-funny. You’re crazy-sweet. But you’re just plain crazy if you think you can do what you did for this family, be the way you were with me that night before they took Cal and Vi, and think I’m lettin’ you move to f**kin’ Indianapolis without us havin’ a conversation. You know what this is. That’s why you’re freakin’ and hidin’. I know what this is. That’s why I’m not lettin’ this shit go.” His fingers squeezed and he got even closer. “We’re talkin’. You don’t like that, I don’t give a f**k. Seven years I been f**kin’ up. Right now, that shit ends.”

And with that, he pulled me to him (but gently, God!), kissed my forehead, let me go, and before I could say a word, he disappeared out the door.