Pryor looked at Cal. “It’s somethin’.”

Cal stared at Pryor and didn’t reply. It was something, this was true, it just wasn’t f**king much. And after Benny and Pryor briefed him, now Cal knew that Hart knew Cal had called Sal for the hit which meant his motivation had shifted. He also knew that Cal was loose and he likely knew the Feds were on his ass. The man was whacked which meant, him knowing all that, he wasn’t going to follow script. He was going to be unpredictable. This was evidenced by the fact that he drove Cal all the way to Chicago to finish him off. Outside his MO. Hart normally didn’t f**k around. Hart wanted Cal in Chicago because Hart wanted it filmed because Hart wanted to watch him die.

Cal wasn’t a chore, a mess to clean up. This was retribution.

And he had Frankie and Vi.

“Fuck,” Cal muttered.

They all turned when a paramedic jogged up to them.

“Gotta get the girl to the hospital,” the paramedic said and all eyes shifted to the ambulance where Lindy was sitting on the back and another paramedic was squatting by her leg. “You comin’?” the paramedic asked Cal.

“Nope,” Cal replied and the paramedic’s gaze moved through both of Cal’s graze wounds before they went back to his eyes. “I’m good,” Cal finished.

“You need those seen to,” the paramedic advised.

“I’m good,” Cal repeated.

“But –” he started, Cal’s body shifted slightly and he stopped speaking then muttered, “right.” He nodded to Cal then Pryor then hoofed it back to the ambulance.

Cal started to move away, saying, “We’ll be at Sal’s.”

Benny moved with him when Pryor called, sounding surprised, “You waitin’ this out?”

“Not much else to do,” Cal responded and headed to Benny’s SUV.

“Um…” the uniform mumbled loudly, “we might have some ques –”

“Later,” Cal heard Pryor cut him off.

“But –”

“Later.”

Cal swung into the passenger side of Benny’s SUV as Benny climbed behind the wheel.

Benny turned to him. “We goin’ to Sal’s to wait it out?”

“Fuck no,” Cal replied, “we’re gonna find Ricky.”

“Cal,” Benny said low and Cal turned to him.

“Ricky, Benny.”

Benny stared at him, got that crazy motherfucking grin on his face again, started the car and then shot from the curb.

* * * * *

“What the f**k, Danny!” Frankie and I heard the minion’s angry shout from the other room.

“Don’t,” Daniel Hart returned.

“This shit is f**ked,” the minion shot back. “We don’t got a situation. We got f**kin’ four.”

“I’m handling it,” Hart retorted.

“Yeah, right,” the henchman snapped, “you’re not handlin’ shit. You’re still chasin’ twat. Fuck! We shoulda took him out in Indiana. Crazy ass shit, bringin’ that f**kin’ guy to Chicago.”

“I wanted to watch,” Hart replied and I closed my eyes and pulled in breath.

Frankie grabbed my hand.

“Like I said, f**ked,” the other man was still shouting, “two boys down there, Danny. Took out two of ours down there. Cops in our business everywhere for weeks. And I got sources tellin’ me the Feds got the books. Giglia’s boys are on the hunt and our men are scramblin’. And that guy’s stone cold. You saw what he f**kin’–”

“Quiet,” Hart’s voice was low but sharp.

“Hands behind his back, Danny.”

My eyes opened and I looked at Frankie who for some reason was smiling.

“Quiet!” Hart shouted and there was quiet.

I felt Frankie’s body get tense then she released my hand. I tore my eyes from the closed door we were behind and watched her move.

“Frankie!” I hissed but she just lifted a hand and waved it at me as she moved on silent feet across the room.

“I’m your man, Danny,” the minion said, his voice quieter, “been your man a long time but I’m not goin’ down for some dead cop’s cunt.”

“What did you say?” Hart asked as I watched Frankie at a window, she was taking her time, trying to be quiet and slowly working it up.

I left the couch we were sitting on and ran on bare thus luckily silent feet toward her.

“You heard me,” the henchman stated.

Frankie pushed the window up and it made a noise which was drowned out by a gunshot. Frankie and I jumped and looked over our shoulders at the closed door.

“Danny!” the other henchman in Hart’s posse shouted, “Jesus Christ, you just shot Brady. What the f**k!”

“Go,” Frankie whispered and I looked at her. Then I threw myself through the window, landing on soft turf. I rolled away from the window and got to my feet. She followed me out, I grabbed her hand, yanked her up and we ran.

We heard the second gunshot as we went.

* * * * *

Benny led and Cal followed as Benny opened the door to a sleazy bar that had the name of Slim Jim’s.

Ricky was sitting at the end of the bar looking the same as ever. Thinning non-descript hair. Thin non-descript face. Thin non-descript body. Weasel eyes and, even though Cal couldn’t see him or hear him, he knew Ricky had bad teeth and was a mouth breather.

Ricky’s head came up when Benny came in. He clocked Benny and then he was on the move.

Benny and Cal sprinted after him.

They caught him out the back alley, Benny grabbing him by the back of his shirt, he yanked him to a halt then turned him and shoved him face first against the wall.

Benny grabbed his wrist, twisted his arm around and up, got close to his back and asked in his ear, “Why you runnin’, Ricky?”

Ricky turned his head, saw Cal and his face got white.

“Jesus,” he whispered then rallied, “hey Cal.”

“Talk,” Cal replied.

“About what?” Ricky asked, Benny pushed in closer and Ricky’s eyeballs slid way to the side in an effort to take in Benny. “Yeesh, Benny, man, what the f**k?”

“Talk,” Benny repeated Cal’s word.

“Like I said, about what?” Ricky asked.

“About where Hart would take Cal’s woman,” Benny answered and Ricky’s eyes went to Cal.

“You got a woman?” he asked, openly surprised or acting that way.