Vinnie Senior popping the cap on a beer, finding a sturdy box to sit on, and bossing his ass around for two hours?

No. He didn’t want that.

“I’m good,” he answered.

“You sure?” she pushed, and he sighed.

“Yeah, Ma, I’m sure.”

“Boy, deliver me!” his father yelled over him talking, and Ben looked at his feet and shook his head.

“Okay, you need us, call,” his ma ignored his pop, and gratefully ended it.

“Later, Ma.”

“’Bye, Benny.”

He disconnected, shoved his phone back in his pocket, and moved to another box. He was finding the ex-owners of his house left him mostly junk. Some was good enough that he’d call the Salvation Army to pick it up. The rest he’d take to the dump.

That said, this was not going to be a day’s job. It would take at least a week and he was not looking forward to it.

What he was looking forward to was not having to drive down to Frankie’s every few weeks or waiting for her to come to him. He wanted this. She wanted this. He wanted her to make his house hers. So he was doing what he could so she could do that.

He got through two more boxes before his phone rang again. He pulled it out, expecting it’d be his mother having seen another piece of furniture, or God knew what, this time something she wanted him to see. This was something that could happen easily when his mother was out doing anything.

Not for the first time he was understanding Carm’s play of moving all the way across the country.

But his display said, Sal Calling.

He put his cell to his ear and greeted, “Yo, Sal.”

“Where are you?” Sal barked, and Ben’s back shot straight.

“In my basement,” he answered, not feeling good feelings about Sal’s greeting.

Sal was talking to someone else when he ordered, “Get him to put someone on her and you drive down now.”

Ben took the punch to the heart those words caused and he did it moving quickly to his dog, who was lying on his back, four paws in the air, sleeping on a pile of rags Ben had tossed in the corner. Gus was out because Gus had attacked every attackable item in the basement, and there were a fair few of them, and he’d engaged in this activity for a solid hour.

Benny bent, scooped up Gus, who jumped with surprise in his arm, then immediately started wriggling, ready for play, even right out of sleep. But Ben had to ignore it for once as he headed to the stairs.

He did all this demanding, “Talk to me.”

“Word’s shiftin’ through Indy. A man lookin’ for someone to do a hit for him. Easy job. Some computer kid who works for Wyler Pharmaceuticals. He’s in a hurry this time and doesn’t mind local. He’s also found local.”

Jesus, what the f**k was happening where Frankie worked?

“You are f**kin’ shittin’ me,” Ben growled, making it to his kitchen.

“I’m not. Got that, but yesterday, I got more.”

Fucking brilliant.

More.

“What?” Benny bit out.

“PI down there, sleazebag and middleman for a variety of shit, he’s got himself a job trailin’ some boy who’s boinking his secretary. Guess where that boy works?”

“What the f**k?” Ben clipped, now taking the stairs to his second floor two at a time.

“This shit is not good shit, whatever this shit is. But I do not know what this shit is and I do not like that. So I’m gonna find out. I also know two hits called on two folks who work where Frankie works, this PI—who is not a good guy, Benny, he’s a piece of shit—if he’s involved, I’m not likin’ this at all. I got friends down there. They’ll put a man on Frankie until my boy gets down there to take over.”

Ben stopped dead in his bedroom. “Why’re you doin’ that?”

“Why?” Sal clipped. “’Cause this is Frankie. She could be standin’ in a field in the middle of the day and a dead body would drop on her.”

He was not wrong.

Frankie got born into a family who bounced her around, didn’t give that first shit about her, and caused her headaches to that day. Her first and only real boyfriend before Benny got involved with the mob, then was murdered. Her play for redemption with his family got her shot. Now she had a job where people were getting whacked.

Fuck.

“Why is the computer guy a target?” Ben asked.

“No f**kin’ clue,” Sal answered.

“You know if Frankie knows him?”

“Nope, but I do know the boy who’s bangin’ his secretary has a job title just like Frankie’s, ’cept it says ‘west’ and not ‘east.’”

“A close colleague,” Ben muttered, making a decision. He put Gus on the floor and went to his closet. He pulled out the bag that had seen a lot of use the last months, telling Sal, “I’m gonna be on the road, headed down there in ten minutes.”

“Got a boy already on his way, Benny. He’ll trail her everywhere, keep an eye. You got the restaurant.”

“No disrespect, Sal, and I mean it this time, but I’m not a big fan of one of your boys trailin’ Frankie.”

“You think she’ll make him?” Sal asked, and Benny’s brows shot together.

“You weren’t gonna tell her this shit’s goin’ down?” Ben asked back.

“Fuck no, figlio. She knows this, she’ll stick her nose in. She’s in that field and that body that drops on her?” he asked, but he did it not wanting an answer. “It’d be a friend she was helping.”

He had a point.

Ben tossed his bag on the bed. “That’s not why I don’t want one of your men on her.”

“He’ll take care of her, Benny.”

“That’d be my job,” Ben returned.

Sal was silent.

Ben wasn’t.

“Explain to me your take on this.”

“Got no take,” Sal replied. “All I know is that it’s not good and Frankie’s in the firing line.”

That was Benny’s take.

“She’s got a guy who works with her, forgot his first name but last name’s Bierman,” Ben told him. “He’s a dick and Frankie says he’s targeting her boss for a takedown.”

“Another hit?”

Fucking hell, the world Sal lived in.

“Office politics, Sal.”

“Oh,” he muttered. “Right.”

“To get to her boss, he’s got his eyes on Frankie and her colleague,” Ben told him. “You got a name behind the ordered hit?”