“Unfortunately, yes,” Sal answered.
He wasn’t big on the “unfortunately.”
Ben dumped his workout bag on the table and went to the fridge to get a water, prompting, “That would be…?”
“Made a number of inquiries, Benny, dug deep. That’s why it took so long. It would seem the job you asked about was done by out of town talent. No trail. I’ve got nothing.”
Ben dropped his head to look at his running shoes.
He didn’t know how to take this news.
On the one hand, Frankie had not mentioned the murder again and everything seemed status quo at her company.
On the other hand, she’d told him she’d had a direct run-in with the dick she worked with, something with that guy that was not status quo. He’d instigated it; Frankie didn’t buy it. She was just doing her job when he’d perpetrated a surprise attack.
However, when she told him this on the Sunday after Vi and Cal’s wedding, she did it acting cagey.
He’d never known Frankie to be cagey. She let it all hang out. Even when she bailed on him, the only reason he didn’t have answers to why she did was because she didn’t know them herself.
And because of that, he didn’t have a good feeling about Frankie’s cagey.
“But you know it was a hit,” Ben stated.
“It was a hit,” Sal confirmed.
“You just don’t know why the hit was called,” Benny went on.
“No, Benny, I don’t know why,” Sal again confirmed.
Not good.
“Would you like me to keep digging?” Sal asked into the silence, and Ben lifted his head but looked unseeing at the old calendar on his wall.
“What’s your gut say?” Benny asked.
“With Frankie?” Sal asked back, then answered, “I keep digging.”
That was what Benny’s gut said.
Fuck.
“This another marker?” he asked.
“Job undone, Benny,” Sal replied. “So no.”
Ben drew breath in through his nose and moved to the door to the hall, giving a little for reasons he had no fucking clue. “I’ll get Frankie to send you some wedding photos.”
“Gina would like that.”
Whatever.
“Gotta go,” Ben told him.
“Addio, figlio.”
“Later.”
Ben ended the call and jogged up the stairs, wondering if he should shower first and then take Gus for a walk, or release Gus from the confinement of his kennel, take him for a walk, and then shower with Gus in his bathroom, gnawing on the rug.
He had eyes to his feet and mind on his puppy—Frankie’s puppy, a puppy she should be going with him to take out for a walk—when he moved into his bedroom.
This meant he jerked to a halt and his head snapped up when he heard Frankie say, “Happy birthday, Benny.”
He stood still and stared at her in his bed, wearing a deep plum nightie that had a middle that was sheer material, so even if she was on a hip, her legs curled beside her, he could still see the thin, plum, lace ribbon of her panties that he hoped like fuck led back to a G-string.
Her hair was a big mass of curls tumbling over her shoulders and down her chest, just as he liked it.
Her makeup was heavy but classy, just as he liked it.
And even several feet away, he could smell hints of her perfume.
All of it, all of her, reclining on his bed, smiling at him with that smile of hers, just like he liked it.
“So,” she said and got up to her knees, something that made his cock start to get hard in a way that he knew would break a record. This was because he saw only a small triangle of plum covering her sex and the ribbons riding the swells of her hips through the sheer, not to mention a good view of her creamy thighs spread slightly. “You kicked my birthday’s ass so huge, I had to get creative…” She tipped her head to the side and her hair went with it before she continued, “And tell fibs.”
She reached behind her, her arm came around, and she held in her hand a big plastic bottle of chocolate sauce.
“I came prepared,” she finished, waving the bottle in the air beside her head.
Taking her in, suddenly he had a feeling this was going to be the best birthday he’d ever had.
Not to delay in getting to that part, he walked to the end of his bed, stopped to stand in front of her, and tossed his phone and the water beyond Frankie onto the bed.
As he did this, Frankie put her free hand to his chest and whispered, “Sweaty.”
Ben took the bottle out of her hand and tossed it so it landed with the other shit.
She tipped her head back to catch his eyes and asked, “Not hungry?”
“How long can you stay?” he asked back, and the playful light flickered in her eyes.
“Until morning.”
Disappointing.
For him, and with that light flickering, for her.
“How many nighties did you bring?” he went on.
“Five.”
Now that was something.
“This one the best?” he kept going.
“I don’t know,” she answered. “You’ll have to rate them.”
He’d do that.
But first, he’d have to get better acquainted with this one.
In order to accomplish that, he bent to her, but only to lift the sheer material, find the ribbon of her panties with the tips of his fingers, and trace it over her hip to the top of the cheek of her ass and down until he encountered the portion of ribbon that disappeared in her cleft.
G-string.
Jesus.
Frankie.
She slid her hands into the sides of his tee and up over his skin at the sides of his ribs, her head tipped back, her eyes on his, not playful anymore but something he liked a fuckuva lot better.
He slid his middle finger under the string, dragged the pad down between the cheeks of her ass, and her lids lowered, her lips parted, and his dick jumped.
“I like this, baby,” he murmured.
“Does it say happy birthday?” she asked.
“Fuck yeah.”
“You gonna unwrap your present so you can play with it?”
His finger encountered moist, showing she was ready, and he growled, “Fuck yeah.”
Her hands slid back and down, diving into his workout pants and cupping his ass as she tipped forward so her mouth was brushing his. “Then play, honey.”
Definitely.
This birthday was going to be the fucking best.
He bent deeper and slid the tip of his finger through her wetness and up, gliding it inside.
Her fingers clenched into his ass and she breathed, “Benny.”
He slid it deeper and asked, “What else you got planned, Frankie?”
“Well,” she whispered, and he pushed in deeper, then pulled out and gave it back and again and again so her hands quit clenching his ass and dragged up his back. “I have the chocolate sauce.”
“Saw that, honey.”
“And Mrs. Zambino has the ingredients for the cake I’m gonna bake later.”
He kept fucking her with his finger, looking into her eyes, feeling his dick begin to ache, watching her get excited, feeling it coat his finger as he said, “I’ll look forward to that.”
“She also has all the stuff for the dinner I’m gonna make you later. A deux, just you and me. I called Theresa and she and Vinnie are happy to wait to celebrate with you on the weekend.”
Just you and me.
Yeah.
She was kicking birthday ass.
“Sounds good,” he rumbled, continuing to thrust into her wet with his finger.
“And, of course, I bought you a present,” she went on huskily.
He drove his finger in deep, got her gasp, and noted, “Thought my present was right here.”
“I got you another one,” she breathed.