The Love Killers by Jackie Collins

the type to be involved in the revenge. She agreed. ‘It’s a crazy idea anyway. You should get out. We’ll find someone else to take care of Frank.’
    Beth thought longingly of the commune, her own child, Chyna, and her boyfriend, Max. It was tempting to say yes to Cass, pack her things, and leave. But that would be admitting defeat, and she wanted to accomplish just as much as the others. She had to.
    â€˜I’m not quitting,’ she said firmly. ‘I’ll get to him somehow. How are Lara and Rio making out?’
    â€˜Everything takes time,’ Cass replied evenly, wishing she had Margaret to turn to for advice. ‘I’m meeting with Dukey tonight. I’m sure he’s going to agree with me about you. Honestly, Beth, you shouldn’t be involved.’
    â€˜Why not?’ Beth’s face flushed. ‘Don’t forget I’m Margaret’s sister.
I
want to do something just as much as the others. And I can—you’ll see.’
    Cass sighed. ‘You aren’t cut out for this. I said so from the beginning.’
    â€˜Well, I’m involved now,’ Beth said stubbornly. ‘And I have no intention of stopping until the job is done.’
    * * *
    That evening Beth waited. She put on a long white cotton nightdress, frilled and virginal. Then she brushed her straight blond hair loose. She looked very young and appealing.
    The bedroom she occupied overlooked the front of the house, and she waited patiently by the window. At two in the morning a car drew up with three men inside. Frank and another man got out and walked over to the front door. Once Frank was inside his bodyguard returned to the car, and after a few moments it drove off. Frank was safely home.
    Beth remained at the window, her mouth dry with anticipation. She knew Frank’s routine so well. First he would go to his dressing room, where he would change into his pajamas and robe. Then into the big, old-fashioned kitchen, where he would make himself coffee and toast.
    Another car moved slowly past the house. Its headlights dipped; two men were inside. Frank seemed to have bodyguards to look after the bodyguards.
    Still she waited, not moving, shivering slightly. What if she went to the kitchen and he wanted her? What then? She didn’t know how to maneuver people, pull the strings. She wasn’t like Lara or Rio.
    Frank Bassalino was a hard, strong man. How
did
one destroy a man like that?
    Thoughts of Margaret drifted through her head. And of Enzio Bassalino—the man who’d ordered Margaret to be assassinated.
    Beth knew she had to avenge her sister’s death. And she knew exactly what had to be done.
    * * *
    Frank was brooding and thoughtful. There was trouble all over. The cops were tightening up, more money or further harassment. The Crown gang were causing disturbance; something would have to be done about those sons of bitches. On top of everything else, Enzio was driving him crazy, phoning to complain about this and that. The old man must have spies everywhere. Enzio Bassalino was supposed to be retired; why the fuck didn’t he keep his nose out of business that wasn’t his anymore?
    There was also the protection problem. Several restaurants and clubs under the ‘security’ of Frank Bassalino and his organization were being leaned on to put their faith in other directions. There had been a few unfortunate incidents, and the owners of certain establishments were beginning to wonder why they should pay protection to Frank Bassalino,
and
the cops, and
still
get hit.
    Frank suspected a black group headed by narcotics king Bosco Sam was behind the trouble.
    Rumor had it Bosco Sam had big plans for muscling in on Bassalino and Crown territories.
    Frank had sent out word he was prepared to meet with Bosco Sam to discuss things.
    In the meantime the clubs and restaurants were persuaded it was in their best interests to keep up their payments. It was a problem