Page 10 of Dirty Deeds

Nico still blames himself for Frankie’s death. It doesn’t matter how much time passes or how many people assure him it wasn’t his fault, Nico always finds a way back to that dark place where grief and blame eat away at logic. I’ve spent the better part of the last few years trying to steer my only living brother away from that place and all it took was one cocksucking congressman to bring him straight to hell.

Suddenly my purpose is crystal clear. I’m not riding from Staten Island to Brighton Beach only to warn Danica that her ex-husband is about to meet Satan himself, I want a piece of the motherfucker too. I want to piss all over his campaign for tarnishing my late brother’s memory and I want him to hurt for making my other brother lose his battle with his conscience. Alright, and maybe I’m a little pissed he got the girl. Bottom line is Brent Matthews fucked with the wrong family and he’s about to learn the Scottos have no mercy on those who cross them.

Danica’s car comes to a stop in the middle of the street, forcing me to slam on my own brakes. Ahead of the Lexus, the Mercedes swings into a driveway and Brent gets out. I roll down my window as Danica runs across the street barefoot.

I guess she decided to ditch the sexy gold heels that were slowing her down.

“You blew me off to visit your whore?” she shouts, clearly not giving a fuck who hears her. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Brent glances at her, an exasperated expression filling his face.

“Go home, Danica, before you make a fool of yourself.”

Dismissing her, he turns and starts for the semi-attached house. I knew Brent Matthews was a dick the moment I stepped foot on his boat, no smart man lets a woman like Danica slip away. But seeing him totally disregard her like she’s a piece of gum stuck beneath his shoe confirms it.

She chases him up the walkway, her hair swaying around her shoulders.

“It’s too late for that, I made a fool out of myself the day I married you and I keep making a fool out of myself because you promised you’d help Derek.”

I narrow my eyes wondering who the fuck this Derek character is as she grabs a hold of Brent’s arm, halting him from taking another step.

His fingers close around her wrist, prying her hand away from his arm.

“You think I give a fuck about your brother?”

“No,” she spats. “You don’t give a fuck about anyone but yourself, but the jig is up Brent. This time you messed with the wrong people.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m talking about Frankie’s House and the money you’ve been embezzling from the silent auctions.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he sneers.

“I know more than you think and so do they. Did you really think you were going to cheat an organization with criminal ties and get away with it?”

In one quick move, Brent twists her arm, pinning it to her back.

“Shut the fuck up you stupid bitch,” he roars.

The light over the front porch goes on and the door to the house slowly opens. I don’t wait to see who stands in the threshold. I’m out of my truck in a flash.

“I may be a stupid bitch, but you’re the dumbest motherfucker to ever run for congress. When this gets out the media is going to bury you alive and if my brother’s life wasn’t at risk, I’d be the first one in line for tickets to that show.” She pauses, struggling to break free from his grasp. His grip on her tightens, but she doesn’t flinch. “Actually, I take it back. The Satan’s Knights are going to destroy you before the media gets the chance.”

Suddenly, Brent lifts his other hand, his fingers wrapping around Danica’s throat.

“I told you to shut the fuck up. Now, I’ll shut you the fuck up myself.”

I don’t think, I just fucking act and the next thing I know, I’ve got Brent Matthews pinned against the concrete pavers. My fist smashes into his face.

Again, and again.

He begs for me to stop but his voice is drowned out by the sound of his bones cracking. Danica cries, her hands tug at the back of my shirt but I don’t stop.

I can’t.

The woman at the front door rushes forward, crouching down next to us.

She screams at me, at Danica—at anyone who will listen, but no one does.

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