Page 28 of Dirty Deeds

“I’m a fan when they’re running into my arms.”

“That’s not what I did.”

He lifts a brow, a whisper of a grin spreading across his face.

“Really? Look where you are right now.”

I guess he’s got me there, doesn’t he? Smacking my lips together, I glance at the front door. This is totally out of my comfort zone. I have no idea what I’m supposed to say or do. I think if it were just Wolf, I’d be able to handle myself, or at the very least, fake it to seem like I was. But there’s two dozen Harleys sitting in the driveway behind Carrie’s car and a supped-up Cadillac in front of it.

Ro was wondering where all the bikes were, well I guess she got her answer.

Shit!

Ro!

Between all the talking and touching, I completely forgot my sister-in-law has been a hostage in the lion’s den.

I look back at Enzo. “Let’s get this over with.”

He grins, then releases my neck. “Thatta girl.”

With another squeeze of my hand, he opens the front door and pulls me into the house where we are greeted by the sounds of people arguing. Expletives seem to be the native language in the house of Scotto. Glass crashes from somewhere and then I hear a woman scream in what I can only guess is Italian. My first instinct is to turn the hell around and run as far and fast as my legs allow, but instead of fleeing, I find myself walking in stride with Enzo.

We make our way into the kitchen and my eyes go wide as I take in the sea of leather, huddled around the two men scuffling on the floor. Next to them stands Wolf’s wife, Maria, whom I’ve met in passing at Frankie’s House, and she’s got a frying pan hitched high over her head.

“Enough! You two fools broke my favorite Mikasa serving dish.”

The room goes eerily silent as she pushes her way to the center of the huddle.

“Al, get the hell off him or so help me God, you’ll sleep on the couch until you die.”

“Lady, stay out of it. This is club business.”

“Then take your club business up in your fucking clubhouse, not my kitchen!” She’s about to thwack him in the back with the frying pan when Enzo releases my hand and steps forward. He grabs the pan from her, and she spins around, ready to unleash her fury on him too.

“Calm down, Maria. It’s just me, your favorite stepson. I heard there’s a dish of manicotti with my name on it.” He dazzles her with his signature grin and the tension eases in the woman’s shoulders. With no imminent danger in sight, I take the opportunity to scope out the room in search of my sister-in-law. I find her at the kitchen table, sitting next to Carrie. She shovels a forkful of manicotti into her mouth and holds out her glass for Carrie to refill it, keeping her eyes pinned to the show taking place in the center of the room.

She looks right at home.

I shake my head and make my way toward her, hissing her name when I reach the table. Her head springs up and her eyes find mine.

“Oh, hey, Dan. When did you get in?” She offers Carrie her thanks and taps her glass against hers. “Cheers, babe.” They knock back what appears to be wine, draining half of it in one gulp. Then Ro places her glass on top of the table. She lifts her ass off the chair and reaches into her back pocket, pulling out a crisp twenty-dollar bill. My brows furrow as I watch her slap it on the table in front of Carrie. “You win,” she declares, shaking her head. “I really thought she was going to crack him with that frying pan.”

“Oh my God you’re taking bets?” I admonish. “How much have you had to drink?”

She replies with a hiccup.

“Hey, you and lover boy took too long.” She tries to cover the next hiccup but fails miserably. “Er, I mean my boss. You and my boss took too long.”

A giggle slips past Carrie’s lips as she nudges Ro.

“No one actually believes you’re Enzo’s secretary.”

“That’s only because you told them I wasn’t,” Ro argues.

“I did you a favor. They were interrogating you and you didn’t know the difference between a wrench and a jigsaw.”

“It was a trick question. Both words have multiple definitions.”

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