Page 4 of Dirty Deeds

“Being the awesome stepbrother-in-law that I am, I had some marketing material made for Scotto Construction and instead of saying thank you, this putz is being an ungrateful bastard,” Riggs says, taking another tape measure from the box. With his free hand he snatches Nico’s sandwich and shoves the tape measure at him. “Look at that! Tell me that’s not fucking great advertising.”

Nico takes the tape measure, and his lips twitch the second he reads the damn thing.

“Actually, inches mean shit if you don’t know how to work them,” he says pointedly, then grabs his sandwich and looks back at me. “If you’re done selling your dick to horny housewives, I need to talk to you about Danica Matthews and her cunt of a husband that’s been robbing Frankie’s House for the last six months.”

My body instantly goes tight, and I’m assaulted by a reel of memories. Last June, I got a call to replace the floorboards on the top deck of a boat—a small job, but one that completely knocked me on my ass because that’s where I met Danica.

Dressed in a pair of skimpy lace panties and a tank top that left nothing to the imagination, wielding a lamp as a weapon, she was a sight. It didn’t matter that there were bags under her eyes when she removed her designer sunglasses, nor did I mind her long blonde hair resembled a rat’s nest, my dick instantly got hard and for a minute my brain short-circuited and I forgot why the fuck I was standing on that boat sporting a toolbelt.

“Danica Matthews,” Riggs repeats, pulling my attention back to him and my brother. “Why do I know that name?”

“Remember the broad we bumped into at the mall on Christmas Eve?” Nico replies. “The blonde with all the hair that dropped her panties in the middle of Macy’s.”

I roll my eyes.

“She didn’t drop her panties,” I mutter.

“No, Nico is right. I specifically remember picking up a lace thong while shopping for Mama Leone’s Christmas present.” Riggs taps his index finger to his chin, studying me for a moment. “She’s the one who stood you up.”

That’s not exactly how it went down. Yes, while shopping for a last-minute Christmas present for our stepmother, Maria, we did bump into Danica, and Riggs did in fact pick her panties up from the floor. It was right after New York did away with shopping bags and a security guard stopped Danica because she thought she was stealing the panties she purchased from another store. We helped her to her car, and she revealed her divorce had gone through the day before—hence the celebratory shopping spree. She also let it slip that she’d be spending the holiday alone, that’s when one of them—I can’t remember if it was Riggs or Nico—invited her to the Satan’s Knight’s clubhouse.

It was the first Christmas my father was hosting since our brother Frankie passed away and in true Scotto fashion a series of disasters forced us to bring the celebration to the clubhouse. The second Danica received the invitation there was hesitation in her eyes, but that didn’t stop me from spending the entire holiday staring at the door, hoping she’d walk into Big Nose Kate’s and make my Christmas.

By the time it struck midnight, everyone was ready to head home. Most of the guys had kids and Santa had toys to put under the Christmas trees. I offered to stay behind and clean up. It was one in the morning when I locked up the bar and headed out to my truck. That’s when I spotted her car parked in the back of the lot.

I walked over and knocked on her window, careful not to spook her.

“What are you doing out here?”

“I’ve been here for hours trying to work up the nerve to go inside.”

She didn’t look like the same woman I had met six months earlier hungover on a boat because she had just filed for divorce. Hell, she didn’t even look like the happy-go-lucky divorcee I had seen shopping only hours before. She was struggling with something, and a wiser man would’ve seen the red flags and walked away.

I was not fucking wise by any means, so I opened the door, leaned over her body, and turned off her car. Again, I found myself extending my hand to the blonde bombshell I couldn’t shake. Unlike the time on the boat, she didn’t hesitate before sliding her soft hand into mine. I locked her car and escorted her back to Kate’s, heating up the leftovers and pouring us a couple of shots.

We spent a good part of the night talking.

She told me about her ex-husband and the messy divorce they shared. The regrets she harbored and the dreams she gave up on. I shared my brother’s death, the guilt I felt over it, and how my family tried to make good on the tragedy by opening up Frankie’s House—a non-profit dedicated to helping misguided teens.

One thing led to another and talking turned to flirting. Before the sun could rise, I found myself bringing her upstairs to one of the empty apartments. Members of the club often crashed in them when they were too drunk to ride or fighting with their wives. It was Christmas and they were all in their wives’ good graces so I didn’t have to worry about anyone interrupting us.

I can still recall the way her body moved with mine. The taste of her lips and the sweet way her tight cunt hugged my cock. The moans that filled my ears the first time I made her come and the scratches she left on my back when I made her come again and again.

Danica Matthews rocked my fucking world and one night wasn’t enough. Later, I woke up, raring for a repeat and reached for her, but she was gone, leaving her scent all over the sheets and my cock in a permanent state of distress.

Two days later her ex-husband was on the news announcing he was running for congress and standing right beside him was the woman I ravaged. I turned up the volume and listened as the reporters asked all the questions I was burning to ask myself.

Did you and your wife recently finalize your divorce?

Does this mean a reconciliation is in your future?

What role will Mrs. Matthews be playing in your campaign?

Danica stepped to the podium, looking vastly different than she did when she was riding my cock and smiled politely at the reporters.

“Brent and I may no longer be married, but we remain friends and I support his run for congress. He is exactly what the residents of Staten Island and Brooklyn need and to show my support to the community that Brent will be working for, I am donating my entire divorce settlement to Frankie’s House, an organization that helps troubled teens in our community find their way off the streets.”

I nearly fell off the fucking chair, and sure as fuck by the end of the week Danica and Brent were touring Frankie’s House, handing my father a big fat check by the end of the visit. The press ate it up, and the ex-couple’s dire need to help the youth became the focal point of Brent’s campaign. My father was so enamored by their generous donation, he’s been allowing Brent and Danica to make frequent press conferences at Frankie’s House, leading me to distance myself from the center.

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