Page 48 of Dirty Deeds

“I don’t know how his son got involved,” I lie. “But Wolf is not going to stop until he gets justice.”

“Is that supposed to scare me? His son already took his best shot. He won’t have another chance to get near me.”

Little does he know the girl feeding him Jell-O and fluffing his pillow is working for Wolf.

“You need to drop the charges.”

“Have you lost your mind? If anyone has to do anything here, it’s you. That was a cunt move you made, leaving the scene like you did. That must’ve been one hell of a fucking orgasm to sacrifice everything—including your brother’s freedom. Does Derrick know he’s going to continue to rot in that godawful prison because his sister couldn’t keep her fucking legs closed?”

This conversation took a turn I wasn’t expecting, and my anxiety immediately settles in. My heart races, and a million scenarios flash through my mind. What if Brent didn’t leave on Christmas Eve like I thought he did? What if he followed me to Big Nose Kate’s and knows I slept with Enzo back then? It’s possible and it wouldn’t have swayed him, he’d still want me by his side for the campaign. My eyes drop to the call button. I drag in a deep breath and shake those thoughts from my head. I’m paranoid.

“Stop thinking with your pussy, Danica. It’s not too late for you to go to the police and change your story. Tell them due to Wolf’s position with the Satan’s Knights motorcycle club you were fearful for your life.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stammer. “There is nothing going on between me and Wolf’s son and I’m not going to play Wolf dirty like that. Not when he has done absolutely nothing wrong.”

“You can say his name, Danica. You had no problem saying it the night he beat the fuck out of me.” Cocking his head, he raises an eyebrow, a smug expression flitting across his face as he sneers, “Don’t look so shocked. I was in pain, but I was coherent.”

“Enzo and I are on a first name basis because I’ve seen him at Frankie’s House. He’s on the board, Brent.” I release an exasperated sigh. It’s time to wrap this up, before I dig the hole deeper. “Look, if you’re not going to drop the charges then you’re leaving me no choice. This is going to become public and when it does you won’t be dragging my name through the mud too. I’m off the campaign. As of this moment, I withdraw my support. Don’t contact me and don’t have your people contact me. I’m done.”

He slams his fist against the bed railing.

“You’re done when I say you’re done.”

That’s where he’s wrong.

“Goodbye, Brent.”

CHAPTERFOURTEEN

ENZO SCOTTO

After a killer dayall I wanted to do was come home, shower, and find something in my fridge that wasn’t expired to eat. That would change my mood significantly. Then I’d call Danica. She too had a rough day and while I much rather have her here with me, where we could wash the day from us together, I agreed to give her a night to herself.

But the second I step into my bathroom and go to turn on my shower, someone rings my doorbell. I toss the clean towel I grabbed from the closet onto the vanity and make my way out of the bathroom. Opening my front door, I quirk an eyebrow at my father.

I wouldn’t be so surprised if I hadn’t just left him.

“Did you miss me already or is this a house check?”

“We need to talk.”

Not the words I wanted to hear, yet I still open the door and step aside, giving him room to enter my house. He closes the door behind him, and I lead him into my kitchen. Pulling open the fridge, I grab us a couple of beers.

“Your girl is freaked out,” he says, taking one of the longnecks from me. I watch as he unscrews the top, and brings the bottle to his lips, taking a swig of the crisp ale.

Now, see, this, him coming here to discuss Danica, it shouldn’t surprise me. Not after he phoned me a couple of hours ago, ordering me to meet him at Frankie’s House because Danica was there with Ro, and she was on the brink of a meltdown.

Instead of calling me when she left the hospital, she called my old man and had him meet her there. She figured it was the safest place. A smart move according to my dad, especially when she revealed how badly things played out between her and ex-husband.

I unscrew the cap of my own beer and take a gulp. When I bring the bottle away from my lips, I meet my dad’s gaze. “Do you blame her?” I counter.

“No, but that doesn’t mean I don’t worry.”

“You seemed fine with it an hour ago,” I point out as I lower my beer on top of the counter. It’s true, an hour ago he was assuring Danica everything was going to be fine. “I don’t need to remind you that you’re the one who told her to go visit Matthews, which, I should point out, did nothing but add more stress. She didn’t get any intel on why he took the money or what he did with it. All she got were a couple more threats and a reminder that she tied herself to a prick and wasted years of her life being his wife.”

“In not so many words she got a confession out of him,” he volleys.

“C’mon, Pop. You know as well as I do, that doesn’t mean shit. She wasn’t wearing a wire, and no one was there to hear it. We’re no better off than we were before she went to visit him.”

---