Page 5 of Dirty Deeds

There’s no way I’m going to let my dick stand in the way of Frankie’s House getting the publicity or funds it needs to thrive.

The center was named after my brother and aside from his daughter, Anna—who Nico is raising—it’s his legacy. I don’t give a fuck that Danica probably played me to help her husband win a congressional seat. So long as Frankie’s House benefits from her conniving ways, I’ll mind my business and do whatever it takes to forget that woman was the best lay I ever had. But the second things go astray, all bets are off.

Looks like that time is now.

I stare at my brother.

“Care to elaborate on what you mean when you say Danica and her husband have been robbing Frankie’s House?”

He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms against his chest.

“I didn’t say she was robbing anything. I’ve met her a couple of times and she’s always shown genuine interest in the organization. I don’t think she’s in on it.” He pauses and curls his lip. “You know, I wouldn’t have to clue you in on things like this if you weren’t too busy giving your tape measure to anyone who wants it.”

“Is that what we’re calling it these days?” Riggs chimes in.

Ignoring the jab, I grind my teeth and fix my brother with a glare.

“I’m trying to run a business.”

“And I’m juggling the club, Pipe’s garage, Anna and Carrie, yet I still manage to pull my weight at Frankie’s House.”

“You’re the better brother. Is that what you want to hear?”

He shakes his head.

“Not particularly.” Sighing, he uncrosses his arms and leans forward. “Look, Matthews has been holding fundraisers and rallies ever since Danica dropped that check into Pop’s hand. All the proceeds from the tickets and the tables go to his campaign, but when he saw how much good publicity he was getting from the donation to Frankie’s House, he decided to hold a couple of silent auctions at these events, all meant to benefit Frankie’s house.”

I narrow my eyes.

“And that’s a problem because…”

“It wouldn’t be a problem if he was actually forking over every dollar he pledged but the son of a bitch has been skimming the top.”

We man a non-profit but we’re not exactly the type to hobnob with congressmen and the only fundraisers any of us attend are the ones that where leather is a dress-code requirement. If we don’t have eyes inside these events, or someone looking over the books from the auctions, how would we get that kind of intel.

“How do you know that?”

Nico shrugs.

“Uncle Jack got a tip. He, Blackie, and Anthony Bianci put on a couple of suits, bought a table at the last event and while the three of them played the part of law-abiding citizens, Grace Pastore kept a steady eye on the auction.”

I take a second to digest that, trying to picture Jack Parrish and his son-in-law, Blackie wearing suits, playing it off like they’re upstanding citizens. Anthony, our stepbrother—that’s not too far of a stretch. The man spent the better part of his life as a gangster, wearing a suit comes natural to him and ever since he retired and opened his boxing gym, he’s been a model citizen, heavily involved in the community.

“Hold the phone,” Riggs interjects. “You’re telling us Parrish, Blackie, and Bianci went to a fundraiser with the don’s widow? Why the fuck wasn’t I invited? I would’ve gladly spun Grace around the dance floor. The woman gives off major Sophia Loren vibes…” His words trail and he shakes his head as he lets out a low whistle. “All these years later and I still get a chubby every time I shovel her snow or mow her lawn. Why do you think I haven’t pawned the job off to one of my kids?”

Nico and I both stare at him.

“Dude, you’re like related to her,” my brother points out.

“Not really. She’s Bianci’s mother-in-law, not mine. I’m in the clear.”

“The woman has changed your wife’s diapers.”

“She knows my Kitten for a long time but notthatlong.”

Blowing out a frustrated breath, I wave Riggs off and bring my focus back to my brother.

“Ignore him. Get back to you having proof that Matthews has been skimming on the donations.”

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