Page 9 of Dirty Deeds

I nod even though I’m not sure how I’m going to make good on that promise. He seems to believe me though and starts for the door, however he pauses right before he can step around me.

“Oh, and Danica?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Stay the fuck away from my son. You can’t fix this by spreading your legs for him.”

Another gasp slips past my lips. If I wasn’t so worried for my brother’s safety, I’d slap the man straight across his smug face. President of an outlaw motorcycle club or chairman of a charity, he needs a lesson in manners.

“You’re an asshole, you know that?”

His lips twitch slightly.

“I’ve got three ex-wives, darlin’ I’ve been called worse.”

CHAPTERTHREE

ENZO SCOTTO

My fingers gripthe steering wheel as I stare at the front entrance of Nicotra’s Ballroom watching as some of Staten Island and Brooklyn’s elite exit the Hilton Garden Inn. I thought about going inside a couple of times, but I talked myself out of it. The truth is, I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing here.

After Nico dropped the bomb regarding Danica and her husband, I did some digging of my own and discovered Brent was holding another one of his elaborate fundraisers. I contemplated buying a ticket, but the idea of lining that motherfucker’s pocket with so much as a penny got my blood boiling. Besides, it was a black-tie affair, and there was no way in hell I was going to dig my funeral clothes out of the closet just to attend some swanky ass event.

Fuck that.

So here I am, sitting in my truck, wearing a pair of paint-splattered construction boots, worn jeans that have a hole in the knee, and a plain white t-shirt.

At least I showered.

A group of people exit the ballroom, making their way toward the valet attendant—none of them Danica or Brent. I sigh and slam my fist against the steering wheel, frustration getting the best of me. I should cut my losses and run, let Uncle Jack do his thing.

But if I do that, Danica might get caught in the crossfire and while I might be bitter she disappeared on me after our night together, I’m not about to let her catch the wrath of Jack Parrish and the Satan’s Knights.

Time continues to march on and the more I wait, the more the parking lot clears. A bunch of scenarios run through my head, and I start to wonder if maybe she and her ex-husband got a room at the hotel. As much as they keep preaching to the public that they’re just friends, there’s got to be something still there. Love or some shit that rattles your common sense and makes you do things you swore you’d never do again because I can’t understand how the woman who sat in Kate’s, reliving the most humiliating time in her life, would run back to the man who cheated on her. That woman wanted to rebuild her life. She wanted to find her spark again. She didn’t want to stand in the shadows of the man who stepped out on her and yet that’s exactly where she wound up.

Trailing behind Matthews, wearing a green dress that molds to her body like a second skin, she’s every bit the bombshell I remember. But the fiery look she had in her eyes when she was on top of me, riding my cock, is nowhere to be found as she wobbles on five-inch heels, chasing after the man who did her dirty.

My hand closes around the doorhandle but I don’t make a move to open the door or get out of my truck, I’m too enthralled by Danica to do anything more than stare at her.

That fucking dress.

What I would give to peel it off her body. I don’t think I’d waste time searching for the zipper, I’d just rip it open from the slit on her thigh and let the pieces fall where they may.

My fantasy is cut short when Danica’s slender fingers wrap around Brent’s forearm. He violently snatches his arm out of her hold and turns to her, tugging at the loose tie around his neck. I can’t make out what exactly he says to her, but whatever it is doesn’t seem to please her too much and for someone who spent the night schmoozing, he looks like he’s ready to crawl out of his own skin.

The valet attendant approaches them and Danica hands him her ticket. Once he goes to fetch her car, Brent walks to the valet stand and grabs his own keys. Danica calls out to him, but he ignores her as he takes long strides across the parking lot to his Mercedes. Without another glance in her direction, he climbs behind the wheel and starts up the engine.

Now would be the perfect time to get out of my truck and approach her, but just as I open the door, the valet attendant returns with Danica’s car. She slips him a couple of bucks before she slides into her Lexus.

Nothing gets the night going like a little lover’s quarrel.

I wait for Brent to leave, deciding my best bet is to make my move when he’s out of sight that way I have her full attention. But my plan goes to shit when his car swerves around Danica’s and peels out of the parking lot. She slams her door shut and hits the gas, taking off after him.

I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but I don’t like it and I got this gut feeling that shit is about to go south, real quick so I do what any fucking idiot would do…I take off after the two of them.

When we hit the Verrazano Bridge and make our way into Brooklyn, I start to question my fucking actions. This has to be on the borderline of stalking and totally not my style. I’m a love ‘em and leave ‘em type of guy and yet here I am paying a fucking toll to follow these two around and what the hell am I going to do when they finally get to their destination?

My mind wanders back to earlier, to the vengeful look that filled my brother’s eyes when he clued me in on what was going on. Yeah, he was pissed as fuck at the thought of Brent using our charity to embezzle money, but his anger went deeper than that.

---