by Stone, M. T.
Dirty Deeds
Ultimate Bad Boys Volume One
M.T. Stone
Steamy Nights Publishing
Contents
Copyrights & Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Bonus Content
Power Trilogy
Dedication
Power Trip
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Power Play
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Power Shift
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
25. Bonus Epilogue
Other Books by M.T. Stone
Copyrights & Dedication
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 by M.T. Stone. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the publisher.
www.SteamyNightsPublishing.com
First Edition – April 10, 2017
This book is dedicated to all my loyal fans who loved my prior series, Jack & Kate and the Power Trilogy and have been waiting patiently for a new series. Thank you! Even though this one is a little dark, I hope you enjoy this incredible journey with with Devon and Victoria.
As always, a special thank you to Sheri for all her input and support.
The Author recognizes all trademarks of any companies, products and services mentioned in this work of fiction.
Prologue
I’ve been referred to as Lucifer’s Hit man, Satan’s Sidekick, and even The Devil from Detroit. I embrace them all equally. There is nothing like a healthy dose of fear to keep the underlings in check.
My real name is Devon DeLuca, and I grew up outside the once-great city of Detroit. My grandfather, Papa Joe, was a made man back in the day with the Detroit partnership. His oldest son followed in his Mafioso footsteps, his second son found a home at the Teamsters’ Union, and my father, the youngest, went a completely different route, climbing the corporate ladder at one of the big three auto makers. After observing three completely distinctive styles of business, I saw that they all had a couple of things in common. It takes balls to get to the top of any of them, and if you want to stay there, you’d damn well better be ruthless. If you show any sign of weakness, you will be shredded.
My father paid to put me through college, hoping I would follow him into the corporate lifestyle. He put together a huge bankroll over the years and we lacked for nothing. I, however, was always more fascinated by the dealings of my uncle, Joe Jr. He was the one who taught me all the ways of the partnership, things that my grandfather had only alluded to. Don’t get me wrong—the boys and I aren’t mafia. We’re trying to straddle the line somewhere between a legitimate enterprise and running a racket. After studying the mafia as well as corporate America, I could see that each has its own strengths and weaknesses. I like the idea of running things like a business, but when you’re up against a mark who won’t pay, you’ve got to lay down the law. In those cases, you can’t go wrong utilizing a few of the mob’s tried and true techniques. I’ve seen plenty of grown men cry, and I’m sure I’ll see a lot more of them before my time is up.
When I got out of grad school and was ready to make my move, the Detroit metro had basically collapsed. It showed little sign of making a fast comeback. I headed east looking for a land of opportunity. I knew exactly what I was looking for, and it didn’t take me long to find it, another once-great American city that was on the verge of falling flat on its face like my hometown. I always thought it was a disgrace that Detroit hadn’t been saved, that no one stepped up, took control, and turned the place around. Everyone with money simply walked away. Maybe Detroit was too big or messed up to save, but the city I had within my sights was salvageable.
As usual, the corruption started right at the top with the mayor and bled through the city council and into every police precinct throughout the city. Riots were more common than parades in this once-proud city. With over one million people and zero leadership, it was a place in desperate need of a guy like me. A guy who can take control and get shit done. There are only two types of people in this world—wolves and sheep. When I came over the hill, I saw sheep for as far as the eye could see. You can bet your sweet ass that there is no wool covering my flesh and my canines are sharp as hell. I had found my little slice of heaven. I was home. I immediately dubbed it Devon City.
Chapter 1
Devon
The moment she walks into the club; it’s clear she doesn’t belong. Women who frequent this place are usually either young, desperate, and looking for a sugar daddy or bad girls looking for a little rough action. This woman didn’t fit either mold. From a hundred feet away, I could tell that she was either a very high-end call girl or some irresistible bait. Either way, I know I’m her mark as she saunters the full length of the bar before stopping to glance in my direction. If she is high-end, I’m interested. If she is bait . . . I’m still interested. No one can fuck me out of a damn thing. I’m bulletproof and this is my domain.
“Hello, Gorgeous. Welcome to Devon City,” I greet her from my perch, just beyond the south end of the bar.
“You must be Devon?” she replies with a curl of her lip and a sparkle in her rich caramel eyes.
“In the flesh.” I step down from the old stage which was once a second home for s
ome of the area’s best jazz bands, but now it serves as my office. “How can I be of service?” Her light brown hair mixed with blond highlights, stunningly seductive eyes, and full red lips are just the tip of the iceberg. I scan the length of her, taking in the most delectable curves I’ve witnessed in quite some time, all wrapped up in a stunning black silk dress. If there ever were a body that was made for sin, this is it. These are curves that only a real man can maneuver, and judging by her muscular build, she can obviously stand up to a good hard ride.
“Well, I mentioned to the concierge at the Four Seasons that I was looking for some trouble and your name came up.” She narrows her eyes and crosses her arms in defiance.
“I’ll have to stop by and thank them.” I reach out for her hand. “Devon DeLuca. What do you think of my place? I just finished getting it back into shape.”
“It’s amazing,” she gushes, looking around the space. “It’s like stepping back a full century. I love the attention to detail,” she adds, looking up at the vintage filament-style lights that cast a warm amber glow throughout the space.
“That’s exactly what I was going for,” I tell her. “I wanted a place that had the vibe of an old Al Capone-era speakeasy.”
“Well, you definitely accomplished it. I like how you and your crew have elevated tables in the back here,” she observes, getting several enthusiastic nods from my boys. “It must make it easier to scope out the women as they come through the door.”
“Yeah, we get first dibs,” I joke, playing along with her. “But it also gives us a chance to talk in privacy. Those are all acoustic tiles so no one can eavesdrop.” I point to the beige and tan tiles that adorn the walls and ceiling surrounding the stage, just one of the many functional features I’d built into the place.
The first thing I did upon arriving in Devon City was to go right to the heart of downtown and buy this huge, old, defunct night club. Originally built during the roaring twenties, it had survived prohibition, World War II, and numerous deep recessions. The one thing it couldn’t withstand, however, was the rioting and associated social collapse of the downtown neighborhoods. After I bought the building for nothing but the back taxes, I immediately put a crew to work restoring all the brick and wood to its original luster.
Next, I got several well-heeled associates to follow my lead and buy up as much downtown real estate as possible. By the time I had my club restored, several other adjoining buildings were also under renovation. Before long, everyone could see that Devon City was in the midst of a major revival. Since success breeds success, other investors and businessmen began flooding into the formerly left-for-dead downtown.
“I’ve heard that you’re the one behind the resurrection of this whole downtown area,” she says, letting me know that she has done some homework. “If that’s true, I must say I’m impressed. This whole area was a shit hole the last time I passed through.”
“And where did you say you’re from?” I ask, suddenly realizing that I was at a huge informational disadvantage. Something I’m not comfortable with.
“Manhattan,” she replies without hesitation. “Born and raised.”
“And your name?” I ask, feeling foolish for not even getting that far with her.
“Victoria.” She reaches into her purse to retrieve a credit card. “Victoria Lynn,” she adds after a lengthy pause that had me waiting for a last name.
“Lynn is your last name?” I ask, not sure what to make of it.
She flashes me the face of her credit card, and indeed, it says Victoria Lynn. “I need a dirty Sapphire martini with a couple of olives.” She glances back, looking for a bartender.
“Put the card away, Hun,” I scoff with a wave of my hand. “A woman like you will never pay for a drink in Devon City.” I chuckle, waiting for her to give me a roll of those beautiful eyes.
“Stan,” I yell, getting his attention. “Give this pretty lady whatever she wants and I’ll comp the tab,” I instruct him before turning back to her. I have yet to run across a man who strikes fear in my heart, but there is something about this woman that makes me a bit uneasy. “I have a business meeting to finish.” I nod back toward the guys. “I’ll catch up with you after.”
As she takes a seat at the bar, I go back to discussing the business of the day with the boys. Today was payday for block six, so as usual, there are a few issues to sort out. After nearly six months of bill collecting, there are still a few business owners who try to make things difficult. The strangest part of it is that every one of them agrees that traffic and business have picked up dramatically since the institution of Devon’s Law, but they’re still reluctant to share the wealth. It’s time for a crackdown.
After purchasing the club, my first initiative had been meeting with the mayor to lay out my plan for saving the city. He was skeptical at first, but since my plan included doubling his salary and those of the council members, as well as key leaders within the police department, he went along with it. As a final gambit, I also included a nice increase for rank and file officers as well as the firefighters. Every cent of it is covered by the businesses they serve, so there is a direct connection between the two. After morale improved throughout the police force, we recruited several officers to help us identify any gang bangers who could serve as potential leaders within the downtrodden neighborhoods. Many of these thugs had been instrumental in leading the riots, and we needed to get them onboard for our plan to succeed. It was easier than I thought it would be, since I was on the outside like them. Many of these guys have an eighth grade education or less and literally no prospects for a better life. Putting a few grand into the pockets of a guy like that each month makes him loyal as hell.
Once we move past the initial stage of the business and start moving product throughout the city, these guys will be in for a second round of pay raises. Up to this point, we have kept our noses clean, just running the racket and keeping everyone in line. The big payoff comes in a few months, but I know we need to move slowly. Everyone on the government side is happy as a pig in shit. As long as we give them time to adapt to the idea of our taking over the supply chain, it will be a smooth transition. Besides, they will all earn nice bonuses as our enterprise becomes ever more prosperous.
I glance back just in time to see the little curvaceous beauty being escorted out the side door by one of the local dissidents. “Fuckin’ Irishman,” I grumble to Tiny and Felix. “Where the hell is she going with that backwoods fuck?” There is no love lost between the Irishman and me. He has made it clear that he will have nothing to do with my plans. Unfortunately, he’s a made man with the Irish mafia. My father, both uncles, and grandfather have all drilled one basic principle into my brain over the years—never start a fight unless you are sure you can win it. Taking on the Irish mob is not in the cards at this moment. As I watch, he pulls something out of his coat pocket and jams his hand into Victoria’s side. Her legs instantly collapse beneath her, and in one swift motion, another stiff opens the back door of the car and she is tossed inside. She looks as limp as a rag doll, and in the blink of an eye, she is gone. “Where does the Irishman hang out?” I yell, turning back toward my crew.
Everyone looks up at me, seeming stunned by my sudden outburst. “The Irishman?” Felix asks, giving me a confused look with gravy dripping from his chin.
“Yeah, you know, the Irish mafia wise guy who has been hassling us over on block nine.” I slam my fist to the table, looking for an immediate answer. “Kid, go grab the car and bring it around,” I tell the youngest member of my crew who serves as our chauffeur and general gopher.
“Yes, boss!” He immediately jumps to his feet and heads for the back door while the rest of the guys look at each other, shrugging their shoulders and shaking their heads.
“No one here knows where the hell their hangout is?” I ask, dumbfounded that none of my guys are on top of one of our major threats. We have discussed the Irish mafia on several occasions, and yet no one has even taken the time to fi
gure out where they spend their time. Fucking unbelievable!
“There’s an old carpet warehouse over on Central and Fifth,” Stan says with conviction. “It’s not too far from my place. I can show you.”
“Stan, The Man.” I breathe out a huge sigh of relief. “Stan the bartender knows where those douchebags hang out, but none of you do?” I scan the faces of my men in disgust. “You guys had better sharpen up your game.” I give each of them the snake eyes before glancing out the window to keep an eye out for the kid. “You two numb nuts come with me,” I tell Tiny and Felix. “The rest of you can spend the next few minutes helping each other pull your heads out of your asses!” I slap the table again before turning to head outside.
On the way out, I reach behind the bar for my trusty 357 revolver. The shiny Smith and Wesson six-shooter was my grandfather’s, and it even has his initials inscribed into the sides of the handle. I give the chamber a spin to make sure it’s fully loaded before shoving it into my jacket pocket. Nothing will get you killed faster than a misfire in the heat of battle. The four of us head out the door and pile into my black Escalade the second it screeches to a stop. I let Stan grab the front seat since he seems to be the only one who knows where the hell we are going.
“Where’s this place at?” the kid asks, looking to Stan for guidance.
“It’s just off Central Avenue,” he replies with growing angst in his voice. “I’m pretty sure it’s either Fifth or Sixth. Either that or Fourth. I’ll know when I see it.”
“You’d better fucking know,” I warn him in no uncertain terms. “Because if they so much as damage a hair on Victoria’s head, you don’t want to know what will happen!” I glare at Stan, who now has beads of sweat popping up along his brow. “You don’t fucking tell me that you know something unless you goddamn know it.” I slap the leather headrest behind him, causing him to jump as if a bolt of lightning has just struck. “There were two or three guys with him.” I turn to Felix and Tiny. “You guys have your silencers?”
