Page 3 of Dirty Dylan: Dirty Dusters

“Well, that would be helpful. Before we have to go into our meeting with Da.” He’s inwardly rolling his eyes at me. I get on his last nerve. I know I do. I stretch that bad boy to full capacity.

Story of my life. I have a lot of them. Stories, that is. Not lives.

I don’t get to attend their meetings because I’m a woman. Also, my surname isn’t O’Connell.

I smile politely. I don’t need notes or a pen. Instead, I store the important stuff in my head. It’s safer that way.

“As you know, we started with several businesses that our IRS friends were sniffing around. I’m pleased to advise that’s now been reduced to just one. Play. It seems your previous accountant, for reasons known only to themselves, was using the newly established gentleman’s club as a vessel for writing off the Dusters’ entire petty cash expenditure and then coding it all to various general expenses. Interim accounts have been published. The balances are recorded in black and white. The ink is now dry, making their manipulation extremely difficult.”

“General expenses.”

“You know, the nominal codes incompetent accountants the world over journal things to in an attempt to hide wrongdoings. These are always the first codes organizations like the IRS look at. There’s currently a throughput on Play’s ledger of several million dollars. Unfortunately, that figure doesn’t correlate with the length of time the business has been trading, nor its turnover.”

“Surely we can just declare it as profit and pay the relevant taxes.”

I snort at his naivety. “Oh, right. And you think the IRS will be happy with that? ‘Sorry, boys. Just reallocate these millions, will you? Then if you pay your taxes, we’ll be merrily on our way.’ These people are not stupid. Never treat them as such. Trust me, they know they’re potentially scratching at the surface of something way more lucrative with Play. They’ll be wanting a far larger slice of this big old Duster pie of yours. They’ll also be hoping they can slap one of you on the wrists, maybe even all four of you, then send you on a family holiday to Rikers Island for not complying with due diligence. I hear it’s lovely there this time of year.”

“So, what do we do about it?”

“Well, now we’ve got it down to one business, we need to review every general expense transaction and recode it to a believable account.”

“And we’re doing that?”

“Yes, but there’s one small problem.”

“Which is?”

“Volume. If they decide to investigate, they’ll want that information yesterday. They’ll pretend to offer, but will then, in fact, insist on sending in their people to help us out. You know, being the kind and considerate organization they are. They call it an audit. Sounds innocent enough, right? Wrong. It’s an opportunity for them to dig up every piece of dirt and stick it to you personally.”

“We can’t have that.”

“Nope. We can’t. So, we need to buy ourselves some time while I work my magic.”

“Legally?”

“Yup.”

“Our Paddy?”

“Sorry, no offense ‘our Paddy.’” I use air quotes as I smile at him, and he smirks and holds his hands up in mock surrender. I turn my attention back to Eoin. “But no. As far as I’m aware Paddy has zero experience when it comes to dealing with the IRS.”

“Jaine?”

I nod. “Help us, Obi-wan Jones. You’re our only hope.”

CHAPTERTWO

DYLAN

The Hudson Dusters’ HQ, Manhattan, New York

I grimace in discomfort.My dick’s only just stopped twitching. Jessie O’Brien will be the death of me, she really will. She just can’t seem to help herself. Constantly toying with me when we’re in meetings together. She strolls in at almost six feet with the face and figure of a goddess. All long blonde hair and beautifully carved features. And all the time Eoin is talking, she stares at me like she wants to eat me up with a spoon while sucking suggestively on the end of her pen. My face heats at the blatant attention. The thought of that mouth of hers on a certain part of my anatomy… well, I dare any red-blooded male not to get a hard-on at that thought.

Is she just playing mind games because she can, or is she genuinely interested? I’ll never know because Jessie thinks I’m infatuated with another woman, so she avoids me at all costs. How do I explain there is no cliché blonde without making myself out to be some sort of serial liar in front of Jaine, or without revealing Paddy’s dirty secret?

I can’t. So, I avoid her too.

As discreetly as possible, I move my erection to a more comfortable resting position. The only positive about that meeting rolling into this one is I don’t need to leave my seat. And as soon as my da opens his mouth, my hard-on will disappear.

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