Page 5 of Dirty Dylan: Dirty Dusters

“Da, we’ve already agreed we would have her firm handle our side of the alliance with the MCs and La eMe. The Mexicans have insisted she represent them on the matter, and I think we should do the same. We can’t have a repeat of what happened in Nevada. A situation that arose due to all of us taking our eye off the ball combined with a lapse in communication.”

“Fine. But no more.” Da slams his hand down on the table. His mind is obviously made up. Given the anger in his tone, no one with a sane mind will dare cross him. Right now, I’m not sure even mentioning Jaine’s name would be a good idea.

What the hell is going on?

It’s my guess only Eoin and Da know that answer.

No one speaks as Da continues to stare at his blank pad. He’s got something else on his mind. Going by the way all of us are now glancing at each other, I’m not sure it’s anything he’s shared in advance with anyone sitting around this table. Maybe that’s why he’s in such a foul mood. He has at least one unpopular announcement to make. Maybe more.

“Now, I want to touch on two things today, boys.”

Here we go. I look at Eoin, and he returns it. His expression confirms he’s not aware of what either is. Maybe now he’ll appreciate how the rest of us feel most of the time.

“Firstly. Our Cillian…” He waggles his finger in my brother’s direction. “…has already provided us with little Caoimhe whom we all love the bones of, and I know he and Sarah are keen to grow their family. With that in mind, your ma and I think it’s unreasonable to expect him to go traipsing all over the country looking after the day-to-day as he’s always done. More so when we’re now dealing with alliances on the west coast. Our Cill’s a family man now. He needs to be allowed to enjoy that. Wee ones grow up quickly. Me and your ma know that only too well.”

Cillian’s jaw almost hits the table. My da’s being thoughtful. Has he banged his head or something? I guess there’s a first time for everything. I wonder what he’s got up his sleeve. I mean, I can understand what he’s getting at. Aside from our Cill, the rest of us are typically office or home-based unless Paddy’s on wet work.

“So, with that in mind, we’ve decided to add to the O’Connells stateside. I’ve been speaking to your Uncle Mick and your Uncle Ruairi, and they, in turn, have been speaking to their boys. We’ll be expecting your cousins Aidan, Shay, and Donal to be joining the Duster ranks here in New York to lend us all a much-needed hand. Arrangements are already underway.”

My da’s parents moved to Hell’s Kitchen from Dublin when he was twelve years old. It was his da’s destiny to take over the Duster reins as it was his and as it will be Eoin’s. When his folks passed, his siblings, Mick and Ruairi, moved back to Ireland along with their wives, my plethora of cousins, and a multitude of grandkids. Aidan, Shay, and Donal are the same age as our Paddy. Shay and Donal are two of Uncle Ruairi’s boys and are identical twins.

None of us speak. We’re all just digesting this first announcement. On the surface, it’s a good result for the rest of us. Bolstering our ranks with trustworthy blood relations as the organization grows.

“Secondly.” Da looks at me and then at my eldest brother. I know that look, and I now know exactly what’s coming next. I’m guessing Eoin does too. It was only ever a matter of time.

“Your ma and I have found Eoin and Dylan two young women who we think will be perfect for them to court then take the vows with.”

I don’t have to look at Paddy to know he’ll be gloating. That we’re being made to suffer the same fate as him.

I glance at Eoin, and he looks furious. My big brother doesn’t like being told what to do. Never has. Never will. I’m guessing he’ll have something to say about that.

A lot to say, in fact.

CHAPTERTHREE

EOIN

The Hudson Dusters’ HQ, Manhattan, New York

“I will not be enteredinto an arranged marriage, Da.”

My brothers have left the room at my request. I’ve also asked Candice to leave this floor. Not that it’s dangerous for her. I just don’t want her over-hearing anything she shouldn’t. I fuck her. She knows nothing of my life apart from what’s common knowledge and what I expect from her in bed. It’s safer for her that way.

My gaze is directed out the window. Our HQ overlooks one of the finest views in Manhattan. It’s quite breathtaking. The visual is, of course, reflected in the value of this building. It’s one of several properties we own in the immediate vicinity. I’m immensely proud of what the Dusters have achieved. Of what we continue to achieve despite the masses who continually pray to one God or another for our failure. Vultures who wish to instigate and witness our downfall so they can then pick through the bones of our demise.

We have many adversaries, each one loathing us for their own unique reason. Most warranted, I’m sure.

Do I want someone to share all of this with? To stand by my side and orchestrate all of this power with me. Of course I do. I want a wife. I want children. I want my own family.

But I want it withher—no one else.

It’s like my da can read my thoughts. With each day that passes, we become more and more alike.

“She’s married now, Eoin. She has a child. Another on the way. It’s time to move on, son. Your ma and I have been more than patient, but thisthingwith Jaine Jones? It’s done. It’s over.”

I glance over my shoulder at him and watch as he opens the back of his unused writing pad, pulling free a plain brown A4 envelope. He throws it on the middle of the table, and it smacks against the surface.

“The girl is from good stock. Your Uncle Mick has had her thoroughly checked out. Her family is a good fit for the Dusters. She’s lived our ways all her life. Multiple killings under her belt. Good with a variety of weapons. She’s not afraid to roll her sleeves up and get stuck in. They’re a Dublin family. Extremely wealthy and practicing Irish Catholics. The girl, Molly McGrath, is twenty-eight years old.”

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