Page 52 of Dirty Dylan: Dirty Dusters

I’m backing this horse. I will not lose.

I stand and air kiss her on both cheeks, as is the perfunctory method of greeting in places such as this. Her perfume is subtle. Jasmine. Her presentation immaculate. Her hair is as black as coal, and her eyes are so pale they’re almost the color of ice. She’s tall, slim, and extremely beautiful with her Celtic complexion. She’ll make a good wife for our Eoin. Out of a long list of potentials, she was head and shoulders above the others, both as a professional wife for our eldest and as the future Ma Duster. They’ll also make beautiful children together, I’m sure.

From what I can gather, Molly’s already working on tying our Eoin down in that way, so there’s no escape for him. Rumor has it they’re sleeping together. That they have been since the moment she landed stateside. Well, good for her. You have to think ahead in this life.

My thoughts drift briefly to poor Cara. God rest her soul. That girl never did think ahead. If she had, things might have ended differently for her. She never used her initiative and look what happened. Another woman entered the fray and caught our Cillian’s eye. Cara got desperate and sloppy because of it. She paid the price with her throat.

Molly, on the other hand, seems to have pre-planned everything. She’ll be carrying a future Duster soon if she has her way. She may even be pregnant now. This girl knows you have to be one step ahead of the competition at all times. And mark my words, Jaine Jonesiscompetition. Married mother or not.

I know my Eoin. I know my Paddy. They’re half me, half Fergal, which makes them both determined and deadly.

Determined to get what they want. Deadly when they don’t.

Their obsession with this biker woman could see my two boys going head-to-head. And it would be a toss-up over who would win.

But there can only ever be one winner.

If I have my way, it’s a battle that will never take place, hence why I’ve called this meeting here today.

“Roisin, it’s lovely to see you. You’re looking well.”

Molly’s accent is thick Dublin. In a way, it makes me feel homesick. She was allowed to live in the old country for twenty-eight years, whereas I only got eight.

Still, I can’t complain. I’ve lived a good life. New York is home for me. And it’s home for her too now. Molly is just taking her seat when my other guest walks in.

“Sophia, it’s good to see you.”

Air kisses all around again. Such a waste of time and effort when nothing is meant or gained by it. It’s all fake niceties. All for show. I smile at my Paddy’s seventeen-year-old fiancée. Like Molly, her hair is long and dark, and like Molly, she’s extremely beautiful, probably even more so, but everything else about her is in direct contrast with the Irish girl. Sophia is petite with flawless olive skin and dark eyes. Everything about her screams money. It’s just as well we have more than we know what to do with as, from what I hear, this girl has expensive tastes, and she likes to shop. Still, her brother is the current Sicilian mafia don, so she has the right connections.

Both girls smile politely at each other. They’re not friends. They likely never will be. Do you ever truly have friends in this life? I think not. You’d be a fool to believe you do. As I see it, every so-called friend is just a potential Judas offering you the air kiss of death before stabbing you in the back the moment you turn around. They’ll both do well to remember that. Going by how they're eyeing each other, that lack of trust is already there. It comes with being born in the life. From the moment you take your first breath, you have a wealth of enemies, praying it’ll be your last.

I wait until they’ve ordered their drinks, and the waiter returns with them before I speak. Sparkling water for Molly. Still for Sophia.

“Jaine Jones.”

I have their immediate attention at the mere mention of the biker woman’s name.

“I don’t know what rumors you’ve heard about her, so I brought you here today to give you the facts, so there’s no speculation. You girls will hopefully be O’Connells soon. It’s what you both want, and it’s what my Fergal and I want.”

I look at Sophia.

“Our Paddy is in love with her. He has been his whole adult life. Since he was nineteen years old.”

I’m sure she’ll have suspected it but hearing it aloud will reinforce any suspicions. They say hate can turn a beautiful person ugly. It’s true. That’s precisely what it’s doing to Sophia right now. It’s the reaction I wanted to see. Molly glances at her sympathetically. Sophia glares at her. It’s clear she doesn’t want the other girl’s pity. She needn’t worry. Molly’s gloating will be short-lived.

I turn my attention to her.

“Our Eoin also fancies himself in love with her. He has for the last year or so.” Molly’s expression remains unchanged. The only thing that gives her annoyance away is a slight narrowing of the eyes. She’ll need to work on that. As the future Ma Duster and external legal representation for our organization, nothing must ever give her away.

Molly takes a sip of water. “I already suspected Eoin had a fondness for the biker, Roisin, but thank you for clarifying. I’m working on getting him to forget all about her, but I’m happy to be guided by you on this matter. You know your son. Tell me what I need to do and then consider it done.”

Politely, she’s asking me if I want her to end Jaine Jones’s life.

I don’t. Or at least, not yet.

“I last saw Jaine at Leoluca’s function,” Sophia interjects. “She gloated when she announced that Padraig was in love with her and not me. Thankfully, it was only said in front of Luc and Sarah. Luc was not happy that she disrespected me in that way. That she disrespected the Ruoccos. I was not either. It was rude. She is a detestable human being and one who is beside herself with jealousy because Padraig will be my husband and not hers.”

I heard all about that confrontation. The one and only time Jaine Jones publicly let her professional image slip and it was over my youngest.

---