Page 135 of Dirty Dylan: Dirty Dusters

Speak of the devil.

Jaine:What are you up to?

Dylan:I’m in Nevada. Are you at home?

Jaine:Yup. Sat on the front porch. I think some visitors just pulled up in a cage.

She’s trying to be discrete, so Eoin doesn’t catch on that she’s local and watching. We all spin around just as the doors to the clubhouse get flung open.

CHAPTERFIFTY-SEVEN

JESSIE

The Ghost Whisperers’ Clubhouse, Colton, Nevada

“Well,what do we have here? Is this a private party, or can anyone join in?”

I take in the three dark-haired men who have stormed the clubhouse.

“Juan, Luis, Carlos. What the fuck are you guys doing here?” Ty glares at his uninvited guests.

“Now, Ghost, is that any way to greet old friends?” Juan or Luis or Carlos responds.

I suspect, given their overall appearance combined with the fact they’re not Colton townsfolk, that these unwelcome visitors are the Colombians—friends, my eye.

Silence follows. No one speaks as everyone assesses the situation. This is not good. Not good at all.

What the hell are they doing here?

Thinking on my feet, I decide to use my stereotypical dumb blonde act as the opener before whatever main event it is that their planning.

Hopefully a headliner that won’t see us all getting killed.

“Any friend of Ghost is a friend of mine, boys,” I announce as I stroll over to them, adding a little sashay to my leather-clad hips as I do. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name’s Jessie. And you must be….”

I look at the stocky one first. He’s a whole head shorter than me with olive skin and a black buzzcut. He’s forgettable-looking. I guess that’s deliberate. That it’s to make him less identifiable in a line-up.

“Juan.” I take a stab at his name while adding a fake giggle.

“Good guess, beautiful lady.”

I hold out my hand. He places a slimy kiss on the back as his eyes roam my figure, missing nothing. I almost feel violated. I force another fake giggle while making a mental note to bleach my hand. Given his unwelcome leer, I may do the same thing to my body.

“So, by process of elimination, that makes you Luis or Carlos. Well, eeny, meeny, miny, moe. I’m going to go with Luis.” I do the same, but this time with the other hand. Luis doesn’t speak. He simply nods as he shakes it. Again, the same overall appearance. Again, no doubt for the same reason. To blend in. He’s tall and slim and around my height with my boots on.

“And that leaves Carlos.”

This last goon is a combination of the other two. Tall but overweight and sporting the same regimented haircut. I don’t bother offering my hand.

“Allow me to introduce you boys to everyone. You obviously know Ghost. Well, this here is Lucifer, Tadgh, Eoin, Dylan, and Molly.”

I make eye contact with each of them, silently asking them to let me handle this for now. My main concern? I’m surrounded by Irish blood.

Reactive. Argumentative. Murderous when poked with a Colombian stick.

And I think we need to keep the peace for now. At least until we can figure out what the hell these guys want. Because it’s my guessing they’ve dropped in knowing full well the Irish were going to be here.

“Now that the introductions are out of the way and we’re all the best of friends, can I ask what we’ve done to be blessed with your presence this Saturday evening? Maybe you boys are looking for a little live entertainment.”

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