Page 49 of Dirty Dylan: Dirty Dusters

“By?”

“Ma.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s aware of his fondness for her. I’m sure Molly also suspects who her competition is.”

“Jaine’s not competing, I can assure you. On the contrary. She hates your eldest brother with a passion. I don’t understand how Paddy can’t see this obsession of his when it’s visible to everyone else.”

I shrug. “I think even if he suspected, he’d immediately rubbish it. He’d never believe his own brother could do that to him.”

She snorts. “Does he not realize that the resident king of the hill only ever looks after numero uno?”

“Yes, he does, but I don’t think he realizes he’d walk over everything and anyone to get what he wants. Even his own family. I don’t think any of us realized that.”

“Well, now he’s dating Molly, hopefully he’ll back off from Jaine.”

“Hopefully, but that still doesn’t help my situation. About wanting to know more about you.”

“Where’s the rush?”

Her hand drifts lower, her fingers circling my cock, which instantly hardens. She’s such an insatiable little thing, but I’m not complaining.

Where’s the rush, indeed? No mention’s been made of my arranged marriage, so I guess I’m off the hook.

CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO

DYLAN

The O’Connell Home, Darling, New York

I stepout of the SUV and take in my family home. It’s a bordering-on-vulgar mini-mansion with numerous bedrooms and way too many other living spaces. I’m not sure why my parents never downsized once we’d all flown the nest. They could live here and avoid each other for days if they wanted to.

To hold on to memories maybe. Then again, underneath and covering the entire footprint of the property is a safe space laden with everything the family could ever possibly need to survive an apocalypse.

As Da would say, you can never be too careful. He’s right, of course.

In this life, you can’t.

The building’s ostentatious appearance is finished with water fountains and landscaped gardens. The only real blight is the security system—cameras at every turn and electrified everything, all coordinated and monitored by yours truly. Unfortunately, there’s only so much you can do to beautify such things.

It’s Sunday. The day of the week when the Duster masses descend on St. Peter’s Church to confess our multiple sins and take our well-deserved penance on the chin from old Father O’Reilly.

Before he settles himself in that confession booth for the day, he rattles the donation plate in your ear as he walks around with it personally. There’s a method in his madness. That way, he can see who puts in what. God forbid your offering isn’t enough. If he thinks it’s on the light side, your penance will be doubled, maybe even tripled.

Short arms. Deep pockets.

He’s been heard to mumble that more often than not when he deems your tip to The Almighty himself to be insufficient in his eyes. You’ll pay for being stingy when you’re inside that booth.

Valuable lesson learned for next time in more ways than one.

I’m just grateful it’s not the last Sunday of the month. That’s when the family has to stop at home for lunch. When our ma makes full use of the kitchen and produces enough meals to feed an army. Most remains un-eaten. All are crammed full of potatoes, so we can cling to our Irish roots by filling our guts with starchy carbs before spending the following days detoxing.

I open the front door to the smell of home-cooking and the sight of the familiar gold flock-papered wall heavily laden with photos of my brothers and me. The opposite surface is a shrine to the rest of the family and holds a plethora of images of my uncles, and their families.

Given our recent expansions to the west coast, our cousins, Aidan, Shay, and Donal have been signed up to join the Duster ranks here in New York. They could be due to land next year. It could even be tomorrow. Da doesn’t tend to furnish the rest of us with the finer details. He prefers the element of surprise.

“Is that you, Dylan?” he shouts from his office, which is just off the front door. He spends most of his time in there. I don’t know what he does within its four walls, but I do know an arsenal of weapons surrounds him. It makes sense. We have a plethora of enemies. He’s even more careful now wee Caoimhe comes visiting most days.

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