Page 60 of Dirty Dylan: Dirty Dusters

“One, all my calls are monitored, recorded, and instantly backed up to a remote server.”

Thank you, Jessie, for insisting I do that.

“Two. I don’t take kindly to being threatened. When I am, I go out of my way to do the opposite of what’s being asked of me. As you know, I haven’t been speaking to Eoin, but rest assured, I will be resuming all contact with him after this conversation.

“Three. Please give The Exterminator my regards. I look forward to his engraved bullet connecting with my skull.

“And lastly, never forget, that in this life, a threat should always be veiled and never blatant. You’d do well to remember that.”

I disconnect the call. Leaning my head back against the sofa, I let out a long sigh as I run my hand down my face.

I know that won’t be the end of it. Roisin and Fergal are gunning for me, that much is obvious. They see me as a threat, which means I need to watch my back and also the backs of those closest to me. I’m not the only sniper they have access to. And it’s not like our kind hold weekly conference calls so we can discuss who’s on each of our hit lists for the coming week.

Should I warn Ace? Speak to Eoin?

I know there’s one thing I need to do. And I need to do it urgently.

I need to speak to Jessie.

CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX

JESSIE

Jessie’s Apartment, Hudson Yards, New York

Didyou know you can actually hear the sound of a heart breaking. I think it must be made of glass as I’m sure I just heard mine shatter into a thousand tiny pieces.

You can feel it too.

First, the overwhelming breathlessness you experience when your feelings implode in your chest cavity all at once in an attempt to halt the torture the relentless beating of your heart brings. Then the physical ache from the vice-like grip that tightens around the very thing that’s trying so hard to keep you alive.

Constricting it. Suffocating it. Fracturing it into fragments.

If it’s not beating, then there’s no more pain. And right now, I’d welcome that stillness in my chest more than anything because all I’m experiencing is a myriad of every kind of pain imaginable.

I’ve fallen in love with Dylan O’Connell.

Not that I’ll ever admit that to anyone but myself. It’s just another one of those short straws I just keep right on pulling in life. Good old Jessie. The life and soul. The modelesque girl who, on the surface, appears to have everything. When in fact, she has nothing at all. Now fated to always having no one at all as no one will ever compare.

Perfectly lonely.

Having just spoken with Jaine, I’m left to process the unwanted yet not entirely unexpected news in my head. To sift through my thoughts, feelings, and regrets one by one and file them away. Pouring myself another coffee, I wrap my hands around it. Its heat offers no comfort today. Its taste more bitter than usual. I stare around my home and inhale the paint smell, which still clings determinedly to the air. I didn’t even get to live here long enough for it to disappear.

Figures.

The apartment I’ve just bought, I’ll now need to leave. I can’t stay here. Not with him living upstairs.Themliving upstairs. Livingtheirhappily ever after.

Tears prick my eyes. What a wuss. My daddy would be so proud of me right now.

The warning signs were there from day one, and I ignored them. It’s my own fault. No promises were made from either side. And now I know why. His wanting to know about me was obviously just pillow talk.

Was this always on the cards for him?

I guess Dyl did well. He’s luckier than his siblings. He’s getting to wed his cliché blonde.

The true love of his life.

Fuck buddy. Fuck buddy. Fuck buddy.

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