Page 64 of Dirty Dylan: Dirty Dusters

Fuck Eoin. Fuck Dylan. In fact, fuck them all.

No more Mrs. Nice Person. That shit doesn’t get you anywhere.

I smirk at Eoin because I know he hates it when I do. If he hates me, he’ll never forget me. My goal in life to never be forgotten? Well, that applies more than ever to everyone present here today. If I’m going out, I’m doing so with a bang.

Just hopefully not literally.

“I appreciate that, Eoin, but what I have to say can’t wait.”

“Jessie girl.” Even Da Duster looks miffed at my interruption. I’m dicing with death. Still, today’s as good a day as any to die.

“Fergal. Give me a few minutes, and then I’ll be on my way.”

He stares at me as he considers what I’ve asked. We’ve connected over the months. We understand each other way more than the others realize. We also share a mutual respect. He’ll let me speak. That respect is way too much for him to stop me. He nods, and I smile.

I take in the faces of the people sitting around the table. Three of the four O’Connell brothers I met on that very first day. And their daddy.

Today, there are three girls present in place of the beautiful inside and out Sarah O’Connell. Two with jet black hair and one blonde.

There’s only one I’ve met before.

“Molly.” I nod at her. Jaine filled me in on their little tete-a-tete. The threat Molly made with Roisin O’Connell’s blessing. The conversation that’s now being held securely under lock and key. She nods in response, her face as impassive as her fiancé’s.

As I did the first time, I place my briefcase on the leather-covered circular tabletop then lean against it briefly. This time, I’m letting the women have their fill—two in particular. I’m guessing the petite dark-haired girl with olive skin is Sophia. Padraig’s fiancée. It’s my thinking the other, the blonde, is the future Mrs. Dylan O’Connell.

A cliché blonde Disney princess? She’s sure not what I expected.

Aside from being blonde, looks-wise, she and I couldn’t be more different. I’m guessing personality-wise, it’ll be much the same story. Then again, given the façade each of us portray to the outside world, no one would ever suspect Dyl and I would be so similar and have so much in common.

That he and I could ever be the perfect match.

“You must be Sophia.” The petite dark-haired girl stares at me but doesn’t respond. “Well, the cat’s got someone’s tongue,” I mumble loud enough for everyone to hear. No one laughs at my poor attempt at humor. Not even Paddy. Well, he can’t, I guess.

“And you are?” I ask the blonde.

She stands, reaches across the table, and offers her hand. “Grace Ryan.”

I smile at her as I shake her hand, and she smiles back. “A good, strong Irish name. Mine is Jessie O’Brien. I like to think of it as also being a good, strong Irish name.”

Her smiles widens. An act or not? That remains to be seen.

“Well, Sophia, Grace. If you don’t know who I am, I’m the financial representation for the Dusters. Or at least, I was.”

I drop that bombshell.

Kaboom.

Might as well get that right out there. There’s a sea of mumbles, which is what I fully expected. Having recently promised Fergal I was here for the long haul, here I am not five minutes later packing my bags and reneging on that deal.

“Unfortunately, a personal situation has arisen, making my current position untenable.” My eyes connect with Dylan’s briefly. I watch as his neck slowly goes red, followed by his cheeks.

Sorry, but if you can’t stand the heat, stay out of Jessie O’Brien’s kitchen.

“Jessie?”

I turn and take in Fergal’s furrowed forehead. He shifts his gaze between Dyl and me.

Maybe he suspects. Perhaps he doesn’t. Maybe they all do. Frankly, I don’t give a damn. I don’t want to upset the senior O’Connell, though. I know Jaine doesn’t like Da Duster much, but I do.

---