Page 14 of Dirty Eoin

I decide not to tell him about the recorded call. The one containing the blatant threat made against me by the Dusters via Molly McGrath.

“Well, we’ll just have to agree to disagree on that. That aside, all I ask is that you give me a little more time because if they were in any way involved, I don’t want to give them the satisfaction of seeing me suffering as a result of their actions.”

He nods. “How long are we talking?”

“Not long. Trust me, the people who took Ace are going to pay. And not with an engraved goddamn bullet either. Shooting’s too good for the likes of them.”

And if Eoin O’Connell is behind it, I’m going to take great pleasure in killing that fucker with my bare hands.

CHAPTERSEVEN

EOIN

The Hudson Dusters’ HQ, Manhattan, New York

I glance around my office.I’m aware my brothers think it old-fashioned. Maybe it is. But I appreciate the luxury of the dark wood furniture that contrasts magnificently against the same white background the rest of the rooms are finished in. A large antique walnut desk takes pride of place. There’s also a wooden case filled with tomes on finance and economics. Subject matters, while not appealing to many, are to me.

My office screams class and wealth. It’s only fitting. I am the future Da Duster, after all.

I turn my attention to the matching pair of tan-colored executive chairs that face me. Due to the nature of recent conversations, my brothers and I had taken to meeting in here more often than not to ensure we were out of earshot of our intendeds.

There won’t be any need for discussions of that nature moving forward. At least not when it comes to Jaine Jones and me.

That’s over and done with. For one, it would be disrespectful to Molly, and she deserves nothing but my utmost respect. For two, the feelings I had for Jaine weren’t real. They were merely infatuation.

Both chairs are currently empty. Paddy has all but barricaded himself into his own office as he counts down the days, hours, minutes, and seconds to the end of his life.

His nuptials.

Meanwhile, Cillian and Dylan are both still on the west coast.

Black and white images of our ancestors line the walls. Past Dusters. Some of the most feared men ever to have reigned supreme in New York City all displayed side by side like some sort of Irish mobster line-up. Each one deserves their rightful wall hanging space where they can be dutifully admired and respected. It’s the least we can do given their combined significant accomplishments on our family’s behalf. I’m proud their blood runs through my veins. At some point, my da’s portrait will hang beside theirs as will my own, my brothers’, and our future heirs.

Now I’ve agreed to wed Molly, it will be the next expected step for me. Fatherhood.

Before now, I would have given it a wide berth. I’m selfish. I fully accept I am. Until now, I’ve always been too precious to sacrifice myself for anyone or anything else. But at thirty-eight, it’s time for me to embrace the next stage in my life.

A wife and children. A family of my own.

Again, I push unwanted thoughts of Jaine Jones from my mind. She will be neither my wife nor the mother of my children. She will be nothing to me. She means nothing to me. Not anymore.

While Molly may not have been who I would have chosen, she saved my life. I owe her. It’s that simple. And if the pound of flesh she wants in return is to be my wife, the next Ma Duster, and the mother of my heirs, then that is what she shall have.

At least once we’re official she can stop tampering with the rubbers. She thinks I don’t know about her little game, but I do. I always use a condom from my own supply, never one that’s been provided by any female. If they offer, I simply accept then merely discard. I also sheath my own cock. I always have. They’re never allowed to roll it onto my dick.

Pin pricks? Sharp fingernails? Tricks as old as time.

If I’d fallen for any of those, I’d have been a da when I was thirteen. If it’s a child Molly wants, then she shall have one. Several if her heart desires. Once we’re betrothed, that is.

Unlike my brothers, I don’t intend to practice abstinence between getting engaged and getting wed. Neither do I intend on wearing a rubber.

Leaning back on my chair I place my feet on my desk and continue to partake in this currently one-sided conversation.

“What do you mean you and Cillian weren’t allowed to attend the funeral, Dylan?” Finally. A word in.

“It was bikers only.”

I frown. “But you and Jaine have been friends for a long time. You were there with Ace when…”

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