Page 24 of Dirty Eoin

There’s no acceptance. Can’t. Won’t. Never will.

The familiar lump forms in my throat. They’re getting easier to swallow these days. Let’s face it, given their number, I’ve had plenty of practice.

I know Ace would understand my predicament. I also know he wouldn’t want anything to happen to Fin’s biological daddy. At least not before he gets the chance to meet his beautiful son.

I close my eyes and raise my face to the sky then exhale slowly. It’s a warm, sunny day with a gentle breeze. The perfect weather for a wedding.

Irish’s wedding.

Another lump forms.

Blinking back tears, I gaze up at Saint Patrick’s. The large spires of the medieval-looking cathedral almost reach the heavens themselves and the bells are already ringing loud and clear to ward off any evil spirits, suggesting that they rethink any plans they may have had about dropping by here today.

Guess I’m just Plan B. That if The Almighty’s bell tolling fails to ward off the sniper bad guy who’s no doubt being handsomely rewarded for ending the life of Padraig O’Connell, then it’ll be down to The Exterminator to save the day.

Flower arrangement in hand, I join with a large party of wedding guests before slowly making my way inside the church. As I suspected, invitations aren’t being checked. Why would they bother? Who in their right mind would turn up to a mobster wedding uninvited?

Me. That’s who.

Inside, sunlight streams through the stained-glass windows, creating a kaleidoscopic visual effect, but I have no time to stop to admire it.

The smell that greets me causes me to wrinkle my nose. The whole building stinks of lilies. It’s not subtle. It’s intense and overpowering. An odor that I’m sure will forever remind me of today. An unpleasant stench for an even more unpleasant memory.

Extracting myself from the group of guests and holding the flowers in front of me, I make my way upstairs, nodding and smiling at anyone who looks in my direction. Despite being inside, I keep my hat and sunglasses firmly in place. While I may be attracting one or two curious stares, I still remain mostly inconspicuous. If I’m recognized, it will be game over.

For me as well as for Irish.

The room I’veborrowedis one of two located just above the entrance, and the rifle I’m using is currently hidden behind a statue of the Virgin Mary. I’m sure the mother of Christ will be only too delighted that I’ve singled her out to bear witness and keep schtum on the atrocities I’m about to commit.

It’s the most compact and straightforward weapon I own. It’s lightweight enough that I can pull the trigger from a standing position, which is a priority for today. There’s also no disassembly required. Another priority. Given I’ll need to get out of dodge pronto, I can leave it under the watchful eye of Mary here and pick it up at a later date.

In the unlikely event it’s found, it will be clear of prints. Each part is also individually handmade by several different gunsmiths, so they’re completely untraceable.

Locking the door, I put the flowers, my hat, and my sunglasses to one side then replace my white gloves with a thinner pair. I only ever wear fingerless, but needs must today, and I have to be able to feel the trigger.

Picking up my rifle, I balance it on the small ledge that has been perfectly positioned to allow an unwitnessed bird’s eye view over the proceedings from the room. Then I stare through the scope of my weapon, and I wait.

I see Leo. Then Luc. So many familiar faces. People I’ll need to reacquaint myself with in the not-too-distant future now I’m back living in Manhattan.

If I make it out of here in one piece, that is.

It’s then I see the O’Connells. Sarah. Jessie. For the first time, I see Roisin and Fergal in the flesh.

My little boy’s grandparents.

Ma Duster is petite. A small woman with a big bite. I know that only too well having been on the receiving end when it comes to my relationship with her precious boys. If only she knew my secret. She will soon enough. It’s not a reveal I can put off much longer.

Fergal is exactly how his eldest son will look in thirty years. White-haired and too handsome for his own good.

My trigger finger itches the moment I seehim.

Eoin O’Connell. Looking as pompous as ever with his arm snaked around Molly McGrath’s waist. Meanwhile, she looks like the cat who got the cream.

Pair of narcissists. They really are deserving of one another.

Maybe one day I’ll spill her secret. That she never saved his arrogant ass in Nevada. That The Exterminator did. Then again, maybe I won’t. At least not until after they’re wed because, by then, even with the truth laid bare, he’ll be stuck with a liar forever.

Good luck with that in this life.

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