Page 39 of Dirty Eoin

The things I want to do to that fucking mouth.

Unwelcome thoughts.

“Jaine.” Sarah speaks next.

Jaine looks at her and simply nods, confirming what I thought. That she does indeed know what the rest of us don’t.

Three biker females. Three close friends. Family in their world. Blood or not. Two form part of our inner circle and one is currently an enemy on the outside.

“Dylan. Cillian.” Jaine acknowledges both and they nod. She then turns her attention to our Aidan.

“And you are?”

He grins at her. “I’m Aidan.”

She continues to stare at him, no doubt waiting for him to divulge further. She raises an eyebrow when he doesn’t.

“Well, it’s good to know your folks decided to keep you and so thought you deserving of a first name, Aidan. But do you know anything else about yourself beyond that, or is that all the intel they thought you’d be able to handle?”

Jessie snickers, and Aidan’s grin widens. He leans back on his chair, stretches his arms upwards, then places his hands behind his head. Jaine’s gaze lingers on him, which I’m sure was exactly what he was aiming for.

Is she admiring him?

My hand tightens around my Mont Blanc pen, imagining it to be his neck. I don’t want her looking at him. I want her eyes to be on me at all fucking times.

“Smart mouth,” he replies.

“Smart everything,” she quips in response.

“I like you already.”

Try as she might, she can’t stop the small smile from forming as her mouth curves upwards. She likes him too. That much is obvious. And I know why. Aidan is the blonde-haired version of our Paddy when it comes to confidence, looks, and winning fucking personality.

“That’s good to know, but I’m still waiting.”

I respond on his behalf. I don’t want him interacting with her.

“Aidan is our cousin. He flew in from Dublin last night and will be working alongside Cillian.”

Aidan raises an eyebrow at me. He knows exactly why I intervened. He’ll know now that she’s off-limits to anyone but me.

Meanwhile, she’s now glaring at me.

Good. It’s best she doesn’t forget who the future Irish king is.

“Given you’ve answered on your cousin’s behalf, am I to assume that I’m only permitted to converse with you today, Mr. O’Connell?”

“That is correct, Miss Jones.”

“So be it.” She glances at the circular table. There are two spare chairs. One to my right, which is where Molly typically sits, and one to Aidan’s right, which would see Jaine facing me. She walks to the empty chair beside my cousin. Two reasons, I suspect. She doesn’t wish to be anywhere near me. She also wants a front-row seat to witness my reaction to the announcement she’s about to make.

Aidan smiles at her, and she smiles back. Right now, I want to rip off his fucking head and piss down his neck.

I don’t. But only because I’m not sure how the rest of my family would react if I did.

Jaine places her briefcase on the tabletop. Just as she’s about to take her seat, her phone vibrates. Removing it from her inside pocket, she glances at the handset. It’s different from yesterday’s, so it’s not her burner. It’s the phone I’ve been permitted to have the number of. She’s deliberately not given me the other number, even though she’s fully aware that I have it.

To wind me up. To dare me to use it uninvited. Both, probably.

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