Page 6 of Dirty Eoin

Familiar feelings of regret wash over me at what could have been. What should have been. Regret over all those wasted years.

Ten years.

PJ and I have been handed two good years back in return. The best two years of my life spent with my girl and our two boys. But it’s not enough. Nowhere near. I want more. Way more. But I know that’s not always guaranteed.

Watching Dylan and Jessie take the vows today, I wish more than anything that my wife was here with me, but I guess I’ll see her tomorrow.

The meeting in New York was important to her. Her career is important to her, regardless of her reluctance to admit it. Our lives will change from here on in, and I accept that. I have to. PJ’s happiness is all that matters to me. I’m so fucking proud of everything she’s achieved in her life.

And I’m so fucking glad that she chose me.

It hasn’t been long since the newlyweds showed up. I’m not sure why they’d choose to spend their wedding night here, but Dylan looked troubled. Cillian and Sarah were already here, so I’m guessing whatever’s going down is Duster-related and causing them a headache back in New York.

“You expecting visitors, Ghost?” Lucifer yells from across the table, interrupting my thoughts.

Opening my eyes, I glance at him, then cast my gaze to where he’s looking in the distance.

There’s a hog approaching, kicking up a trail of dust into the hot desert air in its wake.

Ghost walks out of the partially finished clubhouse with Tadgh at his side. Shielding his eyes, he takes in the lone bike as it approaches.

“Nope.”

A one-word answer. And a worrying one in our life.

When things seem too good to be true, that’s usually because they are. Sometimes you can just tell when something life-changing is about to go down. Like right now.

I know.

We stand as the hog approaches. There are two riders, both wearing full helmets. The moment they pull their ride wide, that’s when we know we were right all along about what we silently suspected. This isn’t a social call. They’re not planning on stopping by to say hello. They’re going to pass in front of us for one reason only.

Time stands still as the sun glints off the barrel of the now-exposed gun.

“Get the fuck down,” Ghost roars.

Lucifer pushes in front of me, and the first bullet takes him down. I feel the moment the second one fired hits home. I’ve been shot before, but this time it’s different.

The pain in my gut doesn’t register straight away. It has me thinking that maybe I haven’t been hit after all. I’m not sure how long passes. But when it does register, it’s a pain so intense I sink to my knees and almost black out. It’s a pain that’s letting me know this is it. That the bullet I’ve taken has devastated my insides so badly there’s no coming back. I fall onto my back and sweat prickles my skin, even though I suddenly feel ice cold.

I’m aware of screaming and shouting, but it’s like I’m on the outside looking in. Like I’m present but not. The blackness tries to envelop me once more, but I fight it.

For now.

I hate that it’s going to end this way.

I’d give anything to see PJ just one last time. More than anything, I want to say goodbye to my plain Jaine Jones, but I know that’s not on the cards as the darkness beckons once more and Death himself tries to embrace me in his cold, unloving arms.

“Dylan.” My voice is a choppy whisper.

“I’m here, Ace.” He sounds broken as he kneels beside me.

I know I only have a matter of seconds at most to say what needs saying. Shit. How can I cram in everything I want to say to PJ in such a short time?

But time is no longer a luxury I have.

I look up at the Irishman. Padraig’s brother. Finian’s uncle. I can see my eldest boy’s eyes reflected in his gaze. His expression is full of kindness and concern.

I grip his arm.

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