Page 97 of Dirty Eoin

“When?”

“He’ll be here in around six hours.”

“Where?”

“Where Da took you.”

“So, underneath Play.”

“Yes.”

A shiver runs through me, my life flashing in front of my eyes as I think back on my own dalliance with da Duster.

“I’ll get Duke to stay with the kids.”

“I’ll see you there.”

A small smile crosses my face. I forgot that Dylan likes to slice and dice these days. He’s finally reached his true Duster potential thanks to Jessie’s influence and is now as bloodthirsty as the rest of the O’Connell family, although perhaps not as bloodthirsty as his eldest brother.

“And, Dyl?”

“Yeah?”

“No one lays a finger on him until I get there. That dead man walking is all fucking mine.”

Play Gentlemen’s Club, Manhattan, New York.

It’s just gone eight a.m.

Daylight has broken. The familiar cacophony of honking yellow cabs and wailing pig sirens somehow warms the frigid morning air of New York City.

Stepping down from the back of my hog, I type in the code to the parking facility underneath Play Gentlemen’s Club. You can tell from the exterior alone that it’s a Duster establishment. It screams luxury and wealth while silently warning you that you enter at your own risk. That by simply crossing the threshold, you take your life into your own hands as you’ve sold your soul to the devil.

The exorbitant membership fee you pay will buy you silence. A personal guarantee that what goes on here stays here. Anyone found guilty of spilling secrets will have their blood spilled in return.

The unluckiest of all may find themselves locked inside a dockside shipping container with the eldest O’Connell.

I swallow thickly as the unwelcome memory of what I witnessed that day causes a shiver to run down my spine, reminding me that Death himself is Eoin O’Connell’s right-hand man.

Ever-present. Watching. Waiting. Collecting. And all on my husband’s behalf.

Influential men on both sides of the law come to Play to drink, gamble, and fuck women who aren’t their wives or girlfriends. Many of the females will have a unique look. Many will appear younger than they are. Many will have a sought-after skillset.

It’s whatever floats your perverse boat.

Money talks. Anything can be bought here and, potentially, anyone.

On the side, you can also purchase a variety of weapons, and everything is, of course, sprinkled with a generous dusting of cocaine. If that’s not your drug of choice, there are plenty more options on offer.

The black matte metal gates swing slowly open, and I ride inside. Dismounting, I make sure they’re firmly closed behind me before making my way down the ramp.

The moment I see him, my stomach flips.

It was always a given that Dyl was going to let Eoin know I was on my way. He’s dressed all in black. Snug jeans and a fitted sweater that clings to his abs and biceps. Rather than being sated, over time, the physical attraction between us grows stronger.

I can’t take my eyes off him, his deadly presence almost commanding me to worship him like some sort of dark god.

I pull up my Softail and yank off my full helmet, swinging my blonde hair free. The biker blood that runs through these veins now shows on the outside and I don’t give a damn who can see it. I’m leather-clad from head to toe. The same outfit I wore when we married.

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