Page 6 of Dirty Padraig: Dirty Dusters

A plethora of missed calls from Eoin and a still-to-be-opened email from Cody Fletcher.

I ignore both.

Because, right now, it’s all about me and Ace.

The Angels of Hellfire Clubhouse, Rising, California

More tractor tires fill the compound these days, and even though each is filled with an array of vibrantly colored flowers, their addition still does nothing to disguise the overall unattractive appearance of the bland, black clubhouse.

A building I grew up in.

A building filled with treasured memories.

A building filled with regrets.

I’ve been trying not to take a step backward on the treadmill of healing that I’ll forever be on, but I’m struggling to place one foot in front of the other right now when I’m drowning in everything Ace.

I’m Jason, and I’m eight. I’m Jaine, and I’m seven.

He surrounds me here. So much so that if I close my eyes and reopen them, I’m sure I’ll see him standing right in front of me. The boy who was born to be stared at with hair as black as the midnight sky and eyes as blue as the bluest thing ever.

I’m told his room remains untouched and that no one is allowed to enter. They’ll be waiting for me, I’m sure, but I can’t venture in there. Not yet. I’m not ready. Twelve months may have passed, but it’s still too soon.

Aside from his last two years, he spent his whole life living out of that room waiting for me to come home. I left him behind without a backward glance and didn’t look back for ten goddamn years.

He reached out, and I ignored him.

What I’d give to replay things. To sit my selfish ass down and listen to the words he so desperately wanted me to hear. To read his messages.

You’ll always be my creep and my weirdo, same as you’ll always be my plain Jaine Jones.

His soul is engraved on the very walls of that space. How can I pack it up? How can I let go of everything Ace?

When he passed, he took part of me with him. Every day since I’ve tried to plug up the gaping hole he left behind, but nothing will ever fill it. It will forever remain echoingly empty. A constant reminder of the beautiful boy I lost way too soon.

I’ll be waiting right here, sweetheart.

I pull up his hog and dismount. In some ways, it feels wrong to be riding it, but I can’t let it go to waste. He loved his classic. It was his pride and joy after his two boys.

I key in the code that Clay messaged me in advance, and the heavy metal gates give out their familiar reluctant groan as I swing them open. Riding into the compound, I park up, then walk back to pull them closed before giving them a thorough shake just to be sure.

When I turn, I make eye contact with the biker who’s stepped outside to greet me before slowly walking toward him.

“Lucifer.”

We agreed to meet here. I can’t be in Rising for longer than an overnight stay because of the safety risks. Given that my husband was killed and my son was targeted, there’s every reason to suspect that I’m currently in the number three spot on this other sniper’s hitlist, so I definitely can’t extend my trip to take in the sights of Nevada.

I stare at Jessie and Bailey’s daddy. At Delaney and Dylan’s father-in-law.

My gaze drifts over him. He’s a brute of a man with pale blue eyes, long light blonde hair which is starting to grey, and a well-kept beard. He’s not traditionally handsome. He’s more angular features and sharp lines, which makes him striking to look at.

I can’t help but compare him to Jessie and Bailey. I figure Jessie looks more like her mom because, when I look at the man in front of me, it’s Bailey that I see.

“Jaine.” I take in the Irish accent. His voice, while menacing, holds the undercurrent of something else.

Uncertainty.

He’s unsure of himself. He’s nervous about what he’s about to say.

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