Page 64 of Dirty Padraig: Dirty Dusters

I stand up from the shooting table with the rifle in my hand. It’s not the ideal weapon. It’s not the ideal scope. It’s not the ideal situation either, but what choice do I have? My babies are inside. Duke is inside. Eoin is inside.

If the grim reaper wants a soul, then let it be mine and not one of theirs.

“Head back toward the house, Jaine. There’s one in front and one on either side. You’ll collide with the one on the left-hand side on your way back from the range. None of them are moving right now, which makes me think they’re waiting for instructions.”

Sticking to the shadows, I make my way toward the side of the property. I must have passed this guy’s sentry point unarmed on my way to the range with only minutes to spare. For once, The Almighty really was on my side. Let’s hope he remains that way.

We don’t speak until I’m on the approach.

“You’re almost on top of him now.”

“I see him.” Irish is right. He’s dressed similarly to me, and he’s staring at the building but not making any move toward it. They’re waiting for instructions.

I don’t hesitate. I raise the rifle, fire, and he drops to the ground. A quick death, which is all we can ever hope for in this life.

“One down, two to go.”

“Good girl.”

“Let’s be clear, Irish. I am not a good girl.”

He laughs. “I think it’s best you take out the fella on the far side now, darlin’. If they receive their instructions any time soon or catch on that they’re being picked off one by one, then he has far more places to hide than the one out front. I don’t want anything to happen to you if he takes you by surprise.”

“I’m touched, Irish.”

“I kind of like having you around.”

Ditto.

Again, I stick to the shadows. As I walk past, I can see inside the house, and it’s noticeably empty. Have the intruders realized the family has gone into hiding? That might be why they’re waiting to be told what to do next.

I’m sure the windows are bulletproof, but they really do need to change them to reflective glass as, at present, it’s like peering into a goldfish bowl.

I frown as I walk. Whatever I do, I need to stop them from getting inside the house. Fergal keeps an arsenal inside his office. With one shot, they can blow the door and get access to all sorts of weapons, including live grenades.

Panic sets in. This is not good. I always keep a clear head when I carry out a hit, but this isn’t a hit. My family is being targeted. This isn’t attack. It’s defense.

“You okay, Jaine?”

“Don’t speak to me,” I snap.

I need to focus. I don’t need Irish or anyone else distracting me. I move briskly, keeping my back pressed against the hard brick surface of the property, ducking below any windows in case I can be seen from the other side of the building.

I reach the next sniper moments later. Again, he’s standing with his gun at his side. I prepare to commit cold-blooded murder for the second time tonight. That’s when harsh reality decides to pay me a visit.

That this isn’t my rifle. That the bullets won’t be engraved. The O’Connells will know the shots weren’t fired by The Exterminator, even though they were. I raise the weapon, fire, and he drops to the ground.

A groan.

It wasn’t a clean shot. I was too distracted.

I walk over. Looking down at him, I watch as he clutches the side of his head, his lifeblood spilling all over the gravel. I have no choice but to do what I’m about to. Like me, he’s wearing a balaclava. His eyes are wide and pleading as he silently begs for his life.

He would have killed my family.

I pull the trigger at point-blank range and watch as his brain leaks out, his eyes now fixed and staring.

I locate both bullets, covering my hands in blood and brains in the process. Taking his weapon, I quickly hide Fergal’s rifle in the bushes along with the goggles. I’ll need to get Dylan to pick them up later. I can’t take them with me. Someone will notice they’re missing for sure.

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