Page 96 of Dirty Padraig: Dirty Dusters

Go back.

My gut’s yelling at me, but why would she be here of all places?

Running my hand through my hair, I storm back inside. I may as well check seeing as I’m already here.

CHAPTERTHIRTY

JAINE

St. Peter’s Church, Upper East Side, New York

Have I been abducted again?In a roundabout way, it would appear so.

Did Sophia send that message to Molly’s phone on purpose? Does she know I have the handset?

Was there ever anyone else involved?

I’m not sure how long I’ve been locked in here. Six hours? Twelve? More? It’s difficult to know as the church lights are on, so I can’t tell if it’s fake or natural light.

I’ve inspected my surroundings several times. It remains unchanged, as do the available supplies. Two large bottles of water, one of which is now half empty, and no food.

I ignore the angry growl coming from my stomach. I can live without food, but I won’t survive long without water. I’ve checked both the shower and the toilet. Neither work. Maybe they’ve been disconnected because of the renovations.

Or maybe it’s to make sure you run out.

I’m sure Father O’Reilly will show up soon. Can the door still be opened from the outside? Did someone set it up so it locked with no way in or out?

The funeral march.

If the choice of music were related to Molly’s unfortunate demise, then the considerate party responsible for leaving hergiftwill be aware that she wouldn’t have been able to collect it personally.

Will the family be concerned that I’ve still not returned? Will they have sent out a search party? Then again, they’ll hardly think it suspicious, so why would they? It’s not the first time I’ve gone AWOL, but it is the first time I’ve gone anywhere without my phone.

Idiot.

I stare out the window at nothing. Even if someone walks past, they won’t be able to see or hear me.

There are no weapons in here, and even if there were, a bullet would no doubt just ricochet off the glass and end up buried in my own skull. All I can do is wait and hope that someone finds me. I lay back on the sectional and close my eyes.

Conserving energy is a must when I have no fuel to replace it with.

For the second time in a matter of weeks, I need saving. Maybe Eoin was right. Maybe I needed the protection I threw back in his face after all.

* * *

“Jaine.”

I frown when I hear the familiar voice.

It can’t be.

Slowly opening my eyes, my gaze connects with his. He’s kneeling beside me, his finger gently stroking my cheek, his face inches from mine.

I can’t speak. My nose tingles as my eyes fill with tears of self-pity. He smiles down at me, eyes so blue, face so perfect.

This time, the Disney princess has been saved by the prince and not the king.

“Irish.” My voice is shaky. I can be weak with him. I can be anything I want to be with him because he knows every single kaleidoscopic part of my fucking soul.

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