Page 110 of Dirty Padraig: Dirty Dusters

Alone and restless once more. I really need to get up. While no food for seven days and no water for three took its toll on my body, I have things I need to do.

I’m not dead. That means life goes on. I can’t just lie here and do nothing.

I stare at my phone. Should I message Irish? Call him? I’m not sure what to do. Before saferoomgate, we hadn’t spoken for weeks. Do we just revert back to the same? How can we when he knows Fin’s his son? We can’t just ignore each other now. Has he told anyone that he knows? I haven’t told anyone that I’ve told him.

What a fucking mess.

I stare at my vibrating phone. “Dylan,” I answer. It’s only the second time I’ve spoken to him since he and Eoin found us at the church. He’s no doubt been warned not to disturb my rest.

“How are you feeling, Jaine?”

“I feel fine, but no matter how often I explain that to Tim, he still expects me to stay in bed.”

“You almost died, Jaine.”

“In this life, that sort of comes with the territory, Dyl.” I chuckle.

“It’s not funny.”

“It sort of was,” I mumble.

“What the hell happened?”

“Has Irish not told you?”

“He says to speak to you, but you’ve been so poorly, Eoin would have crucified anyone who dared disturb you.”

“I went through Molly’s phone and found proof that Sophia knows what happened between me and Eoin. That Molly was dumped for me. She also knows Fin is Irish’s biological son.”

“Have you told anyone else?” He sounds shocked.

“Not about what I found on the phone, but he knows, Dyl. I told Padraig about Fin.”

A lengthy pause.

“And how did he take it?”

“Badly at first. The reaction wasn’t what I expected. He tore the place apart.”

“I wondered what had happened.”

“He calmed down afterward, but that was a side of him I’ve never seen before.”

“Like everyone else, he has two sides. The happy-go-lucky persona that everyone knows and loves, and then there’s the psychopath.”

“He’s that bad? Worse than Eoin?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen Eoin kill, so I can’t compare the two, but I’d imagine they’d be different.”

“In what way?”

“Paddy’s way more bloodthirsty. It’s why he was always on the wet work. We’ve lost count of how many he’s killed. It’s also part of the reason he only deals with the internal goings-on. So he can’t pick a fight.”

“You’re being serious?”

“No joke. I’ve seen him kill. If he’s feeling generous, he’ll gut them after he’s hacked off various bits and pieces. If not, he’ll bleed them dry, then carve them up into works of art, a bit like Hannibal Lecter does.”

“He doesn’t….”

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