Page 198 of Dirty Padraig: Dirty Dusters

The bikers stare at us. They won’t recognize the vehicle or be able to see their former Prez’s old lady through the darkened windows. They’re probably wondering who would dare visit their sleepy little town uninvited.

The menace on their faces is to encourage us not to stop. They’re telling us that there’s nothing to see here, so we might as well keep right on going.

Rather than wait for them to approach or follow us, Jaine motions for Eoin to pull over. When he does, she steps out.

I watch a huge blonde-haired biker walk over to her. I’ve seen him before. He was there when I killed Sokolov. My eyes drift to his cut. Enforcer.

They embrace, then Jaine motions her head to where we’re sitting in the vehicle. He doesn’t come over. He nods at her then looks menacingly at us once more.

Eoin and I both stare as she walks back to the SUV. She’s dressed head to toe in black leather. It’s my guess that we’re both thinking the same thing. That she belongs here. That these are her people.

She gets in the vehicle. “Follow Jefferson. He’ll lead you to the clubhouse.”

* * *

We didn’t talk muchafter that. Not that I contributed much to the conversation before, given the melancholy mood I’d descended into.

Eoin drove while Jaine and I just stared out of our respective windows, taking in the vast expanse of nothingness on the way there. My memories are vague from my previous visit, but it was over three years ago.

I stare at the unattractive black building as we approach. The windows are covered in bulletproof sheet metal, then fitted with bars over the top. Even though it’s in the middle of nowhere, everything is fenced off and electrified.

We watch as Jefferson pulls up, then, lowering his feet to the ground, he waves across to another biker with long red hair. He’s young. Maybe twenty-one. He lifts a hand in acknowledgment, then jogs across before keying in the code and swinging open the creaking gates.

Eoin lowers his window, and the young lad looks past him to salute Jaine.

“Lincoln.” She laughs as Eoin draws him a death glare. He needs to be careful. He has to remember that she wasn’t just any old lady to these bikers. She was Ace’s wife.

She wastheold lady.

We park up in the compound. I get out, inhaling the smell of the flowers planted in the several tractor tires scattered around the place.

I raise my face to the sky. It’s a pleasant day. Warm and sunny. I take in the group of rowdy children of varying ages playing tag. This will be their life. Their future. All they will ever know. They’ll be born bikers, and they’ll die bikers. Just like Ace.

No doubt, if Jaine still lived here, Finian would be one of them. I smile at that thought. That my son is half biker. It’s then I notice the group of scantily clad females sunbathing on deckchairs and recliners. They’re out of sight, but not.

I chuckle to myself. “Are they…”

“The cum sluts,” Jaine whispers in my ear before I can even finish my question.

We both laugh as we recall our conversation from way back about the two-legged perks the bikers were rewarded with as part of their remuneration package.

“They’re not allowed inside the communal area until after eight p.m. So, they stay in the bedroom area, the kitchen area or they come outside.”

“Why eight?”

“That’s when the old ladies and the kids need to make tracks. Any old lady here beyond then will likely witness something she’ll regret.”

“And that is?” Eoin steps out then turns to look at us.

“Her old man fucking a cum slut.”

“So, bikers cheat on their wives?” Eoin raises an eyebrow.

“Hedonistic. Promiscuous. Heathens. Those are a few of the choice words your ma uses to refer to our kind. She’s mostly right. It’s the reason she wanted to keep me away from her two precious sons. She was worried I’d lead you both astray.” She smirks until her eyes land on a particular hog, then her good mood evaporates.

“Is there a problem, Jaine?” I frown at her.

She shakes her head. “Lucifer’s here, is all.”

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