Page 217 of Dirty Padraig: Dirty Dusters

“Too much information, brother.”

“Sorry. Speaking of sex, have you and Jaine… you know.”

“No, we haven’t. I suspect Jaine would slap me down if I even hinted at taking things further. She only agreed to sleep with Eoin because she thought she had my blessing. I reckon for us to move our relationship to the next level, she’d need the same from him.”

“And have you heard anything back from the Ruoccos’ lawyer? As the last family member standing, that leaves you the sole beneficiary of all their assets.”

“And also the person responsible for all their debts, of which I’m sure there’s plenty. I’ve just sent an email to their family lawyer. I’ve mentioned that two skulls believed to belong to Sophia and Luciano have been found. If he accepts these findings, I suspect he’ll want to carry out due diligence to ensure there are no other claims against the estate before signing things over.”

“Whatever happened to Sophia’s mother?”

“She died in childbirth, so it must have been when she had Sophia. I’m told she was actually a decent human being. It was the father who was the louse.”

“Good riddance to them all. Anyway, keep me posted. Later, brother.”

“Later, Dyl.”

I disconnect the call, my mind going back over the conversation with Lucifer.

I reckon I need to have a heart-to-heart with my eldest brother, as depending on how things progress with Jaine, we may have no option but to revert to Plan B.

That’s if he’s willing.

CHAPTERSEVENTY-THREE

JAINE

The Hudson Dusters’ HQ, Manhattan, New York

Love hurts.

It can open you up to so much pain and wound you way more than any bullet or blade ever can. It’s a hurt that can’t be measured on any known scale, and the moment you reach love’s dizzy heights, the person you love is automatically in control. That person can destroy you with just one look, word, or action.

Love makes you weak. Love can leave you second-guessing. Love can make you doubt yourself, even when you’re certain.

I’ve loved, and I’ve been loved. I know better than most what love can do to you when it’s not reciprocated or when it’s ripped away like it was with Ace.

Love drowns you in so many feelings and emotions that, at times, you feel like you can’t breathe, and if you hurt the person you love, you hurt yourself even more. There’s no winning. Love is a loser’s game. It’s like poker but without the chips. You have to play with something way more valuable—your heart.

Eoin and Padraig.

If I choose one, I hurt the other. If I choose neither, I hurt both.

There’s no right answer. There’s no wrong answer. The solution is indeterminate because there is none. On this particular flowchart, no arrow points to the happily ever after.

My stiletto heels click on the marble flooring as I pass the reception quartet. Number one immediately picks up her phone. She’s stopped trying to be discrete about it. I watch as her mauve-tipped talons clutch the handset for dear life.

I wonder which Duster she’s pre-warning. The eldest or the youngest. I checked in advance. I’m well aware that both are in the building today. Two O’Connells. One stone. There’s no point in delaying the inevitable.

I press the call button for the elevator. Stepping inside, I stare at my reflection in the mirrored surface, taking in the female biker hiding beneath the guise of a legal professional. She’s no longer living on borrowed time, but her life might as well be over, given what she’s about to do.

I smooth down my grey pantsuit just as the elevator door opens. I make my way straight to Eoin’s office. As usual, Candice is sitting guard outside his door. I wonder if Mr. I-need-to-have-sex-at-least-six-times-a-day has taken to fucking his PA at lunchtimes again. Jealousy floods my veins, but I ignore it.

Who Eoin O’Connell fucks is no longer any of my business.

“Jaine.”

“Candice.”

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