Page 224 of Dirty Padraig: Dirty Dusters

Dylan’s silence speaks volumes.

I’m not sure how I feel as I watch Eoin whisper in Sabrina’s ear once more.

Not that I can recall, although her name does sound vaguely familiar.

Yeah, right. I’m guessing his vague memories of Sabrina have now been refreshed, and she’s reminded him of all the other forgotten parts of her too.

I glance around the room.

Then again, how many women in this place have he and Irish slept with? Given their sexual conquests reach four figures, I suspect most of them.

I look at Padraig as he stands there with his hand resting just above Sabrina’s ass. He shoots me the smile that gets him anything he wants. I don’t acknowledge it. I realize I’m being petty and immature.

Sabrina then makes eye contact with me. She smiles, looking like the cat who got the cream. Does she realize she’s the meat in my ex-boyfriend-ex-husband sandwich? I’m not so sure that she does. I don’t tend to discuss my personal life in the office.

“Jaine.”

I spin around. “Nate.”

Could this evening get any worse? I’m now confronted by the person who witnessed firsthand the moment I lost the will to live. I’ve avoided him ever since. Does he know that I know about his secret?

He looks across the room and takes in the scene unfolding between my employee and my two exes. Then, snaking an arm around my waist, he smiles down at me.

“I think we need to talk.”

I never thought I’d see the day when Nathan Hawke would prove to be the better option.

CHAPTERSEVENTY-FIVE

JAINE

Nate’s Apartment, Upper East Side, New York

We didn’t speakon the cab journey here, both of us no doubt thinking about what to say given the content of our last morbid one-sided conversation.

Nate unlocks his apartment door and motions his head for me to step inside. I walk past him taking in the immaculate monochrome space once more.

“Drink?” He raises an eyebrow at me as he stands with the crystal decanter in his hand.

“I don’t drink, Nate.” I watch as he pours one for himself.

“Prefer to keep your wits about you?” He nods at the sofa, and I take a seat.

“From my experience, it’s usually the best way.” I pause.

Time passes.

“What you did, Jaine.”

We both know he’s referring to the night I was buried alive. When he was given no choice but to listen to my final words. “Anyone in my position would have done the same thing.”

“You mean someone else who had nothing left to live for?”

“I can confirm that rock bottom actually exists.”

He removes his tux jacket and throws the whiskey back in one, grimacing at the burn. “Most of us have been there at some point, Jaine. I’m not sure paying it a visit means you have to come away with a death wish.” He pours himself another before removing his tie.

“The Ruoccos killed my husband. They tried to kill my son. They almost killed Eoin. Need I go on? They would never have stopped until they themselves were stopped. We both know that’s the case. Given my regrettable comment to Sophia about Padraig is what inspired them to go on their rampage in the first place, I figured the responsibility for stopping them in their tracks lay with me.”

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