Page 5 of Dirty Padraig: Dirty Dusters

Because I know I’m going to fall head over heels in love with Jaine Jones. I really need to make sure she falls in love with me too.

“I’m Padraig, by the way. Padraig O’Connell.” I smile as I hold out my hand, silently praying to The Almighty that it’s not all hot and sweaty. She grabs hold of it, and I pull her to her feet. I then watch as she wipes the dirt off the back of her blue jeans using the other.

She stares up at me. I can tell she likes what she sees when her cheeks slowly flush. I’m relieved. I’m usually a cocky fecker, but I feel out of my depth around her for some reason.

“I’m Jaine. Jaine Jones.”

She glances down, her cheeks reddening further, when she realizes we’re still handholding.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jaine Jones. Can I buy you a coffee? Or a tea? Even better, can I kiss you?” My grin widens.

“I’ll take the first offer, thank you.” She laughs.

Its sound? It’s as perfect as the rest of her.

CHAPTERTWO

JAINE

Rising Cemetery, Rising, California

I takein the uninterrupted views over Rising and breathe in the familiar scent of petrichor and wildflowers being carried on the gentle breeze.

No matter where I was born or where I live, Rising will always be home for me.

So many memories. So many regrets.

But life must go on. And it has. For everyone else, even if not for Ace.

It’s been one whole year since my beautiful boy was taken. Each day I wake, and for the first few precious seconds, I still think he’s alive until reality hits home like a goddamn sucker punch.

That he’s not. That he’s here. Alone and buried in the cold, hard ground.

Husband. Father. Son. Friend. Biker.

He was only thirty-one years old. The age I am now.

I’m sitting cross-legged at his final resting place. Six feet of unforgiving earth separate us, the soil once unsettled now firm and unyielding. It’s letting me know that this is final. That there’s no way back for him.

The guilt has started to ease now, but I know I’ll never find peace. Not until I end the lives of those behind his killing. Not until I know why they wanted him dead so much.

I appreciate that we all have enemies, but his attack was planned. It wasn’t just in passing. It wasn’t just random.

It was personal.

The shooters went out of their way to carry out the hit. They came up close to make sure they had the right person, but also to make sure that they didn’t fucking miss.

I felt no sense of justice when I ended Abel’s life for the part he played in Ace’s death, and I’m sure if I ever catch up with the second guilty party, the trigger puller himself, ending his unworthy life will still see me left with an itch I can’t quite scratch. Because I need the organ grinder, and right now, he’s nowhere to be found.

Was he also behind the drive-by shooting that saw my son the target and Eoin almost killed? My gut is telling me he was. I hope it’s fucking right because if there’s more than one faction involved, we’ll be looking over our shoulders for the rest of our days.

With a shaky sigh, I lift my hand and trace the scrolled letter A behind my left ear. I don’t need to see it to know its exact outline. I’d give anything to see my initial behind Ace’s ear right now or the PJ inked over that big heart of his.

At times, we take so much for granted. We blindly believe we’ll live to see another sunrise, and when one of you doesn’t make it, the one left behind has to dig deep and somehow find the strength to make it to the end of every day that follows.

It’s all about survival, you see. Because when there are children involved, you’re left with no other choice but to keep on going.

My phone vibrates, and I glance at it.

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