“Look, when it’s all over,” he continued, keeping his eye on Sheridan, talking with Shae at the van. “I want to ask your permission for something.”
They looked up at him, with their brows furrowed.
“I want to ask your mum to marry me,” he said. I should leave. This was a personal moment but I was dragged into his happiness, his family because they were all our family. “Would that be okay?”
They pulled from his arms and faced him. I wondered if they would say yes.
“You don’t need our permission,” Shauna was the one who spoke.
“I want your blessing,” he offered, running a hand down his hair at the back. It was his tell. He was nervous as hell.
The girls looked at each other, then a slow smirk spread over Shauna’s face, as she turned back. “You can have that, on one condition.”
“Name it.”
“When you marry our mum,” Ryleigh said. “You let us take your name.”
The pride that registered on Ace’s face was enough to allow a sense of peace to wash over me. Shauna had been a little rougher around the edges, but she’d come around eventually to calling Ace her dad.
“You can do that now,” he said, pulling them into a bear hug. They laughed as they hugged him back, and I moved back down behind the clubhouse so I didn’t ruin the moment. I felt guilty for feeling happy when Orlawas trapped with a maniacal asshole, but I knew she would be happy too.
I just needed her back.
My phone buzzed and I looked down at a photo message from an unknown number. I opened it to find the air being sucked out of my chest.
It was Orla.
She was tied to a bed, her near naked body on display, tears running down her cheeks.
The message that came next told me Dempsey may not have as much of a handle over this as the thought he did.
UNKNOWN
She sure does look pretty all laid out like that. Keep the redhead.
I’ll feast on your whore.
F.
Fucking Flynn.
I marched in through the back door to the office in the clubhouse. Maree was standing there at the computer, sucking down a vape. Her eyes widened in surprise before she pulled me inside and closed the door.
“Don’t fucking tell Donny,” she said, hiding the vape under the table.
“I don’t give a fuck about this.”
“What’s up?” she asked, her eyes searching mine. I showed her the message. Her eyes widened and then her brows knit together in confusion.
“F?”
“Flynn fucking Beasley,” I replied.
Her eyes closed for a moment, realising just how fucked Orla was.
“I have to ask you a favour.”
“Name it, Alex.”
