by Esme Devlin
“Like a fucking dream, son,” I shout at him, laughing.
He’s already flooring it up the long road to the house. I check behind us and the wagon is a few car-lengths behind us.
We stop on the gravel yard in front of the entrance and the two boys in uniform spring into action, putting their riot helmets on and carrying the hydraulic jack between them while they make their way over to the door.
They bend down and one of them starts pumping while the door creaks forward.
Put your fucking back into it man.
I’m about to go over and do it myself but Calvin holds me back.
If we’re too late, I’ll kill them all.
Every last one of them.
Chapter 27
LACEY
His dad ties my arms to the bedposts and I lie there, staring at the canopy above my head, propped up on silk pillows like a lamb waiting for slaughter.
“Look at me,” he says.
I do. He’s standing at the foot of the bed, a knife in his hand. In the far corner of the room his father stands watching us, probably too scared to leave in case I kick his precious boy clean in the face.
“What do you know about the Keagans?”
I remain silent and go back to looking at the canopy above my head. It’s dark red, more like the color of Merlot wine.
I’ve never had Merlot wine.
I wish I had drunk more wine.
Why was I always such a fucking bore?
“Tell us what you know and I assure you, this will be so much easier for you.”
La La La La.
Fucks he going to do?
“The clock is ticking,” I tell him, giggling. “You think Shaun won’t notice I’m gone?”
Liam shrugs. “They won’t kill us. I’m not under any oath not to kill you, though. Tell me what you know.”
Maybe they can’t kill him, but I think he underestimates Shaun’s feelings for me. He thinks Shaun just wanted to take a toy off him, because he could.
He doesn’t know Shaun like I do.
I go back to singing my song in my head. The lyrics make no sense, but who gives a fuck.
“You think I won’t do it?”
He’s interrupting my song, and it’s pissing me off.
“Why would you go to all the trouble of marrying me if you are just going to kill me? You’re not going to kill me.”
He starts laughing. “I will kill you. I married you because if you die, I might as well kill your dad too and inherit his fortune.”
Hmm. Maybe he is going to kill me.
My heart rate picks up and I watch him closely. I don’t want him to know that I’m scared.
He comes around the bed, his knife in one hand and his crutch in the other, and then sits down on the edge of it near my face. His hand comes down and he uses the point of the knife to trace along my neck.
I’m sweating. This room is too hot, and the ache in my stomach has returned with a vengeance.
I can take pain. I can take whatever sick things he wants to do with me.
But I don’t want to die.
Not when I’ve only just started really living.
The knife slips further down my body and he uses it to cut open the lace of my dress.
I stare up at the canopy while he pulls the fabric apart and stares down at my breasts. His fingers brush against my nipple and I try not to squirm, knowing it probably feeds his sick-fuck desires.
I can’t help it.
He pinches my nipple hard between his fingers and my arms jerk against the ties, desperately trying to be free.
His other hand comes over, grabbing the other one without mercy and pinching even harder, then he twists both together and my whole body contorts, trying to contain my screams.
I won’t scream for him.
I’ll stay silent as a mouse.
It’s only going to get worse.
“Do you know how much I fantasised about these?”
His dad is still standing there, watching us.
“They’re not even that nice. I mean, nothing special. There’s nothing special about you at all, and yet here we are.”
He releases my nipples only to squeeze even harder at my breasts. He’s trying to get a reaction from me.
I close my eyes, tightly. I try to retreat into my own body.
“How can such an average looking girl with average looking tits cause so much fucking havoc? Are you a good fuck? You must be a good fuck, surely that’s it?”
I choke on my own saliva but I don’t open my eyes. His hands drift down my body and he pulls at my dress while I pull at the bonds so hard my fingers are numb.
Then I hear something.
A commotion.
Footsteps.
I hear clatters from another room and my eyes fly to McGuiness. Liam panics, dropping my dress like it’s a hot coal.
McGuiness rushes over and locks the door.
“Get her up,” he hisses at Liam.
Liam fumbles with the knife and cuts the ties loose, trying to drag me up with him on his unsteady leg.
“Shaun!” I screech the words as loud as my voice will manage. “HELP!”
The door bangs against its hinges. Someone is kicking the door in.
McGuiness backs away from it, moving over closer to us.
Liam grabs me around the neck and points the knife at it, using me as a human shield.
Three loud kicks later and the door flies open.
And there he is.
Standing there with a gray cotton tracksuit on and a rifle in his hand, murder in his eyes.
“What the fuck is this.”
His voice is ice cold and sends a shiver running straight down my spine. Liam pants in my ear.
“She was mine from day one, Shaun. You had your fun. She’s mine now.”
Shaun smiles and aims the rifle at us. At me.
What the fuck is he doing?
“Fucks she wearing?”
McGuiness clears his throat. “Put the gun down. You can’t kill us. Put the gun down and we’ll discuss this like men.”
Shaun doesn’t even look in his direction. He keeps the rifle trained on me.
He eyes me up with a look of disgust on his face. My blood turns cold. My stomach sinks. “You married her?”
“I did.”
“That was a mistake,” he says. He flicks the rifle to the side a couple degrees and then he shoots.
He shoots McGuiness.
He doesn’t even have time to let out a cry before he crumbles to the floor.
Liam’s hold on me tightens. I feel the knife at my neck piercing my skin and the warm trickle of blood that soothes the cut.
“What was that about not killing you?”
“I don’t understand,” Liam says, his voice breaking.
Shaun’s looking at me now, the gun pointing at me.
“You married him?”
“Yes,” I nod, tears filling my eyes.
“Witnesses?”
“The pastor.” My voice breaks.
“Whose team you on, Lace?”
“Yours,” I tell him. “Yours.”
“You sure about that?” His voice breaks.
I swallow the lump in my throat. “A thousand tiny threads.”
He nods, as if confirming something.
“Do it, darlin.”
What?
He nods again, his eyes urging me.
Oh.
I grab the knife in one hand, the same time as my foot slams down on Liam’s cast-less one. The fright from the impact makes him release his grip just enough for me to step to the side, just like Shaun said it would.
I don’t hesitate. I swing my arm down right into his groin and he doubles over, dropping the knife at our feet.
The same hand swings back and elbows him in the nose, and he screams.
He fucking screams.
I move out of the way while his body doubles over. I glance at Shaun. He has the gun aimed.
&nbs
p; He fires.
Right in Liam’s head.
Blood.
Blood fucking everywhere.
My legs go weak and I collapse on the bed.
He runs over to me, dropping the gun and shaking himself free of his hoody. He puts it around my shoulders, covering my bare chest and then he wraps his arms around me.
The smell of him floats to my nose and I close my eyes.
I don’t want to look at the scene beside us.
People rush in but he’s already scooping me up, carrying me away.
“Calvin, find that pastor,” he says. “Bring him to me.”
He’s taking the steps double time.
Everything is a blur.
“Tony, get my dad on the phone. I need to speak to him.”
He goes on, barking orders at people and all I want to do is go home and curl up under the covers with him and never leave.
I just want to go home.
The next few days went by in a blur. He took me straight to his house, of course, and I don’t think I left the bedroom other than to go to the toilet.
He stayed with me the whole time. Holding me when I didn’t know I needed to be held, saving me when I didn’t know I needed to be saved.
It didn’t hurt as much as it did the first time though, all those hours lying in his arms. When he did it before, it hurt because he was the only person there. Now he was the only person I wanted to be there.
On the third day, Stevie came over and encouraged me to come back to school. I wasn’t ready though, and I wasn’t sure when I would be. I couldn’t close my eyes without seeing Liam’s face.
On the fourth day, Shaun was restless and went to the gym for a few hours, and that was when Alice and Angela came to see me.
“How are you feeling?” Alice has that look on her face, the one that conveys she understands.
Angela puts a cup of tea down on the bedside table and sits on the end of the bed. “There’s a lot that needs to be sorted out, and we can’t do it with you holed up in here.”
Straight to the point, as always. I pick up the tea and blow it a few times before taking a sip, enjoying the fact she’s hanging on for my next words. “You’re going to push for the marriage to be recognized?”
I suspected that would happen. That first night when I was replaying the days events again and again, it hit me. That was why Shaun was making sure I was on his side before he killed Liam.
He knew we could fudge things so I inherited everything, but only if the pastor, Mary, and I confirmed a marriage did happen.
“It’s the only option that fits our agenda,” Angela says.
Their agenda. It’s always about their agenda.
I look at the steam coming from my tea cup while I think about it. I don’t want to be pushed around by them, or Shaun, or his dad.
But then I remember the conversation we had, the three of us in the kitchen that morning. The three fates let the God control them, safe in the knowledge that they were the one pulling the strings.
If we push for my marriage to Liam to be recognized, then that would make my marriage to Shaun void.
My heart sinks a little at the thought of that. At the time, I hated everything about it, but in hindsight I realize it was probably the most selfless thing Shaun has ever or will ever do.
But we can get married again. Perhaps when we’re a little older and the time is right. If our little handfast ceremony wasn’t a real marriage, then I’m the sole heir to the McGuiness fortune.
I won’t have to listen to his dad.
I won’t have to listen to anyone.
I have the cut on my hand, so I’m not against them. But what this makes me is an equal player. I have a seat at the table.
I’ll own half the fucking table.
I look between Angela and Alice and set the teacup down on the bedside table.
“Tell me what we need to do.”
Chapter 28
LACEY
1 YEAR LATER
“What do you think of this?”
Mary screws her face up. “If you don’t mind me being forthright… It’s a little… revealing.”
Stevie giggles and takes a sip of her wine. “I think it’s perfect!”
“Okay, I’m going to side with Mary then,” I tell her, laughing as her face drops.
“A good choice, ma’m.”
Ma’m. I’ve only told her like, a thousand times not to call me that. I’m just Lacey.
“What about the red one you wore to the Anderson’s engagement party? Shall I fetch that to try? That was understated, but classy.”
“Yes, please. That’ll do nicely.”
She nods and heads out of the bedroom.
I converted one of the guest rooms into a big walk-in wardrobe, because no one has a need for 11 guest bedrooms. Especially a single girl with no real family.
“You can’t be an outfit repeater,” Stevie hisses from her place on the bed.
I roll my eyes. “Who the fuck remembers shit like that?”
“Mary, apparently,” she says dryly.
I take a seat at my dressing table and brush out my curls. This was a new edition to the room. I kept some things, like the bed with the Merlot canopy.
Obviously a lot had to go, like the blood stained carpet.
Does that make me strange?
Probably.
But I loved this house since the first night I laid eyes on the beautifully painted dining room ceiling.
I wasn’t going to sell it to the Keagans or burn it to the ground. It’s a nice house, even if the people who occupied it weren’t so nice.
I don’t believe in ghosts.
But I do believe in leverage. And this house, this estate, gives me a place at the table.
Just as I predicted, I own half the table now.
She comes back with the dress and it’s actually nicer than I remembered.
“Would you like me to stay and help you dress?”
“No, I’ll be fine, thank you. You can take the night off,” I tell her.
“Are you sure Ma’m?”
“I’m sure. If he wins tonight, there will be a party… and if he loses, well, there will probably also be a party.”
She chuckles. “I’ll make myself scarce then. Send him my best wishes, will you?”
“I’ll let him know,” I tell her.
It’s his third professional fight since I convinced him to get back in the ring. The first one didn’t go as well as he’d hoped for… he won but it was more luck than technique, or so he tells me.
But he’s finding his feet again, and his confidence is back.
I don’t particularly enjoy it — does anyone enjoy watching the love of their life get mangled up inside a boxing ring? Doubt it. But he needs it. He loves it.
And it keeps him busy enough while I deal with the important stuff.
I didn’t just inherit the house when Liam, my beloved husband passed away.
I inherited everything.
Shaun made sure they reversed what they did and my father made it out to be a simple accounting error. It was effectively brushed under the carpet. A slap on the wrists, which my father obviously took the flack for.
Not like he had a choice, really. Not with the whole McGuiness empire staring him in the face expectantly.
And by the whole McGuiness empire, I mean me.
Yours truly.
I won’t say that I have forgiven my father, and I’ll never forget what he wanted to do. But, I can’t deny he is useful. The decision to keep him with the company was merely a business one.
Cold, hard, business.
He doesn’t come over for Sunday lunch, but he does sit at my board table at 8am sharp every Monday morning.
He’s an asset.
“Ready?” I ask Stevie, smoothing down the crepe fabric of my dress.
She finishes off her glass of wine and nods her head. I do the same.
Merlot.
I enjoy the odd glass now
and again.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
Since Shaun is busy doing whatever he does before a fight, Calvin picks us up. He bought a Discovery Sport after he totaled the Evoque ‘for me’, and barely a day goes by where he lets me forget about it.
“You look gorgeous, sweetheart,” he says as we get in the car, bending over to give Stevie a kiss.
“Aww, thanks honey,” I reply from the back seat.
“You scrub up alright too, doll,” he says with a chuckle.
“Everyone else meeting us there?”
“Aye. Doeboy’s picking up Heather, Angie and Alice. Scoot and Tony are already in the casino.”
I nod my head. Shaun will be with Jim, and probably Big Jim too, knocking lumps out of each other in a back room somewhere.
“You seen the size of the cunt he’s fighting tonight? Biggest one yet, I’d say.”
“I tend not to look,” I reply. “Makes me nervous.”
“He’ll be fine,” Stevie says. “Always is, the prick.”
“Aye, but that’s only because he’s not stepped in a ring with me yet, sweetheart.”
I chuckle and the pair of them start bickering with each other while I stare out of the window.
We arrive just as the sun is setting. Calvin lets us out the car at the door and then heads off himself to find a parking space.
I spot Heather at the bar and Stevie offers to get the first round of drinks in, so I go and sit down at the table with Alice and Angela.
“How is he?” I ask them.
Angela shrugs, taking a sip from her wine glass and showing off her bright red polished nails. “He’s doing better than Jim is, anyway. Apparently the guy is on the large side.”
“Aye, big Russian fella,” Alice adds.
I laugh, remembering a joke Shaun and I shared about that a long time ago.
“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” I tell them, pulling out my phone and doing a quick last scan through my emails before the girls come back with the drinks.
I’m not a workaholic… I just get shifty over the weekend.
“You’ve started work on landscaping the garden?” Angela asks, her tone light and casual.
The garden is a code word we use for anything related to the patch of land that now belongs to me.
