35
Marcus covered her prone body with the duvet as she slept.
A soft dreamy moan escaped her throat as he caressed the curve of her cheek with the side of his thumb. Those sweet sounds had him hooked.
Everything about this woman was addictive.
When he planned this out in his head, he wanted her to have her own bedroom, to keep things simple, with no misunderstandings.
He thought she would need time to readjust after her broken engagement, but watching her sleep, confirmed his fucked-up feelings.
There wasn’t a hope in hell he would allow her to leave his bed, not now.
This was new territory and he was uncertain about where it would lead. Lana had sucked him in with her curvy body, stunning looks and sweet voice.
Having her here, in his home, felt right, like she belonged by his side. Whether those feelings would burn out after time was unknown, but the thought of her leaving made him antsy and angry.
He wanted her all to himself until he could figure out what the fuck was going on.
His phone vibrated on the bedside cabinet. Reaching out, he answered the call, knowing that Roger, his stable manager, would ring when Varia, was having her pups.
Unexpectedly, Donna Marie was the late-night caller.
“Marcus, we have a situation. One of the club members has been murdered.”
Leaping out of the bed like a stealth panther, he darted into the hallway, “Who?”
“Jacqueline Simpson, she was strangled.”
“Verto wasn’t on this weekend, so why is this any of my concern?” he snapped. Granted, it was a shame the young girl was dead, but what could he do? It wasn’t on his time.
“She was with Rory O’Hare, in The Fitz, Marcus.”
The line went silent. “Shit!” Marcus pressed his palm to his forehead and let out a long puff of air. “Are you sure it was him?”
“It’s confirmed, Donovan picked them up on the security cameras. Rory was seen leaving the room after the emergency services were called by an anonymous male caller.”
“Where is he now?”
“We don’t know. I doubt he’ll get far with her husband hot on his tail.”
This was bad news, very bad news. Marcus had to protect Lana from the fallout. He had to keep her away from Rory, for her own safety.
That also meant he had to leave Fermanagh to sort out the legalities of having a death in his hotel, not to mention track down Ciaran Simpson, the notorious Belfast gangster who taught simple lessons of respect with a gunshot to the knees.
Marcus and Ciaran had history, spanning years of a friendly affiliation. The two men had the same connections and it was a given that Ciaran would get his name on the club list, whether it was good idea or not.
Now Marcus needed to smooth things over with him to ensure Lana’s’ safety was a priority. If Ciaran found out that she and Rory had been engaged, Ciaran would hunt her down for revenge and Lana would get caught up in the cross fire of Rory’s fucking stupidity.
Marcus scribbled a quick note and left it on the kitchen counter. He arranged for his chef to arrive early in the morning, to prepare breakfast, lunch and dinner in his absence.
The desire to wake up beside her for another round ate away at him when he stood over her in silence, watching her sleep. Her lashes fluttered against her pale cheeks and those kissable strawberry lips were inviting and perfect.
Instead of snuggling up to her sleepy warmth, he turned away and left in the dark of night, to protect her.
Lana Craig was his now, and he would kill anyone who stood in his way.