Page 12 of His to Keep
Game over.
* * *
He twistedthe plastic dial at the side of her seat, gradually inching her to a recline. It would look more believable like she was taking a nap.
Lana was his, and he would damn well make sure she stayed faithful. He decided Verto Veneri was the reason Lorraine left him. This time around, Lana wouldn’t be allowed to fuck anyone other than him.
In fact, if he was truly honest with himself, he wouldn’t let her out of his sight. It was probably for the best if he kept her holed up in the house. Ready and waiting for him to come home. Like a good girl.
The plan to leave Belfast behind was in full swing.
Clambering to the driver’s seat, he stared at his reflection in the rectangular mirror, sighing with pride. Then, he leant over her limp curvy body like a hunter eyeing his prize kill.
He peeled the hem of his tee upwards, freeing his torso from the tight fabric as he tugged it over his head. His ribs jutted out and his belly was paved with muscles.
“I’m sorry about all the drugs, sweetheart!” He rested his cheek over her heart and absorbed each shallow breath. “I was the one who signed us up for the club a few years ago,” he muttered. “It was such a buzz having sex with all those women, they lapped it up. I was hooked on the rush of random sex while I was married. Like having affairs with no complications. But then she left me for a puny fucker. He’s half the man I am. I gave her everything and she still fucked me over.” His hand drifted to the edge of her black dress. A shiver rocketed down his spine, anticipating the feel of her fleshy folds. A groan left his throat. “I noticed you the minute you strutted into Verto Veneri, Lana. I knew we would end up together, one way or another.”
* * *
The drug had turnedher muscles to jelly. No matter how hard her mind begged her to fight, her body just laid in a heap. It oozed through her arteries, dulling her senses.
The drug was different this time. She could see him and watch him, but she was powerless to move away from him.
Floating away from her paralysed form, she watched from above. In her mind, she screamed at her prone body to push him away.
He fluttered kisses over her jaw like a caring lover. The stink of tobacco was masked by peppermint gum, but the staleness permeated his skin.
Slowly, he teased down the front of her dress and freed her breasts. His tongue slithered across the plump flesh, and he released a rasping groan of gratification.
“Don’t worry. Our first time won’t be at the dock in a stinking truck...and your hair…it will smell like vanilla not diesel.”
Lana fell into the depths of her mind, locating a dark hideaway that protected her from his torment.
* * *
Marcus thumpedon the glass window of the truck door when he caught sight of the pathetic little cockroach Carl. He almost ripped the hefty door off its hinges as he swung it open.
“What the fuck?” Carl snarled, scuttling back from Marcus in a hasty retreat.
Jamie bounced in through the driver’s side and pounced on Carl’s half-dressed form, dragging him backwards like a rag doll.
Marcus heard the cries of pain when Carl’s bones hit the tarmac but his sharp intake of air was held captive when he assessed the gut wrenching scene before him. He hauled off his hooded top and carefully shielded Lana’s chest.
His heart crashed against his ribs as his shaky fingers brushed her blank face, swiping strands of hair away from her chilled skin.
“Holy fuck, Lana. Talk to me. Please, Lana, tell me you’re okay?”
She just hummed and her glassy eyes rolled in her head. A cracked groan escaped her throat, but she didn’t reply.
He quickly rectified her dress, covering her bare breasts and tugging it down to her thighs.
“Kill the motherfucker,” he growled like thunder to his brother Jamie, who wrestled with Carl and slammed him face first onto the car bonnet. He kept his hard gaze on Lana’s soft features and lightly thumbed her jaw. “Did he…? Was I too late?” Marcus’s husky tone was strained.
Marcus fixated all his senses on Lana. Scrutinising her breathing—listening, feeling and watching as her chest rose, ever so slightly. He counted each breath, in fear she missed even one.
The harbour swarmed with police officers. One read Carl his rights and another cuffed him before shoving him in the back of a police car. Marcus was oblivious to it all, including the sirens that signalled the arrival of an ambulance.
He held Lana’s little hand like she was dying, pressing his forehead to hers. A female medic assured him that Lana needed to be treated in private, forcing Marcus to let go of her cold fingers.
