“I can lift more than you, old man!” He threw a low punch at his brother’s shoulder, ducking with nimble agility as Marcus sat upright and tried to grab his fist. “If you weren’t my bro, I’d kick the crap out of you.”
Marcus hummed in the back of his throat. “You know I’d have to let you win. It wouldn’t be a fair fight, you punch like a little girl.” He smirked.
“You wouldn’t need to let me win, I’d have no bother knocking you flat on your back,” Jamie replied with an air of confidence bordering on arrogance.
Jamie grabbed another bottle of beer from the cooler and chucked it at Marcus. “What brought you out to Italy?” He winked, lying back on a padded sun lounger.
Marcus took a sip. “Since when did I need a reason to see you?”
Jamie spluttered out a breath of air. “Bullshit, Marcus. We were in Monaco a few days ago. You’ve got it bad for Lana. Never thought I’d see the day when you fell for a woman.”
“Whatever, shit-head.” Marcus trailed his aviators from his eyes and slotted them above his forehead.
“Did you come out here to get her back or play about a bit more?” Jamie quizzed, running his palm over his washboard abs.
“I want her back. You told me she was here, in the villa, and a switch flicked in my head. The next thing, I was on the first flight to Naples.” He tipped the bottle to his lips and swallowed a thirsty glug of beer. “The plan was to stay the hell away from her. It didn’t work out, as you can see.”
Jamie scratched the damp label at the side of his beer bottle, peeling it from the moist glass. “And now you’ve seen her. So…?”
Marcus shrugged. “Yeah, I saw her alright - with her juicy red lips all over that son of a bitch, Emilio. I wanted to kill dead things – but it didn’t work out between us and I don’t know if it ever will.”
“My big brother is doubting himself? Pinch me. Am I dreaming this shit or have you turned into a pussy?” Jamie chuckled.
Marcus glared at his brother. “I became her anchor, it was suffocating…but, it made me feel fucking alive knowing I was all she needed. You know me well enough to know it won’t work, Jamie.”
Jamie slammed his glass on the table and bolted upright. “Fuck sake, Marcus. Keeping yourself away from her won’t stop bad things happening.
What exactly are you trying to achieve by denying yourself happiness. You’re torturing each other for what fucking purpose, mate?” His tone was hard and direct.
Marcus slid his bare feet off the side of the lounger, drawing himself upright. “You don’t understand, Jamie.” He scolded, rubbing the back of his neck.
Jamie’s eyes narrowed under his scrunched brow. “Dad and I lost her too, Marcus. You’re not the only one,” he snapped gruffly.
“She was driving that night because of me, Jamie. If I hadn’t pleaded for her to come back…she would still be alive.” Marcus stroked the top of his head, ruffling his hair into place.
“We’ve told you before. It. Wasn’t. Your. Fault. It was Johnston’s fault for drinking, and it was his fault for ploughing through a red light and smashing into her.”
Jamie stood, walked to his brother and dropped down beside him, nudging shoulders. “It was his fault, mate. Not yours. Do you really think mum would want you to deny yourself happiness?”
Marcus let out a long breath, shaking his head slowly. He never considered sticking with the same girl, until Lana blew into his office like a refreshing summer breeze.
His heart whispered the suggestion of love, and his mind battled with a mash of fear and denial. Her name had been woven into the fibres of his flesh, her taste seared onto his tongue. Her laugh danced in his mind like a love song on repeat and he couldn’t pause his crazy emotions.
He hadn’t planned a trip to Italy, and he certainly didn’t expect to find her kissing a good looking Italian guy when he got there. Although what was really unexpected, was the ugly jealousy that drove him to the bottom of a whiskey bottle, that made him hunt her down and forced him to wait in the shadows just to steal just a kiss.
It was a huge fucking mistake. A dirty and divine catastrophe because Lana confirmed, after everything, that she wanted someone else.
“I just got off the phone with Arthur, they’ve got evidence to clear Rory. They found a cigarette butt in Rory’s house. It matched Carl’s DNA, the same DNA that was found on Jacqueline’s neck. His nails broke the skin and the cocky fucker left his mark. He pretended to be the concierge, stole one of the uniforms and gave Rory and Jacqueline a complimentary bottle of champagne, laced with a strong sedative. A few hours later, he was spotted by one of the guests going back to the room. He strangled Jacqueline when she was out cold, probably to frame Rory so he could get to Lana.” He ran his finger down the neck of the frosted beer. “He would’ve killed Lana when he was finished with her.”
“Sick bastard.” Jamie tilted his head and took a slug of beer. “He’ll rot in hell!”
The mobile phone buzzed on the table. “Arthur?”
His face dropped. “Are you fucking kidding me? Right, change of plan. Get in touch with Mal. We need eyes on the bastard urgently.”
He ended the call and tossed the phone on the lounger.
Marcus dragged his palms down his face. “Don’t breathe a word of this to Lana, Jamie.”
