Three Alpha Romeo - A Military Reverse Harem Romance

by Krista Wolf

  And now I’d kissed her…

  And she’d kissed me back.

  “Hey,” she said, tugging at my sleeve. I glanced down, noticing absently I’d lost a cufflink. “Look. They’re moving.”

  She pointed, and I could see the guests being led out into a garden area. They were surrounded by black suits. Some of them were still holding their drinks.

  “See the first pier that extends outward,” I said. “On the left?”

  I watched as she shrugged out of the fur coat, getting ready to run. She had starfire eyes. Dark violet rims fading to sky blue in the center, flecked with daggers of sapphire.

  And her eyes were glassy, too. Like there was a thrill of anticipation in them.

  “Yes.”

  “Meet you down there,” I said, “and—”

  She was off like a rocket, sprinting down the embankment in a blur of red. I shook my head in disbelief.

  “—and don’t stop for anything…” I said to the empty air.

  Six

  ANDREA

  It was a good half mile to the pier, and all of it was downhill. We cut across a small park, came out next to a row of cars, and followed the curve of the road all the way down to the waterline.

  To my surprise, my white knight kept up with me. Most guys certainly couldn’t. For all his strength and size he kept on chugging along, arms pumping, his long legs propelling him all the way to the end.

  He arrived there only seconds before I did, skidding to a halt at the edge of the pier. He was barely even winded. I knew right then, he’d had some sort of training.

  “Were we followed?” I gasped.

  He looked back, shaking his head. “Don’t think so. But you can bet your ass they saw us run.”

  A motor started up, and we both whirled. One of the four boats moored to the dock had roared to life, the engine sputtering puffs of thick white smoke.

  “That’s our ride.”

  The man in the boat was already grinning as we approached. He was roguishly handsome. A bit shorter than his friend, with dark messy hair and a thick beard that tapered down to a point. Where his T-shirt ended, his arms were sleeved with tattoos.

  “She almost beat you.”

  My sprinting buddy grumbled something unintelligible. He began throwing off lines.

  “I would’ve beaten him,” I pointed out. “If I weren’t wearing this dress.”

  The man in the boat looked me up and down and laughed. “And she’s barefoot too.”

  We all stared down to where my once-sexy stockings were torn away, literally, at my ankles. Wordlessly, my hero unwrapped another rope.

  “Randall?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Fuck off.”

  I could sense a tension between them, but also a camaraderie. This was their thing, I could already tell. They stirred each other’s pots. They got off on it.

  “This is the fastest boat you could find? Really?”

  His companion shrugged. “What the hell did you expect? It’s a sailing wharf. Mostly yachts.”

  “Yeah, well this sucks.”

  “Hey, next time you steal the boat and I’ll rescue the hot blonde.”

  He held his hand out to me, to help me board. I took it gratefully.

  “This hot blonde was in the process of rescuing herself,” I chimed in. “Just so you know, I didn’t ask for anyone’s help.”

  The bearded guy chuckled. “I love the way you left the word ‘hot’ in there.”

  “Well if the shoe fits...” I grinned back at him.

  CRACK!

  Something on the boat snapped. Or splintered. Or broke under tension.

  “.50 cal?” Randall asked, looking casually back at the hill.

  “Most likely, yeah.”

  “Time to go, then.”

  I followed my dance partner’s gaze backward. The lights of the palace made it look even more beautiful from this distance. As I watched, a flash of yellow muzzle fire burst from somewhere high atop the castle wall. Less than a second later, a hole exploded in the boat’s floor, two feet from my foot.

  “Holy fuck!”

  I dove down, crouching low behind one of the back-to-back double seats. Neither of the guys seemed concerned about cover as they pushed us off from the dock.

  “Damn,” said the man called Randall. “If only I had my Win Mag…”

  “W—What’s that?”

  “It’s the rifle I’d use,” he replied calmly, “to put a bowling-ball sized exit wound into that fucker shooting at us.”

  Another shot split the night. This one erupted in a plume of water, right where the boat had been only two seconds ago.

  “The both of you should get down!” I cried.

  Randall was looking back through a pair of sleek black binoculars now. “Sweetheart, if he puts one on you that seat’s going to offer you all the protection of a paper condom,” he said. “Shit, it’d drill a hole right through the engine block, and still do enough damage to—”

  WHIIIRRRRRRRRRR!

  Whatever else he said was lost to the roar of the engine. My running partner gunned the throttle, and the boat surged forward in a wonderful rush of wind and noise.

  Thank God!

  For a few moments he was cutting the wheel left and right, weaving the bow through a series of random S-turns that I knew were designed to make us a harder target. No other shots rang out, no more splashes bloomed in the water. By the time we reached the end of the jetty, I felt almost safe.

  Gradually, I stood up.

  “Who are you guys?” I demanded.

  I moved next to the driver, watching as he steered us around the jagged rock wall and into open waters. The boat sliced easily through the choppy waves and out into the darkness of the Aegean Sea. It wasn’t the smoothest ride, but it wasn’t terrible either.

  “We’re friends,” the guy steering the boat said. “Call us… friends with common interests.”

  I braced my legs and crossed my arms. “Got a name, friend?”

  “Sure. Holden.”

  I stared back at him. Compared to Randall, who wore dark jeans and a black T-shirt, my hero looked like the most overdressed boat captain ever.

  “Holden, huh?” I thought I could see the slightest hint of a wry smile. “That your first name or your last name?”

  “Does it really matter?”

  “I suppose not.”

  He shrugged. “Then it’s both.”

  “You can call him dickhead if you like,” Randall jumped in, sidling up on my other side. “That’s what always I do.”

  I pursed my lips in mock consideration. “You really think he looks like a dickhead?”

  “Either that or a fuck-face,” Randall answered gleefully.

  “I was thinking more along the lines of a douche-nozzle.”

  The bearded man stared back at me like he’d just found a favorite new playmate. “She’s sassy! I like that!” He patted me hard on the shoulder before turning to Holden. “Okay fine. She comes with.”

  Comes with… My mind was still spinning a mile a minute. Comes with where?

  “Wait!” I said abruptly, whirling around again. “What about your other friend?”

  “Other friend?”

  “The third guy!” I exclaimed. “Six foot six? Packed with muscle?” They still weren’t getting it. “Looks like a bear?”

  Fucks like a demon… the little voice in my head teased.

  Silently they shook their heads.

  “He was with me,” I said, squirming a little at the double entendre. “Well… sort of. I saw him up in the upper chambers. When I was… well…”

  They were both staring back at me in confusion now.

  “He’s not with you?”

  The men looked at each other for a moment, and I could see something unspoken pass between them. Something new.

  “No third guy here, Babydoll,” said Randall. He turned sideways, and his beard flapped wildly in the wind.

  “On this mission? It�
��s just us.”

  Seven

  ANDREA

  The dark water stretched out before us, as the engine droned on and on. Off to the right I could see the random twinkling of sparse lights. The easternmost shores of the isle, which for the most part were nothing but moonlit beaches.

  “Where in the world are we going?”

  “Back to Athens,” said Holden.

  “We’re on the wrong side of the island then,” I pointed out. “The airport’s back the other way.”

  He shook his head. “Not the only airport.”

  I’d arrived on Rhodes with the rest of the staff, three days prior. It had taken my company that long to prepare for the party, to set the stage for a single night. Whoever was paying for it had spared absolutely no expense.

  But I knew damned well who was paying for it.

  “Right there,” said Randall, extending an arm. “Cut the engine and let me out here.”

  We ditched the boat on a rocky shore, and Holden helped me down. His hands felt strong, cinched tightly around my waist. His grip felt good. Confident.

  “Thank you.”

  In the end we were left staring out into the darkness, at a long stretch of nothing.

  “Kalathos airfield,” said Holden, before I could ask. “It’s an old, practically abandoned strip. World War II era.”

  I didn’t question how they knew this, or what they’d planned for. It didn’t even surprise me when a twin-engine aircraft fired itself up, emerging from out of the shadows to taxi in our direction.

  I was a little shocked however, to see Randall in the pilot’s seat.

  “Get in, Blondie,” he called down, while tossing me a headset. “We’ve got a little bit of a ride.”

  We took off, climbing into the night sky. From up here the island was gorgeous, the buildings lit up warmly from within. It all disappeared quickly as Randall took us out over the water, chatting back and forth with Holden while I settled across the bench seat behind them.

  Fifteen silent minutes went by, then half an hour. With each passing mile, I relaxed a little more. I’d made it. I was out. Finally, I could feel the tension going of my shoulders.

  That’s probably it for Greece, then, I sighed.

  I had to admit, I was a little sad about that part. The countryside had been breathtaking, and one of the most beautiful places I’d ever stayed. It was mostly blues and greens, with tall, strange trees and ruins so old it hurt my head to think about it. And the weather…

  By now I’d been all over Europe, and throughout some of Asia, too. Places like Portugal and Bucharest and Spain. I’d stayed in Lisbon and Barcelona. I’d seen the Carnival of Venice, and walked the Zurich street parade.

  I’d followed Xander Kyrkos all over the world, really. Missing him by weeks, or days, or even hours.

  And now, in this case, mere minutes.

  But I didn’t care. I wouldn’t tire. I’d follow him to the ends of the Earth if I had to, no matter where he went, no matter what he did.

  All for a chance to nail the man who killed my father.

  “Andrea, what was your extraction plan?”

  The voice blared abruptly over the headset. I couldn’t tell if it was Holden’s or Randall’s.

  “What?”

  “What was your exit strategy?” the voice said again. “When you came here to get Kyrkos, didn’t you have a plan for getting out?”

  I honestly hadn’t thought about it. Kyrkos had been my life for so long, I didn’t know anything else. Didn’t care about anything else.

  At times, not even myself.

  “I guess I was going to stab him and hide under the bed,” I called into the little mic by my mouth. “Nobody ever looks under the bed.”

  Randall cackled. “Everyone looks under the bed!”

  Holden nodded his agreement from the co-pilot seat. “It’s the first place they look.”

  “Whatever.”

  I was beyond tired, almost even past caring. I’d spent months getting into position; long weeks of careful planning, just to be in the same room as Xander Kyrkos. And now I’d fucked it all up. Fucked it up bad.

  I should’ve been thinking about what came next. About whether Kyrkos would stay in Greece or move again, as he so often did. About how I’d manage to cross paths with him again, assuming I’d even be able to determine where he went next.

  Instead, all I could think about was that kiss…

  Holden had saved my ass, no doubt. He’d been there knowing who I was, and it was quick thinking to play the part of my fiancé. The kiss had sealed the deal, and made his story all the more convincing. Still…

  There was something else there too. A fire, a passion — some kind of electricity that sparked between us, the moment his lips met mine.

  I could tell by the way he held me. By the way his hands seemed so familiar with my body…

  I fell asleep. Or maybe into a trace. All I knew is that when I looked out the window again, we were descending. The morning sun had already broken the horizon, and the city of Athens lay stretched out beneath us. All white and beige buildings scattered over rolling hills.

  Randall brought us down, but not at Athens airport. We landed gently on a small grass strip, tucked behind a jagged rise in the landscape. The engines died as we rolled to a stop next to a fixed metal lockbox. The guys used it to swap out keys, then ushered me into a weird green vehicle that was a cross between a Jeep and an SUV.

  “You guys sure are resourceful,” I said, stretching. “I’ll give you that.”

  Randall smirked at me from the passenger seat. Holden was driving now.

  “It pays to have friends.”

  I still wasn’t sure who they were, or how they knew me, or even what the hell was going on. After a quick look at myself in the rear-view mirror however, I decided any and all questions would have to wait until after a shower. And coffee.

  And maybe a second cup of coffee.

  “My place is a few minutes up this way,” I said, after we’d driven a while. “You could drop me off, or—”

  “Not a chance.”

  The words came from Holden. They weren’t mean, or ominous, or anything like that. But they left absolutely no room for debate.

  “What? Why?”

  “They made you, remember? You can’t ever go back there.”

  The realization hit me hard, like a sucker punch. This was my place. My home. I’d spent half a year there already, and only now was it just starting to feel warm and welcome.

  “Couldn’t we stop in?” I protested. “Maybe I could grab a few things real quick, and—”

  “We’re talking about Indigo, remember?” warned Holden. “They probably have people there now, waiting for you to show up.”

  “Not probably,” Randall noted. “Definitely.”

  I swallowed bitterly. He could easily be right. Then again, he could be wrong too. Would the organization really act that fast? Figure out who I was and already be watching out for me?

  “No,” Holden said again. “It’s better for you to come with us, at least for now.”

  I was suddenly very sad. I’d never sleep in that bed again, never sit in the cozy chair I’d just bought for my balcony. I was just finally enjoying things again. Little things. Stupid things…

  “So where are we going then?” I asked, trying to keep my voice from sounding choked up.

  “Back to base camp.”

  “Base camp?” It came out almost as a scoff. “You have a camp?”

  “A base camp,” Randall corrected. He leaned back with a sigh and cracked his knuckles. “Gotta love a good base camp.”

  I blinked. A camp.

  “And how many of you are there?” I asked. “At this… base camp?”

  Randall rested his arm over the back of his seat and turned to look at me. “Including you?” he asked.

  I nodded numbly. His ensuing smile came with a certain degree of wide-eyed excitement.

  “Three.”

  Eight<
br />
  ANDREA

  It was obvious the place had been abandoned for decades.

  ‘Base camp’ consisted of a a huge, square-walled, cinder-block building. It had high vaulted ceilings, stout metal doors, and a smooth wooden floor, stained with God-only-knew what.

  “It’s a gym.”

  Holden nodded as he led me through. “A boxing gym, yes. Or at least, that’s what it used to be.”

  That part was obvious as well. In the center, somewhat toward the back wall, stood an old boxing ring. It had ropes and everything… not to mention a pair of mattresses laid across the open stretch of canvas.

  “This is your base camp?” I asked incredulously. “You guys have been staying here?”

  “For the better part of a week, yeah.”

  “Why?”

  Holden looked back at me grimly. “You know why.”

  My mouth went tight. Unfortunately I did. Indigo.

  Not many were willing to say the name. The organization was mostly myth, born originally as a benevolent order along the lines of the Rosicrucians or Freemasons. It had been perverted throughout the years though, enmeshing itself in the drug trade and organized crime. Pairing with the worst society had to offer, in order to maintain wealth and power.

  Indigo… my father’s past employer.

  “Why’s it so dark in here?”

  Holden nodded to Randall, who was standing near the wall. He flipped a series of switches, and a couple of the overhead lights came on.

  “Oh.”

  I realized now that the few windows the building did have had been boarded up forever ago. Which was probably a good thing, considering where we were. Much of Athens was gorgeous, but this was a section of town I would never have visited on my own.

  The gym was old, but charming. It still had most of its original furniture. Most of the chairs and training equipment had been shoved off to the side, but a couple of leather couches had been pushed together in the corner, around a beat up coffee table. Parts of the place were disgustingly dirty. Other parts, like the boxing ring itself, were absolutely spotless.