Three Alpha Romeo - A Military Reverse Harem Romance

by Krista Wolf

  We were in a courtyard within a courtyard, behind the ruins of some long-abandoned warehouse. Somewhere at the ass end of the city limits. Someplace only trouble might go.

  “The M4’s are fitted with M320 grenade launchers,” Marcus was saying. He pointed to the two identical rifles laid out carefully across the drab green mat. “Each of those belts is loaded with a dozen 40mm high explosive rounds. A few smoke rounds too.”

  I sat on the truck’s bumper, one leg up, my back to the morning sun. Watching as Holden and Randall handled the weapons, hefting their weight. They looked like they felt familiar. That was good.

  “The M107’s for when we need it,” said Marcus, patting a longer, sleeker-looking weapon. “For when we’re close enough.”

  “And you’ll take that shot?” asked Holden. There was no challenge in the question at all.

  “Oh yeah.”

  The three of them picked through the rest of their armament. Holden turned at one point and handed me one of the pistols.

  “You cool with this?”

  “The M9?” I shrugged. “Only shot the Beretta a few times, but I’ll manage.” I tucked the weapon securely behind me, then pulled my shirt over it. “I was Glock girl, mostly.”

  “Daddy’s little princess,” grinned Randall.

  I managed a bittersweet smirk. My father hadn’t taken me to the range as much as I would’ve liked, but he did it more often as I got older. I was still holding onto those memories as best I could, but they were fading. It was hard to think about any of them slipping away forever.

  Indigo had taken up most of my father’s time during my childhood. And then, through Xander Kyrkos, it had taken him, as well.

  Piece by piece, Marcus and Holden began stuffing things back into the duffel bags from the storage locker. The rest consisted mostly of ammunition and tactical gear. I saw three different sights, a spotter’s scope, night-vision binoculars… along with several pieces of Kevlar body armor and vests Marcus had shown off first. It was all top-of-the-line, cutting edge stuff. Everything was military grade.

  “Whoa… whoa… hang on—”

  Randall stopped Marcus mid-zip. He reached into one of the bags and pulled out a slender but deadly-looking combat shotgun.

  “You didn’t tell me about this,” he said, turning it over in his hands.

  “The Benelli’s mine,” said Marcus.

  “Might be better if it were his,” Holden said, nodding toward Randall.

  “And why’s that?”

  “Because you’ve never seen him use it,” Holden went on. He shook his head slowly. “I’ve seen him do surgery with that thing.”

  Marcus’s lips went tight. He hesitated for a moment, then reached in and came back with another belt of bright red shotgun shells.

  “Be surgical then,” he said, tossing the belt to Randall. “And impress me.”

  I rolled my eyes and barked a short laugh. Randall looked almost wounded.

  “What?”

  “Geeking out about your weapons is cute and all,” I said smugly, “but the machismo levels are going off the charts.”

  I stretched as they loaded up the truck again, reaching my arms toward the cold blue sky. We’d arrived only fifteen minutes ago. Holden was already here somehow, although there was no vehicle in sight.

  “I still can’t believe the hotel you picked last night,” Holden practically snarled. “Biggest one. Heart of the city.” He shook his head. “Might as well have just hung a sign out front, telling Indigo to—”

  “Relax,” Marcus jumped in hotly. “It all worked out.”

  “I’ll relax when we’re no longer being hunted,” spat Holden. He turned to face his partner. “Are you sure you didn’t catch a tail?”

  Randall shook his head. “We stayed in all night. I swear.”

  Holden laughed. “You? Stayed in?” He laughed again. “All night? And how’d that go? What’d you do?”

  Randall froze, looking suddenly like the cat that swallowed the canary. For a few long seconds, he didn’t say anything.

  Don’t look at me… don’t look at me… don’t look at me…

  Holden looked at me… then at Marcus… then back to me again. My pale skin betrayed me, and I turned two shades redder.

  Awww, shit.

  Realization dawned on Holden’s face. His expression twisted into a mixture of anger and disappointment. “Goddammit Randall…”

  “Look,” I stepped in. “It’s not his fault. What happened, happened.”

  “Really?” demanded Holden. “All of you?” He jerked a thumb at Marcus. “Even him?”

  “Actually,” said Randall. “I’m pretty sure he might’ve been before us.”

  Holden’s handsome mouth dropped open even further. He looked utterly astonished.

  “Is it really all that surprising?” I shrugged. “It’s been a crazy couple of days, hasn’t it? We fell into a really weird circumstance, Marcus and I. And then three of us at the gym… well, we blew off some steam together as well.”

  I had their attention now, all of them. It should’ve been intimidating, but for some reason it wasn’t.

  “You weren’t complaining back then, were you?” I asked Holden. “When I was taking care of you both?”

  He looked sheepish now. I also noticed his mouth had closed.

  “I’m a big girl,” I said. “I know what I’m doing. And trust me, we’re all adults here. No one’s feelings are getting hurt. If anything, this evens the playing field. Brings us all closer together, as a team.”

  I let my gaze linger on each of them now, wandering from Holden, to Randall, and then to Marcus. The big Ranger stood there with his legs planted, his arms folded. Neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

  “We’re four people trying to assassinate the same dangerous prick who ruined our collective lives…” I finished with a flourish. “You think a little sex should seem strange at this point?”

  Randall cleared his throat loudly.

  “A little sex?” he grinned.

  “Okay fine,” I sighed, rolling my eyes again. “More than a little.”

  The tattooed seal threw me a sideways wink. Holden and Marcus just stood there impassively.

  “Good,” I said finally. “Glad that’s all settled. Now just one more thing…”

  Each of them leaned in a little. Holden actually raised an eyebrow.

  “Any chance of breakfast?” I yawned.

  Thirty

  ANDREA

  We couldn’t have found a more out of the way place if we tried. The little cafe we picked was actually underground — partially, anyway — a few steps down from the main road. It was all Holden’s doing of course, but by now we were used to it. At least the coffee was adequate. The conversation however…

  “Pass me more of that… that thing?”

  Randall stared back at Marcus. “What thing?”

  “The thing with honey all over it.”

  “Bro, everything has honey all over it!”

  “The bread thing,” Marcus said, exasperated. “Yeah. That one.”

  I had to stop myself from giggling. Holden kept trying to explain a small, hand-drawn map on the table. It already had stains from where Randall had spilled yogurt on it… twice.

  “So you’re sure Kyrkos has left Greece?” Marcus was asking.

  Holden nodded. “He’s on the way to Taormina.”

  “Sicily?”

  “Yes. He has a place there.”

  “What do you mean ‘on the way’?” I asked, confused.

  “He’s sailing by yacht,” said Holden. “Mostly because he’s afraid to fly. He’ll get on an aircraft from time to time, but only when absolutely necessary.”

  “Sounds like a lame asshole,” smirked Randall.

  Holden ignored him. “Also, he won’t travel on anything smaller than his yacht,” he said. “And that’s because—”

  “— he’s afraid of the water, too.”

  Marcus stuffed another piece of honeyed br
ead into his mouth as he said the words. Holden gave him a strange look, but said nothing.

  “So let’s fly over,” I said simply, “and intercept him. Get there before he does.”

  “We will,” Holden replied, “but it has to be done discreetly. Randall and I need to figure a flight plan first, at a time and place that’ll draw the least attention. We can’t just land anywhere with all this gear.”

  A freckled young woman came by, smiling amiably. She laid a small silver platter on the table, covered in thinly-sliced fruit.

  “Can you two lay low somewhere?” Holden asked, his gaze going from me to Marcus. “While we set things up?”

  “Of course,” I said. Marcus added a silent nod.

  “Good. Now, let’s go over this right here…”

  For the next few minutes he traced a finger over a small topographical map of the hilltop town. Kyrkos’s place was set high on a cliff overlooking most of the city, all the way down to the bay.

  “The floor plan I’ve been given shows a three-story stone villa,” said Holden, “only it’s built like a fortress, straight into—”

  “Four.”

  Everyone looked up at Marcus. He shrugged.

  “It’s four stories,” he said simply. “And it’s an abbey, not a villa. Or at least, it used to be.”

  Holden paused before going on. His eyes never left Marcus, though. He continued talking while staring the man down.

  “As I was saying, the top floor opens into a garden area. Sparse trees, wide open spaces.”

  Randall nodded, catching on. “Perfect for a long-distance shot.”

  “Exactly.”

  We followed his finger, over to another hill, another rise. On the map it didn’t look like much of anything.

  “If we could set up here,” said Holden, “and wait it out…”

  “Wait what out?” asked Marcus. “Wait for Kyrkos to just wander outside?”

  Holden’s jaw went tight. “And why not?”

  “Because you’d be waiting forever,” he said. “Kyrkos never goes outside. Hardly ever, anyway. And you don’t even know…”

  Marcus’s words trailed off, strangely. Holden stared daggers at him for a moment, then slumped back in his seat.

  “Don’t even know what?”

  The Ranger sat sullen. Silent.

  “You were going to say we don’t even know what Alexander Kyrkos looks like, weren’t you?” growled Holden. “Because no one does. Very few people, at any rate.”

  Still Marcus said nothing. His eyes remained fixed, unmoving.

  “Funny,” said Holden. “Because the only people who would know what Kyrkos looked like, would be…”

  He left the sentence intentionally open-ended. As it died in the silence, his mouth curled into a smirk.

  “You got something to say?” Marcus asked angrily. “Because if so, spit it out.”

  “I know who you are now,” said Holden, coldly. His eyes flared as he added the words: “I know what you are.”

  Across the table I caught Randall’s eye. There was no mistaking it, he looked as thoroughly confused as I was.

  Holden lowered his voice as he turned to face his partner. “Know who this is?” he asked, and Randall shook his head. “This the man who who killed Galleti.”

  Now Randall’s eyes did go wide. His expression was stunned silence. “For real?”

  I was completely intrigued. Totally at a loss. It seemed like everyone knew what was going on… except me.

  “You can trust me,” said Marcus abruptly. “If that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “Oh we’d be crazy to trust you,” said Holden. I noticed his eyes shifting onto me. “We all would.”

  Randall didn’t seem so sure though.

  “But if he’s the one who did Galleti…” Randall reasoned, “doesn’t that put him on our side?”

  A moment of uncomfortable silence followed. “Ask him how he did it,” sneered Holden, finally. “Ask anyone.”

  Marcus’s expression turned deadly serious. There was no anger, no resentment, no indignation. It was the absence of all that. It was a void of nothingness.

  Holden stood abruptly and grabbed the keys to the truck without asking. Then he stepped away from the table, motioning to Randall, who reluctantly followed.

  “Lay low,” he repeated again, looking at me directly. “We’ll call you when we’re ready.”

  I had a hundred questions. Maybe a thousand. Right now though, I couldn’t even find my own voice.

  Holden spun in the direction of the exit. Before leaving he stopped beside Marcus and gave his shoulder a condescending pat.

  “You should probably tell her,” he said, before walking off. “Don’t you think?”

  Thirty-One

  ANDREA

  For lack of anything better to do, we walked back to the hotel. Marcus didn’t talk. I didn’t pry. It wasn’t until we’d reached the elevator that he even looked at me again, his eyes full of something like… regret.

  “Marcus…” I breathed. “What is it?”

  The tall Ranger stood silent, as the car climbed through the hotel’s floors. The doors slid open. Before he stepped through, I took his hand.

  “You can tell me, you know.”

  He let out a long breath, still looking forward, still deciding. Finally he pulled me through, and the doors closed behind us.

  “You remind me of someone,” he said thickly.

  The was no one else around. His words were swallowed up by the empty, crazily-carpeted hallway.

  “Who?”

  “A girl I loved,” he said somberly. “A girl I would’ve married.”

  He stepped away. I followed. A few doors later, he produced the room’s keycard from his pocket. He held it in his hand for a few seconds, just staring down at it. Not doing anything.

  “Here. Let me…”

  I took it from him, and inserted it into the lock. Finally we were inside, with the door latching behind us.

  Everything looked the same as it had last night. The curtains were still drawn, from where he and Randall had closed them. The room was cool and dim. Mostly dark.

  “I had a fiancé,” Marcus began suddenly. “She looked almost exactly like you. She sounded like you. She smiled like you…”

  He sank heavily to the bed, shoulders slumped. It was one the saddest thing I’d ever seen! I was already choked up. Terrified of what he might say next, but he said nothing.

  “W—What happened?” I eventually had to ask.

  “She died.”

  He said the words tersely, almost vengefully. In the span of an instant, the sorrow was all but gone.

  “She died because of me.”

  The statement was short and simple. To the point. But his voice was tinged was anger instead of sorrow. Bitterness, where grief should be.

  “Marcus,” I said, daring to reach up and caress his face. He flinched at first. But slowly, gingerly, I was able to guide his bearded chin… until his eyes finally met mine. “Please. Tell me what happened.”

  I sat down beside him on the bed. In the dim light filtering in from the window’s edge, I could see the beginnings of tears at the corners of his eyes.

  “They came in the middle of night,” he said. “While we were asleep. It’s what I would’ve done, of course. I should’ve expected it… but I was arrogant. Foolish and overconfident. And I hadn’t expected anything.”

  His irises were all glassed over now. They had a strange, far-away look to them. With my hand over his I said absolutely nothing.

  “I took two of them before they reached us,” he said. “A third in the back, on the way out. But there were five. Five of them, all armed. Night gear. Pistols with suppressors.”

  He was recalling it all mechanically. Remembering it second by second, frame by frame. It was like I wasn’t there. Like he was a recorder, and I’d merely hit the PLAY button on this horrific memory.

  “It was a miracle I woke up at all,” Marcus went on. “But
one of them slipped up. One of them knocked over a photograph, in a glass frame. The first photograph we’d ever had taken, of the two of us together…”

  He winced, and I squeezed his hand. A tear streaked down one cheek.

  “I was powerless to do anything. Before it was even over, she was already gone.”

  Now I was crying too, right along with him. Dabbing my eyes with the back of one hand.

  “They came for me,” said Marcus. His teeth were clenched now, his voice low and gravelly. “They came for me and they got her instead. For no reason. For no fucking reason other than—”

  “Hey…” I broke in. He was shaking now. Shaking and clenching the bed and crying openly. “Marcus, this wasn’t your fault…”

  “Oh no?” His eyes suddenly had life in them again. His head snapped grimly in my direction. “Whose fault was it then?”

  “How could you blame yourself for any of this!” I cried. “Kyrkos is evil! He’s the one responsible for this, not you! It was Kyrkos, or Indigo, or probably both, acting in each other’s best interests.”

  “You don’t understand…”

  “But I do understand!” I practically shouted. “I lost my father to this bullshit, Marcus! He died the same way, doing the same thing. Only he was taken out after he’d outlived his usefulness, rather than—”

  “Andrea, I worked for Kyrkos!”

  My body froze, stiffening instantly. So did Marcus’s. For a few seconds, it was like time had stopped.

  “I worked for Kyrkos,” he repeated, this time more gently and coherently than before. His chest heaved a long, shuddering breath. “I worked for him and Indigo. I did terrible things. Awful things.” He stopped for a second, swallowing hard. “And I was trying to quit. Trying to get away, so I could make a life outside of all this. For me. For Haley…”

  “Did you know my father?”

  Marcus fell so silent, so quickly, I felt the hairs prickling up along the back of my neck.

  “Marcus!” I shouted, in tears. “Did you know my—”

  “Benjamin,” he said loudly. “Benjamin Martensson.”

  He stood up abruptly, hanging his head in shame. I watched as he took three steps forward, then placed his forehead against the bedroom wall.