Three Alpha Romeo - A Military Reverse Harem Romance

by Krista Wolf

  “Yes, Andrea,” he breathed, in a long, drawn-out sigh. “I knew your father.”

  Thirty-Two

  MARCUS

  She looked lost. That was the best way to describe it. Lost and hurt and alone, sitting there crying on the edge of the bed.

  “I didn’t know your father personally,” I went on. “In fact, I never once met him. But I knew of him. We all did. Your father… well…” I stopped, unsure if I should continue.

  “Well what?”

  I decided not to hold anything back.

  “Your father was a legend,” I said, turning back to her. “He laid many of the modern foundations for Indigo today, back when it was good, or a at least when it was better. He did the same for Kyrkos as well. Your father was one of the only men in the world Alexander Kyrkos actually trusted. And that list is unimaginably small.”

  She sniffed a little, and my heart broke. I wanted to reach out to her. To hold her…

  “If he trusted him so much…” she asked miserably, “then why kill him?”

  “Because he wanted to leave,” I said truthfully. “Just like me, your father wanted to get out. And he was doing it for you, Andrea. He’d missed a good portion of the first half of your life. And he hated what he did. Regretted it year after year, while looking for a way out.”

  I lowered my eyes to floor. That part I could understand too. The crushing guilt. The fear of being called upon to do something beyond horrific. Three times I’d refused a mission, and on two of those times I’d been reprimanded. But on the third…

  It was after the third refusal, that the Game began.

  The Game…

  “H—How did you get out?’ Andrea was asking. “If my father couldn’t, how could you… I mean…”

  “There was a man who worked directly for Kyrkos,” I said. “A man named Galleti.”

  She sat silently on the bed, her hands in her lap. For now at least, the tears had stopped.

  “I reported directly to him,” I went on. “Everything I ever did, every task they ever gave me, I ended up back at the same office, staring across the same desk. Staring into the face of a man I hated. A dark man. An evil man, even more so than Kyrkos.”

  I could see his face still, even now. Every line of his bald head. Every curve of his fat, greasy jowls.

  “After every mission there was a Game,” I said. “On the desk would be an envelope containing my payment. And on top of the envelope, a pistol.”

  The memories came back now, creeping in through a long-closed door. It was a door I’d tried so many times to forget about. To eliminate permanently and irrevocably from my memory.

  But my eyes fell back on Andrea. And I wanted to tell her everything.

  “’Go ahead Marcus’, Galleti would say. “’Play the Game’. And before I could take the envelope and leave his office, I had to do exactly that.”

  Andrea had stopped crying altogether now. She was looking up at me in rapt fascination.

  “And… what did you have to do?”

  “I had to take the gun,” I said, “and put it against my own head. And then I had to the draw back the hammer, and pull the trigger.”

  She inhaled sharply, putting one hand over her mouth. Everything else in the room was utterly silent.

  “The hammer would fall. Nothing would happen. ‘You’ve been a good boy this time, Marcus’, Galleti would say. And then he’d smile. It was an evil smile. A sick, twisted fucking smile that only the most rotten people on the planet could pull off.”

  I closed my eyes, picturing it again in my head. The widening curve of his fat jaw. The spreading of those thin, cracked lips…

  “And then I’d take the envelope,” I finished. “And I’d go… until the next time.”

  Andrea’s face was all sorrow now. Not for her, or even her father… but for me.

  Just knowing that made my heart melt.

  “How many times did you—”

  “Lots of times,” I said heavily. “Dozens of times.”

  Her face twisted. “That’s not a game,” Andrea said somberly. “That’s just a sick man getting off on—”

  “Oh but it was a game,” I corrected her. “Because as much as I could lose, I could also win too. Because if I guessed — and guessed correctly — that the gun was loaded? I could blow him away. I could blow him away and I could take everything in his desk, and that would be that.” I paused for a moment. “But if I guessed wrong…”

  The beautiful blonde sitting before me gasped.

  “And… did you?”

  This part I remembered like it was yesterday. Frame by frame. Millisecond by millisecond. The hefting of the pistol, the feel of the textured polymer grip. The weight of it as I brought it up and up… slowly… until it was level with my head….

  Thirty point four ounces. That’s the weight of a Sig Sauer P220 pistol.

  The look of surprise and terror on Galleti’s face as I smiled grimly… and turned the barrel on him.

  The weight of an empty P220, that is.

  I remember him rolling back in his chair. Reaching desperately for the top drawer of his desk, where he kept a second weapon…

  The explosion of red as I pulled the trigger.

  Months and years of practice — hundreds of hours of hefting that model at home, over and over again. Training my brain to make that infinitesimal, less than a quarter-of-an-ounce distinction, between loaded and unloaded…

  “You killed him,” Andrea breathed, reading my face. “You won the Game.”

  I swallowed hard. My Adam’s apple felt like it was pushing through sand.

  “You killed Galleti… and you were punished for it.”

  I let out a long breath. Slowly, I nodded.

  “They came for me,” I said glumly. “They came for me even though I’d won fair and square. Galleti had seen me as a threat. A tool that had gone blunt, or outlived its usefulness. So yes, even though I’d won, Indigo didn’t see things that cut and dry. They saw me as brash. Arrogant. And Kyrkos was furious he’d just lost his second in command.”

  I sat down beside her again. This time our arms went around each other.

  “When they took Haley, I was crushed. Wholly destroyed. I went into hiding, knowing they’d never stop. Knowing that until I got Kyrkos, my life was forfeit.”

  I took her face in my hands. She was so beautiful! So goddamn perfect with those stunning blue eyes. Those full, kissable lips. Those round cheeks…

  I’d seen the face a thousand times in my dreams. Haley’s face, yes, but the faces of the others too. The escorts I’d ordered in the years that followed, to try and fill the void in my heart. Women I’d embraced temporarily to fulfill my more physical and emotional needs, as I had with Andrea, in that bedchamber on Rhodes…

  But now…

  Now this wasn’t so temporary. Not to me. This woman, this creature who’d been through all the same things I had. Who knew the pain and sorrow of deep, unending loss…

  “I understand.”

  The words were heartfelt. Deep-seeded. Real.

  They made me want to crush her against me and hold her forever.

  “I’m… I’m sorry this happened to us. The both of us…”

  Her face moved inexorably closer. Her mouth brushed mine. We were looking through each other’s eyes now. Beyond the pain and the anguish, past the survivor’s guilt and the nagging, ceaseless remorse.

  Our arms drew each other in. Our lips crashed together with unstoppable force.

  Then there was only the warmth of our bodies against the cool, crisp sheets.

  Thirty-Three

  ANDREA

  We kissed for forever, or at least it sure seemed that way. Our lips churning hungrily, dreamily, as we rolled around in the hypnotic near-darkness.

  Eventually we were under the sheets and blankets. Kicking our clothes off not so much for sex, but so our warm bodies could slide deliciously against one another without any barriers.

  The things Marcus had tol
d me had touched my heart. I wasn’t the least bit angry, or even judgmental. After all, I’d loved my father more than any man in the world. And though I was ignorant of most of his misdeeds, I’d forgiven him long ago for anything he’d ever done.

  We bonded, Marcus and I. On levels that could only be reached through heartfelt loss and shared experience. But there was a heat between us, too. A intense fire that burned every time he touched me, from the moment I’d placed his hands on my ass in that bedchamber on Rhodes, until the unspeakably hot things we’d done last night…

  … and were doing right now.

  Last night, we’d fucked. He and I and Randall. It had been wonderful, hot, crazy. Totally amazing. This time though…

  This time we made love.

  We never stopped kissing as Marcus rolled me on top of him, guiding me down with two strong hands onto his rock-hard member. My pussy throbbed around him as he pushed all the way inside me. And at the exact moment of our total connection, I swore I could feel some sort of ‘click’, somewhere deep in my belly.

  It was the click of familiarity. A click of belonging.

  Our tongues continued exploring each other’s mouths as I rode up and down on him. Marcus’s hands slid up to my breasts, his palms dragging across my areola in slow, gentle circles, until my nipples were stiff and hard. He stopped kissing me just long enough to take them in his mouth, one after the other. He nibbled and bit on them playfully, as I clenched his head to my chest and continued working his cock as far into my body as possible.

  We were still kissing when we erupted together, in glorious, simultaneous release. The added excitement of having to moan my orgasm into his beautiful mouth only made me come even harder, grinding myself downward against the exquisite feeling of his wet, gooey explosion, which happened so achingly deep, at my very core.

  He stayed inside me a long time after that. Touching me. Caressing me. Feeling every inch of my skin beneath his broad, calloused fingertips. Then he pulled me back on top of him, to kiss some more…

  And we fell asleep for the rest of the afternoon, wrapped comfortingly in each other’s arms.

  It was almost dark outside when the phone finally went off. Marcus and I were elbow-deep in room service by then, having ordered one of just about everything. I had to lick my fingers before answering the phone.

  “They’re ready,” I announced, after a brief conversation with Holden. “They’ll be downstairs in ten.”

  “Time for us to shower?” Marcus grunted, reaching out for me.

  I dodged his slow, clumsy grab by bouncing off the bed. Naked and giggling, I shook my ass on the way to the bathroom.

  “If we shower shower, yes.”

  I hit the spigot, and water began to spray. Somewhere behind me, I heard the big Ranger groan in protest.

  “Where the hell’s the fun in that?”

  Thirty-Four

  ANDREA

  The flight was all clear skies and smooth air, like floating on glass. High above us, the sky was flecked with a billion shimmering stars. Down below, the Ionian Sea was a pool of unending darkness, streaked only by the thin light of the moon.

  “What’d you fly while you were still in, anyway?” Marcus was asking Randall.

  “Whatever I could get my hands on,” the tattooed SEAL replied. “Trainers, mostly. A few utility transports. Once I even started up a helicopter…”

  Holden sat behind them both, in the seat beside me. I saw him grin as he laughed into the mic. “He did more than just start it up,” he said. “Go ahead. Tell him the best part.”

  “What part?”

  “The part about your license.”

  Randall scratched at his beard and rolled his eyes. Holden laughed even harder.

  “He doesn’t have a pilot’s license. He’s self-taught.”

  Marcus sat up a little straighter in his seat and made the sign of the cross. It could’ve been real, it could’ve been he was only joking. It was hilarious either way.

  “Randall stole just about everything he’s ever flown,” Holden went on.

  “Borrowed,” Randall corrected.

  “It’s not borrowing if you land it in a different place,” Holden pointed out. “Shit, he even stole a train once.”

  “Again, borrowed,” countered Randall. The aircraft’s nose dipped a few degrees as he twisted to look into the back seat. “I didn’t steal that train,” he added confidentially, “they always knew where it was. I just… drove it for a little while.”

  “All by yourself,” laughed Holden.

  Randall shrugged and said nothing.

  “At night,” Holden pushed. “On the wrong tracks.”

  “Okay, okay…”

  “I heard somewhere you were OTH,” said Marcus. “That true?”

  I saw Randall’s shoulders go tight. His body language changed a little.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “Other than Honorable discharge.”

  “He had that wiped from his record too,” Holden jumped in. “One of his superiors had it changed to General under Honorable Conditions.”

  “I prefer to call it a ‘mutual discharge’,” Randall called back.

  “That sounds disgusting.”

  The guys laughed, and Randall cackled into the mic. “Whatever, man. It was like a breakup, anyway. The Navy and I were finally just done with each other.”

  “You went out because you stole some aircraft?” asked Marcus.

  “No,” answered Holden. “He’s out because he failed two psych evals.” Randall made the ‘OK’ symbol with one hand, over his shoulder. Holden saw it and corrected himself. “I’m sorry, three psych evals.”

  Marcus folded his arms across his chest in a gesture of solidarity. “Sorry man. That sucks.”

  “Don’t be sorry,” said Holden. “He failed half his evals on entry, and they let him in anyway. They knew exactly what were they were getting into bed with.”

  “Then why was he even—”

  “Because he’s the best in the fucking world at what he does,” said Holden proudly. He reached forward and clapped his partner hard on the shoulder. “And the Navy knows it.”

  I watched Randall carefully and saw him blush — actually blush — under the praise. It made me feel warm. Fuzzy. To know that as much as the two of them constantly needled each other, there was a solid foundation of brotherhood there, too.

  Brotherhood… and an underlying respect.

  “I’m putting her down soon,” Randall said over our headsets. “Get everything together so we can move out quickly.”

  My stomach dropped as we descended through the cloudless sky, and Holden squeezed my hand. I smiled back at him happily.

  “All good?” he asked. “Did you manage to get some rest?”

  Some, I thought to myself, and nodded. “How about you?”

  He looked out the window of the twin-engine aircraft for a moment, before turning his gaze back to me. I could see the constant yet remote pain in his eyes now. The anguish. It was way deep down, beneath the calm surface. Beneath all the jokes at Randall’s expense. Beneath the superficial laughter.

  “I’ll rest when this is all over,” he said simply.

  I wanted to tell him I knew. That Randall had told me what happened. That it was all okay.

  But something told me not to say any of those things, at least not right now.

  “When it’s over, huh?” I smiled gently. “And by that you mean—”

  He nodded back at me grimly.

  “When Kyrkos is dead.”

  Thirty-Five

  ANDREA

  The little house they’d rented was set high up on the hill, a brick and stone villa practically carved into the mountain itself. It was as quaint as it was old. Sprawling timbers. Smoothly planked floors. Three tiny bedrooms and something that barely qualified as a kitchen.

  “And where do we… uh…”

  “Outhouse,” Holden announced, cutting Marcus off. He pointed outside. “Composting
toilet.”

  “Ah shit.”

  Randall chuckled. “Literally, yes.”

  The villa’s saving grace as an outside garden seating area, all green with grass. It had a brick patio flanked on three sides by high-reaching flagstone walls. There was a square table in the middle, with four chairs. It was secluded and hidden, but at least it was open to the sky.

  “We’re not going to be able to see anything from here,” said Marcus.

  “No,” Holden admitted. “But no one can see us either, so it’s a safe spot. A place we can wait. It’s also the closest I could get us to where we need to be.”

  Marcus arched an eyebrow. “Which is…”

  “Up,” said Holden. “A two-hundred foot climb, wrapping around the hill to the other side.”

  “To where we’ll set up a concealed position,” Randall added. “Just within range of Kyrkos.”

  Marcus’s expression transformed into one of satisfied agreement. “So we’ll take shifts, then?”

  “Yes,” said Holden. “One person on the scope at all times.”

  “Works for me.”

  “It also solves the problem of three beds, four of us,” smirked Randall.

  “That wasn’t a problem to begin with,” Marcus noted. “None of these beds would fit me anyway. I’ll probably camp out on the floor.”

  We unloaded our things, which didn’t long at all. I learned the house was stocked with essentials, but only barely. There were a lot of needs. One of them was air fresheners. The other…

  “There’s no coffee maker?” I realized with dismay.

  “There’s a cannister of instant,” said Randall. “It’s half-empty, but—”

  “Instant?”

  He looked back at me like I had three heads. “What’s wrong with instant?”

  “Are the barbarians still here?” I cried theatrically. “Is this their work?”

  “The barbarians invaded the mainland,” said Randall. “With Sicily I think it was the Vandals.”