by Krista Wolf
SCREEEECH!
Down near the road, a black jeep skidded sideways into the parking area. Gravel flew in a huge spray, skittering hard against the boat. Before it had even come to a stop, three men leapt out, guns drawn.
My three men.
My heart soared as the man in the sunglasses bolted. The driver began slinking away.
And then just as suddenly as everything else, I felt the cold steel edge of a knife being pressed against my throat…
Fifty
ANDREA
I watched as they passed the bloody-lipped pilot on the ramp, Marcus and Randall drawing down on him. The driver had already dropped to his knees, hands on his head.
“Trip’s canceled” said Holden, motioning over his shoulder.
The two men nodded and ran. They never looked back, disappearing down the road as fast as their legs would carry them.
In the meantime, Xander Kyrkos tightened his grip around my waist. With the knife still at my throat, he used my entire body to shield his.
“NOT A STEP FURTHER!”
Holden and Marcus had already stormed the aft, rifles drawn. They stopped walking, but kept the barrels trained on Kyrkos… and me.
“Move one inch,” the man spat, “and I’ll slit her throat.”
I could feel his hot breath on my neck. It was fetid and sour. Vile and disgusting… and tinged with fear.
“Yes, It’ll still happen, even if you shoot,” Kyrkos threatened. “It’ll happen the second you move on me, so think about that while you’re going over your options.”
I squirmed a little, and the point pierced my skin. My captor pushed the blade harder, showing me he meant business, and I stopped moving altogether.
“You’re going to let me back down that ramp,” said Kyrkos. “RIGHT NOW.”
He barked the command like he was ordering one of his bodyguards, or henchmen, or whatever they were. But these were a much different kind of men.
Holden shook his head slowly. Marcus growled.
“Ah, Alvarez,” spat Kyrkos. “You stupid, traitorous fuck. Did you think we’d just be okay with what happened to Galleti? That everything would all be forgiven?”
He inched sideways, pulling me along the rail with him. Around along the port side of the boat, where he planned on using the cabins for cover — and escape.
“I’m taking her, and I’m taking that jeep,” said Kyrkos. “And you’re going to sit here and do absolutely nothing.”
“Don’t think so,” said Holden.
Kyrkos hesitated for a moment. Then he laughed. “You do nothing and she lives,” he said. “Otherwise…”
Randall appeared suddenly, at the rear end of one of the upper decks. “Clear!” he shouted.
A split-second. That’s all it took. A split-second diversion, as Xander Kyrkos looked up, to assess his third — but not final — threat.
And that’s because I acted in that split second…
And everything happened at once.
I bent at the waist and shoved backwards. I did it hard. As hard as I fucking could…
And then I dropped face-first to the deck.
I heard Holden yell. Caught a glimpse of Marcus, rushing forward. I saw Randall’s shotgun snap up to his shoulder, from where it still dangled from one arm.
But behind me… I heard the sound of air, rushing from someone’s lungs.
Xander Kyrkos gasped as I shoved my ass hard into his ample stomach. It pitched him forward at first, but then he jerked quickly back.
His feet had nowhere to go — they caught on the bulkhead, tripping him up. His arms pinwheeled as he tried desperately to regain his balance. In doing so, he overcompensated… fell backward…
… and went sprawling over the railing.
“AHHHH!”
There was a scream, cut short by a horrific splash. I jumped up, whirled around, and there he was — twenty feet below us. Gasping. Floundering.
Sinking…
“HELP!”
Holden was by my side instantly, his rifle trained downward. I put my hand over it and pushed the barrel away.
“HELP ME!” Kyrkos cried, thrashing around violently. The more he struggled, the worse it was for him. “Throw me something!” he gurgled. “ANYTHING!”
He was a piss-poor swimmer to begin with. We knew that already.
But he couldn’t even tread water with only one good arm.
“HHHHEEELLL—”
He sank for a moment, and for a few seconds his whole head went under. Somehow he managed to kick himself back to the surface, at least temporarily.
My hands jerked behind me, as Marcus cut through my zip ties. I stood at the rail, rubbing my wrists. I was staring down intently now, savoring the fear. Absorbing the look of abject terror in the man’s eyes, and burning it into my brain.
“You seem to be the architect of your own suffering,” I taunted down to him loudly. “The victim of your own bad choices!”
I saw his eyes change. The went from panic and despair to the nightmare of pure hopelessness.
“A—ANYTHING YOU WANT!” he began shouting. “I’LL GIVE YOU ANYTHING! I’LL MAKE YOU RICH! ALL OF YOU! I’LL— I’LLLLL—”
His mouth was filling with water. He was running out of gas.
“JUST HELLLLLLP ME! SAVE ME!”
“Maybe you should save yourself,” I countered coldly. “After all, if a man can’t save himself…” I shrugged and smirked. “What good he?”
He went under once more, with one last, gurgling scream. I was watching Marcus as it happened. Examining the look in his own eyes, as he stared down in grim silence.
Kyrkos sank like a stone, disappearing for good. A full minute went by. Only bubbles came up.
And that was the end of it.
Randall had climbed down now, joining us at the rail. Slowly I turned to face them all, as one last tear ran down my cheek. It was joy. Exuberance. Relief. Giddiness…
Then the three of them opened up for me, and I flung myself into their arms.
We held each other for a long time, all of us, no one even daring to speak. The moment was ours. It was sacrosanct. We’d earned it together, as a team.
Finally, after a long while, the silence was split by the sound of sirens. They grew louder as they rolled south, along the main highway. Louder still, as they neared the marina.
Everyone looked at Holden, our unofficial leader. He opened his mouth for a second, closed it, then turned to look at Randall.
“Can you fly that Sikorsky?” he asked, jerking his thumb at the helicopter.
Randall’s blank stare curled into an almost sinister smile.
“We can die trying,” he shrugged.
Fifty-One
ANDREA
We walked hand in hand in hand, as the snow fell lazily from the sky. I stuck my tongue out, playfully. Kept it there until I felt the cold sting of a snowflake, landing and then melting on it, in the same wonderful instant.
“You still wanna go on the merry-go-round? After all that ribbon-candy?”
I squeezed the hand on my right. “Yes!”
“Alright then,” said Holden. “It’s your funeral.”
I let go of Randall and spun to kiss him, holding his face in my hands. His cheeks were cold, but not too cold. His face still flush, from three full rounds of warm, spiced Christmas drinks.
“This place is like a fairy tale,” I said, when our lips finally parted. “I’m so glad we came here.”
A hand on my waist dipped me backward. I found myself in Randall’s arms, his beard tickling my chin as he bent to kiss me.
Wow…
I could already feel the fire between us. The electricity that gathered at the end of each night of our little vacation, before we went back to the hotel…
And the anticipation of what would happen when we got there.
“The merry-go-round is this way,” said Marcus, sliding a hand over my ass. He urged me forward, pulling me teasingly away from Randall. “I can
see the lights from here.”
I whirled on him happily, sliding my arms over the Ranger’s big shoulders.
“Didn’t you want some love too?”
His smirk said everything. “Always.”
“Then kiss me.”
He did, and it sent my world spinning. Marcus’s arms felt like steel cables. They crushed me against him as he slid his tongue into my mouth…
God, I love this…
My body melted. My legs buckled. I felt myself getting wet again, for the umpteenth time today.
Part of me wanted to skip the merry-go-round. To just drag these beautiful men back to our snowy bungalow, and fuck all three of them until they were drained completely dry. To just lay back on one of the oversized beds and let them ravage my horny, eager body. Over and over and over and—
“You want to ride this thing or would you rather ride him?” Holden joked, as we were still making out. Marcus had his hands all over me now. I sighed as we broke the kiss just long enough for him to bury his face in my neck.
“Okay, okay,” I relented. “Let’s… well…”
Somehow I gathered enough of my senses to extract myself from the Ranger’s arms. I grabbed two big hands — it didn’t even matter who they belonged to — and pulled my boyfriends in the direction of the lights and music.
And this was just day one of our time at the Winter Wonders festival.
Brussels, Belgium.
It had seemed like an incredible place to spend the holiday. The perfect place to lose ourselves in the happy crowds; to laugh and love and kiss and not have to worry a single thing about being stared at or spotted or…
Or found by Indigo.
It was the one dark smudge on the last few months: the constant fear of being located. Since Taormina, we’d kept pretty much on the run. Barcelona. Turin. Luxembourg. Skirting our way through lower Europe, while trying to figure out what to do.
“Kyrkos was a big fish,” Marcus had warned. “They won’t take his death lightly. And his men still know what he knew, which means there’s a good chance they won’t forget about us.”
We decided together that our best bet was to make ourselves scarce. See just how short memories could be, and whether or not we’d be forgotten about over time.
But it was Indigo. And that part worried us.
Still, it had been an amazing few months. Traveling constantly, sticking to crowds. Immersing ourselves in the different cultures, and never staying in the same spot twice.
That… and of course falling deeply in love with three incredible men.
It was what worried me most of all; losing them afterward. Having to endure the pain of going our separate ways, now that our common enemy had been vanquished. Yet instead of drifting apart, beating Kyrkos had had the opposite effect. It had actually drawn us closer together.
It made sense though, when I really thought about it. We were four people whose lives had been consumed by a never-ending quest. We’d forsaken careers, friends, even what very little family we had.
So when it was over, it was like a giant piece of us was suddenly missing.
In retrospect, maybe that’s what kept us together as well. The fires that burned hot enough to fuel our hatred for Kyrkos had somehow fused our lives together as one. Forged us into an unbreakable, indestructible weapon.
We were one week into Germany when the guys professed their common love for me. Holden and Randall yes, but also Marcus as well. There was absolutely no jealousy. Not between any of them, anyway. They’d shared me individually as well as together. They’d had me every which way a man could have a woman… and then some.
By this point they were three as one. Brothers-in-arms, now. And as long as I had enough love for each of them in turn, they wanted to stay with me. All of us. Together.
They told me all this on a cliff in Marseille, overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. The moment had caused my heart to melt. I’d broken helplessly down, nearly drowning in an ocean of happy tears.
Since then we’d become a single, glorious relationship. A multi-faceted jewel, with me in the middle.
“Ice skating?” asked Randall, as we neared the carousel.
“Ice skating tomorrow,” I said, skipping ahead. “Right after this…” I winked back at them and twirled at my hair. “I’m thinking we should go home.”
I searched my lovers’ expressions for a smile. A wink back. A blown kiss. Instead, I got none of those things.
In the blink of an eye, all three of their faces had somehow gone deadly serious.
“W—What’s wrong?”
A cold feeling stole over me. I was startled. Frightened again, for the first time since Taormina.
“Andrea,” said Holden. “Turn around and keep walking normally.”
I followed the order immediately, and without question. When I’d fallen back in step with them, I could hear Holden talking casually, not raising his voice.
“See him? Ten or twelve paces back?”
“Yes,” said Marcus. “I got him.”
We walked on some more. Somehow, through the very corner of my peripheral vision, I could make out the silhouette of a man, following us.
“The next alley?” Randall asked.
“Yes,” Holden answered. “On my count…”
The man was tall and gaunt, with wiry hair and grey sideburns. He was dressed for the festival, but then again he wasn’t. He might’ve blended in amongst every other person, but to a trained eye he stood out like a sore thumb.
“Ready?” asked Holden.
The others nodded as we walked past the alley.
“One…”
The guys slowed down our pace a little.
“Two…”
The man kept coming.
“Three!”
Fifty-Two
ANDREA
In one fluid motion they whirled on our follower, all three of them grabbing and dragging him right into the alley. Marcus threw him up against a wall, screwing his hands into his shoulders so hard the man grunted in pain.
“STOP...”
Our follower coughed the word more than said it, the wind temporarily knocked from his lungs. His face was a grimace of pain, and something else.
Something that looked like… indignity.
“Who are you?” Holden growled. “Talk fast.”
Randall was already at the edge of the alley, scanning the crowd in both directions. Just outside the shadows, it was all lights and sounds and merriment. But in the little space between low-slung buildings…
“He knows who I am,” the man said, with a deadly edge to his voice. He was looking right at Marcus. And Marcus was staring back.
I saw the big Ranger’s arms relax. He let the man slide down the wall, until his feet were touching the ground again. Then, with a resigned sigh, he let go of him completely.
“Marcus!” Randall warned. “What the—”
“He’s from Indigo.”
The man rubbed his shoulders for a moment, then smoothed the wrinkles from his coat. All traces of a grimace were gone from his face now, as if pain were somehow too undignified for him. He looked more offended than angry.
“How’d you find us?” asked Marcus.
“Oh, it wasn’t hard,” the man said simply. “But you Alvarez, of all people, should know that already.”
The man stood up straight, his posture perfect. I couldn’t put my finger on why, but he carried himself in a peculiar way
“Just know that we had you in Spain,” the man said. “And again near Genoa. We could’ve had this conversation anywhere we wanted, at any time we wanted.” He tilted his head at Marcus and raised one eyebrow. “Do you agree?”
Marcus’s dark eyes remained locked tightly on our follower. Eventually, he nodded.
“Good,” the man said. “Because first and foremost, you need to acknowledge that. There’s nowhere you could go that the organization couldn’t find you. At will, might I add.”
Holden and Randall had clo
sed in, fists clenched. They looked ready to pounce at even the slightest signal from Marcus.
“We’ve been watching you for discretion,” the man went on. “And so far we’ve been satisfied. But in order to be fully satisfied, I’m here to deliver a message.”
The man reached slowly into his jacket pocket. Both SEALs immediately stiffened, but Marcus made a quick motion and they relaxed again.
When his hand returned to view, the man wasn’t holding a message at all. He held a thick bar of chocolate, partially eaten, in a golden foil wrapper. We watched as he broke off a square and popped it into his mouth. His eyes closed for a moment as he savored the taste.
“Mmmm,” the man said. “Have you had the chocolate? They have the best here. The very best in the world, even when you consider—”
“The message,” Marcus broke in.
The man shot him a look of utter distaste. He sniffed before continuing.
“Alexander Kyrkos drowned after falling from his yacht, probably drunk,” the man stated matter-of-factly. “Very tragic. A terrible accident.”
He paused as if gauging our reaction. When nobody said anything, he continued.
“This is a story backed up by three of his crew, as well as a man you already know named Riker. They all saw him go in. They even tried to save him…” he shrugged, “but alas, it all happened too quickly.”
The messenger leaned forward a little, and I saw his eyes change. The casual, nonchalant look had vanished. Now it was replaced by a more sinister one; a look of grim lethality.
“Do you understand this message?”
Marcus nodded again, this time with less hesitation. The man eyed him shrewdly for a moment, then turned expectantly to the rest of us.
“We understand,” I said firmly. Off to one side, I saw Randall and Holden nodding their heads.
“Good,” the man said again. “Not that any of you would know anything different, because none of you were even in Sicily. Correct?”
“Correct,” said Holden, catching on.
“Sicily?” added Randall. He shrugged. “I couldn’t even find it on a map.”