Rescue Me: A Bad Boy Military Romance

by Vesper Vaughn

  I explain. I tell them everything: about how I beat him up a few weeks ago, how I’ve been having him followed. The text messages from Ella, the warning from Tim, the blood at the clinic. Tracking her iPhone to my house. Grabbing my gun from the safe I have buried in front of my house.

  “And what was Ms. Hanover’s condition when you found her with Mr. Bradley?” the woman asks.

  I ball my hands into fists. The handcuffs clink against the table from me shaking with rage. “She was naked. He was cutting into her face. He had a gun in his hand and he pointed it at me.”

  “Then what happened?”

  I hedge my bets with my next sentence, trying to weigh whether or not Ella told them the truth. Then I realize the autopsy will give this all away. Better to be honest. “He shot at me and missed. Then Ella took the scalpel that little shitrag was going to cut her open with -” I pause. “Using her medical knowledge, she drove the scalpel into the side of his neck. She punctured his carotid artery and left the instrument in his skin, probably so he wouldn’t bleed to death. She just wanted him on the ground.”

  “And then what-“

  “And then Ella did what Ella does. What she’s supposed to do.”

  “And what is that?”

  “She did no harm. She jumped off the table to try to save his life. She took her bathrobe and held it against his neck.”

  The two officers are silent as I collect my thoughts and how I’m going to say the next thing.

  “And then I did what I’m supposed to do. I’m a Marine. I aimed the gun at his head and blew it off.” I take a deep breath, Ella’s screams still echoing in my head like some sort of nightmare. “I took Ella from the scene to go clean her off. I didn’t want her sitting there with blood on her. I knew the sheriff was close behind us. I didn’t want her to be bloody and naked in front of him.”

  “Were you trying to conceal evidence?” the woman asks me.

  I shake my head. “No. I just told you I blew off a defenseless guy’s head. Why would I conceal evidence?”

  The guy groans and shifts his ample weight, shutting the file. He folds his sausage fingered hands on the table, clasping them together and leaning forward. “Why’d you do it?”

  I look him dead in the eyes. “Because a rich asshole like that wouldn’t go to prison. I wanted to make sure he didn’t have the chance to get out again.”

  I lean back in my seat as the door opens and a court-appointed attorney comes rushing into the room wearing a cheap suit. “No more talking,” the lawyer says.

  “It’s fine,” I reply.

  The woman officer looks like she’s going to leave, but instead she opens the door. “I need you to leave,” she says to the lawyer.

  He looks appalled. “Absolutely not-“

  “Go,” I say. “I don’t need you.”

  The man walks out, flabbergasted.

  The officer sits down. “What we’re putting in our report is that you had no choice but to kill him. It was in self-defense.”

  “What about the autopsy?” I ask, incredulous.

  She waves her hand. “We make the part about you shooting a defenseless man go away. I’ve seen too many fuckheads who stalk women just go free after ninety days in jail. You add onto that the fact that this kid is loaded? You’re right. He would be in a cushy resort prison for a month and then be free to go terrorize another woman. Not on my fucking watch.” She has a tic going in her jaw. She composes herself. “You did the right thing. This all ends here. Well, the murder charges end here. The officer assault charge and resisting arrest is going to keep you here overnight.”

  “I want to see Ella,” I say resolutely.

  “You can see her tomorrow. I wouldn’t push your luck right now, son, if I were you.” The guy officer unlocks my handcuffs. “We’ll get you a change of clothes and you’ll be arraigned in a few days. You’ll be free to go first thing in the morning.”

  I nod. They’re nearly to the door when I find my voice again. “Thank you,” I say.

  “For what? This never happened,” the woman says to me, exiting the room.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  ELLA

  “I want to see Luke,” I say to Alexa and Tim, who are at the foot of Luke’s bed.

  “You were screaming your head off when I got here an hour ago,” Alexa says. “I really think you should stay in bed.”

  “Besides, he’s in the jail for tonight,” Dean says, walking into the bedroom with a tray of cookies and tea. He sets it on the pristine white duvet.

  “I’m not hungry,” I reply stubbornly.

  “You need to drink some tea at least or I’m not letting you know what’s happening with Luke,” Alexa replies in her best mom voice.

  I grab the scalding tea and blow on it for a full minute, finally drinking fully from it before setting the mug on the tray stubbornly. “You happy now?” I turn to Dean and Tim. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  “There won’t be any murder charges. Self-defense.”

  I open my mouth to object to this before wisely shutting it.

  “Luke didn’t have a choice anyway, right?” Tim asks, biting his lip. He knows. I didn’t tell him, but he’s Luke’s best friend. He won’t ever ask him about it, but he’ll always know. He’ll always know that Luke didn’t need to shoot.

  “He didn’t have a choice. He saved my life,” I say quietly. “So when is he coming home?”

  “Tonight.” We all look over at the doorway. The sheriff is standing there with Tanya. “I’m not pressing charges for him tryin’ to beat the living hell outta me.”

  I pull the covers off. I’m wearing Luke’s way-too-large sweatpants along with an oversized t-shirt. “I’m driving to pick him up, then.”

  Everybody groans and Alexa shoves me back in bed. Tanya speaks from the doorway. “Amy Waters is picking him up. She volunteered. She was closest anyway since she was still at the fair.” Tanya claps her hands together. “I say we all sit around and talk shit about Jason. Ella won’t be getting any rest until Luke’s back anyway.”

  “I’ll second that,” Tim says. Dean pulls a flask from seemingly nowhere and tips some liquor back into his mouth. Soon, I’m spilling my guts about mine and Jason’s entire relationship, the events that led up to tonight, and then exactly what happened downstairs.

  Well. I leave out the part about Jason being defenseless. My brain is already trying to push out the memory of his face exploding anyway. I’m not sure I’ll sleep for a few days. Every time I close my eyes, I see it happening over and over and over again.

  It takes me a good hour to get it all off of my chest. When I’m finished, I feel lighter somehow. Right as Dean leaves to get me more tea, I hear a truck pull up in the driveway. Nobody can stop me from flying down the stairs and nearly knocking over the crime scene guys who have taped off the living room. I jump into Luke’s arms, kissing him passionately and wrapping myself around him. The thick, gauze bandage on my upper lip is in the way but I don’t care. “I thought you were going to prison,” I whisper.

  Luke grins, still holding onto me. “You told them the damn truth, didn’t you?”

  I nod sheepishly. “I had to. I figured that the autopsy-“

  “Would tell them all they needed to know anyway. Yeah. Well, I told the truth, too.”

  I look at him, confused. He gives me a single shake of his head. “Later,” he mouths. Then he carries me up the stairs and into his bedroom. “Y’all planned a party and didn’t invite me?” Luke asks, setting me down onto the floor. I grab his hand and don’t leave his side. He doesn’t seem eager to be more than a few inches away from me, either, and climbs into bed where everyone else has gathered.

  Luke goes through his side of the story, leaving out the more salient details that could end up with half the county police force rotting inside of a prison on corruption charges. It’s four o’clock in the morning when everyone, including the crime scene investigators, finally clears out.

  Luke and I lay in b
ed just staring at each other. “I thought you were dead,” he whispers to me, running his fingers over the gauze bandage that’s covering my stitched-up lip.

  “I thought I was going to die,” I reply.

  “Did they get you all fixed up just in the ambulance?” he asks.

  I nod.

  “Jason didn’t…he didn’t rape you. Did he?”

  I shake my head quickly. “No, no. Thank God,” I say hastily.

  “Good. Then I might have to pull him out of the morgue and shoot him again for good measure.”

  I sigh and kiss him lightly. “You need to get rid of that gun,” I say.

  Luke scoffs at this suggestion. “After it saved your-“

  “Luke Davis, you and I both know that gun didn’t save my life. I don’t want it in this house,” I insist.

  Luke chews over this for a minute. “Alright. It’s gone.” Then he squints his eyes and scoots his body closer to me. “Does that mean you’re moving in with me?”

  I laugh. “Luke Davis, if you think for one second that I’m not gonna marry you, you’re out of your damn mind.” My Texas accent flows through these words, and Luke smiles.

  “I didn’t propose to you,” he says.

  “I don’t need you to. This is 2016. I’m Ella Hanover. You think I need a man to ask me a question I already know the answer to?”

  Luke laughs and pulls me into his arms. “Alright then Ella. We’re getting married.”

  “That’s right,” I reply sleepily. “You and me.”

  I fall asleep in his arms and rest without a single nightmare.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  LUKE

  “I am not wearing that on an airplane flight,” Ella says, stomping her foot in her wedding dress, her hair tousled from partying.

  I zip up my suitcase and toss it on the floor next to my bed. Our bed. “I don’t want you seeing where we’re going, that’s all.”

  She laughs. “And how do you propose I make it through security not knowing where we’re going? When the TSA agent asks me, what do I say? ‘Sorry, I dunno.’” She mimes an expression of confusion, shrugging her bare shoulders. Her dress is strapless and shows off her ample cleavage.

  “We’re not going through TSA,” I say to her, walking around the bed and running my fingers down her arms.

  She wiggles underneath my touch, and I can already see blush creeping up her perfect cheeks. “You feel like flouting the law for the second time in three months?”

  I reach down and kiss her jawline, trailing my lips up to her ear. “You’ll see tomorrow,” I say.

  “I don’t like surprises,” she responds.

  “Too bad, then.” I push her shoulders and shove her onto the bed. She yelps in surprise but she’s smiling all the same. “You say you don’t like surprises. Did you not like that surprise?” I unbuckle my pants and let them fall to the floor, tugging my tie off and unbuttoning my shirt. I’m completely naked in under sixty seconds, Ella watching my body the entire time.

  “I didn’t mind that surprise so much, for some reason,” she replies with a grin.

  “I’ve always had this fantasy of fucking you in your wedding dress,” I whisper against her chest.

  She’s already breathing heavily as I lift up the dozen layers of fabric that obscure her legs. I reach my target soon enough, and grab her hips, sliding her to the edge of the bed in one quick motion. I run my hands down her thighs and realize she’s not wearing any underwear. “Ella Davis,” I say with a grin. “You are one dirty fucking bride, you know that?”

  She shrugs and gives me a sexy smile in return. “I wanted to be prepared, you know.”

  “I definitely married the right woman,” I say with a smile.

  “Less talk. More-“

  She’s cut off mid-sentence by me getting to work in all the right places. She moans and writhes underneath me as I move my mouth over her delicate spots, slipping my fingers inside of her until she’s begging me for more.

  I pause and look up at her. She frowns. “Why did you stop?”

  “Should I…put on a condom? Or no?” I ask her, the words hanging in the air.

  Ella props herself up on her elbows and smiles at me. “I vote no on condoms.”

  I don’t need to be told twice. I slide into her and we entwine our bodies with a closeness I couldn’t have ever imagined before the wedding. It’s like we’re one person, moving together. I feel like we’re the only people left in the entire world.

  ***

  “A private jet?” Ella is blindfolded but somehow she knows exactly what’s going on. “You rented a private jet? How? Why?”

  I put my hand on her lower back and whisper in her ear. “There are still a few things you don’t know about me.”

  She whips her head around and moves her hands to take off the blindfold. I grab them and she groans. “You seriously aren’t going to tell me where we’re going right now?”

  I push her up the stairs. “Just walk, Ella.”

  I let her take off her blindfold for the flight. She’s antsy and keeps trying to wheedle the secret of our destination out of the flight attendant. I’ve paid her extra to keep her lips sealed. So far, it’s working, but I know Ella. She can get anything out of anybody. “Just eat,” I say to her, pushing my cup of shrimp cocktail onto her tray.

  “You think if you keep me eating I won’t wear down the flight attendant? Really?” she asks with a grin.

  I put my arms behind my head and sigh contentedly. “I think you need to learn to relax, woman.”

  She rolls her eyes and finishes off the shrimp cocktail. “Good thing I don’t have to fit into my wedding dress anymore if this food is any indication of what we’re eating on the rest of our vacation.”

  I reach over and tickle her sides, leaning close to her ear. “I want you fattened up. More of you for me to fuck.”

  She blushes and wiggles her body closer to mine, laying her head on my shoulder. I breathe in the smell of her shampoo. This is all I’ve ever wanted.

  Ella finally drifts off and sleeps for a few hours. Right before our plane lands, I force the blindfold back over her eyes.

  “I hate this. Just so you know,” she says stubbornly.

  I laugh. “Nah, you really hadn’t made that part clear to me. Thanks for the clarity.”

  I sweep her off of her feet and carry her down the steps of the plane to the car waiting for us. She smells the air as we step outside. “Beach,” she says with certainty. “We’re definitely at the beach.”

  “Would you hush and just let me think I’ve surprised you?” I’m sort of lying. She won’t truly guess what I have planned for her anyway. But I like to let her think that she’s won when she so clearly hasn’t.

  The car twists through the tropical jungle and up the mountains that bisect the island. I stare out the window at the lush tropical paradise and already feel like I’m more well-rested than I have been in months. “Pity you can’t see the view yet,” I tease.

  Ella wiggles impatiently. “This is bullshit, and you know it.”

  “Just a few more minutes.”

  The car weaves its way down the mountain and over to our destination. I open the door for Ella and she slides out. “You can take it off now.”

  She rips it off her eyes and blinks, her eyes adjusting to the blinding equatorial sun. I see her gaze fall on the house in front of her. Half of it is concealed by foliage. She turns to face me, surprise on her face. “You rented a house?”

  “Did I rent it?” I ask her, faking curiosity. “Look one more time.”

  Ella turns around and stares at the modest cottage, white paint peeling from the sea-worn clapboard siding. She shrugs. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  I grab her hand and walk her closer to the door. “Just leave the bags,” I say to the driver. We walk the twisted path lined with banana trees. I stop in front of the door. “Well?”

  She looks at me, still confused. Then she looks at the door again. Recognition light
s up her freckled face. “Oh. Oh my. Oh my God,” she whispers. “It’s a red door.”

  I nod. “And that means?”

  “That you bought this house.”

  “I should have bought stock in a paint company for all the renovation work I’ve been doing for you,” I reply.

  She reaches up and kisses me on the lips, wrapping her arms around my neck. “This is why you were gone for five days last month?”

  I shrug. “I had to check in with the renovation team. Wait until you see the inside of it.”

  Ella practically runs through the unlocked front door and into the house. She gasps. The old wood floors have been replaced with marble tile. The formerly modest living room now has a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree view of the ocean which is about thirty yards from our back porch. Sliding glass doors make up the wall. There are three plush sofas with cream-colored cushions, and bright coral accents that pop against the white walls. Ella spins around to face me. “How can you afford this?”

  I reach out for both of her hands. “How can we afford this, you mean.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Yes, whatever. How?”

  “I’ve saved every penny I’ve ever earned since I joined the military. Every single cent that didn’t go towards the house in Buxwell went into investments.” I pause, wondering if she needs or wants to know the other details of my ample savings account. “And a lot of my money was made during the years I spent as a private contractor.”

  Ella’s smile falters a little. “When you were killing the bad guys.” It’s not a question.

  “When I was killing the bad guys, yeah.” I stare into her eyes. “Is that going to be a problem for you? Because you should have seen this place a month ago. I mean, I could put it back on the market and make a killing. So to speak.” I grin sheepishly at my poor choice of words.

  Ella bites her lip. “Somehow I think I’ll manage to get over that.”

  She beams at me and I lead her on a tour of the rest of the house. It’s only two bedrooms, but I’ve made them count. The master has the same view as the living room with its own private deck. I had my team install a claw foot tub in the middle of the accordion glass doors.