Nine Marines' Shared Property: A Reverse Harem Romance (Love by Numbers Book 8)

by Nicole Casey

  Michael staggered back, one hand rubbed his head, the other held a butcher’s knife.

  “What are you going to do with that knife, Michael?” Taylor said calmly.

  I kept my eyes on Michael while I walked confidently past him through the entranceway toward a corridor.

  “Hey!” Michael shouted. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  “Michael,” Taylor said. “You need to put down the knife before it ends up in your chest.”

  I walked down the corridor. “Gwen.”

  At the end of the corridor was one closed door and an open door off to the right. I passed through the threshold of the open door: a small living room; empty. “Gwen.”

  I heard Taylor’s calm voice and Michael’s not calm voice, but I didn’t register what they were saying.

  I tried the closed door: a bathroom; empty.

  Back down the corridor there was a third door, closed, on my right. I tried it; locked.

  I went back to the entryway where Santiago had Michael in a chokehold on the floor. I didn’t see the knife.

  “Michael,” I said. “Where is she?”

  His hands clutched Santiago’s thick forearm. His legs thrashed about.

  I touched Santiago on the shoulder. “Ease up,” I said and I looked down at Michael. “He has something he wants to tell us.”

  Santiago relaxed his hold, but he didn’t let go.

  Michael gasped for breath then he muttered, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “How’d you get that bruise on your face?” barked Travis.

  “I fell,” Michael said.

  Santiago tightened his chokehold and lifted Michael off the floor. He slammed him into the door then against the wall then he let him go.

  Michael staggered a bit. He rubbed his head and looked at us: all nine of us.

  “Listen here, Michael,” said J.P. “You can tell us where she is and we’ll only break one of your arms.”

  His shifty eyes darted back and forth, scanning each of our faces, scanning the corridor and the front door.

  J.P. looked at Santiago and nodded. “OK, Santiago, break the left one.”

  “Wait!” Michael put his hands up, palms out. “OK. OK. She’s in the car, in the garage.”

  Santiago grabbed him and, with one swift motion, pulled his arm behind his back and dropped an elbow that ended with the unmistakable crack of bones.

  Michael started a scream that Santiago stifled with a hand over his mouth.

  Michael tried to crumple to the floor, but Santiago held him up.

  “Your car keys,” said Santiago.

  Travis was on him and rummaged through his pockets. He pulled out a set of keys. “Are these your car keys?”

  Michael didn’t answer. Tears welled in his eyes.

  “Where’s the garage, Michael?” said Travis.

  No answer.

  “Fuck it,” said Travis. He opened the door and he stepped out with Tristan and Taylor following close behind.

  “Wait!” said Elijah.

  He stepped cautiously into the corridor. He turned to us and put an index finger vertically to his lips.

  Michael started to yell again, but Santiago clapped his hand tight over his mouth muffling any sound he was trying to make.

  Elijah heard it then I heard it then all of us heard it; there were muffled sounds, muffled calls coming from somewhere down the corridor.

  “In here,” said Elijah. He tried the locked door I’d tried earlier. When it didn’t open, he stepped back and kicked.

  I heard the crack of wood, but the door was still closed. Elijah kicked again, and the door burst open.

  I entered right behind Elijah.

  Gwen was on the floor, a towel stuffed in her mouth, her hands tied behind her back.

  “Gwen!” Elijah exclaimed. “Gwen. You’re all right. It’s over, now.”

  He knelt beside her and took the towel out of her mouth.

  “Axel! Elijah! Thank God,” she said.

  I knelt in front of her, reached around and untied her hands.

  “How did you find me?” she said.

  Elijah and I, we each took her by an arm and helped her up.

  “We looked,” I said.

  She flashed a smile. I winked back.

  For a moment, seeing Gwen on the floor, gagged and bound, I thought I had frozen; I stood perfectly still while the Earth continued to spin. I’d heard about people in traumatic situations talk about how everything slows down, how time seems to stand still.

  For me, at that moment, it was the complete opposite of that. I felt the speed of our world whipping through space. I thought it would whip right by me, that I would be left with no ground to stand on. The moment was so fast that its speed affected all the other moments leading up to it. A second ago I was getting dressed for my first day of school and then I took a step and Elijah was removing a gag from Gwen’s mouth.

  I put a hand to my chest to reassure myself I hadn’t forgotten how to breathe.

  Gwen kept telling us she was all right. “I just need to get out of here.” She touched her cheek as if it were sore. She looked disoriented. “I’m fine,” she said to Nolan. “I’m fine, really,” she said to J.P.

  We escorted Gwen out of the room.

  Santiago had dragged Michael out of the entranceway. He now sat on the kitchen floor curled up against the wall holding his broken arm, rocking slowly back and forth and cursing under his breath.

  “We’re going to have to call the police,” I said.

  “Really?” said Santiago. “Are you sure that’s necessary?”

  I pointed to Michael. “We’re not going to let him get away with this.”

  Michael turned to me with hurt and rage in his eyes. “You broke my arm.”

  “Accidents happen,” I said. I looked at Gwen, but her eyes were focused on Michael. She breathed heavily through her nose and ground her teeth.

  “The police?” Santiago said to me. “You know, we shouldn’t be here. We should be at the base.”

  I rubbed my chin.

  “Yeah,” said Gwen. “Why are you guys here?” Her eyes swept from Santiago to J.P. then to me. When our eyes met, she quickly darted her glance back to the floor.

  “We came to find you,” said J.P.

  “Thank goodness we did,” said Elijah. He put his hand on Gwen’s shoulder.

  She turned from him, shrugging off his touch. “I need my phone.” She perused the kitchen counters quickly then addressed Michael. “Where’s my phone.”

  He didn’t answer. He simply grimaced and rocked against the wall.

  Santiago nudged him with his foot. “The lady asked you a question.”

  “It’s in the car,” said Michael, defeatedly.

  Santiago grabbed him by the collar and yanked him off the floor. “Stop with this ‘it’s in the car’ shit!” He shook him and pinned him against the wall.

  “No. Wait,” said Gwen. “He’s right. I remember. I lost it in the car when—” She stopped herself and exhaled deeply. “When he grabbed me and...”

  She didn’t finish her sentence.

  I touched her on the arm but she moved away from me.

  “Where’s your car, Michael?” she asked.

  Michael looked from her to Santiago, who had his collar balled up in his fist and his thick forearm pressed hard against his chest, then back to Gwen. He answered her question, in detail, and quickly.

  21

  Elijah

  The kitchen in Michael’s apartment was too small: too small to hold nine hyper-vigilant Marines, a recently rescued victim and a blubbering aggressor. I had already kicked down one door, and I was about ready to start knocking down walls.

  “The keys,” Santiago said. He stuck out his hand, cupped palm up.

  Michael motioned with his head to Taylor then to Tristan.

  Travis rattled the keys in his hand.

  Santiago motioned with his head to the front door. “Go with Gwen. Go get he
r phone.” He looked back at Michael. “We’ll see what we’re going to do with this scum.”

  “I’ll go with you,” I said to Travis. I didn’t know what Santiago had in mind, but I knew I didn’t want to be there to find out. Plus, I had to get out of that kitchen before I punched a hole in the wall.

  We walked down the two flights of stairs without saying a word, Travis in the lead, Gwen trailing behind us.

  The parking garage lit up automatically as soon as Travis entered. I held the door open for Gwen, but she stopped, frozen, at the threshold. She put one arm around her waist, her other arm crossed her chest and she clutched her shoulder. With wide eyes she scanned the garage.

  “Are you ok?” I asked. That must have been the twentieth time in the last five minutes she’d been asked that question.

  She didn’t answer right away. She blinked her eyes quickly and shook her head.

  I reached out to touch her arm, but she stepped past me into the garage. She walked straight ahead almost like she was in a trance. Travis and I followed a few steps behind. She veered right and stopped in front of a dark-blue sedan. “This is it,” she said. “This is his car.”

  Travis unlocked and opened the door for her. She picked her phone up off the floor then quickly headed back to the stairwell from which we’d come.

  Travis and I started back up the stairs.

  “I don’t want to go back there,” she said.

  I nodded. “It’s OK. We don’t have to.”

  “Do you want to go outside?” Travis asked.

  “I need to call Holly.”

  She stood at the bottom of the stairwell in the corner and dialed. Travis took a seat on the steps. I couldn’t stand still. I paced and turned in circles but out of sight of Gwen. I didn’t want her to see how anxious I was.

  Gwen’s voice filled the stairwell. “Holly. I’m OK. I’m fine.” “I know. I was stupid. I just needed to get away.”

  There was a long pause. I walked back to where Gwen was calling from. She sat cross-legged in the corner, her phone to her ear, listening. Occasionally she’d cut in with a “Yes” or “No” then “His sister. Oh, my.”

  When she ended the call, she let her hand drop to her lap, and she rested her head back against the wall.

  I took a seat beside Travis.

  Nobody said anything. She surely had a lot to process. We gave her time; we gave her space.

  Finally, she lifted her head off the wall and laughed lightly. “All this over a stupid misunderstanding.”

  Travis took her cue and chuckled, too. “We need to do a better job communicating, don’t we?”

  She chuckled again, smiled and reached out her hand. “Help me up, please.”

  We walked back to Michael’s apartment.

  “I don’t want to go back in there,” she said.

  “Of course not,” said Travis. “You don’t have to. I’ll stay here with you.”

  “I’m going inside,” I said.

  I knocked, and Axel opened the door for me. “Is she OK?” he asked.

  I nodded. He slipped out of the apartment to see for himself. I slipped back in.

  Michael hadn’t moved from his curled up position on the floor. Taylor had a phone in his hand, and the guys were debating about what they would say to the police.

  “You guys take the SUV,” he said. “Go park around the block and wait for me.”

  “What?” said Nolan. “We’re not doing that.”

  “Listen,” said Taylor. “Someone needs to tell the cops what happened. Someone needs to explain this.” He motioned to Michael. “We don’t all need to take the fall.”

  “What fall?” said Santiago. “He came at me with a knife.”

  Taylor nodded and motioned for calm with hand, open palm out. “I know. I know. But if we’re all here, we’re all going in the police report. That will get back to the base, then we’re all going to face trouble. There’s no need for that. I’ll stay here. You guys take the SUV and go around the block.”

  “We’re not doing that,” said Tristan.

  “We’re definitely not doing that,” seconded Nolan.

  “If anyone’s getting in trouble for this,” said Tristan, “we’re all getting in trouble for this. We’re a team; we don’t split up.”

  Taylor called the police. While he was on the phone, I pulled Santiago to the side. “We should at least move the car, you know, park it somewhere else besides the front lawn.”

  Gwen was doing much better. She, Travis and Axel were talking and even laughing. When she saw Santiago, she asked if he was OK.

  “I need to move the car,” he said.

  “I’ll go with you,” she said.

  Travis went back in the apartment, and Axel and I went with Gwen and Santiago.

  I felt much better once we were outside. I didn’t realize just how claustrophobic I’d felt earlier. I let out a long, slow breath.

  “Tough day?” said Gwen.

  I chuckled. “I’ve had less stressful days.”

  She saw the SUV, parked at an angle, half on the lawn half on the sidewalk. “Interesting parking job,” she said to Santiago.

  He unlocked the doors then glanced over his shoulder at her. “At the time, parking wasn’t the priority.”

  There was a space on the street right in front of the building. Maybe it had been there when we arrived, maybe not. It was kind of funny, though, since all Santiago had to do was pull the SUV off the lawn and back up slightly to park it correctly.

  “The police should be on the way,” I said to Gwen.

  “I want to wait here,” she said from the back seat.

  Santiago retrieved a blanket from the trunk

  Twenty minutes later, thereabouts, two patrol cars showed up. Santiago and I went to greet them and brief them. We then led them to Gwen. She gave them her story, briefly. Santiago and two of the four officers stayed with her while I led the other two officers back to Michael’s apartment.

  One of the officers took notes, seemingly writing down everything Michael said and our short interjections and corrections. the other officer asked the questions.

  After a few minutes of this, I had to interrupt. “Listen,” I said to the officer taking notes. “We’re Marines stationed in San Diego. We shouldn’t be here, you understand.”

  The officer looked at me blankly.

  “We should be at the base,” I continued. “Is it really necessary to include so many details in your report? I mean—”

  “If you’re not here,” said the officer, “who broke his arm?” He pointed to Michael. “Who broke down the door?” He pointed down the corridor to the bedroom.

  I nodded.

  “The woman could have broken his arm in the struggle,” offered the other officer.

  “The Mexican broke my arm!” Michael shouted.

  Both officers and all of us looked down at him with disdain then dismissal.

  “He could have kicked his door open in a rage,” said the officer pointing down at Michael.

  The officer taking note put his hand out, open palm up, and shrugged his shoulders. “However you want to do it.”

  “No sense getting these Marines in trouble,” said the other officer.

  “No,” said Tristan. “We were here.” He pointed to the officer’s notepad. “Put that in your report. We were here.”

  Taylor and Nolan, on either side of Tristan, turned to look at him with furrowed brows.

  “If this goes to court,” said Tristan. “We can’t risk a story with obvious holes in it leading to this scum”—he motioned with his head to Michael—“getting away with what he did.”

  “He’s right,” I said.

  The officer taking notes looked from me to the other members of the squad. “Are you sure? I’ll put whatever you tell me in the report.”

  “These punks broke into my home,” Michael shouted, “and they broke my arm and kicked down my door.”

  Nolan pointed to the officer’s notepad. “Yeah, we were
here all right.” He glanced at Michael then back to the officer. “We’ll face whatever discipline we have to face from our superiors, but we’re not letting this guy get away with what he did.”

  It was nearly three thirty in the morning when the officers drove off with Michael cuffed in the back of the patrol car.

  Taylor leaned into the open window of the SUV. He smiled at Gwen and said, “It’s over, now.”

  Gwen pulled her blanket snug around her. “I just want to go home.”

  I felt the same.

  We packed into the SUV and drove off.

  22

  Gwen

  In retrospect, seeing Axel walk along the beach with a girl I didn’t recognize, brood about it for days then take off to Los Angeles into the sleazy company of my sleazy ex-boyfriend might have been a bit of an overreaction. Then again, even though I had to fight him off and I ended up bound and gagged, locked in his bedroom, I did get to see Michael writhing in pain on the floor then handcuffed and summarily driven away in the back of a patrol car. So, at the end of the day, it might have all been worth it. And my Marines had come to my rescue!

  Axel took my hand. “Your knuckles look scraped.”

  “Yeah, that’s because I punched the bastard in the face,” I said proudly.

  “Feels good, doesn’t it?” Santiago chimed in from the driver’s seat.

  I shook my hand out. “Actually, it kind of hurts.”

  Axel kissed my sore hand and each of my knuckles.

  “And my cheek kind of hurts, too,” I said.

  He laid a soft kiss on my cheek.

  “I feel a little soreness in my shoulder,” I said.

  And he laid a soft kiss on my shoulder.

  “Where’s your car?” asked Santiago.

  “Augh,” I groaned and leaned back in my seat. “Back at the bar.”

  “Shall I take you there?”

  Going back to that place, let alone getting in my car and driving it, was the last thing I felt like doing at the moment. I felt so good, comfortable and secure, packed in tight with my Marines in their SUV.

  “Just take me home, Santiago. I’ll deal with my car when I’m ready to deal with my car. Not now.”