Share Me Page 16

  He hisses in pain, grabbing his arm and spitting out the blood filling his mouth. An ugly scar pulls on his brow as he furrows them and roars before charging me. He catches me around the waist, trying to ram me backward against the sink. I slam my knife down into his back and then yank it out. He howls and throws his weight further into me, taking me to the ground. He slumps over me as he searches for the strength to keep me pinned. Straddling my waist, he attempts to force his blade down into my face, but I’ve weakened him too much, and I know I can overpower him.

  Zac, without hesitation, approaches from behind and grabs a handful of the guy’s hair. He yanks his head back and slices across his jugular at the same time I plunge my blade into his heart. Blood spurts over me, a broken tap coating me in the bastard’s life source. Zac pushes the body to the ground, releasing me from beneath him.

  Scrambling to my feet, both mine and Zac’s eyes fall upon the unconscious Marjorie lying slumped beside the toilet. Zac checks her pulse and nods to inform me she’s breathing. Picking her up, he moves through to the bedroom and dumps her on the bed.

  I’m on shaky legs as I walk into the bedroom, but I weaken and collapse to my knees when I dare my gaze to Clove. Leo holds Lucky to his chest. It all comes rushing back. Harsh reality sucker punches me in the gut. Burning fire leaks from my eyes, a rock lodging in my throat. I can’t do this. Not without her.

  “It’s okay,” he tells me, maneuvering her body so I can see her beautiful face. Dark lashes flutter as her eyelids blink open. Her cheeks are still pale and thick, still-blue lips open with a delicate, soft murmur seeping from them.

  “Guess I really am lucky,” she croaks.

  I throw myself at her, hugging both her and Leo and letting all my fear, anger, and sorrow bleed from me like an open sore. She’s okay. She’s fucking okay.

  “I love you, Lucky,” I choke out. “Damn, woman, you scared the hell outta me.”

  “Out of us!” Leo corrects me, his cheeks wet with tears.

  “We need to get this asshole to the hospital before he bleeds out,” Zac grunts, looking down at Seb, who is slouching over Lucky’s legs. His blood seeps out, leaking all over her, and his face is ashen.

  “And her,” I say, pointing at the bed. “She might be hurt too.”

  “It was Marjorie,” Seb groans, shifting. “She fucking stabbed me.”

  She what?

  Zac’s face flashes with fury as my mind attempts to catch up.

  Marjorie?

  Nerdy, librarian looking Marjorie?

  “She killed my mom,” Lucky sobs, gripping onto Leo’s shirt. She wheezes as her eyes struggle to stay open. We need to get her seen by a fucking doctor, too.

  A ragged gasp resounds from the bed and Marjorie sits bolt up like the fucking Undertaker from the WWE back in the day.

  She screeches at Lucky, “You’ve ruined everythi—”

  Pop!

  Her words are silenced by the shot and she’s knocked back. Marjorie’s mouth hangs open as blood runs down the new hole that’s in the middle of her forehead. Zac lowers his gun and hisses, “Cunt.”

  As we stare in stunned silence, Zac barks us into action. “Hospital. Now.” He shoves his gun into his holster before scooping up Lucky from Leo’s grasp and nodding for us to help Seb. “Don’t make me say it again, boys. Let’s go.”

  I’ve never held someone dying in my arms before. My own pulse weakened to such a degree that I truly believed if she didn’t come back, my own heart would cease to beat. When she gasped for air, we all gasped with her. Filling our lungs and allowing ourselves to breathe.

  Without Clove, there is no oxygen.

  There is no life.

  She’s our fucking everything.

  To love someone so intensely that the fate of them living determines if you even want to live yourself…it’s overwhelming. And magical. Who can say they’ve loved that deeply? That intently?

  The clatter of people moving around, coupled with the blinding, stark-white walls, gives me a headache as I sit in the waiting area with Ford and Zac. Our girl is going to be fine, but she needs to rest. Seb lost a shit-ton of blood, needed a transfusion, and thirty-eight stitches. Another war wound for the leader of our ship. If he hadn’t gotten to Clove when he did, she wouldn’t be here right now.

  That thought makes my head thunder worse and the coffee in my stomach churn violently.

  It’s crazy how it can take something so dramatic to make you realize life is too fucking short and unpredictable to be living any other way than happy.

  Clove is our happy.

  Yes, ours.

  I guess it’s kind of weird. Four guys willingly sharing one woman. But she’s Clove fucking Sterling. She deserves four times the usual love. Love the four of us are desperately willing to give. Our relationship might be a little unusual to the outside world, but for us, it works. It just fucking works.

  “He’s here,” Zac grinds out, rising tiredly to his feet. My eyes travel the long corridor to see Jack marching toward us. Weary eyes seek out his daughter, but he only finds us three.

  “W-Where is she? I g-got your message,” he stutters, tumbling over his words.

  This isn’t a man who would willingly put his daughter in harm’s way. This isn’t a man who would approve of his daughter’s attempted murder for his own political agenda. No, this is the face of a frantic father worried sick.

  “First,” Zac rumbles, puffing out his chest standing toe to toe with Jack. “You need to tell us if you had any idea just how far Marjorie was willing to go to get you into the White House.”

  Jack’s security team lingers near the entrance door out of earshot. They know he’ll be safe in our hands. And he will be if he has the right answers for us.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Jack demands, lines crinkling his eyes and making his lips thin into a line.

  “Marjorie was behind the attempt on Clove’s life,” I tell him bluntly, watching him closely for a reaction.

  His brows crash together in confusion at first. Then, he scowls angrily at me. “No,” he scoffs, shaking his head as though the very thought is absurd. “Marjorie wouldn’t hurt a damn fly and certainly wouldn’t know anyone capable of hurting Clove or anyone. She’s an assistant—a campaign manager.”

  “She tried to kill Clove, Jack,” Zac growls. “Had her henchmen drown her in a motherfucking bathtub.”

  Ford winces at the reminder and I swallow down the bile that keeps creeping up my throat.

  Jack’s face falls and his hand goes to his chest as if Zac physically struck out at him. “She…is she…is my daughter…” His eyes shine with tears.

  “She’s fine now,” I assure him. “She’s going to be fine.”

  His body sags and his face crumples with emotion. “I think there has to be a mistake. I’ve known Marjorie for over a decade. She’s just Marjorie.” He clearly struggles to take in what we’re telling him.

  “Actually, she’s just nothing,” Zac bites out with no tact. “She’s dead. I shot her in the head back at the house, so technically she’s not anything.”

  Ford and I exchange an “oh shit” look.

  Jack inhales loudly, his eyes locking with Zac’s, who stares back fiercely. He’s not fucking joking.

  “She tried to kill Clove,” Zac hisses. “Anyone who is a risk to her life will die. I don’t care if it’s a woman who fooled everyone for a decade or a soldier paid to do as he’s told.” He steps further into Jack and drops his tone so low I have to move closer to hear him when he says, “Or a father trying to further his own agenda. They fucking die.”

  Jack swallows loudly and nods, a smile tugging at his lips, surprising the shit out of me. Zac is a motherfucking scary ass dude.

  “And I’m grateful that you take your job this seriously and that you’ve kept her safe,” Jack says to him. “All of you. Trust me when I tell you I’d happily die for Clove if in any way I was a risk to her. But I’m not. None of this matters without her.
My political career—my life, means nothing without her.” His expression hardens. “Now I’m going to go see my daughter. I suggest you go to the house and get rid of any evidence of what occurred there.”

  “You don’t want to involve the police?” I query, confused.

  “Shooting people in the head is frowned upon by the law. I owe you more than I could ever repay,” Jack says fiercely. “I won’t allow Marjorie to ruin more lives by letting Zac get arrested for her demise.”

  Well, damn. We had him wrong after all.

  “I’ll stay,” Ford assures us, following Jack down the corridor to Clove’s room.

  I let out a heavy sigh. I guess we’re dumping bodies. I slap a hand down on Zac’s shoulder and offer him a reassuring smile. “She’ll be fine with Ford. Let’s go sort this mess out before anyone else discovers it.”

  One week later…

  You’d never know what happened in this room only a week ago. There’s no trace of death, murder, chaos. I would have never thought Marjorie was capable of this whole ordeal. Now she’s gone. My guys killed her for her sins against me. I feel no guilt or sorrow for her death. I don’t know where they took the bodies—her and the man she used as a tool to carry out her final plan. And I don’t care. All I know is they’re gone. A shiver runs through me as I remember well before then. Good memories. Back when it all started with Seb, Ford, Leo, and Zac. Memories of when my world first began to change. When my guys first laid their eyes on me with new sight. I can’t help but smile. But my smile falls when I think about my dad.

  I chose not to tell him what Marjorie confessed about Mom. His heart is already shattered enough, little shards of guilt bleeding him out one thought at a time. He wouldn’t survive knowing she was responsible for my mother as well. It would tip him over the edge. I can spare him that.

  I drag the suitcase from my closet and plonk it on the bed before going to my dresser and emptying it of the contents, shoving everything inside the square box. The door peels open, and my father enters on timid feet. “Hey,” he utters, grimacing when he sees me packing. “What are you doing?”

  Sighing, I sit on the bed and pat the mattress for him to join me. “You can’t keep me locked in your high tower forever, Dad.” I nudge him, smiling. Ever since he was allowed to bring me home, he’s been overbearing and anal about every security detail possible.

  “I don’t want to send you away,” he tells me, gripping my hand and squeezing. “I’ll never send you anywhere again. You belong here with me. I won’t run for president. We’ll spend more time together.”

  “I don’t want you to stop being who you are,” I tell him gently. “You were always destined to end up in DC, but that’s your life. Not mine. I don’t belong here.”

  “Where do you belong if not here with your father?” he asks, chuckling, but it’s not amusement, it’s confusion.

  “I belong with them, Dad. I always have. Since the day you shut the car door on us at Mom’s funeral. It’s always been them. They are my life, my future, my destiny.”

  His brows furl together. “Clove…” He chokes a little and clears his throat, a flurry of questions dancing in his eyes as his cheeks turn ruddy with embarrassment. He doesn’t need to know all the details to the thoughts racing in his mind.

  “I love them,” is all I say before getting to my feet and clasping the suitcase closed. “But I love you too and always will. Good luck with your campaign, Daddy.” I drop a kiss to his cheek and type out a quick text.

  Me: I’m ready.

  Seconds later, Ford knocks and enters my room, offering me his warm, infectious smile.

  “I’ll take this, Lucky,” he says, grabbing the suitcase and taking my hand. “Jack.” He nods before gently guiding me out of the room and down the stairs to the waiting Tahoe where Zac sits, the engine idling. Seb watches me like a hawk from the passenger seat. Zac winks at me as I jump in the back, scooting over to Leo. After Ford tosses my suitcase in the back, he too slides in beside me.

  “Got everything you need?” Zac asks, his eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror.

  Sebastian turns to give me a happy smile. Leo gives my thigh a squeeze. And Ford steals a kiss on my cheek.

  “Yes,” I tell him, overcome with happiness. “All I’ll ever need is right here.”

  “Let’s go home, then,” Seb orders.

  Home.

  Butterflies dance in my stomach and my heart clenches in my chest.

  They’re my home.

  Sebastian, Ford, Leo, and Zac.

  God, I love them.

  Mine.

  Six months later…

  I swipe the sweat from my brow, hating that it’s hot as fuck today, but thrilled as hell with the progress the builders have made. Slab has been poured and framing is up. I hired a local builder—another friend of Rachel’s—and he’s proven to be worth his weight in gold. My house no longer fits, not to mention it was mine.

  This new house is ours.

  Every single one of us has contributed to what we wanted out of this place. The guys wanted functional shit, but it was Clo who wanted to pick out furniture and décor. Every day she’s online picking out new stuff we have to house in storage until the house is built. But at least she’s happy. That’s all any of us have ever hoped for.

  A car pulls up the gravel drive on the new land the four of us purchased for our girl and our new home. I recognize it as Rick’s. He climbs out with Rachel and Seth in tow. Seth runs over to the framed house to run around, checking out shit like kids do.

  “Can’t believe you’re selling your property,” Rachel says grumpily. “You kicked us out.”

  Rick rolls his eyes at me, but he’s clearly amused.

  “I didn’t kick you out,” I say with a chuckle. “I’m selling my property that you freeloaded on. Besides, I didn’t leave you hanging. You’re out of that trailer that scares the hell out of you every time a storm comes through.”

  She smirks because she knows it’s true. Another buddy of mine has a ranch with horses and other livestock. He’s always traveling for rodeo shows, but needs someone to keep up the property while he’s gone. Since Rachel did a good job all these years with mine, I recommended her to him. Instead of staying in a dinky trailer, she gets to live in a big-ass house with a nice view.

  “At least Henry pays me,” she agrees. “And he doesn’t mind if Rick stays over.”

  Rachel has always been a sleepover girl. Fast and onto the next guy. Rick sleeps over but doesn’t leave. And now that she looks like she’s carrying a basketball in her stomach, I don’t think he’ll be keen on leaving his daughter either. Eventually he’ll work on her enough that she’ll marry him. Zac and I are especially thankful for Rick. Now she leaves us the fuck alone.

  “Did you just come to torture me?” I ask, my brows lifting in question.

  She laughs, her blond ponytail swaying with the movement. “No, asshole. I came to invite you and your harem to dinner. Rick has brisket going and I made some of my famous potato salad.”

  Clo fucking loves her potato salad.

  “Yeah, yeah, we’ll be there,” I grumble. “What time?”

  She smirks, knowing she won the battle. Her potato salad always wins. And once Clo gave us the scare of a lifetime, Rachel held up a white flag of defeat. It was slow at first, but being that neither woman has any girlfriends, they forged a friendship that has strengthened over the past several months.

  “Seven. Tell Clove to bring something chocolate. I will die unless I get chocolate. Tell her those exact words,” Rachel says dramatically.

  I laugh. “Got it. Chocolate and my harem. Anything else, your royal pain in the ass?”

  “Nope,” she says with a smile and then yells at Seth. “Let’s go, baby!”

  Seth gives me a hug before they all climb back into their car. I slide into my new Ford F150 extended cab truck and head home. It won’t be home for long. Soon, this bigger house will be built and we’ll make plenty of new memories here.
>
  It’s a twenty-minute drive back to the house, so I call Zac. He’s up at the office in town. We love fucking Clo like it’s our job, but the reality is we can’t do that for a living. Not to mention, we’d go stir crazy and it’d only give Zac more time to think up kinky ways to truss up our girl. Not that I mind seeing her tied up and at our mercy, but we still have to put food on the table.

  “Yo,” he answers. “How’s the house looking?”

  “Awesome. They framed it fast. If we have a dry summer, we might have it finished early fall,” I tell him. “How’s the Briggs file?”

  He launches into our newest client. Once we decided we weren’t going anywhere else, we set up headquarters for Integral Defense Security in a brick building on Main Street right next to the police station. So far, we’ve gained jobs from aiding the police to investigating cheating husbands. Fontaine Briggs is an old man in his seventies who thinks people are poaching on his land. The man is fucking senile as all hell and is pretty sure the game wardens and forest rangers are in on the gig. But crazy or not, his dollar spends like the rest of them.

  “You know, the old coot isn’t as half off his rocker as everyone would like to think,” Zac says with a chuckle. “All it took was a little surveillance on his property to know something’s going on. One of the game wardens, Abe Frye, is a shifty-eyed fucker. I’m looking into him now. His truck sure visits Briggs’ woods an awful lot and he always leaves with something tarped in the bed.”

  I pull into the driveway next to the Tahoe that Ford has commandeered and next to Leo’s red Camaro, a car I’m pretty sure Clove sucked his dick to convince him to buy.

  “I’m at the house. Gonna get cleaned up and then we have to go to Rachel’s for dinner.”

  He groans. “Is she going to show us all her baby shit again?”

  “Clove probably bought her more baby shit, so I’m going to go with yes.”

  “Is she making potato salad?” he asks.

  “Let’s be real, man, it’s the only way she’ll get us over there willingly.”