by Lisa Ladew
Knox sighed and sat down, moving pens around in front of him. "Nothing. The agency won't tell us shit and we have no legal precedent to open the case. So we're going to have to start snooping in the digital files, see if we can discover anything that way." Knox looked around. "Are we all still in agreement that's what we want to do?"
Talon looked down. Amelia Mae wasn't related to him at all, since he was a half-brother from their father's side.
Bronx knocked on the table. "I am."
Daxton crossed his arms over his chest, rumpling his t-shirt. "You know I'm still in."
Knox nodded, his eyes far away, his hands restless on the table. They wouldn't bother asking Phoenix again. He had more pressing things to worry about. Like staying alive and out of trouble. "Good. I'll think of something."
Bronx shifted in his seat, wishing he could do something for his big brother. The guy took on the weight of the world, and just got too lost in it sometimes. Being with his fiance, helped, but if she wasn't around, Knox's emotions could go south fast. Especially over anything that had to do with their father.
Talon cleared his throat and flapped the folder in his hands. "We need to name this project too, Knox, it's another important, ongoing one."
Bronx saw the picture of the old guy on the front of the folder and knew immediately which file it was. Bailey. The guy who had tried to sell, extort, then kill Knox's fiance. The guy they were all hoping was now dead, but nobody was relying on it. Because that would be stupid.
"How about, he-who-better-be-dead-or-Knox-will-make-him-wish-he-was-dead-for-the-rest-of-his-very-short-life," Talon said. He flipped the file back onto the table. "We can just call it Project Better Be Dead for short."
Bronx smirked. Daxton fell into the next seat and muttered, "Good name."
Knox just twirled the pens around, not looking at anyone. His face was grim. "Speaking of. Bronx, I'm glad you're here. You need to hear this."
Bronx stopped his hand from reaching for the pot of coffee on a tray next to him and stared at Knox, waiting for whatever it was. Daxton and Talon both stared heavily at Knox.
"Someone tried to get past our firewalls. We had a breach last night. I got an immediate alarm and was able to shut everything down, then bring it back up cleanly and close the backdoor he'd found, but I'm expecting another try."
Daxton nodded quietly making Bronx figure he already knew about it. That made sense because he was the only other guy at their level with any computer skills. Talon whistled. "What does that mean?"
Knox shook his head. "I don't know. It could be someone unrelated to the business. It could be a competitor. Or it could be ... something worse."
Talon sat up straight and Bronx could see him get serious. "Something worse, how? You gotta be straight with me, Knox. Lay it out like I'm a kindergartener."
Knox took a deep breath. "It's never happened before. So I can't say. But my morbid side goes right to Bailey. If he were still alive, it would just make sense that he would want to crush me, destroy me, and fishing for weaknesses or scandals would be the first way he would do that."
Daxton spoke up. "He's not a hacker, though, right?"
Knox nodded. "As far as I know, he has no specialized computer knowledge."
Daxton paced. "So if it's him, he's hired someone. Which means he had to come into some money somehow."
Talon pulled the file back to him and opened it up. Bronx watched him pore over every sheet like they had all done a million times.
"I've got a guy coming here in about—" Knox checked his phone. "—Twenty minutes. A professional hacker. He's going to see if he can trace the breach. What we do next depends on what he says."
"Knox, is there anything I can do?" Bronx asked. "Check in on Mica or something?"
Knox's eyes were still far away. "I've got a guard on her Bronx, since this morning. I haven't told her why yet ..."
His voice trailed off and Bronx could see the heartache on his face. But he could also see the coming storm.
Operations were about to ramp up at Alpha Private Security.
Chapter 9
Bronx
The next week passed quickly for Bronx, and in a manner that made him forget all about his horrible first day. His second day started early with a car rollover accident on the Lombard St. exit. He assisted with a Jaws of Life extraction, then quickly wrapped up there and headed to a medical to back up the paramedics. The day was a busy one and by dinnertime he still hadn't even eaten breakfast. All the firefighters fell into bed that evening without much preamble or talk, although Wade took him aside at dinner to tell him he'd done a good job and they were happy to have him. The words made him glow from the inside out, in a way he craved.
Bronx looked forward to each day at work, not even minding that Mossberg mostly ignored him—at least he wasn't openly hostile anymore. Chief Isaacs wasn't around much, and when he did come in, he went straight to his office and didn't talk to anyone. Fine by all of them. Captain Wade turned out to be patient and fair and an excellent mentor, always giving Bronx first crack at trying something new to him, as long as no one's life was in danger. Curry greeted him each day with a smile and a handshake, and Jeanette just did her thing, although every once in a while he caught her watching him with that same wicked smile and a secret in her eyes.
Jazzy had texted him several times, and he'd even seen her on a call, a cleanup of a meth lab explosion downtown that had called in five stations. She'd been going off shift and he'd just been coming on, but they both got to haul hoses for hours that morning and compare notes in the street when the majority of the heavy work was done, neither of them actually getting anywhere near the fire though. Jazzy had been on two heavy duty fires already, including a boat fire, unlike Bronx. She said she loved her station and her coworkers. Her only complaint was her captain had figured out how smart she was and had signed her up to be the station trainer, which meant she was going to be spending more time taking and giving classes than she was going to be working on the truck.
Things at APS were quiet. The ethical hacker had not been able to trace the breach, but he'd inserted a worm inside the private security's digital network that would attach itself to any future interlopers. So far there had been none.
On Bronx's sixth day at work, almost two weeks since he'd started, he drove to work happily, thinking about his new profession. It was exactly what he'd always thought it would be. A rich, varied job that gave him a deep sense of satisfaction each day, knowing he'd helped people who truly needed it. Knowing he'd done the best job he could and people's lives were changed because of his training.
The day was overcast, rainy, the kind of day that weighed on you, if you didn't have a solid purpose. But Bronx did. Once inside Station 66, he set to work on what had become his morning routine. He started coffee, then began the cleanup of the station. He and Curry would put in a few hours on the weight machines if there was no scheduled training and no calls. It was a Tuesday, which, in the grand scheme of the universe, meant there was a good chance they would be quiet for at least a few hours.
Wade walked in. "Morning."
Bronx held out a cup of coffee, two creams, two sugars.
Wade took it and sipped it, an expression of contentment lighting up his face."Curry's out till five. We've got Hall filling in from Station 12."
Bronx looked up from the counter he'd been wiping. "Why?"
"Extended Chemical Fire Suppression Training. There's some new hotshot Lieutenant over in training who's been trained by the BASF firefighters in Germany. She's gonna bring us all up to speed eventually but Curry is in the first wave. Starts today. He'll come back and give us all an intro to the concept, and then once the new equipment gets here, everyone will attend the class."
Bronx's heart sped up. He'd purposely turned his mind away from any thought of Lieutenant Avalon for weeks, but now that someone else had brought her up, he couldn't help but picture her lovely face, her pale blue eyes, and her sweet voice. "Oh. We all go
to this training?"
Wade dropped into a chair. "Yeah, but not anytime soon. The equipment doesn't come in from overseas for a good six months."
Bronx went back to his work to hide his disappointment, his mind churning.
Maybe there would be a different opportunity to run into her again. If not, he could manufacture something, couldn't he?
***
The day passed slowly, with only four calls to get them up and moving, all medical assists. Just before dinnertime, Curry came in the kitchen door, slapped hands with his replacement who was heading out, and gave Bronx and Wade a wide smile where they sat at the kitchen table. Bronx waited, his breath held. He would love to hear something about Lieutenant Avalon. Anything.
But Curry wasn't talking. He dropped into a chair and only said, "When's dinner? I'm starved."
"How was class?" Bronx asked, prodding him.
"Boring. But you guys are gonna like that new foam we're gonna get. Good shit."
Curry scooped a carrot out of the bowl on the table and crunched it. Bronx was about to ask directly if Lt. Avalon had taught the class when Jeanette wandered in and sat down. Bronx shut his mouth with a snap. He didn't want to ask in front of Jeanette. She was still a mystery to him. She was mostly friendly with him, but sometimes the way she looked at him made him feel like she was looking for weaknesses, feeling him out for something to hold over his head. He didn't want to give her anything.
Dinner was roast beef with a side of carrots and rice, and Wade pulled it out of the oven, inundating the room with a mouth-watering scent. They ate, then retired to their separate corners, waiting for bed time. Bronx and Curry hit the gym, Wade retired to the Captain's room, Jeanette watched TV, and Mossberg stewed somewhere about something.
When 10:00 came, Bronx took a quick shower and headed off to bed. He liked to get to bed early on worknights, because he never knew when he would get pulled out of the rack and thrust out into the cool San Francisco night, unable to reunite with his bed for hours, if at all.
But he couldn't sleep. He tossed, turned, counted sheep, and listened to his co-workers quietly climb into their beds. When his phone showed just after midnight, he gave up and ducked out of his bed, then tiptoed downstairs, still in his uniform pants and t-shirt. He liked to sleep in them, because if they got a call he was usually the first one on the truck that way.
He walked through the sleeping firehouse, running his hand over the truck, checking in on the radio room, listening to the static of another station's call. He didn't examine his sleeplessness. It happened sometimes. He'd come to terms with it a long time ago. As a young child, he'd walked through his family house just like this, always checking on his mother first. His father and his mother had slept in separate bedrooms since ...
As Bronx wandered through the lower floor of the fire station, his thoughts took him back to when he'd been six years old, already determined to be a firefighter someday, the first time he'd ever left his bed to prowl the house. Knox had given him and Phoenix both a bath, then read them two stories, then put them to bed, kissing each of them on the forehead just like a father would. Knox had only been ten, but he'd been tall and was allowed to use the phone and the stove, and take the boys to school, just like an adult. To Bronx, Knox had become his world that year.
Bronx had accepted his kiss on the forehead, then stared at the ceiling for what seemed like an eternity, wanting his mother. Knox was great, but now that their mother was back from the hospital, he wanted her. She'd come home from having the baby and gone straight into her room, not speaking to anyone. Bronx wanted to hug her, to smell her, to curl up in her bed with her and ask her to sing to him. He'd finally snuck out of his bed and walked down the long hallway, his feet silent on the carpet. The house was quiet but he didn't know if his father was asleep. If his father caught him out of bed, he would get disciplined for sure, but he would try not to be caught. A hug from his mother was worth being disciplined.
He'd moved with purpose, his hand on the wall, even though he could see ok in the dim light coming from the kitchen. He'd found his mother's door and pushed it open, hoping she was asleep. If she was, he would just lie down next to her for a little bit. Feel the warmth of her skin. Smell the shampoo she washed her hair with.
But there was a light on in the room. His mother had been awake, and crying, low and silent. He'd rushed to her and tried to climb up in her lap, but she wouldn't accept him. She'd pushed him down, and when he tried again, she'd gotten up and moved to the bed, her back to him. Bronx had stared at her for a long time, then left the room. He hadn't quite understood what his father had meant when he'd said the baby had died, but that night he figured it out, at least a little. His mother's sadness had made the word real to him in a way all the explanations never had. The baby had died, and so had his mom, kind of. He'd walked the hallway back and forth between his room and his mom's room as long as he could, until exhaustion drove him into a ball outside his mother's door as dawn had finally broke through the picture window, the rays of the sun touching his eyelids, but not keeping him awake.
Bronx walked into the tv room, his hand touching each chair in turn as he walked past them. This was part of his evening sojourns. The touching. He had to touch. He didn't know why. He didn't bother trying to figure it out. He knew it made him feel better. Soothed him somehow.
Bronx bent and grabbed the remote control off a coffee table, bouncing it in his right hand, his left hand running over the chairs as he continued to circle the room. He would know when he was done. And then he would watch TV.
"Can't sleep?"
Bronx whirled around to see Jeanette in the doorway, her hair down, wearing a tight tank top and boy shorts. The scrap of a sleeping outfit was stunning on her, showing off the thick muscles in her thighs and shoulders, which was exactly how he liked his women. He hated skinny girls that felt like they would break when he got going. Women who would thrust their hands onto his chest, trying to hold him back a little. The women he liked the most were the ones who arched into it, who looked for that edge between punishment and pleasure, who could take what his body so wanted to give. The bigger and stronger the woman, the better the sex had been for him.
He dragged his eyes up to her face and kept them there. He liked Jeanette a lot, but he didn't want to sleep with her. Even if she was solid and hot. It wouldn't make for a better work environment, especially because she was married.
"Ah, yeah, I guess not."
"Need a massage? That could help."
Bronx shook his head, reading her eyes, knowing he wasn't overreacting, but still hoping he was. "No thanks, I, ah, I think I'll just head back to bed." She wouldn't try anything with Curry and Mossberg in the next bunk.
He dropped the remote and started past her, but she caught his arm. Ah, fuck. He didn't want a confrontation, he didn't want to reject her, and he didn't want shit to get weird between them. Maybe he should say he had a girlfriend.
Her fingers stroked his biceps, then headed up towards his shoulders. "I've been watching you, Bronx. You're going to be a good firefighter. But you don't have to be so formal, so tense. A little casualness between coworkers is good. It helps take the edge off. You know what I mean?"
Bronx pulled his arm out of her grip as gently as he could and reached for her fingers, which were twining in his hair. She was a knockout, and any offer of sex or love was always welcome, but in this case he would have to decline. He would never knowingly sleep with a married woman.
Tones coming over the ceiling intercom that broadcasted the radio traffic throughout the house interrupted them and they both cocked their heads, listening.
Station 66, respond to a confirmed structure fire on the corner of Post and Pierce. Engine 12 on scene requesting an aerial.
Bronx and Jeanette both jumped into action, running for their turnout gear, Bronx craning his neck towards the hole in the ceiling to see if the rest of the crew was up. Curry was the first one down the pole and Bronx took his attention
back to his gear, slamming into his boots, pulling everything on, securing his jacket. He grabbed his helmet and climbed onto the truck, fastening himself in.
Saved by the bell.
This time.
Chapter 10
Bronx
As they raced towards the fire, Curry kept up a steady pattern of operational and safety reminders to Bronx, each one easing the iron band around Bronx's chest slightly. He'd been trained for this. He could do it.
They heard the firefighters already on the scene calling instructions to each other, and asking for more units.
A familiar voice came over the radio, but Bronx couldn't quite place it.
Truck 66, drop two of your crew on Sutter street with a ladder. We need a rooftop view from the back but the only access is from the roof. Tell them not to get too close, then bring the truck around front.
Bronx saw Wade stiffen, his finger caressing the mic's button, like he was measuring his response.
"Wade doesn't like splitting us up," Curry whispered to him. "Thinks a truck crew should always stick together, no matter what. But he can't tell Isaacs no."
Ah, Bronx thought. It was Chief Isaacs voice. "Why is Isaacs on scene?"
"He lives out here," Curry said, messing with the straps on his helmet.
Wade turned around to address them. "You two take the ladder and full gear. Get up on the roof and get as close as you can without putting yourselves in danger. Watch for hot spots. Curry, you are responsible for Rosesson. Call in a sit rep and sit tight for instructions. You both got radios?"
Bronx clapped his hand to his jacket pocket. "Yes sir."
Curry gave a thumbs up and Wade turned back around, his face grim.
Bronx looked out the window at the increasing glow in the sky. He could see it. The fire. They were almost there. His heartbeat quickened.
