by Lisa Ladew
She punched in the number, then typed in a text with trembling fingers.
She pressed send before she could second guess herself and take it all back, then read back over the message as it flashed out into the airwaves, unable to be recalled.
Hi, it's Eme.
God, she should be a fucking author. She had a way with words. So eloquent. So—
Before she even had a chance to get going in her self-hatred, a message appeared right below hers, with a little chime announcing its arrival.
I'm so glad you texted. I had a great time and would love to see you again. Name the date.
Eme laughed shakily, then rubbed two fingers on her temple, soothing herself. She loved his straightforwardness. She leaned over her phone, smiling.
Thank you for the flowers. They are gorgeous.
You are welcome. They reminded me of you, and the necklace you always wear. I hoped you would like them.
Eme's hands went to her throat and found the rough gem hanging on the chain there. That stone meant so much more than he could ever know. It signified her very freedom. But somehow, he'd sensed its importance to her. She chewed on the inside of her lip and forced herself to do it.
Thursday, she typed quickly.
He didn't answer for a moment.
I can take you out again on Thursday?
Yes. If you can.
Perfect. What kind of things do you like to do?
She knew exactly what she wanted to do, something she'd wanted to do since she'd arrived in San Fran, but not by herself. She'd been waiting for her mother to come, but doing it with Bronx would be a thousand times better.
I would love to take one of the sunset catamaran sails.
Can I pick you up from work?
Eme's heart flipped in her chest. He hadn't even hesitated.
Yes.
Her office door opened and she shoved her phone into her pocket. It was Baker. He looked funny, like he was pissed about something.
"Sorry," he muttered. "I just need to grab something."
"No problem," she said. "You ok?"
"Yep." His answer was brusque. He bent over the desk he used when they had class and rummaged around in a drawer, then turned and left.
Funny. He'd been fine a few hours ago when they'd gone over lesson plans.
Eme turned back to her desk and looked for her to-do list, but something caught her eye. A magazine on the other chair in the room, the one in front of the empty desk. It hadn't been there a second ago.
She looked at the door Baker had disappeared out of, then back at the magazine. Insider's Best. The one-step-above-sleazy social magazine he'd shared around with that awful article about Bronx. Baker's favorite, apparently. She could read the issue date on the cover from where she sat. Yesterday.
Eme reached out for the magazine, knowing in her heart that she wasn't going to like what she found. She opened it at random and rifled through it, looking for another picture of Bronx. Maybe with a woman? Or maybe more bullshit? But why would Baker bring the magazine to her? With more questions than answers, she dropped the magazine on her desk and started from the beginning.
She found it on page twelve.
A picture showing her and Bronx exiting Gitane, looking at each other, both with smiles on their faces, her hand on his arm. Cozy.
Her heart seized in her chest. She ran her finger down the picture and speed-read the caption below.
Sorry ladies, Bronx Rosesson stepped out Friday night for his birthday, treating a fellow firefighter, Emerald Avalon, to dinner. No word on the status of their relationship, but sources say they looked quite cozy.
She read it three more times. How had they gotten her name?
Eme felt sick to her stomach. She stood, threw the magazine in the trash, then reached in and snatched it out again. She paced in the small room, her work forgotten.
If there was one thing she needed to do, it was stay out of the spotlight. Even applying for a job with the fire department had felt like too much attention on her, but she hadn't been qualified to do anything else, except maybe wait tables or serve coffee. Honorable jobs, of course, but not jobs that would make the kind of money she needed to get her mom here.
A flash of heat ran across her face and her stomach heaved. She had to go home. She couldn't think about this here.
She rolled the magazine up and shoved it in her bag, then grabbed it and left her office, not even bothering to snap off her computer. She stopped at her boss' office, three doors down. He was in. She stuck her head inside the door.
"Ah, Captain Briggs, I don't feel well. I need to go home."
Her kindly boss with the salt and pepper hair looked up from his computer, his sharp eyes taking in all of her. He grunted. "You look like shit. Can I take you home?"
Eme started to protest, but stopped immediately. She didn't want to catch the bus, and she didn't want to walk either.
The sooner she could be inside her apartment, alone, the better.
Chapter 23
Eme
Eme pushed inside her apartment and double-locked the door. She paced for a moment, her eyes on her beautiful flowers, then dropped to her couch, her stomach still in an upheaval she hated. She'd had a weak stomach for over a decade, a gift from Dusan. He'd had favorite places he liked to focus on so that he didn't leave marks that could be seen when she was wearing clothes.
It was ok, though. She was in a magazine. So what. Her name was in the magazine. No big deal. She was fine. Dusan was over ten thousand miles away, on another continent. He would never see that magazine.
She was safe. And just because Ronald Baker didn't like Bronx Rosesson, didn't mean she was doing anything wrong. She'd spent hours poring over ever single rule in the fire department handbook when she was first hired. As long as she wasn't in Bronx Rosesson's chain of command, she wouldn't get in trouble for dating him.
So she had nothing to worry about.
Well, not from the picture anyway.
Her mind went back to Captain Briggs' mostly one-sided conversation with her as she'd held her belly and bit back the moans that wanted to come.
"I heard you had a run-in with Captain Isaacs."
She'd turned her head so quickly it made her afraid she would throw up her lunch all over the car. She couldn't handle more heaved on her at that moment, but what choice did she have? "He came to you."
"He did. He said I should keep an eye on you. That you weren't a team player. That maybe you didn't belong with the department."
Eme had groaned and shifted in her seat, pulling the seatbelt away from her belly.
Captain Briggs had eyed her. "Look, I know you're not feeling well, but I like you, Lieutenant. I think you deserve a bit of a warning. Captain Isaacs is an important guy in the department, and he's not above throwing that weight around, especially when he wants something. Unfortunately, he has a reputation of pressuring female firefighters he's interested in. So far, they've all shied away from reporting him to HR, but I know he's gotten out of control a few times. I've heard stories. You want to watch out for him."
"I will," she'd whispered, both hands wrapped around her middle. "Thank you."
Just what she needed to worry about right now. Another man who thought women were cattle to be owned and used however he saw fit.
She lay down on the couch and willed her stomach to settle. Her mind drifted and she let it. When her buzzing phone woke her a few hours later, she sat up blinking and confused.
She pulled out the phone and saw the message from Bronx.
I wanted to warn you. Someone took a picture of us outside of Gitane and put it in a local social magazine. I'm so sorry. It happens to me sometimes.
Eme pushed her hair out of her face and read the message over again. So thoughtful. The kind of man who could make you forget there were dangerous, twisted people who shared his gender out there.
She texted him back, then gingerly moved about the room, testing her stomach. It felt better. Maybe not
good enough to eat, but certainly good enough to forget about the magazine picture. Forget about the fear she'd felt earlier in the day.
The magazine picture had made her feel like she was being watched. It was simple. The perfect explanation.
She went to her kitchen and rinsed a coffee cup, then froze as her brain woke up a little more and she remembered something important.
She'd had the feeling of being watched twice. Both times before she'd known about the magazine.
Chapter 24
Bronx
Bronx paced through his stark, simple home, willing the clock to move faster. He hadn't heard from Eme since Monday, and she hadn't said much then. He'd texted her once that morning to confirm the time to pick her up, but she'd been short then too. Busy probably. He couldn't wait to see her.
He was back to work at the station. He'd traded several days with another firefighter so that he could have Thursday off to take Eme out. He'd worked for three days straight, convincing his crew to go visit Curry at home on one of those days. Curry was healing well and was up and about, walking. Bronx hoped he would come back to work soon.
Bronx had also spent a lot of time on the phone, arranging what he thought would be the perfect date for Eme. He hoped he hadn't taken it too far. He also prayed the picture of them in the magazine hadn't scared her off. She hadn't canceled the date, so that was good.
Things at work were ok, even though he was missing Curry's easy banter and companionship. Jeanette hadn't tried anything else with him which was good, but she didn't seem to be talking to him either, which was bad. Mossberg was still the same colossal dick, which was normal, but what really hurt was that Wade had changed towards him. He'd taken Wade aside and tried to explain that he'd never said what the magazine had said he'd did, but he wasn't sure if Wade believed him. All he could do now was keep trying to do his best and hope people forgot about it.
The clock finally showed 4:00 in the afternoon and he left his condo, thinking there might be traffic. There was, but he still made it to Eme's office by 4:35, and sat in the parking lot for twenty minutes, before he got out of his car and walked towards the front door.
Before he could reach the door, Eme came out. She was dressed warmly and smartly in jeans and a sweater and she carried a jacket under her arm. Her hair was down and brushing her shoulders. He lit up when he saw her face and felt a smile cross his lips. She was beautiful and he was so glad she had agreed to go out with him.
"Hi," she said jogging up to him and touching his arm.
"Hi," he said, wanting to kiss her but holding himself back. He folded his hand over hers and pulled her towards his truck, sneaking quick glances at her as they walked. She looked even more beautiful than he remembered.
The drive to Pier 39 was easy and over quickly. They talked about work and he was glad to find her mood light and happy. She seemed excited.
He parked his truck and took her hand again as they walked out on the pier, to the very back, past the amusement rides and the restaurants. She sniffed at the smell of cotton candy in the air.
"Want some?"
"Cotton candy? No, but maybe we should pick up a snack or something. I haven't eaten."
"We'll have dinner on the boat."
"Really? I thought the sunset cruises were drinks only."
Bronx swallowed. He was halfway to giving up his surprise already, but the din of the sea lions saved him.
"What is that noise?" Eme asked, craning her neck towards the sound.
"You haven't been out here before?"
"No." She dropped her eyes and seemed embarrassed. "I don't do much outside of work."
Bronx started toward the end of the pier, pulling at her. "You have to see this."
When they reached the very end he shouldered his way between couples leaning on the pier wraparound and pulled Eme up so she could see the hundreds of sea lions piled on top of each other, completely obscuring the dock they had taken over.
"Oh, they're so fat. And loud." Eme laughed and clapped her hands together. "Are they seals?"
"Sea lions, I think," Bronx said, watching her face, loving the way it brightened, loving the smile that curled her lips.
The couple next to her walked away, letting Bronx get in there closer to her. He put his arms around her waist, slowly, giving her time to pull away, or bolt, or tell him no. When she did none of those things, he pulled her close to him. "Thank you for going out with me again."
Eme turned to him and smiled, the shy delight in her eyes stealing the very breath from his lungs. "Thank you for asking me."
His eyes focused on her lips and he couldn't hold himself off for one more second. He felt like he'd been waiting for this moment for a month. Longer. Since the first day he'd seen her. He'd dreamed about it a dozen times, feeling like less of a shit when he simply kissed her in his dreams, instead of bending her over the nearest piece of furniture and sinking himself in to her as far as he could go.
He bent, his eyes watching her lips, his body feeling for the slightest tension from her, the littlest indication that she didn't want this. When none came, he pressed his lips to hers softly, his eyes finally closing, a full-body sigh relaxing him into her. She smelled good, like flowers and cinnamon. Her lips were soft, but responsive, and boy did that thrill him to his soul. He moved one arm up the back of her as the sea lions honked so loud they obscured the sounds of the pier and the water and the people around them. What a lovely noise those fuckers made. It would be his favorite from now on.
Bronx pulled back an instant before he knew he wouldn't be able to stop himself if he kept going. She deserved his best behavior, and that's what she would get.
He stared into her eyes, connecting with her, reading her, transmitting his desire and his promise of restraint.
She licked her top lip and the sight of her pink tongue made him realize he had an erection, by the throb he felt go through it. He pulled his hips away from her so she wouldn't feel it, glad his jacket hung down enough to hide it.
"Ah, are we going to be late?"
"They'll hold the boat for us." Damn right they would, since he'd scheduled a private tour of the entire bay for her, with no other people on the catamaran. They'd head past Alcatraz before the sun went down, watch the sunset from under the Golden Gate bridge, then eat dinner under the stars.
If she liked it, he'd buy the boat and do it again tomorrow.
Chapter 25
Eme
Eme pulled her jacket tighter around her neck and waited for the deckhand to tie the boat up, then open the little gate so she could step out onto the dock.
The night air was cool, biting at her face, but not at her back. Bronx was there, taking the brunt of the cool ocean wind.
The evening had been amazing. Perfect. The kind of date you dreamed about but never thought could actually happen. She'd seen all the sights of the bay and watched the most beautiful sunset that had ever existed. Bronx hadn't been able to stop touching her and had told her she was beautiful four times. She'd felt beautiful, because of the way he'd stared at her, like he couldn't look away. They'd laughed and talked and gotten to know each other better.
She'd discovered he loved his brothers more than anything, and that he had a half-sister he'd never met. She knew all his brother's names and she'd been relieved to find out that Jasmine Larue had a thing for his brother Daxton, but not him.
She'd told him a lot about her mother and her father and her childhood, everything about growing up, before she'd turned sixteen and Dusan had knocked on her door, asking her father to marry her. Oh. And of course she'd had to say it had happened in Ireland, not South Africa. Don't forget the lies, Eme.
He'd been very interested in her firefighting background and she'd fudged around that as best she could, hating Dusan for stealing her past and impinging on her present, but being soothed by Bronx's dark eyes.
She'd told him the truth about her training and fires she'd fought, but she'd had to lie about the location. She'd been
glad for the darkness covering the blush on her cheeks each time she did so.
The gate swung open and the deckhand held out a steadying hand to her. She took it and stepped down, then waited for Bronx. He put his arm around her and they headed to the pier, her nestled into his arm and reveling in the feel of his strong body against hers.
It had been perfect. And she didn't want the night to end. It was only nine. Still early.
They made it through the pier to his truck where he helped her inside and got behind the wheel. "Where to?" he asked, reaching out to touch her fingertips. Even now he couldn't stop touching her.
"Do you have to work tomorrow?" she asked. She didn't have to, a makeup day off for a Saturday she'd worked two weeks before.
"Nope. I have the next two days off."
"I don't want to go home," she said, shocked at her boldness, but she felt like she could tell him anything.
He put the truck in gear and pulled out onto the street. "How do you feel about Blues music?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. I've never listened to it."
He smiled at her and the night chill fell off of her. "Let's find out."
She smiled back, trusting him completely.
On the drive to wherever they were going, he took her hand again, dragging his thumb over her palm. Eme shifted in her seat, suddenly aware of a heat in her midsection, and a thrill that went through her each time the friction of that thumb crossed her hand.
She wanted him. Wanted him sexually. Which was both very right, and incredibly wrong. Technically, she was still married, because she had never gotten a divorce, although actually she was not, because she was supposed to be dead.
And she was dead. The old her, the one who had stayed in that marriage for so many years, because she had no choice or options, was certainly dead and gone. She would never live like that again.
The new her was free, in a new country, and driving somewhere with a man who was as kind and good as her husband had been cruel and evil. Anxiety flared across the landscape of her brain. What if she and Bronx became a couple? What if they dated, fell in love, got married? Would she be able to live with the lies she was forced to tell him? How would that even work?
