The Firefighter's Secret Obsession: Secret Alpha Billionaire Romance: Bronx (Rosesson Brothers Book 3)

by Lisa Ladew

  At that moment, she realized that finally, she really was free. Free to love him back, or not. And that was the most important kind of freedom.

  So why, here in the light of day, living in the city she'd wanted to live in since she was a little girl, did she not feel free?

  She hadn't gone back to her office, but she knew when she did there would be whispers and rumors about her. They'd talk about what had happened, how she'd lied, bought an identity, lied on her resume.

  The story was still in the newspapers, about the diplomat from South Africa who had flown to America to kill his wife, but she'd been saved by a local security firm. And now rumors were starting to filter in about her and Bronx being together.

  She'd never wanted to be famous. Or infamous. Only to be free. She had a decision to make, and no matter what, it was going to be a hard one.

  She sat there for a long time, trying to make the decision, trying to decide what would make her the most free.

  Finally she stood and grabbed her keys and headed out the door. She needed to tell him in person.

  ***

  Eme

  At Station 66, Eme leaned against Bronx's truck and texted him.

  Can you come outside? I'm in the parking lot.

  He was there in an instant, coming at her at a run, tucking her into his body. She could feel the smile on his lips from his kisses.

  He held her at arm's length and peered into her face. "You ok?"

  No way out but through it. "I need to move Bronx. I'm not sure where. Seattle maybe. Or New York. I can't stay here."

  He dropped his hands and stared at her long and hard, making her shuffle her feet.

  "When?" he finally said.

  She couldn't look him in the eye. "I don't know. Soon. A week or two. I just need time to donate all my stuff. Buy a car. Decide on a place."

  "What about work?"

  She shrugged, her chest so tight she could barely move her shoulder. "I think the chief will give me a recommendation to another department."

  He didn't speak again for a long time, but he tucked her against his body and hugged her, and she felt her tears wet his uniform shirt. What was she doing?

  What she had to do.

  He stepped back and watched her, his face grave. Tears on his cheek. "Can I visit you?"

  She broke. Inside. Her heart split down its metaphorical middle and cracked into a thousand pieces that she couldn't even begin to pick up.

  Sobs wrenched out of her and she buried her face in her hands.

  Bronx pulled her close, running his hand down her back. "No, shhh, it's ok. You do what you have to do. I would like to visit you but I understand if you don't want me to."

  She cried for ten minutes, unable to speak. Unable to form a rational thought. Her throat clenched and her emotions completely overwhelmed her.

  Bronx held her through all of it. Not saying a word.

  Her throat loosened and the tears began to hiccup to a stop, when the tones sounded in the station.

  "Damn," Bronx said, looking over his shoulder. He dug something out of his pocket and curled it into her hand. "I gotta go. Take my truck. Or sit in the station. Whatever you want to do." He kissed her on the lips, a sweet, chaste kiss that made her heart hurt all over again.

  She watched him go, then looked at his keys in her hand. She searched inside herself, thrilled by what she found, but appalled at what it meant. What was wrong with her?

  ***

  Bronx

  In the six weeks that Bronx had been a firefighter he'd never been so upset to get a call. Never been so impatient with the granny who was having a hard time breathing. Never been so pissed that the fire truck had to assist on what was clearly only a medical issue.

  But then his heart had never been broken before either. He rode back to the station with his hand curled under his chin, looking out the window, understanding why she had to do it, but hating it at the same time. He was going to miss her so much.

  Jeanette pulled the engine onto their street and backed it into the station as Bronx stared hard at his truck in the parking lot. Eme was still there, exactly where he had left her, her back bowed, her head down.

  As soon as the truck stopped he jumped out and ran to talk to her.

  She held her hands up, making him stop two feet from her. "Wait, Bronx, I have to tell you something and I don't think you are going to like it."

  He just stared at her. What more could there be?

  She dropped her gaze to the pavement. "I woke up this morning convinced I couldn't stay here. The story in the paper, the people on the street who looked at me as I took my walk, like they recognized me from somewhere. I began making up this big story in my head about how I had to get out of this city, how none of this would ever fade, ever go away."

  She looked up at him, her eyes sad, but dry. "I got on the bus and came all the way here to tell you, convinced it had nothing to do with you. But when I told you, and you didn't yell, didn't scream, were calm and ready to let me go, it all evaporated. I don't want to leave anymore, Bronx. I want to stay here. I can make it through the rumors and people talking behind my back."

  Bronx felt a great surging hope fill him and he smiled and reached for her, but she still held him back, her face grim.

  "Don't you see, Bronx. I was testing you. I was testing you and I didn't even know it. Even now, even with him dead, I can't believe that I'll never be hurt like that again. I had to try it for myself, and I think some part of me expected you to blow up. To yell. To scream. Maybe to hit me."

  Bronx's balloon of hope collapsed at the self-hatred he heard in her voice.

  "Don't you see, Bronx? He ruined me. My mind knows you would never hurt me, but my heart and my body will never learn."

  Bronx couldn't think what to do. Desperation clawed at him, wanting to make him plead with her to not turn him away because she'd done something so human.

  Instead, he stayed silent. Turned his body. Leaned against his truck. Breathed until it seemed ok again. He could feel Eme getting more keyed up next to him. More tense and freaked.

  He looked at the station, thought about the people in there, cast his mind back over his brothers and what all of them had been through.

  His mouth opened, and like usual, a joke popped out. An awful joke, but who was keeping score?

  "Why did the milkman die?"

  Eme startled, her head jerking forward, but some of the rigidity leaked out of her body. "Why?"

  "Because everybody dies."

  He looked back at her, then turned his body and grasped her upper arms, folding her to where she fit so well. "Everybody dies, and everybody has scars. No one makes it to where we are without huge rips and tears in their psyche from something that happened to them. Something they couldn't control."

  He bent and took her mouth softly, then straightened and stared into her eyes. "All of us, Eme. Me too. I don't care that you tested me. Do it again. And again. I'm always going to know that you own yourself and that I'm only with you because you say it's ok. And I'll never, ever hurt you if I can help it."

  Her face collapsed and Bronx held her close. Waiting to see what she would say.

  Her voice was small. Muffled. But he could still hear it perfectly well. "I love you too, Bronx. I never told you yet but I do. And I'm not going anywhere."

  What more could he ask for?

  Chapter 45

  Bronx

  Four and a half months later

  Bronx hurried into Gitane and was relieved to see the restaurant empty and the tables already situated exactly the way he wanted them. He walked to the back to find the head waiter and make sure everything would go as planned for their private party.

  When he returned, Knox and Mica were there, sitting at the long table. He kissed Mica and hugged his brother, then faltered in his step. He turned to Mica, his face all squinty. "Hey," he said, making her look up. "You changed your name because of some crazy guy too."

  Mica laughed and shot hi
m a well duh look. "I did."

  "You and Eme ever talk about it?"

  Mica nodded. "At dinner a couple weeks ago. I thought you heard us."

  Bronx shook his head. That had escaped him. But he was glad Eme had someone who could understand. His thoughts were interrupted by people streaming in behind him. Curry came first, walking easily and holding up a bottle of expensive tequila. Bronx shook his hand and clapped him on the back.

  "Congratulations," Curry told him, tipping him a wink. "I knew you'd make it."

  Wade came right behind him with more congratulations. Jeanette too. Mossberg had thawed towards him after the whole Isaacs thing, but that didn't mean they were on celebration terms.

  Bronx kissed Jeanette on the cheek, more comfortable with her now that she hadn't tried anything on him in the last four months. She respected Eme, so that was a good thing. He turned to Wade and shook his hand.

  "Guess what today was," Wade said.

  Bronx already knew, but he didn't know the outcome. "Isaacs' sentencing."

  Wade nodded. "And his appeal was denied. The termination stands, especially since he's going to jail for six months."

  Bronx whistled.

  Wade shrugged. "Minimum security. I heard he requested to do it out of state. I don't think we'll see him around after."

  "Fine with me. Great end-of-probation gift."

  Wade looked him in the eyes. "You earned it, Bronx. You're a great addition to our team." He dropped his eyes for a moment. "I never told you, ah—well, sorry for being a dick after that magazine came out."

  Bronx smiled at him easily. "All's forgiven. No big deal."

  Wade clapped him on the back and went to sit down. Bronx looked over at the door nervously. Eme should have been there by now.

  The door opened again and Talon and Crystal entered, Daxton right behind them. Bronx greeted everyone with hugs and handshakes and sat them down, then herded in the firefighters from Jazzy's station. He and Jazzy were officially San Francisco Firefighters, being hired on permanently after the termination of their probation. Eme had been determined to throw them one hell of a party. Bronx had insisted it be at Gitane, the place where they'd had their first date, for reasons of his own.

  He pulled his phone out of his pocket and swiped it on when the restaurant door opened again. Jazzy. She swept in on a, "Hey, y'all", commanding the attention of everyone in the room effortlessly. She kissed Bronx on the cheek and went to the long table to start her rounds.

  Bronx checked for a message from Eme. Nothing. But the door opened again and in she came, breathless, flushed, and happy looking.

  "Sorry, sorry I wanted to be here earlier but the delivery guys couldn't get the bed in the door. They had to take the frame off." She swept her hands downwards. "It was just a mess. But it's done. I'm all moved in."

  Bronx took her in his arms and bent her backward, kissing her like he hadn't seen her in a year. Dimly, he heard the jeers from behind him. Calls to get a room, try not to suck her face off. They didn't stop him. When he finally released her she was glowing. She raised a hand to his arm. "How long do we have to stay here?" she whispered.

  He laughed, adjusting himself. "You say the word and we leave, but we should at least eat dinner."

  She peeked over his shoulder and waved at someone, then gave him a milder kiss. "You're right. Don't do that again, though. Not till we can go."

  "I can't promise anything."

  She went to say her hellos, leaving him to watch her and wonder again at his luck. They'd escaped the monster who had hunted her. They'd spent the last four months together every second they weren't at work. She'd agreed to move in with him. But would his luck hold out tonight? His hand dove into his pocket to make sure his special item was still there. It was. He checked his other pocket too. Yep. He wiped his face and huffed out a breath.

  Bronx walked to the table slowly, but before he could sit down between Daxton and Eme he noticed something. He walked up to Jazzy in her chair and pushed her hair to the side.

  "Oh, you like that? It's new."

  It was a tattoo, small, but gorgeous, a scorpion with a jeweled backside. Bronx eyed it, thinking he needed a tattoo, but surprised that Jazzy had gotten one. He pushed her head down a little, not thinking.

  "Hey!" she yelped and raised a bit but he didn't notice over the chatter at the table.

  He moved her head back forward again so he could see the detail on the—

  Jazzy pushed backwards and stood, pulling out her loudest voice, her hands on her hips. "Bronx Rosesson, is your dick in my mouth?"

  The room went dead silent, like a plug had been pulled on a dozen TVs. Bronx realized his mistake and held up his hands, even as he tried not to laugh. "No."

  "Then quit moving my fucking head around!"

  The silence lasted for another beat and then erupted into laughter. Someone, Mica he thought, sprayed a mouthful of water over the table, but no one could stop laughing to clean it up. Daxton doubled over, his hands on his belly.

  Bronx figured he'd better sit down. He walked to his chair and slid onto it as Jazzy leaned forward to look at a giggling Eme. "Sorry, Lieutenant."

  Eme shook her head. "You do you, Jazzy. And for the hundredth time, call me Eme."

  Jazzy nodded gravely. "Will do, ma'am."

  On that note, dinner was served, everyone having pre-ordered. Five waiters swarmed them and brought the first serving of what would be many. Bronx dug in, watching Daxton next to him, who was leaning over to talk to Jazzy. Too bad nothing had ever happened there. Jazzy would have been good for Dax. But if he wasn't ready, he wasn't ready. Although if the way he was caressing Jazzy's arm, his lips practically on her ear was any indication, maybe he'd finally decided he was.

  Jazzy caught his eye, then interrupted Daxton. "Bronx, sorry, I forgot to tell you but we need one more chair. I got someone coming but he's gonna be a little late."

  Bronx nodded to the head waiter who went to fill the request. The front door opened and a tall black man wearing jeans and a t-shirt looked inside, as if he wasn't sure he should be there. As he got closer, Bronx saw that his t-shirt said Chocolate Milk Does a Body Good, with the word chocolate large and emphasized. Jazzy saw him and ran to him, pulling him over to the table. Bronx watched Daxton go dark. Well, shit.

  "Hey, y'all," Jazzy said loudly to get the table's attention. "Everybody meet Saxton." She ran over everybody's names and Saxton said his hellos. The waiter moved the chair between Dax and Jazzy and they all had to scooch down. Daxton looked like he might spit.

  Before sitting, Saxton picked up his champagne glass and held it up like he was going to make a toast. Jazzy shook her head at him and clamped a hand over his lips. Then she kissed him and whispered something in his ear. He sank into his chair. She turned to Bronx and held her hands a foot apart. "He's got a big dick," she mouthed, her eyes purposely wide. "Huge."

  Bronx pulled her down and spoke low so only she could hear. "Chocolate Daxton, Jazzy, really?"

  " What? B, what the hell are you talking about? Saxton looks nothing like Dax at all. Boy, bye."

  Bronx shook his head and turned to Eme to ask if she saw it. He wasn't going to ask Daxton.

  Dinner folded and dessert followed. Eme pushed hers away and stood, walking to the head of the table with a champagne flute. Everyone quieted and she held it up.

  Jazzy leaned and squeezed Bronx's hand, making big eyes at him. He nodded and shushed her. She was the only one who knew this party had two purposes.

  Eme's eyes met his and she smiled fondly. "I wanted to thank you all for coming to this very special celebration. Bronx and Jazzy's closest friends in the world should be the first ones to tell them congratulations on a probation period well-finished, and fully over. What is once well done is done forever. Here's to a full and rewarding career for both of you, and to one of you beating out the other for the position of Chief in thirty years." She winked at Bronx. "I won't say who I think it will be, but Jazzy, throw him a bone and mak
e him your deputy, k?"

  The room laughed and applauded and cheered. and Bronx stood up. Jazzy was right. It was time.

  He approached his woman and took her hands. He spoke to the table first. "Thank you. I speak for Jazzy and myself when I say we treasure your presence here. There's one more item of business though." He looked at Eme, whose face showed confusion. "Eme, I have something for you, something I know was important to you for a long time, that you lost."

  He pulled the chain out of his pocket and held it up so she could see the silver heart background, with the emerald slivers arranged and affixed painstakingly to look like stained-glass. He put it in her hand. "Those are the pieces of your emerald. It took a while for the police to let me have them out of evidence, and even longer to find someone who would mount them like this. I hope you like it."

  Eme stared at the jewelry in his hand, her lower lip quivering. She grasped it and looked closely at it, then held her hands to her face, covering and closing her eyes as she burst into tears, the heart swaying from between her fingers.

  Bronx dropped to one knee.

  ***

  Eme

  Eme became aware that her crying was the only sound in the room. She snuffled and tried to compose herself. The man was so thoughtful. She'd thought her emerald was lost forever, seen Dusan destroy it under his heel. Figured the clean-up crew had pitched it into the garbage. But Bronx had known. Known how the loss of it still haunted her sometimes, sometimes at night when she woke up from a dream where Bronx hadn't come for her.

  She dropped her hands and opened her eyes. Only to find Bronx on one knee, holding a gorgeous ring pinched between his two fingers. Its circular, deeply-green stone, surrounded by diamonds held her eyes and she felt like she couldn't breathe.

  She found his eyes.

  "No joke," Bronx said. "I'm all out of jokes, and I just want to know if you will spend the rest of your life with me."

  Eme's eyes went back to the ring, then back to Bronx's dark-eyed stare. The room fell away as the answer she truly wanted to give welled up from her soul.