The Billionaire's Secret Kink Box Set: Knox: Secret Alpha Billionaire Romance Bundle (Rosesson Brothers Book 1) (59 page)

"Craig Masterson work here?"

Craig sucked in his breath, but cut it off short.
What kind of a fuck-up was this
?

"That's me."

An angry sneer crossed Norman's face for a second. He looked Craig up and down, probably trying to figure out who would win in a fight. Craig put his money squarely on himself, knowing he outweighed Norman by a good thirty pounds of muscle. Norman fought dirty, though.

"That's you huh? What are you boy, stupid?"

Craig blinked at the insult. Boy? Stupid? What was going on here? Was he about to get a good dose of Norman's scare tactics firsthand?

Norman shook his head disgustedly at Craig's lack of an answer. "You must be stupid, seeing as how you are sniffing up my tree."

Holy shit, is my cover blown?

Norman sneered again.
"
Your fucking tongue broken?"

Craig wiped his hands on a shop towel and considered his possible answers. None seemed safe so he kept quiet.

"You really are a stupid idiot. Well let me just lay it all on the line right here."

Norman sauntered forward and jabbed a finger into Craig's chest. "You stay away from Emma Hill. She don't belong to you."

Emma! This is about Emma! He's still doing this!

"
You stay out of her house." Jab. "You stay out of her car." Jab. "You stay out of her life." Jab. "She's mine."

Craig finally had enough of the jabbing. He grabbed Norman's finger off his chest and yanked it backwards, hoping to tear some tendons.

Norman's eyes widened and his face contorted. He bent backwards with his finger, trying to alleviate the pain.

With his other hand, Craig whipped his phone out of his pocket, swiped the screen with his thumb, and face timed Hawk, holding the phone at arm's length, facing him so Norman couldn't see.

"Emma's not yours." Craig growled, giving one final heave backwards against Norman and then he let go.

Norman's hand dropped to his gun and he popped the snap on the holster, pulling the gun out an inch.

Hawk picked up right away. "Go."

"There's a cop here threatening me, I'm going to show him to you."

A finger covered Hawk's lens.

Craig pointed the phone at Norman. "You going to shoot me Officer? What did you say your name was again? I don't have anything in my hands but my phone and I'm not attacking you, but you are pulling your gun out?"

Norman looked at the phone and back at Craig. A calm mask dropped over his features.

"Of course not," I was just going to take my holster off. Sometimes I find it intimidates people." His hands found the buckle at his waist, working it. He walked back to his car and tossed the holster and gun in the open window.

"I think this might be a misunderstanding. Why don't you hang up the phone and we can talk about it."

"OK." Craig mimed swiping the screen and put the phone down on the length of hose curled up in the fire truck, then he crossed his arms and widened his stance and waited to hear what other gems were going to come out of Norman's mouth. He felt almost giddy over the encounter. Norman Foster was getting sloppy.

"Look, Craig? We got off on the wrong foot here. I don't want to be your enemy. I don't have many enemies. Anymore. All I'm saying is I don't think you are good for Emma, and if you know what is good for both of you, you will leave her alone. She has a lot of issues, you know? I'm just trying to keep her safe."

"I think I can keep her safe," Craig responded.

Norman's eyes narrowed. "Well, I guess you could try, but she has a lot of issues, you know. Her addiction, and how she pays for the blow."

Craig's mind spun. He knew Norman was both lying and baiting him, but he still couldn't believe the lies coming out of this man's mouth.

"Her addiction?"

"You never noticed? You've never seen her head for the bathroom too often? Or just excuse herself? She does cocaine, man."

Craig felt his temperature rising at the words coming out of this monster's mouth. His hands itched to punch some part of Norman's body. But he needed to know what Norman was going to say next. And he also needed to stay out of jail tonight. He looked down, hoping Norman would interpret this as yes or maybe.

"She's asked me for help and I'm trying to help her, but she just keeps getting back on the stuff. At least the whoring hasn't been as bad lately. When she runs out of money, she fucks the dealers as payment."

Craig suddenly knew that Norman had been the one who called that prick who tried to rape Emma. He posed as Jerry and told some stories, and Emma almost paid the price.

Craig couldn't take it for one more second. He roared and rushed Norman. Norman sidestepped him easily and laughed. He had been baiting Craig, waiting for this reaction. Craig stopped short, checked his rage with effort, and danced back towards Norman, looking for an entrance. Norman stood there, and dropped his guard. Craig knew if he touched Norman he was going to jail tonight, but he didn't care. He just wanted to get his hands on Norman long enough to let him know how it felt to be on the receiving end of a fist.

He leaned forward, about to take him down, when someone yelled, "Craig don't do it man!"

Frankie was in the bay. Craig hadn't heard him enter but he was here, running towards them.

Seven days, that's a week. seven days. seven days. seven days.
Emma chanted inside her head. It had been seven days since she had sent the letter to Craig, and she hadn't heard from him. She saw him on a call twice in those seven days, but both times they had been too busy to talk, and both times he hadn't gotten close enough to her for a glance or a smile, seemingly on purpose. She was getting desperate. So desperate in fact, that she had just volunteered to work the Crystal Creek Wildfire in order to get her mind off things. Wildfires were back-breaking work with no room for error, and they could go on for weeks. She knew from experience that if she made it home anytime in the next few days or weeks to sleep, she would drop into bed so exhausted she wouldn't even dream.

She was driving the big red tanker truck out to the first firebreak - almost an hour drive from Westwood Harbor, but it took closer to two hours in this monster. The water alone that she was hauling probably weighed 14,000 pounds. As the road got smaller and more like a switchback, her thoughts of Craig were pushed to the back of her mind, as she wrestled with the big truck. She was glad to see them go.

She'd been able to see the smoke for the entire drive, and smell it for 30 miles, but now the road on both sides of her was blackened and still smoking. She was close.

She found her unit and unloaded, putting on her gear. It was early morning, and the air was still breathable - the fire still low and light. The bulk of the fire would be here in eight hours or less, and they were going to try to widen this firebreak and save some homes in a small subdivision on the other side of the road.

Emma got her orders and headed out with her partners. They burned brush, dug out roots and small trees, and followed the bulldozers, picking up what they missed. By 3 p.m. Emma was exhausted. By 8 p.m. she was falling down on her feet. So far so good though, the fire had come to the edge but hadn't hopped the firebreak yet. They just hoped it was wide enough.

A nighttime crew came in to relieve them. Emma was relieved to head home for the night; they would need the tanker truck full again in the morning. She drove slowly, eyes heavy, mind still. She watched the underbrush on the south side of her truck, looking for where the fire ended. Found it - she noted the mile marker and tried to call it in but had no response. She stopped the truck, both to rest and to try to reach the scene commander again. Sometimes the radio worked better when the truck was still.

She had driven about three miles. She turned off the engine and looked at the stars. Man it was gorgeous out here. It seemed she could see the entire milky way.

"CCF, FF 238," she called, still looking up at the stars. Nothing. That's OK, she could wait another couple of minutes. If she didn't hear anything by then she would try dispatch.

Emma held her breath, and stretched her head towards the woods. Was that a scream she heard?

The fire was close, but she couldn't see any burning where she was. She wondered if there was a house back there. She got out with her flashlight to investigate.

There, that was definitely a scream.
She got her gear on, wondering if she would find a human, or if that was an animal terrified enough to sound like a person.

"CCF 24, FF 238," she called for the scene commander on the radio again. No answer still.

Damn it, was she in a dip?

She switched frequencies, hoping to get central dispatch. "PAP-65, FF 238," she called.

"Standing by," came the reply.

"I am in Vehicle 42, approximately a tenth of a mile west of mile marker 436, and I am hearing screaming in the woods on the south side. I am heading in to investigate. I am unable to contact CCF 24."

"Do you have a partner FF 238?"

"Negative."

"10-4, will contact Scene Commander for you. Stand by."

Emma put the handset down and walked into the woods, carrying a pickaxe. She knew it was possible that she would be told to stand down until someone could reach her on the next transmission, so she made sure she wasn't there to hear it. Lives could be in danger. She had to help if she could.

She didn't hear any more noises, but tried to head in the general direction where it had been coming from. She was counting her paces, and had walked for about 1/3 of a mile due south, tying strips of orange tape to trees every twenty feet, so she could be followed. There wasn't a lot of underbrush here, so going was easy. The smoke smell was stronger though, and she saw a glow up ahead. There. Another rough scream. Damn, she was about 80% sure that was an animal. If she were 100% sure she might have turned back. Not because animals weren't worth saving, but because if she got in trouble, other firefighters would be sent in to save
her
, and that was dangerous at night.
Dangerous all the time, but worse at night.
If a person got hurt because she was saving a wild boar she would never forgive herself.

Until she was sure though, she had to keep going. "Hello?" she called. "Anyone there?"

Nothing.

Then something. "Help!"

Faint, but definitely human. Oh man, that voice sounded tortured. She picked up her pace.

"Hello, I can hear you, where are you?" she called out.

Silence. Damn.

Ahead she saw what looked like a small building. The fire looked close. Within a hundred feet of it she could tell it was a hunter's shack. Rough walls painted camouflage, only about the size of a large bathroom. The door was standing open. She approached carefully and shined her flashlight in, but there was nothing.

"Hello, where are you?" She called again to the south.

Faintly, she heard a cough. She started off in the direction of it. More southwest than due south. She tied a piece of orange tape and then another only five feet away to show her change in direction.

The fire was getting closer, the smoke was getting stronger, and the woods were getting hotter. She picked up her pace, hoping to get to the person before the fire swallowed him or her.

Another hunter's shack, this one smaller. She swept it with her flashlight. There, on the bare ground, a man. She could see the wet glint of exposed bone in his thigh from here. "I'm here, I'll get you out of here, what happened?" she said in one breath, falling to her knees and grabbing her bag.

He was unconscious. But she had found him! She said a short prayer of thanks and positioned her flashlight so she could see and opened her bag. She had a small aid kit with her. It wasn't standard wildfire gear, but she always packed and carried one on any special operation. No splints but plenty of bandages. She ran outside and gathered up some sticks she could use to splint his leg, dropping the two smoldering ones she found. Damn! The fire was right there. She could hear the crackle and whoosh of it. Her heart thumped hard in her chest and her forehead went icy cold, despite the sweat on her brow. She had to get this man out of here within ten minutes or less or they were toast.

With the sticks and two ace bandages she had him splinted up in less than two minutes. She was glad to cover the bone. It ran through her mind that she hadn't even checked to see if he was still alive. Her eyes went to his face and her fingers to his neck. He opened his eyes and locked on to hers. "Water," he whispered. She unholstered the bottle from her belt and held it to his lips. He drank greedily.

"I'm going to get you out of here. It's going to hurt when I move you, but we have to go fast. The fire is close."

He searched her eyes, then nodded.

She swept the flashlight over him and estimated his height at six feet and his weight at 250 pounds. Damn. She was only about 150 pounds.

"I have to build a travois. It's a kind of sled. It will take me five minutes. Stay here. Can you hold the bottle?"