Five Alarm Forever: A Reverse Harem Holiday Romance

by Dizzy Hooper

  Sal gestures at the space around us. "You see any of us getting into bed with him?"

  I can't help it—I laugh. What an image.

  Quiet, again, Corey cuts to the chase. "Tell us your side of things."

  I swallow hard, dropping my gaze to look at my hands, gathered in my lap. I play with the fringe of the blanket, but the harder I stare at it, the more it blurs.

  Did anyone ever ask me that? They must have, at some point in the investigation, but it didn't matter. Duke had spoken. My statement was a formality.

  A skitter of lonely pain flashes hot across my ribs. Now these five men are sitting here patiently, waiting, wanting nothing but my version of what happened, and it's almost too much.

  I've done such a good job convincing myself that nobody cared. That nobody ever would.

  I steel myself, forcing my eyes to focus, blinking back the treacherous dampness at the corners of my eyes.

  There's still plenty of time for them to prove me right.

  I want to laugh. Funny, how Walker made such a big deal about giving these guys a chance.

  I thought I was doing exactly that, letting them fuck me two and three at a time. But this is deeper.

  This has the potential to hurt me so much more.

  I suck in a deep breath. Then let it out, slow.

  "It started this spring."

  In my mind, I'm back at my old firehouse upstate, doing my usual routine, laughing and joking around with a crew I didn't one percent fit in with, but which treated me all right. I figured things would smooth themselves out with time, and they did. To a point.

  But even when we didn't entirely gel, there was always…

  "Duke," I say, and the name is poison on my tongue. "Him and me, we…we had a special relationship." Too late I hear how that sounds. I shake my head. "Not anything sketchy. Just he was my mentor. Always had been."

  Ever since I was a little girl, sitting in a closet while the remnants of my family's home burned down.

  I taste the smoke. I see the flames.

  "You see, he found me. When my parents blew our fucking house up. I was ten. Everything was on fire, and he burst in like this movie hero and scooped me up, and that was the day I knew—this was what I wanted to do with my life. I was going to be just like him."

  Little did I know.

  "So I went through the ranks. Finished school, did all the training. He was there every step of the way. Coached me through getting my final certifications. Used his influence as chief and got me in with a good crew."

  A crew he trusted. I crew he knew he could rely on.

  So that's why he got sloppy.

  "But then I found it."

  I still remember walking through that office door, looking for a basic form I had to fill out. Sorting through some of his paperwork.

  His office always smelled like cigar smoke. I never stopped to think about that.

  That a man who's job it was to protect the world from burning down liked to light such fires of his own.

  I get lost for a second, reliving the moment that would change my life forever.

  Gently, Sal prods me. "Found what?"

  I look up, my vision clearing. "Proof."

  Stacks of falsified reports, altered budgets. Invoices that had been forged.

  "He was dealing in all this bullshit. Getting our safety equipment from some sweatshop somewhere for a fraction of the price and pocketing the profits, and the stuff—it wasn't real. Respirators that failed, faulty hoses." I look around wildly, suddenly desperate that they believe me. "He wasn't keeping his people safe at all."

  Five pairs of eyes go hard.

  Street lurches forward, hands curled into fists at his sides. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

  "I swear. Turns out, that wasn't even all."

  The funds went to all kinds of awful things. Gambling rings and sex trade stuff.

  "I couldn't believe it," I swear. "It didn't seem like him. But I started digging, and it was all true."

  "What did you do?" Corey asks.

  "Turned him in, of course."

  And that's instant my life went to shit.

  38

  See, you don't get to be fire chief in a city like Chicago without knowing some people. I went to a guy in internal affairs with what I'd found, but I hadn't exactly been able to smuggle Duke's entire dirty ledger out of his office with me. I had a few blurry camera phone pics of the most incriminating bits, and that's it.

  It wasn't enough.

  Not when Duke had cronies working for him at every level of government.

  Huddling in on myself, I wrap my blanket around my shoulders tighter. "The cover-up started the second I walked in the door. I made a mistake and let myself get shunted off to some back office for a few hours, and that was all they needed. Duke moved all the evidence, or he destroyed it. The faulty equipment was all mixed in with the good, so no one could prove there were whole shipments of it. Maybe they never even tested it. Who knows."

  Walker's eyes narrow. "They've still got that shit in circulation?"

  "Probably?"

  "How can they do that?" Corey asks.

  I shrug helplessly. "Politics. Greed."

  "Because the guy is a complete and total asshole," Street supplies.

  A barking laugh escapes me. "You're not wrong."

  Something light is bubbling up inside me. They're taking me at my word, aren't they?

  After all this time, all these lies. All these doubts cast on every statement to leave my mouth, and I was starting to wonder, honestly.

  Had I made the whole thing up? Was it even possible?

  But no. I'd seen it with my own eyes. I knew the truth.

  And I paid for it. Dearly.

  "He confronted me. Told me I was making shit up, and after everything he'd done for me. He gave me one chance to go to IA and tell them it was all some huge mistake or he'd make sure I never worked in that town again."

  It seemed impossible that he would go to such lengths. That was cartoon villain level insanity. He couldn't be serious, right? And even if he was…

  "But how could I let him sweep that all under the rug? He was putting our people in harm's way, and for what? A few bucks?"

  "You kept going with it," Walker says. His tone is grave, with a note of pride in it that heals something inside me.

  "What else could I do?" Bitter bile seeps into the back of my throat. "But he wasn't kidding."

  "He ran you out of town."

  "Worse." I dig my nails into my palms. "He set me up. The next big fire we got called out on. We should never have gone in. It was too hot, the building had shit in it that was going to go up, but he sent us in anyway."

  And for a second, I can't speak. I can't breathe.

  The memory of flames overwhelms me. The creak of failing floorboards, the clouds of smoke and that lurch in the stomach that comes with a long, long fall into nothingness.

  The impact.

  "I fell through three stories. Lucky I didn't break my back."

  Even now, panic claws at me, squeezing at my lungs. Bruised and battered and enveloped in blackout smoke, I felt around for an exit, for a lifeline, but there was nothing.

  "I called for help, and I could hear them. The comm was working."

  And there's this double image in my head, the darkness of that burning ruin I was trapped in superimposed over the faces of the five men arranged around me here in the present. Dimly, I'm aware of Walker's jaw flexing, of Street with murder in his eyes, Corey aghast.

  But I can't focus on any of it. My vision blurs with the tears I never shed, not then, but fuck me. I can't seem to keep them back a second longer.

  "They left me there to die, and I thought for sure I was going to."

  I couldn't breathe, my oxygen was gone. The fall had broken something, and it wasn't just bones.

  It was my spirit, and when the men I'd trusted with my life chose to let me burn, the fissure was complete.

  "Today," Street cro
aks. "'You came for me.' That's what you said. You said it like you didn't believe it."

  I seek out his gaze, letting the tears pour down my face. "They didn't. They didn't come for me." I suck in a gasping breath that sears my lungs. "I thought…"

  "You thought we'd do the same," Sal says.

  "No. Yes. I—" I shake my head, swiping desperately at my eyes. "But then there you were." I look to Street. "You saved me, when I'd abandoned all hope."

  "Always," he says, just as fiercely as he did right there at the scene, and then he's surging through the space between us.

  Street gathers me up in his arms, and I'm shameless. I cling to him and his heat and his strength. I let him shore me up.

  Walker huddles in close beside us, his hand rubbing up and down my spine. "We'll always come for you."

  And then they're all there. Jaquan's lips at my ear, Sal's breath against the top of my head, Corey gripping my leg.

  It's dawn breaking inside me. It's the smoke and ash blowing away, light flooding through the cracks between my ribs.

  I sob, holding on to each and every one of them.

  These men who took me in, who trusted me, who came for me. The first ones to touch me with gentle, loving hands.

  "I know," I croak, and God, I do. Me. Who never lets anyone in.

  But that ship has long since sailed. These men are so far past my defenses. They live in my heart now, and even if there's got to be an expiration date on this impossible arrangement we've settled into, they're always going to be right there. Imprinted on my chest—the perfect, incredible people who gave my faith back to me.

  Who cared for me.

  Who made me feel indispensable, when everyone else in my life threw me so casually away.

  For what feels like ages, we sit there together. I soak in their warmth and their affection…maybe even their love, if such a thing can exist between six people.

  Eventually, I pull back. They let me go, but they don't retreat far. Still surrounding me, they give me that little bit of space I need.

  Heaving in a huge breath, I work to center myself again. To bring the story to its close.

  "Somehow, I managed to survive. My crew was the only one Duke trusted enough to read in on the plan, so everybody else kept fighting the fire. When the rescue squad came through, they hauled me out."

  There wasn't any moment of watching the smoke part for them, though. I was passed out cold. I woke up in a white hospital room, hooked up to a series of tubes. I breathed canned air for days.

  The missing patch of skin at the back of my neck took longer to grow back.

  Reaching up, I rub at the spot. The rough scar tissue is numb. At first I hated it. It reminded me of how I'd been betrayed, again.

  But now I look to Street. He has deeper scars than I do, but he reclaimed them with ink and with time.

  For the first time, I wonder if maybe I can do that, too.

  Well, maybe without the tattoos.

  I let out a deep breath. My vision is clear now. This is the easy part of the story to tell, even if it's still bitter. "It wasn't until I got off medical leave that I realized what had happened." I glance around at each of the guys in turn. "Duke doctored all the reports, got testimony from my crew. They said I went in unsanctioned. Put the whole squad at risk. Basically blamed the whole place going up on my dereliction of duty."

  "How—" Jaquan starts.

  I shake my head. "He didn't have to prove anything. It was his word against mine." My team against me.

  And that's never how it's supposed to be.

  We're supposed to trust each other. We have each other's backs, we take care of each other.

  "After that, I thought I'd never trust anyone again." My heart pounds in my chest.

  I look around at each of the members of my new squad. They're sitting around with me, naked except for blankets. They pulled me out of a burning building today. They're invited me in, sheltered me and fed me and lord alive, they've fucked me within an inch of my life.

  "But I do," I croak. "All of you."

  Walker and his steady leadership, his kind heart. His tender care.

  Street who's overcome his own pain to look after me and let me in.

  Corey's gentle touch and tenderness. Jaquan's smile and his easy flirtatiousness that got past my boundaries in the first place. Sal and his magnetic pull, his constancy. His supernatural sense of what I need from him, and his uncanny ability to deliver.

  I trust them. I feel for them.

  God help me. I love them.

  And they're going to break my fucking heart. I can tell that already, in one way or another. This is too good of a thing for me to hold onto long term.

  But for the first time in my life, goddammit do I ever want to try.

  Eyes shining, mouth soft, Walker reaches out for me. "Like I said." He brushes his knuckles down the side of my face. "We've got you."

  Solemnly, they each nod.

  And again, with even more conviction, Street vows, "Always."

  39

  "If this is a drill I'm going to murder someone," Jaquan growls.

  All around us, the alarms are going off, because of course they are.

  After my little therapy session, telling the guys about how things ended for me upstate, we cuddled a lot and made out a little, and honestly, things were just starting to get interesting.

  And then this.

  "This is going to be our worst response time ever." Corey's pulling on his pants, hopping around on one foot.

  "Maybe it should be a drill," Walker muses.

  "Murder," Jaquan reminds him. "I'm not fucking around, LT. I will straight up shoot you in the face."

  Walker rolls his eyes, buttoning his shirt, lightning fast but calm as can be.

  Somehow, we all manage to get from naked on the floor to dressed and in our call-out uniforms and out the door. We're responding to another freaking house fire, and if my pulse weren't already up from being well on my way to another orgy, it sure would be now.

  Luckily, the scene is a lot calmer than the last one we responded to. Only the top floor is really at risk, and the situation was called in quickly.

  We still need to do a sweep, though.

  Walker turns to us. "Sal, Jaquan, Corey, head on in."

  "What?" I whip my head around.

  "You heard me." Walker nods to the guys whose names he just called, and they go. "Chapman, you and Street go connect up."

  And I should let this go. But there's a sinking feeling in my stomach. "I should be going in there."

  Walker's face goes hard. "You have your orders."

  "Why?"

  Eyes flaring, Walker steps in closer. "You questioning me?"

  "You bet your ass I am."

  "Save. It."

  I flinch backward. I've never heard him so brusque—not with anyone. I don't understand.

  I grit my teeth. "We're not done here."

  And it's like a slap to the both of us. That's what he said, pulling out of me earlier tonight, his come dripping down my thighs, our bodies entwined.

  But he just digs in deeper. "You got a problem with my orders, you bring it up with me back at the station." Before I can get out another word, he says, "That's final. We have work to do."

  Fuck. He's right.

  That doesn't make me any less pissed.

  Ever since I settled in, I've been on the extraction crew. I go in.

  My stomach keeps churning, even as Street and I get to it, cracking the hydrant and getting hooked up.

  Walker's never hesitated to send me into an active scene before. He sure didn't earlier today.

  But now?

  It doesn't take a genius to figure out that something's changed.

  Or to name exactly what.

  I keep stewing on that, chewing on the inside of my lip until it's fit to bleed. The guys inside finish their sweep, then send the all clear. Street and I approach from our enviable, safe position. Along with the engine from 2nd company,
we do suppression.

  All told, it takes maybe twenty minutes.

  After that, the fire may be out, but I'm still fuming. Walker acts like everything is fine, but even I can basically see the smoke coming out of my nostrils. The rest of the guys can tell something's up. They give us a wide berth, and it's a damn good thing they do.

  The instant we get back to the station, I grab Walker by the arm and walk him to his office. I slam the door closed behind us.

  But he's the one to round on me first.

  Eyes flashing with anger, he gets right up in my face. "Don't you ever question me at a scene like that."

  I raise my brows. "What? Because you're suddenly infallible now?"

  "There's a chain of command."

  "And sometimes that chain is wrong."

  God, doesn't he know that? The tears I spilled all over him tonight—didn't they mean anything?

  Clearly, they do. He huffs out an angry sigh, but as he does, he deflates by a fraction. "You know that's not what I'm talking about."

  I want to yell right back at him. Make a big deal of it.

  But he's right. That's not the point here. He's a good LT. He always has been.

  I still need to understand, though. I need him to put my fears to rest.

  I hate the plaintive note that colors my tone. "Why did you take me off extraction?"

  "That's what this is all about?"

  "What else would it be?"

  "Hell if I know. I gave simple orders, and you talked shit to my face out there, and I thought…" His throat bobs. "What was I supposed to think?"

  Him? "What was I supposed to think?"

  He reels, taking a step back. Pinching his brow, he turns away for a second. His chest rises and falls with the force of his breath.

  Good lord, he really is a good lieutenant, isn't he? So many others—Duke—they wouldn't have been able to let it go. Macho bullshit posturing.

  But Walker… He saw this escalating and he chose to slow down.

  So I try to do the same. Leaning back against the door, I take a few deep breaths, matching his.

  When he drops his hand to look at me again, his expression is smoother. More open.

  "You talk first. Tell me what this is really about."

  Anger and resentment are still lit flames inside my chest. I want to hurl them at him. How can he not know?