Breathe. One-two-three. Out. One-two-three. Breathe. Diesel need to concentrate. He needed to think. He needed—
Breathe. His heart beat double time, but he wasn’t panicking. He was pissed. Between the trial and the beating, he’d been a freaking mess. Putting his life back together was hard work, but he’d done it. He had a new job and a new apartment.
He had a new boyfriend and Jack wasn’t some asshole who lied to him for fun.
Jack was forever.
And now Chase was back with a shit-eating grin on his face and a gun in his waistband.
This wasn’t freaking happening.
He drank some coffee and tried to tune in on what Chase was saying. Most of it was unimportant small talk, a description of the life they were going to have together, a life that was never, ever, ever going to happen. Diesel would dive out a car door on the New Jersey Turnpike first.
“My business manager rented out the apartment while I was away. I just got it back,” Chase said. “I know you’ve made some mistakes while I was gone, been with some other guys, but you’ll forget all about it as soon as we get back to New Jersey.”
Like hell. Diesel shook his head. “I’m not going back.”
“It won’t be like last time. You won’t have to go back to work there. Those assholes won’t touch you—”
“I’m not afraid of them.” Four different men had attacked him with baseball bats, but the worst part? The part Diesel had never told anyone, including his therapist, was that he’d let it happen. Fighting back hadn’t even occurred to him. He’d thought he deserved it.
Never again.
The only thing he deserved was a hot pizza from the best Italian place in Staten Island, delivery fees be damned, and a warm body to cuddle up with at night. Jack’s warm body. He deserved Jack. He loved Jack.
Not Chase.
When Jack called, he’d been too nervous to say much, too worried he’d piss Chase off, but Jack had figured it out anyway. He’d known someone strange was in the apartment. He’d known it was Chase, but Diesel hadn’t been able to tell him about the worry deep in his bones or the gun tucked into Chase’s waistband. Would he come? It was the middle of his shift. Would he send help? Maybe, if Diesel was lucky.
But Diesel couldn’t count on that.
Which meant he needed to keep Chase talking until he could figure out how to get away. He cleared his throat. Chase thought he was spoiled arm candy so he’d play the part to the hilt. “I don’t know, Chase. The apartment’s in a good location, but the kitchen’s a little dated. Beige is out.”
“Beige is neutral.”
“It looks dirty.”
“Okay, you can oversee the renovation while I get my new business set up.”
Diesel didn’t like renovated kitchens. He liked vintage linoleum countertops and appliances from the Reagan administration. “Your new business?”
“I can’t get a construction license again—terms of my parole—but I’ve already got a few contracts set up to consult. A couple of months and things will be rolling again.”
“Good to know.”
Thump. Thump. Thump. The door shuddered. Diesel had never been so grateful to hear noise. If he was lucky one of his roommates was about to host an impromptu rave. The apartment filling up with people might be the opportunity he needed to slip out the door. He was barefoot and his wallet was still in his bedroom, but if he got to the subway he could jump the stile and head toward Hell’s Kitchen.
Maybe Troy and Alex would let him sleep on their couch.
Or he could just track down Jack and tell him how he really felt.
He didn’t know what was more terrifying: an ex with a history of criminal behavior and a new penchant for firearms or his own feelings.
Chase.
Chase was definitely more terrifying.
“Answer that, beautiful,” Chase ordered him. “It’s probably for one of your roommates. How many people live here?”
“Six?” Plus the significant others who slept over more than they stayed at their own place. “Eight.” Not that it mattered anymore.
He opened the door and—
“Boss.” He wanted to throw himself forward and wrap his arms around Jack’s neck like they were characters in a cheesy movie. Instead, he kept himself still. When he spoke it was in the same calm tones he’d used while answering the phone. “You were just in the neighborhood?”
“Something like that?” Jack was dressed in a navy sweater that complemented his eyes. The sleeve was halfway rolled up on his right arm to make room for his cast. His boots were heavy and brown, the kind that came up over the cuff of his worn jeans. The yellow laces were knotted instead of tied.
He didn’t wait for an invitation before stepping into the apartment and swinging the door shut behind him. “I wanted to check in on you after the accident the other day.” He reached out like he was going to take Diesel’s hand but then thought better of it. Tension swam between them in the air.
“Maybe you can introduce me to your friend?”
Click. It took a moment for Diesel to realize that the noise hadn’t come from the heating vents or one of the bedroom doors opening and closing. Really, he might not have caught on except for the way Jack’s eyes widened. His mouth opened and he took an audible breath.
Not good.
Not good at all.
Diesel said a little prayer as he turned around. As long as it wasn’t the gun, the situation could still be salvaged.
It was the gun.
“You’re sleeping with your boss?” Chase sneered. His hands were huge around the little silver gun. It almost looked like a toy, but Diesel didn’t have any illusions. It could do serious damage. “I knew you were screwing a coworker, but I thought you had enough sense to stay away from the chain of command. Then again, you’ve never been the sharpest tool in the shed.”
Wait. Diesel blinked in surprise. That didn’t make any sense. “How did you know we were sleeping together?”
“He’s been following you,” Jack explained. “That’s why I called. I was checking the video from the restaurant fire. He’s all over it.”
Diesel knew he should be panicking, but all he felt was calm. “You’ve been following me?”
“It was just a small fire. You weren’t supposed to get hurt.”
He hadn’t thought it could get any worse after the stalking. He’d been wrong. It could get much, much worse. “You set the fire?” And now he was threatening them with a damn gun. Un-freaking-believable.
“I wanted to see you.” Chase took a step forward and waved his gun wildly in Jack’s direction. “He’s taking advantage of you. I mean, your boss? Could it get any more cliché? It’s not like he actually cares about you. He just wants to fuck you.”
“And you’re so much better?” Diesel asked.
“I love you.”
“No, you don’t.” Being agreeable clearly wasn’t helping, Diesel was going to speak his mind. He didn’t know if he’d be able to stop himself if he tried. He reached out and grabbed Jack’s hand. It was warm and steady. He gave it a reassuring squeeze, but his gaze never left Chase. “Whatever it is you feel? That’s not love. People in love don’t stalk each other. They definitely don’t set fires to see each other. I love Jack. That doesn’t mean I’m going to follow him around like a lunatic.”
“You love that bastard?” A vein bulged on the side of Chase’s face. He took another step forward. “No, this isn’t happening. You’re coming home with me. We are going to be happy.”
Bang. Diesel hadn’t seen Chase pull the trigger. There was a flash and a bang. The scent of smoke and gunpowder filled the room. Jack. Was Jack okay? But the shot had gone wild. No one had been hit.
Somebody shouted farther back in the warren-like apartment. Shit. If one of Diesel’s roommates came out now they could get shot.
Jack could get shot.
Diesel wasn’t going to let that happen. He edged his way to the side until he was standing squarely in front of Jack, one hand twisted behind his back to keep holding his hand. His breaths were even but shallow.
Chase was so angry he was shaking. His eyes were bulging out of his head, and his cheeks were red. “You love me,” he said, like it was fact. Like Diesel’s feelings couldn’t be interpreted any other way. “Once I get rid of this asshole everything’ll be okay.” His hands steadied. “Move out of the way. I don’t want to hurt you.”
All Diesel felt was disgust.
“You’re a liar and a thief,” Diesel said. “An arsonist. You treated me like a damn possession. I might have thought I loved you, but I couldn’t. That wasn’t the kind of relationship we had.” He dropped Jack’s hand and took a step forward, still blocking a clear shot between his ex and his future. “Jack’s smart. He’s funny. He treats me the way I deserve.” Another step forward. “Why the hell wouldn’t I love him?”
And then he reached out super quick. One. His right hand grabbed the gun. Cold metal bit into his fingers as he yanked it out of the way. Two. His left hand came up fast. He threw a hard punch, sending Chase stumbling back against the wall.
Chase blinked twice. He was visibly stunned, but he didn’t come up off the wall. “You love me,” he repeated, but this time his words were thick with confusion.
“Dude.” One of Diesel’s roommates was standing in the hall to the bedrooms. He must have walked in while he was distracted. “That’s fucked up. This place has a strict no-drama rule. You gotta be out by the end of the week.”
“Call the cops,” Jack said.
“Trust me.” The man waved his cell phone. “It’s already done. They’re on the way. The dispatcher heard everything after the gunshot.”
Un-freaking-believable.
Neither of them moved a muscle. They weren’t willing to turn their back on Chase. Instead, they waited until the apartment door popped open and a pair of NYPD patrol officers piled through with their weapons drawn.
When they saw the chaos in the cramped living room, they took stances that dynamite couldn’t shift and aimed their sidearms directly at Diesel. “Sir, we’re going to need you to put down that gun.”
It took twenty minutes to explain that the gun wasn’t Diesel’s and another twenty to tell them what Chase had done. Detectives were called in, and they were shifted down to the closest precinct. Chase was arrested for illegal possession of a firearm—a big no-no for convicted felons—and harassment. The detectives promised to pull the fire report from the restaurant and see if they could make an arson charge stick. Either way, they recommended getting a restraining order and self-defense training.
“You were lucky this time,” a detective in a brown suit and battered canvas tennis shoes told them. “Don’t push it.” He made a note in his book. “You got an address we can reach you at?”
“Staten Island.” Jack rattled off his address. “We’ll be there.” He hadn’t let go of Diesel’s hand since they left the apartment. Now, he squeezed it tight. “Both of us.”
Diesel’s stomach flip-flopped. He wanted to toss up his hands and say, “Yes, please,” but it couldn’t be that easy. They loved each other. They were in love. It was wonderful, but they still needed to talk about things. They couldn’t just declare their love and live happily ever after.
Right?
But when the police finally let them go, they hopped a cab ride to the ferry in comfortable silence, neither one saying a word until they heard the chug-chug-chug of the boat’s engines getting under way. “You didn’t have to tell the police I was going to your place,” Diesel said. “My roommates aren’t kicking me out tonight. I could have gone back.”
Jack’s lashes flickered against the wind. It had been warm in the pockets of air trapped between the skyscrapers, but the river was colder. The air moved faster. “Is that what you want?”
“Nah, I’m just saying.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and braced his shoulders against the chill. He’d thrown on shoes before heading to the police station, but neither of them had really dressed for the weather. Now, he took a step closer, leaning against Jack in a way that could have just been sharing body heat except the truth was he wanted so much more.
He’d actually said the words out loud—“I love Jack”—in front of God, the world, and his crazy ex-boyfriend. What had he gotten in exchange? Nothing.
“I don’t want to get you fired.”
“I don’t care. I like my job. I love you. If that means I have to quit—” Jack’s breath came a little faster “—I’ll quit. I’m not at full retirement, but I’m not an idiot either. I can find another job as long as I have you. I was hoping we could give this relationship thing a real try. Not casual. Not temporary. Me and you.” He rested his hand on the small of Diesel’s back. “I know we’ve still got a few kinks to work out. I’m still your boss, but—”
“You’re not my boss. You don’t have to quit your job.”
“Excuse me?”
“I had Reese expedite the transfer. I’m starting with him next week.”
Jack pulled away. “So, when you ran out the other day...that was for good? You really were leaving me for good.”
“Leaving the firehouse,” Diesel clarified. “Not leaving you. Not unless I have to.” His head was held high. He refused to drop his gaze or move away. “I just didn’t want any confusion when I came back. I love you. I want to be with you, and I talked to Reese. If we’re not in the same firehouse there’s no conflict. You don’t have to quit your job.”
“I’ll do it if I need to.”
“And I appreciate that, but you’re a great captain and I’m not taking you away from anyone.”
“I—” Jack swallowed hard. “I’ve said ‘I love you’ a lot over the years, to my wives, girlfriends, boyfriends. What I feel for you? I could scream the words all night long, until my voice gives out, but I’m not going to say it. Not yet. First, I’m going to prove to you that this is serious. Long term.” He fisted Diesel’s T-shirt in his hands and pulled him in tight. He smelled so good, like soap and heat and everything missing from Diesel’s life. Then their lips met in a long smoldering kiss that deserved fireworks. “Forever.”