The Billionaire's Secret Kink Box Set: Knox: Secret Alpha Billionaire Romance Bundle (Rosesson Brothers Book 1) (18 page)

"Spill it princess," Bailey snarled, his voice raising an octave. "Don't act innocent. I'm not stupid, you know. I was smart enough to follow you, smart enough to figure out who pretty boy here was, and I'll figure this out too, with or without you. But I'll make things easier on you if you cooperate."

In the silence that followed Bailey's chilling statement, Mica heard a strange noise, something she couldn't quite place. A car driving outside?

The speaker on the ceiling buzzed to life, making Mica shriek and Bailey's eyes rake the ceiling. "Bronx Rosesson here to see you, sir," Adam's voice said, a burst of static at the end of his words hurting Mica's ears.

The doorknob rattled and the door shook in its frame, then a moment of silence. "Knox?" a deep male voice called.

Mica held her breath, her eyes rolling to Bailey. He looked confused for a moment, but the look hardened as he raised the gun towards the door. Adrenaline spiked in Mica's bloodstream.

Knox heaved himself off the couch and over the squat coffee table, underneath Bailey's gun. "Bronx, help!" he roared as he moved with all the strength and power of a jungle cat. He caught Bailey in the armpit, knocking him backwards. Mica screamed as the gun went off. Her eyes bounced between herself, Knox, and the door but she couldn't tell where the bullet had gone.

Bailey grunted and tried to turn the gun on Knox as something heavy hit the front door. "Knox!" the man at the door bellowed, trying to smash his way in.

Mica stood and ran around the coffee table, looking for a way to help Knox. Something heavy she could bash on Bailey's head, anything. All the tables she saw were bare, except for a few books and magazines. She dropped to the ground as the two men wrestled for control of the gun and it swung her way. Blackness swam at the edges of her vision as adrenaline threatened to overwhelm her. She pulled herself to her knees, thinking the best way to help Knox was to let his brother in.

Knox rolled over Bailey, heaving Bailey's gun arm up towards the far wall with his right hand, then closing his left hand around Bailey's throat and squeezing. Bailey grunted, but hung on, groping in his boot for something. Too late, Mica saw the glint of steel.

"Knife!" she screamed.

Knox let go of Bailey's throat to grab for the knife. Mica saw blood fly but she didn't know who's it was. "Open the door," Knox hissed at Mica, even as she was already moving. She got up and sprinted for the door, pulling on the metal bar and hitting all the locks as she reached it. She pulled at it, but it didn't open. She re-checked every lock even as a loud crash sounded from somewhere else in the house.

Mica found the lock that she had missed as someone roared in pain behind her. Mica prayed it wasn't Knox even as she flung the door open, hoping to see salvation on the other side.

No one was there.

Behind her, the grunts and bellows of pain amped up, then motion caught her eye from her right side. Mica swung around to see dark-haired Bronx enter the room from the far hallway at a run, then stop short, his eyes locked on Bailey and Knox.

Mica turned too, scared to death of what she would see. Knox and Bailey were still on the ground, still fighting over the gun. Bailey had dropped the knife and a few of the fingers on his right hand were bent at unnatural, disgusting angles, but he still had at least partial control of the gun and he had it pointing straight at Bronx.

Knox's sport coat sleeve was ripped open and a long flap of the skin on his right arm hung loosely over his inner elbow. Blood gushed lazily from the scary-looking wound, soaking the hardwood floor.

"Get Rachel out of here!" Knox shouted at his brother.

Bronx's eyes landed on her at his brother's words. He took two large steps and grabbed Mica by her arm, pulling her across the floor in an instant. He shoved her into the hallway leading to the green room. "Go, climb through the broken window at the end of the hallway and get help," he hissed at her, then turned to go back into the room and help his brother.

Mica tried to do as he said, but her feet tangled together as he let go of her and she slammed into the far wall, then fell to her knees. As she scrambled up she saw Bronx grab an oblong, metal statue out of a display shelf inset into the wall and point it at Bailey and Knox like a gun, using most of his large hand to obscure the fact that it wasn't a gun.

"Drop the gun!" he shouted, his deep voice ringing through the room. "Drop it or I'll shoot you!"

Another bellow of pain roared through the room and then gunshots. One, two, three, four gunshots and a loud crash. Mica dropped back down to the floor and covered her head with her hands, tears squeezing out of her eyes.

Knox was dead. She knew it.

Mica

Frantic movement from the room where the men were caused Mica to lift her head. Bronx was no longer standing where he'd been. Mica crawled to the doorway and peeked in, certain she'd see Knox sprawled on the ground, lifeless.

But the spot where he'd been fighting with Bailey was empty. The coffee table lay overturned in a red puddle, its four legs pointing in the air, wood splintered from its underside.

Her eyes followed the blood trail to the front door, where Knox and Bronx were rushing out into the yard. She heard Knox yell, "Rachel—I mean Mica, where is she?"

A huge, ear-splitting wail and then noise of a collision reached Mica's ears. She saw Knox and Bronx crouch and wince in tandem, then Knox grabbed his brother's arm. "He's got her doesn't he?" Knox shouted, anguish in his voice.

Mica stood and ran for them. "I'm here. I never made it outside."

Knox turned back to the house and his eyes met hers. The look of relief on his face floored her. She felt shaky from it.

Bronx turned also and placed a guiding hand on Knox's back. "Get inside. We can't catch him now and we've got to stop that bleeding."

Knox looked at his brother and Mica thought he would argue, but he didn't, he nodded and walked up the stone steps to the house.

The intercom in the ceiling buzzed to life. Adam's voice sizzled over it, excited and apprehensive. "Mr. Rosesson, what's going on? Why did the officer ram his car through the gate?"

Knox stopped at the buttons just inside the door and pressed one. "Because he wasn't a cop, Adam, he was Dick Bailey. Call the real cops."

Silence played out for a moment as Knox waited for confirmation. Adam's voice sounded again, nervous this time. "Mr. Rosesson, I'm sorry, I—"

Knox pressed his button, his face hard. "Save it. I didn't recognize him either till he pointed his cannon at me. Call the police
now
. Give them the vehicle description and license plate. Make sure they understand the guy looks like a cop and is driving a cop car."

Knox let go of the button and walked all the way inside, his shoes skidding on the bloody floor.

Bronx pressed the button behind him. "Call an ambulance too, Adam." Then he followed Knox.

Mica's eyes focused on the flap of skin hanging down Knox's arm. Her stomach flip-flopped. She bit her tongue, hard. She hated blood, but there was no way she was running from this.

"I don't need an ambulance!" Knox yelled over his shoulder as he disappeared through an opening on the far side of the room. Bronx ran to catch up with him. Mica followed, gingerly stepping over the blood trail. She passed through the doorway into a large kitchen and dining room. Brass and stainless steel branded the room as a man's kitchen. Knox was sitting at the table, his eyes on his injury. Mica scanned him, but his clothes were soaked in blood. She couldn't tell if he had any other wounds.

Bronx appeared with a towel in his hands. "This is gonna hurt, bro."

Knox eyed him, his jaw clenched. "Just do it."

Bronx lifted the flap of bloody skin and flesh with the towel, then placed it back over the wound, pressing hard. He looked around the room and found Mica. "What's your name? Mica?"

Mica nodded, knowing what he wanted. Ordinarily she would have run the other way, but she was so grateful Knox was still alive she grit her teeth and took a step forward.

"Hold this, right here. Press hard. Don't let up even if he cries."

Knox snorted and kicked out at his brother with one booted foot.

Mica did as Bronx asked, feeling Knox's hot blood soaking through the towel onto her fingers already.

Bronx stared at her, a strange look on his face. Finally she met his gaze, not understanding what he was waiting for.

"What did the blue eye say to the green eye?" he asked her.

"Wh-what?" she said, blinking in confusion.

"I want to teal your pigment," he replied, a large, unassuming grin crossing his face.

Mica gaped at him, her mouth opening and closing, not sure how to respond.

Knox groaned and rolled his eyes. "That was awful!" he grumped. "I'm dying here and you're telling one of your stupid jokes!"

Bronx pressed his lips together. "You're not dying. And give me a break, I only had a second to think of it. I'll have a better one for you next time," he said, turning to Mica and winking at her.

Mica tried unsuccessfully to think of a response but all she could do was stare.

Bronx faced his brother again. "You look like a slasher victim. You got any other wounds?"

Knox flexed his left hand, his face contracting in pain. "Yeah, my fingers. And right here," he said, lifting his coat and pointing to his waist. Mica saw a line of blood trickling down his side there too. She looked away, determined not to flake out on him.

"Lovely. You got any heavy shears? I want to cut this off you," Bronx said, fingering the sport coat.

"In the silverware drawer," Knox answered. He watched his brother walk through the kitchen then spoke again. "You should cancel the ambulance and sew me up like you did before."

Bronx snorted, his face contorting. "That was a minor injury. There's no way you are getting out of professional medical treatment this time. You're stabbed for fuck's sake. Quit being a baby."

Knox narrowed his eyes and scrunched up his mouth at his brother in a mocking fashion. Mica's attention ping-ponged between the two brothers. What was going on? Didn't they realize how serious this was?

"I-is he a doctor?" Mica asked Knox.

From across the room Bronx grunted a laugh. "No, I'm a seamstress," he said into the silverware drawer, then pulled out a heavy pair of scissors. He walked back to Knox and began to cut up the arm of the coat in the direction of Knox's shoulder.

"He's an EMT," Knox told her. "He's in the fire academy right now and he'll be a San Francisco firefighter by March."

"I thought he worked with you," Mica said in a small voice, glad for the conversation that pulled her mind off of Knox's wounds, even if just a little.

"He did. He still does on the weekends. But he's wanted to be a firefighter since Phoenix started the basement on fire when he was three and Bronx was five. The firemen pulled up with their big trucks and Dad let them squirt water in the house but anytime Bronx tried it he got smacked." Knox laughed at the memory as he and his brother shared a look.

Bronx smiled at her, his dark eyes twinkling in humor. "Training started last week. We haven't done anything fun yet, but we start fire suppression training on Wednesday. I can't wait."

Mica nodded, thoughts filling her brain about the kind of guy who leaves a billion-dollar family business to join the fire department.

Knox's sport coat dropped to the ground and Bronx started on Knox's shirt. That fell away also, revealing Knox's thickly muscled torso. Mica looked down at the floor, her eyes wanting to roam freely over his skin, her mind screaming it was inappropriate.

Bronx looked at the slice on Knox's waist and the wounds on his fingers. "You'll live," he diagnosed and Mica felt her breath come easier.

The intercom burst to life again as Adam announced the arrival of the real police and an ambulance.

Mica stared at the floor hard. A drop of Knox's blood splattered onto the toe of her right shoe, chilling her, making her realize Bailey was still out there somewhere, certainly going to try again soon.

Mica

Mica sat in the hard metal chair just outside Knox's room in the San Francisco General Emergency Room hallway, feeling like a complete ass. She'd ridden in the ambulance with Knox to the hospital, but once they'd arrived, the nurse had insisted she stay in the waiting room instead of coming into Knox's room. Knox had raised hell, yelling that she was in danger and there was no way she should be alone in the waiting room and if they didn't let her in to the ER he was leaving. Bronx had been following the ambulance in his car and hadn't arrived yet.

A doctor had shown up and recognized Knox at once, calming him down and saying Mica could wait in the hallway just outside the door. Knox had looked at her and when she nodded her agreement, he'd calmed down and let them work on him.

She'd been in the chair for almost two hours, watching the police officers, technicians, doctors, and nurses tromp in and out of the room. Bronx had shown up but stayed in the hallway with her, pacing, dodging hospital staff, and talking on his phone to what seemed like every Rosesson in the country. She'd been interviewed by cops twice and had to describe what Bailey looked like now several times.