“Come in and close the door.”
Suddenly, she felt the heat of a blush rise on her cheeks. This was no time to remember what happened—in this very office—less than twenty-four hours ago.
He rose from behind his desk and came around to stand in front of her. She looked at his chest, then, slowly, raised her gaze up to his face. He regarded her steadily. Emotions churned inside her. Humiliation, guilt, embarrassment. She felt like running out of his office. How could she keep working here after what she’d done in such a short time? He’s probably going to ask me to go to another fire station jurisdiction, she thought.
“Who is it? In the photo. How come you’re…fucking him…on a fire truck?”
The room suddenly began to spin. He reached out and grabbed her by the upper arms, steadying her.
“C’mon. Sit down.” He helped her to a chair, and sat on the edge of his desk with his arms folded, looking intently at her.
She cleared her throat. “Pete. Pete Monaghan. He was in my first year class at the academy. We had a…brief fling. After a party.” She looked up at Dave with tear-filled eyes. “I had no idea that someone was…watching. I knew we shouldn’t have done it at the academy, but…”
His face was unreadable. “Cindy, you and I both know that sometimes, the time and place of…these things…is beyond our control. What bothers me, is whoever took that photo obviously knows someone here at Hillwood Fire Station. I need to find out who it is, and put a stop to it before it becomes all-out gossip.”
He stood, walked over to the window and opened the blinds, staring out into the busy street outside. With his back still turned to her, he coughed, then asked, “Where is this Pete Monaghan now?”
“He never completed his training. He went to Europe to work as a tour guide instead. I haven’t heard from him since then.” She took a deep breath, trying to steady her wavering voice. “But…this isn’t the first time the disgusting picture has surfaced. The day I graduated from the firefighter academy—I was up for the top award—someone printed off flyers of the picture, with the caption
Girls don’t put out fires, they cause them
. Her voice was barely a whisper. “There was one on my father’s chair…”
Familiar pain settled in her chest as she recalled that hideous day. She remembered the look on her father’s face, the pain in his eyes.
Dave remained motionless, staring out the window.
She stood up and moved closer to him. “Dave, you should know that…”
He spun around to look at her. “What?”
“On parade this morning. Warner was standing next to me. He was, um, sort of leering, and panting. At first I thought he must have found out about…” She looked into his eyes. “But now I think he must have somehow got hold of the picture, recognized me, and then planted it in my locker. To intimidate me, maybe even blackmail me.”
Dave’s lips compressed into a hard, thin line. “Well, if it is him, I’m disappointed. He’s been a firefighter for over twenty years.”
A rogue tear slipped out of the corner of one eye and slid slowly down her cheek. She hardly ever cried, and quickly turned her face to hide it. In one stride he moved over to her, reached out one of his big hands, and gently wiped the tear away with his thumb. Suddenly his eyes softened and his lips went from being hard to being soft and sensual. Next thing, she was in his arms, having the breath squeezed out of her. His voice, choked and emotional, whispered in her ear.
“I’m sorry.”
She sucked in a breath and pulled back, looking squarely into his gorgeous eyes. “Warner took a dislike to me the moment I stepped in the place. I’ll deal with him tomorrow.”
“I think you should leave him to me. He’s broken the rules.”
“Dave, I need to do this. We don’t want the team to think I’m getting special treatment. Besides, I can handle him.”
He said nothing for a long moment, as if tossing up whether to give in to her or not. “On one condition. You do it with reliable witnesses close by.”
She nodded, her expression serious. “I’ll try.” She grabbed her bag, turned, and left his office, closing the door behind her.
* * *
Next morning, when she entered the fire station, several of her colleagues called out good morning to her as she walked past them. With a smile, she returned their greeting. Things seem to be different here today, she thought. When she opened the door to the day room, several men were sitting at the long table, chatting and drinking coffee.
“Good morning, guys.”
A couple of unenthusiastic responses were returned. Chairs scraped back as the men stood up, and went to the sink to wash their cups. Warner remained seated, staring at her, his face surly.
“Ah, Warner. I’m glad you’re here.” She stood opposite him, the width of the table separating them. “I believe you owe me an apology.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the others shuffle uncertainly, sensing there was going to be an argument. Warner said nothing, just kept staring at her, his eyes unflinching. She bent down and placed both her palms on the table, leaning forward, her face hovering in front of his.
“Well?” The sound of footsteps behind her distracted her. Without turning around, she spoke to the other men who were about to high tail it out of the room. “No—stay please, guys. I’d like you to hear Warner apologize for being rude to me on parade yesterday.”
Warner stood up abruptly, his chair almost falling over. “I don’t apologize to sluts.” He turned and headed for the door. Jerry reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.
“Buddy, I don’t know what’s going on here, but I won’t stand for you calling Cindy that. Show a little respect.”
“Get outta my way, Jerry.” Warner shook himself free and made to move.
“Not so fast.” One of the others moved around behind Warner, blocking the doorway.
It was Sheldon, the Lieutenant, who took a step closer. “Look, there’s no place for ill-feeling in a job like ours. And there’s no place for disrespect for a fellow firefighter either. So you just say you’re sorry and get over whatever it is that’s got up your nose.”
Warner glared at her through hooded lids, betraying his anger and humiliation. “They shoulda never let women into a man’s world.” His eyes flickered away from hers for just a moment. “Sorry.” He turned, and the others moved to let him through. As he stomped through the door, he turned and looked back at her. “You just better keep outta my way. If ya know what I mean.” Then he was gone.
An awkward silence filled the room. Inwardly, she was shaking from the unpleasant altercation, but cool and confident when she spoke. “Thanks guys.”
Sheldon looked at his companions, then back to her. “Cindy, I don’t know what that was all about, but in our job, we rely on each other. Every time we get a call-out, we place our lives in each other’s hands. Even though his apology was half-hearted, it will be in the interest of all of us if you’ll accept it, and move on. OK?”
She nodded her head. “I’m more than OK with that.” She looked at each one of them in turn. “Thanks.”
“Right, then let’s get to work.” Sheldon and the others left the room. She stowed her bag and followed them out to the trucks, where she began the routine maintenance of the apparatus and equipment, working alongside her colleagues.
Chapter Four
It was late in the afternoon when the alarm went off. The team had been undertaking hazardous material training, wearing full protective suits. Following well-rehearsed routines, the crew responded quickly to the alarm and within thirty seconds, the first truck left the fire station, headed for the site of the emergency, lights blazing and sirens screeching.
“You’re on the second truck, Reece.” Dave called out across the noisy workspace.
She grabbed her gear and helmet, and reached up to the metal handles near the truck door, heaving herself up nimbly and taking a seat in the back of the dual cab. The radio blared, relaying information about the emergency and the location. It was a fire at a chemical plant on the outskirts of Hillwood. The truck left the station and turned onto the main road, the neon glare of blue and red flashing lights reflecting off every car and building as they raced, with sirens wailing, to the scene of the fire.
“Directions!” Jerry was driving, concentrating hard on the traffic, and cursing the vehicles who didn’t pull over to let them pass.
Warner sat in the front passenger seat, a clipboard on his lap. He grabbed the GPS and called out instructions to Jerry. Next to her sat Sheldon, buttoning up his coat and adjusting his black Lieutenant’s helmet. He turned to look at her.
“Used your breathing apparatus in a chemical fire before?”
Her heart was beating rapidly. “Only in training.”
“Put it on now and check it. When we get to the scene, stay close to me at all times. Got it?”
“Got it.”
The wail of the siren suddenly stopped as the unit pulled up outside a large building, black plumes of smoke billowing from the roof, and settling like a shroud over the surrounding area. Teams of police formed a human barrier, holding onlookers and staff from the factory back at a safe distance. Flashing blue and red lights lit up the area, the stench of the fire permeating even into the truck cab. As soon as the truck came to a stop, she lifted the door handle and jumped down onto the ground. Sheldon came around and stood in front of her, inspecting her protective gear, checking she was wearing gloves. He scrutinized her breathing gear, and checked the tap of the heavy oxygen bottle strapped to her chest. Satisfied, he nodded his head.
“Follow me.” He turned and strode over to a dark and smoky door in the building where other firefighters, all wearing breathing apparatus, were congregated, discussing the emergency with the police and other emergency services personnel. Sheldon spoke quickly to them, gaining an update on the situation, then turned to Cindy, Warner, and Jerry.
“The roof is unstable. We’ll use the tower ladder first. Get it set up now and get some hoses on the roof.”
Warner and Jerry were the first to move, heading for the fire truck. She obediently shadowed Sheldon, keeping up with his long strides as he led the way over near the truck. Jerry climbed in the cab and, with reversing beeper sounding, maneuvered the truck to the side of the building. When he stopped, other firefighters joined them, swarming to the truck, each knowing exactly what to do. Feeling like a total rookie, she stood to one side and watched as the men used the hydraulic controls to raise the extendable turntable ladder.
“I’ll go up.” She turned, recognizing the voice of the man standing next to her. Warner’s face was totally hidden by his helmet and mask.
Sheldon responded. “Right. Reece and I will position the tower ladder.”
Warner climbed onto the small platform and attached a safety rope. He checked the hose nozzle, then raised his hand, one thumb sticking up. Sheldon responded by moving the controls, carefully, until the extension ladder rose up high above the factory. Flames now licked out of the windows, the glass exploding and showering down on them like rain.
“Keep an eye on Warner. Watch for signals.”
She stared up, peering through the dark smoke clouds. Warner was hardly visible, his yellow protective gear barely showing through the gloom.
“There, he gave a thumbs up!” Cindy heard her own voice, distorted through the breathing apparatus. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest.
“Turn it on!” Sheldon called out to the officer standing by the large faucets on the side of the truck. A second or two later, and a silver shower burst from the top of the ladder. The noise from the fire was getting louder. Ear-splitting cracking noises and explosions filled the air. The ground crew watched skyward as the stream of water, jetting from the hose, rained down on the flames now coming from the roof.
“We won’t be going into the factory until we get that fire a little more under control. That roof will collapse for sure.” Sheldon didn’t take his eyes off Warner, high up on the extension ladder. “And those chemicals can go off like a bomb.”
A siren behind them signaled the arrival of another fire truck, pulling in close to where she stood. Its doors opened and the crew jumped out, straightaway hauling on hose lines and donning portable breathing packs.
“What’s your assessment, Sheldon?”
She jerked her head around when she heard Dave’s voice. It was impossible to tell one person from the other; they all looked the same donned in safety gear. Sheldon and Dave spoke rapidly to one another, while they surveyed the disastrous fire, and took in the danger of the collapsing building.
A second tower ladder from the newly arrived fire truck was extended high above the burning factory. Two hoses now played forcefully onto the roof. After what seemed quite a while, the billowing smoke slowly lessened. It looked to her like they were finally getting a hold on it.
“Prepare an investigative crew.” Dave’s voice was curt. Sheldon nodded and called together four men. He spoke to them and, picking up axes and flashlights, they led the way into the burning building.
“Reece, you’ll need to relieve Warner now. He’s been up there long enough. Bring the ladder down.” He turned to look at the man next to the truck. “Jones, cut the hose while we bring him down.”
Cindy looked at the controls, a series of joysticks and buttons, and hesitated. A firm hand clamped on her shoulder, his voice sounding close to her ear.
“This one. Slide it down slowly.” His hand covered her glove as he showed her. Whirring, mechanical noises came from the long extension ladder as it retracted downward. Through the smoke, Warner’s yellow bulk emerged. When he was safely on the ground, he removed his helmet, his face red and sweaty.
“How’s it going up there, Warner?”
“It’s slowly getting better. Having the second hose helped a lot.”
“Good work. Reece is going up now. Brief her on where to train the hose.”
Warner looked from Dave to Cindy, obviously not recognizing her in her helmet. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then stopped. He rubbed a hand over his face. “Dave, this is a dangerous fire.”