“A mean ax, huh? All right. We’ll see soon enough.” Davis takes us back to the bay and points out the guys we’ll be working with for our shift. “This is Hammer and Deuce from Austin,” he announces to the men, who stop working on the daily tests on their respirator masks and oxygen tanks. They’re just as relaxed now as they were before Davis walked up to them, so I take it to mean that Davis must be a friendly enough team leader if they’re all comfortable with him.
“Good to meet you,” Hammer says, and I echo the greeting.
“That’s Carlson with the mask. Boon’s in the middle, and Whelan’s the lanky one with the blond hair and half empty oxygen tank...which he’s going to switch out now, right Whelan?”
“Yes, Lieutenant,” Whelan answers, chuckling as the rest of them acknowledge us with a silent nod. “But how can you tell it’s empty from all the way over there?”
“Just a hunch,” Davis answers with a smile.
The six of us will be working side by side, so I take as much time as Davis will allow, to get a reading of each of them. It’s a brief meeting, but none of them gives us the stink eye. That’s a promising sign.
“Let’s go meet Chief Robertson before things get too busy,” Davis continues, and motions for us to follow him back inside.
We take a different hallway to the chief’s office, and just as Davis raises his hand to knock on the door, the firehouse alarms sound out. We all stop and listen carefully, waiting for the station-wide PA system to call out the nature of the emergency call and who’s needed. The call is for the ambulance only. Davis relaxes and knocks twice on the Chief’s door, ignoring the blaring sound of ambulance sirens as the paramedics drive out of the bays to answer the call.
“Come on in,” says the male voice from the other side of the door.
“These are the transfers, Chief,” Davis announces as he walks in. “West and Randall...but they like going by Deuce and Hammer. Hammer, Deuce, this is Chief Denton Robertson.”
“It’s great to meet you,” I say. “And we’re excited for the opportunity.”
The chief lifts his head up from something he’s reading on his computer screen. “Welcome to Firehouse number eleven. West, you look just like your old man.”
“I get that a lot, Chief.”
“Try to live up to his reputation as well,” he says. “Your father and I went all through fire academy together. We did a stint as hose men in Truckee for a few years way back when. He was damn good in his day. We both were.” He moves his gaze to Hammer. “I hear good things about you too, Randall. Your old Chief out in Austin went to bat for you.”
Hammer nods. “I’ll work hard to keep it up.”
“Good. All you’ve got to do around here is keep your head down, put in the effort, and stay in line with whatever Davis tells you.”
“We will, Sir,” Hammer confirms again.
“As the two of you have worked out of Austin, we’re adding fourteen years of subtropical firefighting experience to our ranks. To me, that beats adding a brand-new candidate any day. But that doesn’t mean you don’t need to keep learning. Hammer, is it?”
“Yes, Chief.”
“And Deuce,” I add, but already suspect the chief will end up calling me by my last name because he’s friends with my father.
“Hammer and Deuce it is.” The chief passes two folders to Davis. “Take these files to Ember. She can get started with their payroll.”
“Will do.”
“She’ll take care of everything. You know, the usual onboarding paperwork and building access details, upcoming furlough approvals…”
“No problem, Chief,” Davis answers, and turns to leave when the chief dismisses us.
“Thanks again, Chief,” Hammer and I say and follow Davis out and down a narrow hallway that leads away from the firefighters’ quarters.
I’m a bit nervous. We’re on our way to see Ember and we’ll need to act like it’s the first time we’re meeting her. I prepare myself to avoid giving off any hints that I’ve met her before. We can’t afford to risk even admitting that.
“Hey Ember, got a second?” Davis asks when he gets to her desk, but doesn’t wait for her answer. “This is Randall and West, the Austin transfers. They’ll go by Hammer and Deuce. Can you—”
Lucky for us, as Davis starts to plop down our transfer documents and employee files in the folders, the firehouse alarms blare out again. This time, the station-wide PA system announces a residential house fire that calls for a fire truck, fire engine, an ambulance and the Battalion Chief.
“We’ll get back to you on this,” Davis says to Ember, quickly turning to face us for a split second then hurrying past us. “Follow me, men. You can observe for this call, but I want you both in gear.”
“Not a problem,” I answer, giving Ember a brief nod before following him. “We can be ready right away if our gear’s handy.”
We move quickly to the turnout gear room, kick off our shoes, and are in head to toe firefighter gear in less than a minute.
Everyone else is already on the fire truck. The fire engine and ambulance roll out before us, but we’re not far behind.
I glance at the faces around me. Lieutenant Davis is in the front passenger seat, his dark features seeming more intense as we draw closer to danger. Jeff Boon’s in the driver seat, his brown hair blowing at the sides under his helmet with every sudden movement of the truck. He’s laser-focused, hauling ass as he navigates around vehicles on the local streets to get to the residential fire. Dillon Carlson sits facing back at me from his spot behind the driver seat. He places his helmet over his blond hair and looks out the window with sky blue eyes that I know are only thinking of three things. Get to the fire, rescue anyone needing help, and end the emergency.
Luke Whelan’s beside Carlson. Now this guy, I’m still working to figure out. He’s got a one-sided smirk on his face, eyeing Hammer and me like we’re someone’s next meal. Hammer’s beside me, eyes forward, staring at nothing in particular as he gets his mind right. We’re only observing during this emergency call, but that can change depending on what we find out when we arrive at the scene.
“Wind conditions are all over the place today,” Davis says, turning to look at all of us in the cab of the fire truck. “Be ready for this fire to jump to adjacent structures. But more important than that, don’t take any unnecessary risk, and when I say it’s time to get out, don’t wait a second longer than I tell you. Understood?”
Everyone nods around us. Then Davis looks at Hammer and me. “As we haven’t done a proper assessment on the two of you, you’re observing. That means you don’t move any further than ten feet from where I tell you to be.” He motions over at Boon at the wheel. “Boon’s on ladder duty. Do whatever he says, unless the Chief or I tell you different.
“Got it, Lieutenant,” Hammer answers.
“Whelan’s usually on vent or hose duty with one of the crew from the fire engine. Carlson’s with me on search and rescue, and on ladder later on, depending on what we find.” Davis’s expression gets intense. “Like the Chief said, you’ve got experience under your belt. But you’ve got lots to learn about the kinds of calls we deal with out here. It’s the winter now, so it’s not as grueling as the summer months, but wind and drought conditions are the biggest things we fight, along with these fires. My bet is you’ll find out real quick that fires out here in North Nevada burn faster, and are more destructive than anything you’ve seen in Texas. They can eat up a house in minutes. It’s just drier out here. Sometimes a fire builds so fast that we have to forget about fighting it. We go right to saving lives and containing the blaze. To slow it down instead of stopping it. Property loss is the lowest priority if we reach the point where we know for sure that we can’t get out in front of the problem. Got it?”
“Got it,” Hammer repeats.
“Make sense to me,” I answer as Davis faces forward again.
I know exactly what he’s talking about because I’m from out here. I’ve
seen it first hand, back when my father was a firefighter.
A fire can be like a monster out here in desert country. It destroys, devastates and devours. But knowing that, it gets my adrenaline pumping. I can’t wait to face my first Nevada fire now that we’re working out here. A quick glance at Hammer and I can tell he’s eager to get day one out of the way too.
We’re ready to fucking kill this monster.
7
Ember
I’ve been texting Rosa-Lee all morning. We’ve been sending so many messages back and forth that she may as well be sitting beside me for Hammer and Deuce’s first day on the job. When Davis brought them to meet me, I actually froze. I couldn’t make eye contact with either of them, so I sat there, probably looking doe-eyed and frightened, not even blinking as their Lieutenant was about to launch into introductions. All my preparation went out the window. The only reason Davis didn’t notice I was acting strangely was because of the emergency call that came over the PA system right in the nick of time.
I can’t let that happen again. That’s why I need Rosa-Lee’s help. She’ll work her magic and set me straight so I can stay focused.
A text message comes in from her a few minutes after the men leave to respond to their first emergency call.
Rosa-Lee: How’d it go?
Me: It didn’t. They’re out on a call.
Rosa-Lee: What did they say?
Me: Nothing.
Rosa-Lee: See? They’re discreet. Did they act like they didn’t know you?
Me: We didn’t get that far. They left with Davis on an emergency call.
Rosa-Lee: Saved by the fire bell!
Me: Kinda. But that just delayed the inevitable.
Rosa-Lee: Relax, will you? Smile, and be friendly and professional when they come back.
Me: I can try to do all that, but I won’t be able to tell if I’m acting normal.
Rosa-Lee: They’re men. Trust me, they won’t be paying that close attention. Hey, I’ve gotta run. Duty calls.
Me: Thanks for indulging me, bestie.
Rosa-Lee: Remember. Details. I want them. All of them. Later, darling.
I’ve got a lot of work-related tasks to check off my to-do list, but I can’t help being distracted this morning. So much is on the line. The first thing I want to do after setting down my phone is return to the question of how to quickly get myself the hell out of the situation. This problem would be minor if I can get my transfer approved.
I don’t waste a second. My fingers frantically tap on my desktop keyboard, crafting an email to my favorite HR person at head office. I scan the message with my finger over the mouse, waiting to click on the send button.
Hi Wendy!
How are things? I’m just following up about my transfer. Any word? It’s been so long since I’ve had to report to Chief Robertson. While it’s been a good experience, with few issues professionally, we all understood it was intended to be a temporary measure. I’m anxious to know where I’ll land after the last round of organizational changes.
Let me know if you have an update. Happy to come talk about it over coffee or lunch!
Thanks,
Ember
The reality is I’m not supposed to be reporting to my father, and this interim measure needs to end yesterday, in my opinion. If someone at the head office can find me a spot somewhere else, no one will kick up a stink about me seeing a firefighter from this station. Well, they’ll talk, but it’ll be way more kosher than sneaking around.
Mind you, my particular preference is to see two of them. That can turn heads around here for sure.
In a way, I brought this problem on myself. First, well, I unknowingly fucked two firefighters who work for my dad. At the same time. Second, everyone knows that I toe the line on the job.
I’ve never publicly broken the rules.
I’m only a closet rebel.
For a second, I toy with the idea of just doing whatever the hell I want. Maybe they’ll put a rush on my transfer if I openly misbehave with Hammer or Deuce. Or Hammer and Deuce. I smile at the mental image of someone here finding the three of us messing around in the locker room. My smile quickly morphs into a scowl, because the next image is of my father firing their asses, giving me the lecture of a lifetime, then approving my transfer to some dinky fire station out in the middle of nowhere.
I don’t like that alternative.
Like every girl who’s finally broken free of the ‘daddy’s little girl’ shackles, I quite enjoy being gainfully employed. The last thing I need is to lose this job and be backed into a corner financially. Moving back home is not an option. So, professional workplace behavior it is. Starting with crossing off at least half of my to-do list by lunch hour.
An hour and a half later, I’m back on track, diligently filing documents, setting up fire inspection appointments, and sorting through firefighter furlough requests. At this rate, I’m on track to catch up on my tasks with hours to spare this afternoon.
My phone has been muted in my desk drawer, but as it buzzed a few times, I pull it out to check messages. One missed call is from Uncle Pete. My gut twists as I make two educated guesses as to why he phoned. First, it may just be an invite to Sunday dinner at his house. Family time with him, my aunt, and my cousins. They regularly have me over because Uncle Pete was very close to my mother, his only sister. To him, I’m all that’s left of her. If this is why he phoned, it’s no biggie.
My other guess is that Hammer or one of his brothers reached out to him and now my uncle wants to check in with me about it. This is where I’m uneasy. I didn’t feel comfortable being in the middle of the farming issue between Hammer’s family and Mr. Jameson. And what’s the first thing I did? I dragged Uncle Pete into it. But then again, he really liked Mr. Pendleton, and can easily relate to this Jameson issue. It’s not the first time the man has made a play for someone else’s property. Uncle Pete knows all about Mr. Jameson’s antics, so I have to assume he’ll want to help Hammer and his brothers.
As the firefighter crews and my dad are off fighting fires, it’s the best time for me to quickly return my uncle’s call. Grabbing my phone, I hurry out from behind my desk and find a private meeting room down the hall. I hit the call back button on my phone, pull the door shut, turn the lock for some privacy, and wait for my uncle to answer.
“How’s my favorite niece?” he greets me in his usual cheerful tone.
“Hi, Uncle Pete. I’m great thanks. And you?”
“Everything’s peachy, dear. Your aunt wants to know if you’re up for dinner this Sunday.”
“Sure! I’d love that. Thanks for the invite.” I can feel the relief coming over me, but something about the way he clears his throat and pauses makes me believe there’s more. I wait for the rest.
“Great. We’re all looking forward to seeing you. Hey, I got a call from one of the Pendleton boys about Jameson… he said that you gave him my number?”
“Yes…about that. Sorry for dragging you into their drama—”
“Not at all. I’m glad they called, actually. Someone’s gotta keep Jameson in check. Lord knows that greedy old fool can’t help himself.”
“You’re right. It’s a shame he’d do something so underhanded to the people who kept him on as ranch manager.”
“Jameson’s got no limits. The man’s got hubris.”
“He sure does. Did they tell you he actually had them renovating the old house so his son could be in the main homestead?”
“They didn’t tell me, but I wouldn’t put anything past him. I plan to have one of my men keep an eye on Jameson. Make sure he doesn’t sell the whole place out from under them. Scheming son of a gun…someone should’ve run that man outta town years ago…that, or put his thieving tail behind bars. In any case, I promised those boys that I’d show them what’s what around the ranch tomorrow.”
“That’s great.”
“It’s no trouble, dear. Their great-grandfather did a hell of a lot for us. Sixty-plus years of go
od business dealings still mean something around here.”
“Thanks for helping them out, Uncle Pete.”
“Well, I’d better get back to it. Have a good day, Ember. And say howdy to your dad for me.”
“Will do. And thanks again.”
I smile as I end the call and leave the boardroom. It’s good to know such an unfortunate situation stands a chance of being resolved. And I won’t even have to be smack in the middle of it.
On the way back to my desk, I stop in the restroom and give myself a once-over in the full-length mirror to check out what I’m wearing. I scan down from my white, fitted, button-down shirt, to my navy knee-length pencil skirt, and glance at the navy flats. Everything’s in place, including my hair, which I pulled back into a neat knot at the nape of my neck. I just have to maintain a neutral facial expression and make sure I act as professionally as I look.
My uncle’s willingness to help those brothers gives me much better odds of keeping my distance from Hammer and Deuce. Just as long as I don’t end up losing my will and showing up at their doorstep anytime soon.
8
Hammer
A brief wave of calm passes over us all as Boon rolls our fire truck to a stop near the house that’s going up in flames. We look out at the scene in front of us. Gray smoke billows out of a main floor window of the two-story house. There’s a faint, but warm orange-gold glow in there, masked by the escaping smoke. The fire engine up ahead has already started hooking up the hoses to the hydrant and activating the pumps. The paramedics are outside the house, treating two small children now lying on the ambulance backboards on the ground. Chief Robertson is on the street, speaking into his radio, probably requesting paramedic backup.
Davis shouts out new orders to us. Some guys from the engine are assigned to start venting the attic from the south side. Deuce goes with them to observe, and I’m assigned to watch the hose and ladder teams. Our team on the fire truck quickly springs into action. I jump out onto the pavement, ready to help where needed. My feet barely hit the ground before I’m met by a middle-aged man covered in soot, holding out a terrified, barely conscious child who can’t be more than a year or two older than my twins.
Two Firefighters Next Door: A Bad Boy MFM Romance Page 6