Page 4 of Anchor Point

Cathy held my gaze confidently, having nothing to hide, and oddly, her no-nonsense attitude helped dispel some of my apprehension.

“But the next ten will be amazing, I’m sure.” Her warm tone held a note of supportive assurance, and just like that, she won me over.

This time, I didn’t hide my smile. “You’re damn right they will.”

I had a lot to live up to, following in my father’s footsteps and moving through the ranks of the fire service. Now was my time to prove my worth.

The IT guys showed up after that and set up my computer. Cathy gave me a rundown of the programs and then left me alone. Near five o’clock, I gathered my things and walked through the office, pausing at the kitchen to note we had a nice Keurig and an electric tea kettle, beside which a dainty teacup sat. Another thing Cathy and I had in common.

“Chief,” Cathy’s voice echoed down the hall, “your uniforms are all set. I’ll swing by and pick them up on my way in. Remember it’s black pants, not navy like the crew.”

“Thanks, Cathy.”

“And I scheduled a meeting with all the captains, on and off duty. They’ll be here at eight thirty, so the shift coming off can get out of here, and the shift coming on can get pass down completed. Plus, you’ll have time to get into your badass power suit.” She shot me a sly grin. “It’s going to be awesome to see their faces when they walk in and find out a woman is now leading this motley crew.”

I said goodbye to Cathy at the lot, after she assured me that my new SUV would be coming in the next few weeks, and finally headed home to Rosie, still halfway wondering what I’d gotten myself into.

Chapter Two

Mac

“Well, shit.”

I propped a boot on the engine’s metal bumper and plucked the toothpick from my lips, clicking open the email from Cathy.

Mandatory captains meeting.

I appreciated that she never minced words and was straight to the point. Her email had no other information in the body of the text other than the date, time, and location.

“What’s wrong, Captain?” LT Nate Williams flicked his empty Sprite bottle into the recycle bin at the corner of the bay and joined the rest of the guys relaxing in front of the commercial fans, enjoying the shade from the late-afternoon August sun.

Station Four was the newest firehouse in the city. We had the newest engine, a beautiful Sutphen, equipped to my specs since they’d put me at lead on the build-out team. She was gorgeous. Black top, gleaming red carriage, could hold my crew of four, and was one of my favorite things about being at the new station.

I’d done my time for the department and earned my place as supervisor of Station Four. Over the course of the past twenty-five years, I’d taken nearly every assignment given to me, been on the planning committee for every special event, organized and coordinated funerals, and driven the vintage open-cab truck in so many parades I’d lost track. I think everyone had just assumed I’d always do it.

But my work ethic and ability to make things happen had paid off when they’d asked if I wanted to help lead in getting the new station completed. I’d fought tooth and nail for it, but we had a gorgeous, tricked-out new engine, even if I’d given up on fighting for other updates.

I had five years to retirement, and I was going to enjoy the hell out of them at my station and let some other grunt take command over the brass’s special pet projects. It was time to pass the torch.

Four pairs of eyes waited for me to answer Nate’s question.

“Mandatory meeting tomorrow morning. So much for getting down to the lake house. I barely have time to make it to the meeting after pass down. Who knows how long they’ll keep us. Last time it was half the day.”

“What’s the meeting about? Can you skip it?” Burgess, the newest addition to our shift and a giant pain in my ass, was doing push-ups in the corner. The guy never stopped. Always working out or doing stupid shit. We were all fucked because he’d had a late-afternoon cup of coffee, and his ADHD had kicked into high gear. He’d be pestering the shit out of us to go do something soon enough.

Mo Jackson, my lead firefighter, looked at Burgess and clenched one of his big fists as if he wanted to use it. “Shut up, man. Captain doesn’t flake out. Maybe you should learn to be more like him.”

Burgess puffed up like he was offended but thought better when he caught the look on Mo’s face. Nate flopped into a rolling chair and kicked his feet up on the folding table we’d set up in the middle of the bay.

Thoren Watkins, the other firefighter on shift, picked up a deck of cards and started shuffling.

Nate clapped a hand down on the cards Thoren dealt as his phone dinged with a notification. No doubt his girlfriend. Again. The guy couldn’t go a single shift without constant check-in, a leftover effect of a time when he’d scared the shit out of her after a particularly bad call.

“Damien just sent a text,” Nate announced. “New fire chief is in the house. Went straight to the office and never came out.”

Mo picked up his drink and shuffled his ice, watching his own cards fall. “That doesn’t mean much. Probably got a bunch of administrative work to do before he can meet with the crew. I can respect that.” He glared at Thoren. “Don’t fucking deal from the bottom of the deck, you cheater.”

I grunted at Mo. He was probably right. This meeting was most likely introducing the new chief.

---