Chapter 1
Whoeverthoughtthiswasa good idea needed to be shot.
Cleveland Fire Lieutenant Mateo Soto ordered a Guinness at Throckmorton’s Corner and watched the combined ranks of two shifts welcome their newest additions to the firehouse.
There were three shifts, which meant two new guys on B and C-shifts.
And one red-headed chick on A-shift.
Just what they needed.
Said chick bellied up to the bar and a glass of something clear was placed in front of her.
“Having water?” Mateo suggested to Ms. Leslie McClunis, his A-shift’s newbie. She’d been sick yesterday and spent the majority of her first shift in and out of the bathroom.
“If it’s clear, it’s vodka.”
The girl weighed a hundred pounds of nothing. Her tight little green sundress showed she was devoid of curves. “I’d hate for you to feel like you did yesterday.”
Her hazel eyes flashed. “I’m sure you would, lieutenant.”
“Something you want to say?” Mateo lit a cigarette.
“Nothing.” She attempted to make a cutting comeback. She had quite the mouth, they’d learned in the past twenty-four hours.
He blew smoke in her direction. “Doll, I’m really sorry your first day was rough, but that’s firefighting.”
Those eyes rolled, “You think I’m a fucking Forrest Gump or something? Just because I don’t know which asshole spiked my food and slashed my tires doesn’t make me stupid.”
“It’s called an initiation. Got to earn your place.” Mateo took another drag from the cigarette.
“What did they do to you on your first day?” she challenged.
He thought back to those days, now almost two decades ago. “They put my clothes in the walk-in freezer. After they sprayed them down with the hose a few times.”
“I’m sure that did terrible things to your balls,” the redhead said archly.
Mateo blinked because while it wouldn’t have been a surprising comment coming from another man, it was a shock coming from someone as delicate appearing as her. “It was cold. Always happens to the newbies. It’ll get better.”
“This bullshit didn’t happen when I was at 13.” From what Mateo understood, they had paired the two female rookies together for a year under the tutelage of fellow Puerto Rican, Captain Hector Mondragon.
“Firehouse 13 isn’t as busy as 15,” he answered shortly.
“Which is exactly why I applied for the spot at 15. You think I can’t take it because I don’t have a dick?”
Mateo restrained himself from asking how she liked to take it. The two women in a different firehouse hadn’t seemed real. Until two days ago, the women had been unicorns. Now most of the conversations his guys had were whether the ladies were nymphomaniacs or lesbians.
It was tough to tell with Leslie McClunis. Her hair was cut far shorter than the current in styles of 1995 for Mateo’s taste. It wasn’t exactly what he’d call butch, but her macho and aggressive attitude gave him quite the mix of signals.
Of course, certain members of his shift were more determined to settle the question. Jim Conley, their old ‘newbie,’ came by to invite her over. “Come have a drink with us.”
To her credit, she did try to smile—more of a grimace. Mateo hoped she wouldn’t take the offer at face value, since he suspected Conley had been behind the laxatives in her lunch. As lieutenant, his job was to not interfere beyond making sure they didn’t hurt her. She’d have to learn this stuff on her own—starting by being careful now.
And she’d have to be made of even sterner stuff if she expected to make it at 15. Mistakes during firefighting could mean death.
Still, he couldn’t help how his eyes lingered on the way she moved. She practically floated, which was probably an optical illusion from the beer. He had to admit she had a cute little ass, if he were into skinny girls.
Which he was not.
