As the call to shut off the water flow comes, I sprint back to 53 and shut down the hose. The slack drops her hoses instantly.
Another reminder of 53’s solidarity.
And our weaknesses.
Rolling up the hoses doesn’t take long, and then we’re on cleanup. The brooms and rakes come out as both crews head inside to make the best of a bad situation.
“Tennison, you’re with Hammond,” Schmidt calls out. He holds out a broom, and I walk to where he stands and take it. Like I can say no, anyhow.
Hammond and I take the stairs to the second floor. Making it up there, we find 37 is already sweeping out.
“Next floor,” Hammond says.
“Yes sir.”
Ash and soggy debris cover everything, including the office desks that make up most of the second story. He pulls his turnout jacket off and tosses it to a wet desk. His navy standard uniform T-shirt hugs his chest, his arms flexing with every damn sweep the broom takes in his big mitts.
“Focus on the floor, watch the exposed elements.” He glances up to the fluorescent lights hanging by chains from the now-warped popcorn ceiling. The place reeks of burnt shit.
The particular putrid tang of burning electrical elements is soaked into the space. Most likely in the walls, the furniture. You’ll never get the stench out.
I sweep away as much ash and destroyed office stuff as I can, corralling it into the corner for easy disposal. Sweat beads over my brow and I swipe it away. Too hot, I tug my jacket off and keep going until my pile is higher and wider again.
“Nice work.” His voice is too close.
I snap around, making sure the broom is between us. “Yes sir.”
“Tennison?”
I take a step back, my heel crushing the edge of the pile I just made. “I was overwhelmed, it won’t happen again.”
He huffs a low sound. “That’s not wha?—”
“All done, are we?” Schmidt appears in the doorway to the stairs.
“Getting it done.” Hammond returns to his sweeping.
Schmidt walks into the space, taking in the damage. The lighting that was set up after the heat dissipated sends shadows around the room. It’s eerie. The piles we’ve managed to gather were full of heavy items that melted with the heat. Sweat drips down my forehead, droplets trailing between my breasts, and I lean on the broom.
“What are you waiting for, Tennison?” Schmidt snaps before rolling off the wall he’s leaning on and heads up the stairwell.
“Asshole,” I mutter.
Hammond’s gaze snaps to me.
“Careful, that smart mouth of yours is going to see you in the captain’s office.”
“Yours or his?” The words slip out before my brain can catch them.
Fuck.
He rests the broom on the desk and pads to where I stand, swiping his forehead with his forearm. “Not mine.”
Geez, let a girl down easy, why don’t you.I go back to my sweeping. Anything to keep my hands busy, lest I strangle the life out of my superior officer.
Not that I’m interested in the uptight cold shoulder he offers the crew anyway. Big, hulking, blond, dog-hating neanderthal.
I’m sure all that brawn and brains impresses someone, but it ain’t me.
