Shania Brooks slid from the officer’s seat of Snorkel One once they arrived on location at the Wilson Avenue address the department had been dispatched to. As she did, she made sure she secured her airpack on her back. After she adjusted her shoulder straps and waist belt, she checked her gauge to confirm she had a full tank of air.

“J.R., drop the outriggers and get the bucket ready.” Shania keyed her radio. “Snorkel One to Command.” She waited for a reply as she heard the heavy bang of the four supports for the aerial truck hit the ground behind her as J.R. stabilized it, ready for what Command would order her crew to do.

“Wilson Command, go ahead, Captain,” Blackwood Fire Chief Mike Donovan came back.

“Snorkel One is in place. Your assignment?”

“Take a crew up and check the roof for possible extension from the top floor.”

“Yes, sir.” Shania turned back to her crew to relay the chief’s orders. One firefighter stayed with J.R. to act as the ground man while the aerial device went into service. The rest of the crew joined Shania and went up to the roof in the bucket of the aerial truck J.R. and the other firefighter manned. Once on the roof, they checked for the extension Chief Donovan agonized over. When she and her crew found no extension or access from the roof, she ordered their return to the bucket. She lifted it from their position and smoothly swung it to another angle near the only window on their side of the building.

“Chief, we have no visible sign of extension on the roof. We are going into the window for an interior search.”

“Okay, but be advised you have a crew on the floor below you.”

“Understood.”

She moved the bucket over to the window. Glass shattered as Mick Jordan took it out with a Halligan tool. She set her mask and got a good seal. The first lesson to wearing an SCBA, or self-contained breathing apparatus—get a good seal on the mask—without it, a firefighter could die. Again, she checked her gauge to make sure she had a full tank of air. She had a reputation for always being overly cautious when it came to the air supply of her and her crew. The air bottle was a firefighter’s lifeline in adverse conditions, and Captain Shania Brooks refused to risk her life, or others.

Shania and her crew entered the building to the sound of cracking glass under their boots. She took her flashlight from her helmet and looked around as light smoke shared the room with them. She ordered Terry Drake and Mick Jordan to start a right-hand search, while she would remain in the small area close to the window, their reference point to the location of their exit and safety. From what she could see after they moved to the side, the door opening to the rest of the building’s interior sat straight across the room from where they had just entered.

In front of her, Shania saw stacks of paper products and the like. To her left, she found seasonal items waiting their turn for the next holiday. She could be happier with the fire load if it caught here.

“Cap, it’s clear to the door. The door is warm and we have smoke coming under it from the other side.”

“Got anything else?”

“Stand by,” Jordan called back to her as he stood to the side of the doorjamb. She could make out where he stood, a huge man who always made her feel short—and she stood five nine without heels.

“What do you have, Mick?” she called as he swung his axe to open a hole in the wall.

“Wall’s hot. She’s in the wall!”

A burst of flame met him as it fed on the air it craved desperately. Shania crossed the room to join him after she assigned a man to replace her at the window.

“Terry, you and Mick pull back. Snorkel One to command, we’ve got—” She had trouble breathing as her air supply dwindled.

“Captain Brooks…” Chief Donovan called over the radio. Shania pulled the mask off.

“Pull back and use the bucket line.”

The crew vacated the room to the bucket, the tip of its nozzle aimed from the device into the fire room. The fire fought them but the actions of Shania’s crew, plus the interior crew brought it under control in a short while.

Shania’s crew came down and a relief team took over to salvage and overhaul the area where the fire had burned. They had the job of searching for hot spots. She heard the other aerial team’s orders to open the roof from above. The department had made a quick stop with damage kept to one central area.

Once on the ground, J.R. Morris, the engineer for her shift, helped her to remove her pack.

“Cap, you all right?”

“No, I’m mad as hell!”

She flashed him a glare. He knew without being told that hell sat around the corner if someone crossed her.

“What happened? Your bottle run out?” someone asked.

“Was it…” he asked.

“Of course! You saw me check it. Not only that, the alarm didn’t go off.”

“What? I checked the batteries at shift change this morning.”

“J.R., hey, calm down. I know how meticulous you are.” He always checked out the truck he was assigned to when he came on shift, and today had been no exception. They checked the alarm and found the nine volt battery gone. Fear and anger rose in her at the same time.

“Cap, every one had batteries and the tanks were full. I swear.”

“Take the pack out of service and don’t let anyone touch it,” she ordered.

“Wilson Command to Snorkel One.”

“Snorkel One, go ahead, Chief.”

“Command post, Captain. Send your crew to rehab.”

“Yes, sir.” Shania put the radio back into her coat pocket. “Shit!”

“Good luck, kid,” J.R. offered.

“Thanks.”

Shania made her way to the command post where Chief Mike Donovan issued commands as to how he wanted the operation carried out. She waited until he finished ordering fire dispatch to get him a board up company to secure the building.

“Shania,” he said, official in his tone, concern and personal feelings in his eyes. He stood at the command, a man in his fifties, handsome and gracefully graying with age. He had a full head of hair and a thick enough mustache to make a New York firefighter proud. Originally from Chicago, he still spoke with an accent, even though he’d been in the Napa Valley most of his adult life.

“Chief?” she acknowledged.

“Your report.”

Shania told him what Mick and Terry had found when Mick opened up the wall. “It happened just as I told Command what we found when the problem showed up.”

“What the hell happened?” he asked with a fatherly look in his eye. He had brought her into the department and backed her in the all-male job. Shania had made him proud as she proved herself in the fire service and moved up the ranks. Now a captain, Shania Brooks had given the Blackwood Fire Department everything she had to give.

“I don’t know. I do know the battery in the PASS alert is gone. J.R. assured me there was one, and I believe him—he checked it at the start of shift. I’ve taken it out of service to be gone over and repaired.”

“Send it to McCabe first.”

“Yes, sir.” She had considered arguing with him, but he gave the orders. Besides, the SOP stated the Battalion Chief he referred to would be the one to investigate abnormal equipment malfunctions. This definitely fell into that realm.

“Get yourself to the medics. I want you checked out before you go any further.”

“Mike, I’m fine,” she pleaded. They had always been very close since he had served with her dad in the Air Force, and, when her father died of a heart attack, Mike became even closer to her and her mother.

“I don’t care about your personal diagnosis. I know you. Now go get checked and don’t come back until I have their okay. That’s an order, Shania.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, her eyes twinkling. She started to leave, then stopped to turn back to him. “Mike, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I don’t want to lose anyone because of faulty gear. This business is dangerous enough.”

* * * *

Donovan watched Shania walk toward the medic unit. He knew her and if she could get out of going to be checked out, she’d find a way to do so. Just like your father—stubborn.

He saw her with a paramedic, satisfied she would be in good hands, then went back to the last orders he needed to issue. He called dispatch and placed the fire under control. Afterward, the apparatus on location would remain for a while longer to mop up. He put the mike down, took off his helmet, and shoved it in the rear of his command vehicle.

Relieved, he looked at the fire building and sighed. He always considered it a successful job if no loss of life occurred. They had been lucky with this one, especially Shania. He shuddered to think what could have happened.

“Chief?” a deep voice with a hint of South Carolina in it interrupted.

“Mac.”

“We have good burn patterns. The fire was set. Crews did a great stop.”

“Good. I’ve got something else for you to look at.”

“What?” William McCabe asked. Hailing from the Palmetto State, Mac looked every bit a truck driver instead of a battalion chief. At six foot one, Mac carried his muscular body well. His dark, piercing eyes complimented his soft, dark hair and thick mustache. At thirty-six, he had been the youngest battalion chief in Blackwood’s history.

“Malfunctioning airpack.”

“Okay. Why?”

“Shania’s pack ran out when she was inside the building. I know how meticulous she and J.R. Morris are about equipment. They both swear they checked it before dispatch and before she went in. I believe them.”

“I’ll take a look.”

“Her PASS didn’t go off either when they tested it. The battery had been taken out.”

“So she went in with a bad pack?”

“Yes, and I don’t like the battery angle. Morris would not allow a bad or no battery to go out on his shift. Neither would she.”

“You think what?”

“I’m not sure yet. I’m still waiting for the fallout from her getting the job here. I know it’s been a while and quiet but she’s the only woman and a ranking officer. My gut tells me something’s in the air. What, I don’t know.”

“I’ll look into it and keep my eyes open. We don’t need any of this to take root and grow.”

“I agree. Personally, I want her safe. I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to her.”

“I figured as much, Mike.” Mac knew of their close relationship. While no big deal had been made of it, Shania Brooks did not want any of the guys believing Mike Donovan had her pushed up the ladder. He hadn’t, because Shania refused to let him get involved. She made captain on her own. Mac had been impressed and that, in itself, surprised him.

* * * *

All of the responding apparatus on the call had finally been sent back to station, the hose beds repacked, equipment checked and prepared for what might come next.

Blackwood, California could be found nestled between several national forests and this alone made it ideal for tourists. The location made it a good-sized city with a very mobile population. The locals enjoyed the constant ebb and flow of visitors, as the town thrived on it in many ways.

The fire department reflected this trend, made up of six stations, a state-of-the-art headquarters building where the dispatch center operated from, and their training center. They had up-to-date apparatus, technology and training levels to match.

Shania Brooks had loved the fire department from the time her father first took her to the local volunteer department back home in Pennsylvania. She grew up wanting to do nothing but fight fire. She had proven herself on numerous occasions and had been the only woman to make rank and the only female firefighter in the department.

Most of the guys had accepted her as soon as she showed she did not expect preferential treatment. She had her detractors but that happened all over. After all, a woman could not be barred from the job or from joining a volunteer department, though on the other hand, there would be nothing to stop the men from driving the unwanted ones away from the station.

Shania had finally gotten to the point where she was convinced it would no longer be the case for her. She had been assigned to a good station with a great crew. She trusted J.R., Mick, and Terry without question and knew the men would be behind her, as she would stand for them.

Yes, she had run into a few egos running around the department, but they had not been a problem, and she wanted to keep the peace. She walked out of her office and met up with Russ Brady, the engine lieutenant.

“Did you have problems on the engine today?” she asked and hoped her tone would remain nonchalant.

“No. Why?”

“Curiosity. Decree from the brass. They want to know for some study.”

“Oh, one of those.” He groaned.

“Yeah.” She nodded. With an inward sigh of relief, she had succeeded in keeping the question as a non-issue, though she had taken her malfunctioning airpack with her to her office. When they returned to the station, she slid from the officer’s seat and took it with her as if she wanted to get it ready for the next assignment. This did not appear out of the ordinary because she had done so in the past.

The lieutenant walked away to finish his report and she turned to head back into her office. She heard a stir from the front of the engine room and when she looked up, she saw him. Her heart slammed against her chest and her breathing became erratic. Why?

Shania had heard about the battalion chief whom Donovan had handed investigations over to, but had never personally met the man until now. As he walked down the aisle between the engine and the Snorkel, she tried to collect herself. Damn it!

“Chief, welcome to Station Three,” she almost croaked.

“Captain, how are you?”

“Good, sir.”

“It’s been a year or two since I’ve stopped in here. Y’all have an excellent record here.”

“Thank you, sir. We do our best.”

“So I see,” he commented as he watched her with amusement. He had heard a lot about the five foot nine, dark-haired fireball who worked out of Three. He immediately noticed her eyes, falling under their spell. He had never seen sapphire blue so dark it looked black, but he stared into them and suddenly fell for her. He quickly glanced over the rest of her and wondered what she looked like in street clothes or… Don’t go there…

“Axe, how the hell are you?” J.R.’s voice boomed across the engine room. Relief took over as McCabe greeted him.

“Good.”

They talked for a few minutes while J.R. proudly showed off the station and the apparatus. It had been a while since the chief had stopped by Station Three, as McCabe had been involved in several projects and since the station had not had any problems or given Operations any cause to stop by, Mac hadn’t had the need to visit since before Brooks’ assignment until today.

In the meantime, Shania slipped back into her office to get her senses back. Thank God for men and their toys. J.R. would have the battalion chief outside for a while. She quickly looked around the room to make sure everything was in its place because she needed this man to have a decent impression of her and her command.

Why are you so worried?

The battalion chief, a legend in the department, stood in her station and drove her insides into a crazed frenzy. God, help me, please! She sat behind her desk hoping to calm her emotions.

“Captain Brooks?” a strange voice broke through her inner turmoil. “Captain Brooks? Shania…”

“Yes, forgive me. Come in and sit down.”

“Thanks. Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” she replied. No, you’re not. You are losing it. “Coffee?”

“No, thanks,” he replied with a smile. “Mike Donovan wants me to look at your pack.”

“It’s behind you.” She pointed to the airpack sitting on the sofa bed. He turned before getting up and went over to it.

“How do you rate a sleeper sofa?” he inquired.

“Makes it easier. It was cheaper for them to buy it than build me my own room. Actually, it works out quite well.”

“You haven’t had any problems?”

“No more than any other firefighter. Why?”

“Curiosity. I know there are some guys in other stations who talk about you.”

“Let ’em talk, as long as we work together when the time comes.”

“Interesting view.”

“I can’t change their minds. I’ve done what I had to do to get here and I did it without the chief’s help. I’ve heard those accusations, too.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to get off on the wrong foot.”

“It’s all right, really.”

“No, I have a tendency to go straight for the jugular. I’m sorry.” He went over to the pack as he talked. First, he checked the PASS—the Personal Alert Safety System—and found no battery. He knew J.R. Morris and how diligent he had become about his job. If he said he checked his equipment, then the pack had been checked and maintained. Mac made a mental note about the condition of the alarm and inwardly had fits.

“Question, did you have need for the PASS to be used?”

“No, sir. It may have been, but my concern centered on not having air.”

“Then why did you check it, if J.R. already had?”

“I trusted him because I know how he is and how we work together. The man would never endanger anyone’s life. He’s too meticulous. I looked at it afterwards as an incident inspection solely because I needed to know if there might have been anything else wrong with the pack. I would have put it out of service if I’d found anything.”

“I see,” Mac commented as he continued his inspection.

A firefighter who packed up depended on the equipment being in operational condition at all times, the PASS alarm included. If a firefighter went down, it had been designed to let out a shrill signal everyone could hear. She had been in a situation where she hadn’t moved for more than the set amount of time and it hadn’t gone off.

She had stated her air bottle had run out of air and the alert on her harness had not activated either. What the hell was going on here? As Mac checked further, he found why she had lost air so soon after her first breath. The tiny O-ring set between the hook-up and the bottle had split. He didn’t like what he saw.

“Do you have a magnifying glass or a loop?” She shook her head.

“Why?”

“I’m not sure yet, but I’m taking this with me back to the lab.”

“You’re beginning to scare me.”

“It’s routine actually.”

“Oh?”

“I don’t think there’s anything to worry about but, if there is, I want to nip it at the start.”

“Whatever, Chief. Can I be of more help?”

“One other thing...”

“What?”

“Call me Mac.”

“Shania, then…Mac.”

“Good. Ranks are too damned formal for me.”

“Agreed.”

She gazed at him as he easily lifted the pack up and walked out of her office. She could tell that underneath the official uniform of the fire department, a very well-built male body yearned to get out. Stop it, Shania. You don’t stand a chance… She thought about her last try at love and shook her head.

She had been involved with a firefighter from another department. His engine company had been dispatched into Blackwood’s local for a manpower assist on an extremely bad auto accident. Kix had driven the engine that night, not a problem for the best driver in the Twin Forks District.

On the way to the accident scene, Kix had negotiated a curve and went to gently brake just before he lost control of the engine. His speed had not been unsafe as the surviving members testified. Four lived but he had been killed instantly when the smashed cab of the truck trapped him inside.

Shania had attended a firefighter’s funeral. Hundreds of fellow firefighters from the West Coast and British Columbia turned out to pay their respects. She remembered staring at the flag draped coffin and asking herself the questions haunting her. Why didn't I move in with him? Why didn’t I give him a yes to his marriage proposal? Will I ever have the answer to this? Will I ever give love a chance again? Probably…not. She found men intimidated by her job and now, her rank.

She came back to the present, and then went back to her paperwork.

* * * *

Mac carried the pack from the station and placed it in the rear of his gunmetal gray Hummer 2. Mac locked it up, then went around to the driver’s door.

“Axe, wait up!”

“J.R., what’s up?”

“I wanted to tell you I checked that son of a bitch out when I came on shift. I put a new battery in the PASS and made sure the air was up.”

“Did the low air alert go off when you tested it?”

“Yep. If it hadn’t, it would have been taken off the truck.”

“If anything comes of this, did you document this?”

“Yes,” J.R. said as he handed him a copy of his maintenance page.

“What about the O-ring?”

“It was fine. I won’t be responsible for something happening if the ring’s bad.”

“Did you see, or have any concerns about it?” J.R. shook his head.

“No.”

“Okay, then we seem to have a problem.”

“What?”

“Between you and me, I think somebody screwed around with it.”

“Why?”

“I wish I knew,” Mac reassured J.R. He believed his friend and his captain. The two men shook hands before Mac got into the H2.

On the way back to headquarters where he had his office and a huge lab, he went back over what he had and had not found out. One nagging thought kept at him and he didn’t like it. We definitely do not need this.

* * * *

Shania left Station Three at shift change, not due back for seventy-two hours. She got into her Chevy Avalanche and headed home. A few minutes later, she pulled into the driveway of the small cottage-sized home she had shared with her parents until they left Blackwood to go back east. Her father died of a heart attack, her mother soon after. Shania figured her mother died due to a broken heart. She wished she could have the same kind of luck in love they had, but no way would lightning strike twice.

She unlocked the front door, flicked the light switch inside the door, and went in. She dropped her bag on the lower step of the stairway to the second floor, then locked the door. She heard meowing as Bobo, her gray tabby, came over to greet her. She picked him up and buried her nose into his neck fur.

“I guess you want dinner, huh?” she asked him as they went into the bathroom. When she was on duty, her neighbor fed him. Bobo definitely did not look neglected.

She gave him his dinner and left him to go upstairs and get changed. She grabbed her bag as she went by it. By the time she hit the top of the stairs, she already had her uniform shirt off. Definitely, it and the pants were candidates for the cleaners. She dropped it and her bag on the floor by her bureau then, as she braced herself against it, she pulled her leather work boots off, followed by the pants.

Standing in her sports bra and black panties, she felt release take her over—freedom. She looked in the mirror, her hair was disheveled. She took off her underwear and threw them into the wicker wash basket on her way into the shower.

Shania had thick dark hair, dark blue eyes, and she could wear almost anything. Kix had loved it about her and told her she had always made him look good. He even liked her navel piercing, once he got used to it. The small adornment had been her only way to wear jewelry on the job since the department frowned on it. Jewelry had been deemed unsafe, so Shania found a way around it.

She wore a small stud with two tiny sapphires hanging from it. What would Mac say to this? She stopped, frozen at what had just crossed her mind. She shook herself, then got into the shower and let the heat of the water ease her aches. Once she shut the water off and toweled dry, she put on her robe, and let it hang open from her shoulders with the sash hanging loose from the loops.

Shania Brooks hated wearing clothes. The feel of the silk robe aroused her senses and made her feel good. She felt great about herself and, for her, nudity made her feel wonderful, something she usually didn’t feel. Not until earlier, when Mister Gorgeous Battalion Chief had walked into her house and forced her emotions to do cartwheels. She wondered about him and the effect he had on her.

Bobo jumped off the bed and followed her around trying to catch one of the loose ends of her sash. She went downstairs to the kitchen to fix something to eat.

“Well, anything happen around here?” she asked him. Bobo answered her with one of his little cries. She laughed and fixed a sandwich before she moved into the living room to watch the dinnertime news. She looked forward to a relaxing evening.

* * * *

“Did you see that?”

“Yeah, why don’t she take it all off?”

“Lady Fire’s no better than a whore.”

“Yeah,” the one said, almost experiencing a huge control problem.

“That’s why women shouldn’t work in a man’s job. They’re nothing but teases and pains-in-the-asses, along with temptation and distraction.”

“Yeah.”

“She needs to be taught a lesson.”

* * * *

Mac looked at the airpack again. Something bothered him about it. He looked at the low air alarm and, on closer inspection, found a wire cut. He looked at the O-ring again, this time magnified, and groaned. The tiny O-ring, no bigger than the nail on his little finger, told him everything. Brand new, from what J.R.’s maintenance records stated, the ring had been cut enough to break in half and fail with the right amount of pressure applied. No wonder the captain lost her air the way she did.

He picked up the phone and hit speed dial.

“Donovan?”

“Mike, Mac. I’ve got bad news.”

“What?”

“Her pack was tampered with.”

“Confirmed?”

“Definitely.”

“Shit!”

“I agree. I’m going to put it in storage as evidence.”

“Of…”

“I’m not sure yet. I don’t want to lose it if I need to make a case later.”

“Fine. One thing… Keep this between you and me for now. We don’t need any undue reaction until we’re absolutely sure.”

“Mike, I…”

“Nothing until we have more. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir. What about Captain Brooks?”

“Not until we have definite answers for her.”

“I don’t like this, but I’ll go along with it if you order me to.”

“Consider yourself so ordered, Chief McCabe.”

“Yes, sir.” Mac hung up and cursed. Something’s going down and Mike just tied my hands.

After he locked the pack in a secure evidence locker, Mac changed into black jeans and a tee shirt before he stopped at a bar on his way home from work.