Burning Ambition

by Amy Knupp

  She crawled toward Nate, noticing he hadn’t said anything. Hadn’t checked on her. She’d made it only a few feet when her path was cut off by what looked to be a beam of some kind. As she stood up slowly to check if she could see Nate on the other side, something caught her eye to her left.

  Shit! Nate was down.

  Faith assessed the situation as quickly as she could, trying to fight off her panic at seeing him. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly against it, but instead of erasing the cold fear, she was taken back three months to when she’d been the “man down.”

  She shook herself and opened her eyes again. It appeared the beam or column was on top of Nate’s left leg, possibly pinning him to the floor. She made her way toward his head and bent over him. He didn’t acknowledge her, but at one point he moved his head slightly to the side, letting her know he was alive.

  She checked the progress of the fire. It was creeping closer. She grabbed her radio and reported the situation to dispatch.

  Without waiting for a response, she bent down again and tried to free Nate. She needed to get him out of there, to Scott and Paige at the ambulance, but his left leg was wedged beneath the beam.

  Her brain moved on automatic then, creating a plan to get her colleague to safety. She had to fight the urge to wrestle with the beam by herself. Equally pressing was the advance of the fire.

  She picked up the hose, which was lying a foot or so from Nate’s feet, and opened it on the flames, waiting for help to arrive, and battling the urge to yank Nate out of danger.

  Before she could make much progress with the fire, Clay and Olin got to work freeing Nate. Joe had sent in Evan to help Faith on the line.

  Every so often, she glanced down to her left to check on Nate. It seemed to take them forever, but again, she had no real concept of seconds or minutes in here.

  At last they managed to move the fallen beam and carry Nate out. She couldn’t see whether he was conscious. Turning away and saying yet another prayer for him, Faith made her way farther in to knock out the flames in this part of the building, Evan on her heels.

  “YOU DID EVERYTHING RIGHT last night, Faith,” Joe said as they walked out to the parking lot just after nine the next morning. “And that’s no surprise to anyone but you.”

  She squinted against the blazing morning sun and pulled out her discount-store shades from her bag, attempting to act nonchalant. In reality, Joe’s praise had her soaring, along with the realization that she had, indeed, made the right decisions during the fire. She’d overcome the memories and the fear, and hadn’t let herself or her colleagues down. Nate reportedly had a fracture in his leg, but the injury was minor compared to what it could’ve been.

  “Thanks, Joe.” She glanced behind them to assure herself there was no one within earshot. “For…you know. The personalized rah-rah beforehand. It helped.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not taking any credit.” They’d arrived at his SUV, and he turned toward the driver’s side, while Faith kept going. “Go home and celebrate with a twenty-hour nap.”

  Bed for twenty hours sounded like just what the doctor ordered, but it wouldn’t be her bed, and she wouldn’t be alone if she had her way. Unfortunately, her way was off-limits—she and Joe had agreed they had to see each other outside work as little as possible.

  “A short nap, maybe, and then Assistant Chief Jones’s retirement non-party.” The bar gathering was the department’s way of working around his very vocal opposition to a big formal celebration.

  “Might see you there,” Joe said, and Faith tried not to allow herself to daydream about meeting him at the Shell Shack tonight…or leaving with him.

  She climbed into her Subaru and sat there without starting the engine. She watched Joe back up and drive out of the parking lot. As he waited at the exit for a car to pass on the street, he looked in his mirror and their eyes met. He shot her a private smile, then drove away. Faith’s heart raced.

  She leaned back against the headrest, closed her eyes and soaked in the moment. Overcoming her hesitancy at the fire scene. Conquering her fear by forging ahead in spite of it—without being reckless. And yes, trusting her instincts in the middle of an emergency. Pour on top of those Joe’s professional and personal approval, and she was certain the only thing keeping her from floating away was her seat belt.

  She laughed aloud as she started the car and drove out of the parking lot. Instead of going to Nadia’s house, she headed to the public beach parking lot. It was still early enough in the day that the lot was more than half-empty. She stopped the car and got out.

  Several clusters of people were scattered along the sand, but most were gathered in front of the hotels.

  Faith had changed into workout shorts, a tank and Nike flip-flops before leaving the station. The day was going to be hot; the humidity was already climbing and there wasn’t a single cloud in the cyan sky. The waves reflected the color, looking brighter, more turquoise than usual today. As she walked toward the damp sand, she scanned the shell bits in front of her out of habit. A large piece caught her eye and she picked it up. A white-and-yellow snail shell, almost perfectly intact. She slid it into her pocket and continued toward the jagged foam line where the waves currently ended their journey ashore.

  Faith stretched out on her back, knees bent upward, her toes just out of reach of the water. Her clothing would get damp from the sand, but she didn’t care. She lay back and stared up at the breathtakingly clear sky. Smiling.

  A weight had been lifted off her shoulders just as surely as Clay and Olin had pried the column off Nate. She’d made it through a critical moment, one of chaos and confusion in the heart of a fire scene, and she hadn’t let anyone down. Hadn’t let herself down.

  Somehow in that burning warehouse she’d found what Joe had insisted she was lacking. Trust in herself. She didn’t really know if she’d had it before the beam collapsed, or if she’d faked her way through, but now she was sure—her mojo was back.

  Hell, yeah, she could depend on herself in a fire. Her colleagues could depend on her, as well.

  She’d always strived to work smart, and in the five years she’d been in San Antonio, she’d honed her instincts as well, so that when chaos broke out during an emergency, the two would hopefully work together—brains and instincts. She wasn’t sure which she had stopped trusting when the roof had fallen on her. It didn’t matter anymore.

  All that mattered was that she felt better, mentally, than she had in months. And she was done hesitating before heading into a fire.

  Faith noticed the waves had crept up higher when cold water hit her butt and soaked the edge of her shorts. She sat up, but didn’t move out of the way. Instead, she kicked her feet in the shallow water, splashing herself even more. Laughed. Threw her head back and let the brilliant sun beat down on her, warm her. In her peripheral vision, she noticed a little boy to her left, staring at her. She grinned at him and winked.

  She didn’t care what people thought. And it went beyond the strangers on the beach.

  Most of the guys in the department had started to respect her. Some of them would never get over her gender. Others might eventually come around, but the thing was…it didn’t matter.

  She got that now.

  She’d been fighting for their approval since her first day on the job, but that would never replace trusting herself.

  Her dad had had to work to convince the others on the hiring committee to take her on, sure, but Faith knew she was the best person for the job. Mired in self-doubt, she’d let herself forget it, but that was over.

  Maybe she would’ve gotten to this point soon anyway, but there was no question in her mind that Joe had helped her along.

  Joe.

  He was the perfect man for her. A delicious combination of respected, don’t-mess-with me fire captain and caring, patient teacher. He was looked up to and admired by just about everyone, so very good at what he did, and yet the private side of him had enough chinks to make him human…and
endearing. Faith had seen the real man, vulnerabilities and all, and she loved him for who he was.

  Loved?

  Did she love Joe? Did she want to?

  Did wanting to matter?

  Because she did love him. She knew it almost instantly. Faith wanted to be with him, to know him even better. To fight his battles with him and have him at her side for hers. He understood her, really got her passion for her career and shared that passion. He was so loving toward his mother and Faith wanted to be loved by him, as well.

  She knew he was concerned about what being together could do to his career, but Faith knew her dad. If they went to him and made him understand that what she and Joe shared was real, with long-term potential, he wouldn’t punish Joe professionally. He wanted his daughter to be happy, didn’t he?

  Her objections to pursuing a real, in-the-open relationship with Joe were history. She wanted him more than she wanted to stop people from assuming the worst about her. They could think what they wanted. She knew that whatever she accomplished in her job would be due to hard work and dedication. Not because of who she was sleeping with.

  She was ready to move forward with Joe and go public. The next step was convincing him his career would be just fine—he could have her and the job of his dreams.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  JOE HADN’T BEEN HOME an hour, hadn’t even gone to bed yet, when the chief called, wanting him to come in to the station to discuss something.

  Something.

  The assistant chief position, he’d bet.

  He felt generally upbeat, ready for the news. Knew he’d given it his best. He and Roland Schlager had different strengths, so who would get the job depended on what the committee valued most. He couldn’t change who he was, he thought philosophically as he climbed back into his 4Runner.

  If he wasn’t the chosen one, there would be another chance someday. Chief Peligni wouldn’t work forever. Schlager was a few years older than Joe, so if he got the job, there was the possibility of him retiring early. Joe didn’t know anything about the third, outside candidate for assistant chief, but he could easily be closer to retirement, as well.

  Joe scoffed at himself and cranked the volume of the Metallica CD in the player.

  To hell with all the positive mumbo jumbo. He wanted the goddamn job.

  He was forty years old and he’d been waiting for the position to open up for several years. He wanted to make chief before he was a senior citizen. While he was young enough to still care so passionately about the department.

  He pulled up to the curb at the back of the station and hopped out, not bothering to lock the door. It looked like everyone was across the street at the training facility; the halls were empty, quiet, as he made his way toward Chief Peligni’s office.

  “Thought you just left, Captain,” Flo, one of the admin ladies, called out from her office.

  “Figured you missed me.”

  “Always do.” She cackled and her chair squeaked as it rolled across the thin carpet.

  Chief Peligni’s door was open, so Joe knocked on the jamb and went in.

  “Close the door,” the chief said.

  Joe searched the older man’s face for a clue about what he wanted to discuss. He seemed a little harried, but that was nothing out of the ordinary. It was impossible to discern anything. Joe sat on the worn vinyl chair facing the chief’s desk.

  “Tell me about the fire last night.”

  He’d called Joe in to rehash what he’d already written reports about?

  “Nate okay?” Joe asked, thinking a turn for the worse would cause closer investigation of how the incident had been handled. But he’d just broken his damn leg. He was already home.

  “Last I heard. He’ll be out of the action for several weeks, of course.”

  Joe explained what had happened at the fire in as much detail as he knew. Which was the same amount he’d included in writing. He gave the chief no extra insight on Faith or what a personal victory the fire had been for her. To do so would reveal that Joe knew her better than he was supposed to.

  “Faith did well, huh?” her father said, his pride showing through in his tone.

  “Are you surprised?” Joe asked.

  “Not in the least. She’s my girl.” He tapped his pen on the desk. “Saw you and her walking out this morning.”

  Something in his voice put Joe on alert—and the Catholic boy in him bowed under the weight of guilt.

  “We were discussing her performance.” Performance? Oh God, bad choice of words, considering that he already had to force himself not to fidget.

  “She looks up to you,” Chief Peligni said. “Respects you.”

  “I respect her. I’ve told you before she’s got the potential to be one of the best here.”

  Chief nodded slowly, and Joe’s possible promotion hung in the air between them.

  The promotion that would suddenly become impossible if the chief were to hear about his and Faith’s…involvement…from an outside source. Or worse, see them together in a compromising situation.

  Joe bounced his leg repeatedly. Stared at the plaques on the wall without seeing them.

  “Chief, you and I go way back,” he finally said. “Our families. I’m going to level with you because I respect the hell out of you.” He hoped to God this wasn’t a career-killing move. “I have feelings for your daughter.”

  “You do.” It wasn’t a question. The chief’s expression didn’t waver, didn’t show signs of surprise or even anger—at first glance. When Joe looked more closely, though, he noticed the older man’s nostrils were flaring. “She’s an amazing girl.”

  “Yes.”

  The office suddenly got too hot. Joe forced himself to stop with the nervous knee motion.

  Chief Peligni pushed his chair back as he stood. Paced to the windowed wall. Looked out at the employee parking lot, his back to Joe.

  Joe tried to figure out what to say. How to handle this. He may have just screwed himself to eternity.

  The chief turned around and leaned against the sill, crossing his legs at the ankle. “I called you in here to discuss a different matter.”

  There was no way he would drop the subject that easily, Joe thought.

  “Wanted to talk to you about the assistant chief position,” Chief Peligni continued.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “There’s been a…development. As of this morning, the decision has been made to discontinue the position, effective in conjunction with Bill Jones’s retirement.”

  Joe blinked, thinking he’d misunderstood.

  “The budget has been cut again. It was decided to slice a layer off the top tier.”

  Joe’s pulse pounded in his head and his fists tightened against the urge to let loose and damage something. “Why wasn’t this decided before now?” He knew the answer before he finished asking.

  “Budget time is right now,” the chief said. “Funds were cut. City revenue is down. Same story everywhere.”

  Joe leaned forward, supporting his elbows on his knees. He ran his hands over his face as he tried to absorb what this meant to his career.

  “I hate to see it myself, because I know how much work Jones does. Know how much you wanted that position, as well.”

  Joe couldn’t speak. Just nodded dumbly.

  The chief walked back behind his desk and sat slowly in his chair. “This isn’t for public knowledge yet, but I’ve made a decision regarding my own career.” He tapped his hands on the surface. “I’m retiring at the end of the calendar year.”

  Joe’s head shot up. “Retire? You?”

  The chief chuckled, but it had a nervous undertone to it. “Me. It’s time.” He leaned forward. “Time for me to rebuild my marriage.”

  Joe immediately thought of Faith and how relieved she’d be. Then he pushed her from his mind. The job had to be his main concern.

  “Your absence will leave a big hole.”

  “About that.” Chief Peligni paused dramatically. �
�The position will be opened up, of course.”

  Joe nodded. It was a no-brainer that he’d be going for it himself. Competition would be fierce, as there would be interest from all over the state and beyond. But fire chief was his lifelong aspiration; he’d give it everything he had.

  “Though the hiring committee will select my replacement, they’ve assured me that my recommendation will carry some weight.” Chief Peligni loosely pinched his lower lip between his thumb and forefinger, studying Joe intently. “You know you’ve always had my support. You would even if I hadn’t promised your father I’d look after you.”

  Hope lurched in Joe’s chest. Was he understanding the chief correctly? “That’s been appreciated, Chief. More than you can imagine.”

  “I wouldn’t hesitate to recommend you for the job, Joe.”

  Joe nodded once, grateful and yet…wary. There was more coming, he could tell.

  “But you need to make a decision,” Chief Peligni said with authority. “Fire chief or my daughter.”

  When Faith appeared in his mind’s eye, Joe shut her out. He was on the verge of making thirty-plus years of dreams come true. Of realizing his biggest goal in life.

  There was no guarantee he’d get the position just because the chief was behind him, but that kind of support was beyond golden.

  “You know I want the job, Chief.”

  “I don’t question that. But you just told me you also want my daughter.”

  Joe cringed to hear those words come from Faith’s father. He made it sound so crude.

  “You’re dedicated,” the chief said. “Like me. You’d do just about anything for this department. That’s why I’d recommend you.”

  “I appreciate that.” He couldn’t help but notice the chief’s use of “I’d” instead of “I’ll.”

  “You’re an honorable man, Joe. I want someone like you for my daughter. What I don’t want for her is the fire chief. You might have a vague idea how much this job can require to do it well. But I’m living proof of what it can do to a marriage.”