Page 1 of Flash Freeze

Chapter 1

Friday, February 6

“OK, let’s run that drill again!” called Lieutenant Lisa “Flash” Cash, clapping her hands. Her team hustled back to their starting positions while Snuffles—her beloved black-and-white Havanese and Firehouse Eight’s official mascot—watched from a safe distance. It was a gorgeous February morning in Houston, sun bright, air cool, and Snuffles stretched out on the smooth concrete by the open bay doors, where she could take full advantage of both.

“You’re killin’ us, Cash,” moaned firefighter Shaquille Woods as he wiped beaded sweat from his umber brow with a hand towel.

“Your namesake would be ashamed to hear you bellyaching,” Flash retorted. “O’Neal would never complain about a drill.”

“Yeah, cuz he’s rich and famous.” Woods tossed the towel and took his place on the line.

“Oh, I think the power’s just gone to her head,” Waylon Adams said with a wink. “Promotions’ll do that, you know.” He wiggled blond brows over blue eyes, stopping beside Woods, and flexed his impressive biceps.

Flash smirked at her buddy. She’d only been running the squad for a week, having passed her lieutenant’s test and secured an assignment at the firehouse she called home. So far, the hardest part of the job had been distancing herself from her friends. Waylon wasn’t her buddy anymore—he was a firefighter under her command. That didn’t mean they weren’t still friends or wouldn’t grab a drink after shift. But on the job, she was the boss now.

“Tell me about it!” Bobbie Flores chimed in.

It had been over six months since the pizza bomb had killed Billy Ray and cost Smokey an arm. The squad was solid again, and Flash’s nightmares had tapered off, rarely waking her in a panic anymore. Life marched on, and she was never one to wallow.

“Two down and backs, then to the table for glove and screws, and wrap it with blind knot ties and a race up the stairs. First one down the pole without screwing up wins. Go!” Flash clicked her stopwatch, and her firefighters sprinted past the parked engine, Flores in the lead.

Each excelled at something. Waylon was the muscle, Bobbie the speed, and Shaquille? Well, he could cook. Flash would rather rush into a burning building with them than anyone else.

“Looks like you’re off to a good start.”

Snuffles let out a “Woof!” and Flash jerked her head around at the unexpected female voice.

“Assistant Chief Velasquez,” Flash acknowledged, straightening her stance and facing her. “Welcome to Firehouse Eight. We’re just running some drills.”

“I can see.” The deeply tanned woman stood shorter than Flash, with four bugles on her uniform shoulders and her black hair pinned up. Flash had met her before, and she had been on hand to congratulate her upon being awarded her lieutenant’s rank. She had long admired Carmen Velasquez as a groundbreaking firefighter and department brass.

Flash swallowed the lump in her throat and pushed down her nerves. “What can I do for you today?”

“Nothing. I was just in the neighborhood and wanted to stop by to check on you, maybe offer some encouraging words. I hope you don’t mind, but it isn’t often I get to take a fellow woman officer under my wing.”

Her amiable expression relieved Flash’s tension. She glanced at her crew and called out, “Woods, I think you need new gloves. Get that washer on and hurry up with the nut.” Returning focus to Velasquez, she blushed. “Sorry about that.”

Velasquez lowered her gaze to Snuffles, who vigorously sniffed her shoes. “That’s Snuffles,” Flash said. She bent down and scooped the little fuzzball into her arms. “Don’t sniff the assistant chief’s shoes.” With an apologetic look, she added, “She likes to smell people’s shoes. That way, she knows where they’ve been.”

“Reasonable.” Velasquez inclined her head. “They can gather so much information with their noses. But isn’t she a little small to be a fire dog?”

Snuffles wiggled and stretched, flicking her tongue toward the visitor. Flash resettled her. It was evident the nearly grown pup wanted to greet the new friend with a thorough tongue bath, but Flash understood that not all people wanted to be licked, especially by a dog they didn’t know. Athena sure hadn’t at first. Now she adored Snuffles as much as Flash did.

“Oh, she’s not a working fire dog. She just hangs around the firehouse for moral support.”

Waylon’s big boots hit the floor, drawing Flash’s attention. “I win!” he announced and moved before Bobbie landed on his shoulders.

“I don’t see how,” Flores retorted as he slid down the pole. Woods had made it to the top of the stairs and would be there in under ten seconds.

Flash clicked her stopwatch. “Not too shabby. Woods, why are you always last?”

He swooshed down the pole. “Maybe because I have the shortest legs.”

“Take a break,” Flash told her team. “It’s turning out to be a slow morning, and I have company.”

“We see,” said Bobbie Flores. His tan matched Velasquez’s. He smiled, nodded, and said, “Come on, guys. My turn to rule the remote.”

“You had it last time,” Woods argued, and the three left the bay to head inside.