Page 7 of Fighting For You

Station 110 was quiet when I pulled in. The bay doors were up, the engine and the ladder sitting where they always sat. I parked, grabbed my bag, and went in through the bay.

I could smell breakfast before I got through the bay doors. Greene was at the stove in the kitchen, moving between two pans with a towel over his shoulder. He'd been up since four, probably.

"Morning, Sullivan. Eggs are almost up."

I tossed my bag in my locker and changed into my station shirt.

Thompson came out of his office. "A-shift, let's go. Changeover."

C-shift's captain ran through the handoff. Apparatus was good, engine had a slow leak in the rear left that maintenance was aware of, no open incidents.

"One more thing before we hand off. I got a briefing from Metro yesterday." He had a printout in his hand but didn't look at it. "PD is tracking a pattern of intentional fires on the east side and parts of North Las Vegas. Residential structures, mostly. They believe it's gang-related retaliation."

The room got quieter.

"At least four fires in the last six weeks that they're confident were set. Accelerants confirmed on two. They're looking at it as an escalation between rival crews operating in those areas." He folded the printout.

Then Thompson took over.

"What that means for us is scene safety. Any residential fire in those areas, we size up before we commit. If something looks off on arrival, crowds that don't fit, signs of accelerants, anything that doesn't match a normal fire, we hold at the block and let Metro clear the perimeter before we go in. On scene, strict accountability. Nobody goes through a door alone, nobody goes in before the line is charged, everybody stays with their partner. These fires are burning hotter and less predictable than what we're used to, and the people standing at the curb might not be bystanders. We're there to put water on fire and pull people out. That's it. We clear?"

Nods around the room.

"Alright. Check your equipment." He glanced at the room. "One more thing. Badges is in June. Softball at Lorenzi Park. We're playing LVMPD, and last year was embarrassing, so if you can't hit a ball, learn between now and then. Sign-up sheet's on the board."

"Everyone sign up except Brooks," Travis said. "Can't trust him not to go easy on his girl."

Wyatt straightened up. "What?"

"You're out, Brooks," Thompson said.

"Come on!"

The crew broke up. I was heading for the bay when Thompson caught my eye.

"Sullivan. Got a minute?"

Captain Thompson's office was small. Desk, two chairs, a filing cabinet, and a photo on the wall of his academy class from twenty-five years ago. He closed the door and sat on the edge of the desk.

"Last shift," he said. "The duplex on Owens."

I knew where this was going.

"And if that floor had given out, I'd be writing a letter to your family instead of having this conversation."

I let it stand.

"You're not a rookie, Knox. You know the protocol. You wait for the line, you wait for your partner, and you go in together."

He crossed his arms.

"Two years ago, after you took a beam through the neck pulling a civilian out of a collapsed structure, I didn't think you'd come back. With an injury like that? Most guys would have walked away. But you came back. Cleared medical, passed every eval, and showed up for your next shift like it was any other Monday. I respect that."

He scratched the back of his head.

"But since you came back, you've been pushing harder. Every shift, a little more. Going in first, going in alone, making calls that aren't yours to make." He paused. "You've told me you want lieutenant. I know you do. And I think you'd be right for the job. But the promotional board is going to look at your jacket, and what they're going to see is a firefighter who freelances.

"A lieutenant is responsible for the safety of every person on that crew. The board needs to know you can hold back when it matters, not just push forward." He held my gaze. "You need to rein it in, Knox. Or you're going to lose the thing you've been working toward."