Rick Gullotti glared at Gavin Boudreau, then shook his head. “That’s bullshit.” They were back at the station after a run and, as the lieutenant of Boston Fire’s Ladder 37, he had to stay in the bay with the guys and take care of the gear. Even if they were being idiots. In the bay next to him, the guys from Engine 59 were doing the same. Stowing the gear, checking tanks and supplies. The ladder truck and the pumper engine that shared the three-story brick firehouse always rolled together, and the guys of L-37 and E-59 operated well as a team. A team whose members loved to give each other shit, Rick thought as Scotty Kincaid yelled from the other side of the bay. “That’s the fourth time that woman’s needed the fire department in six months, Gullotti. Must be rough when all your emergencies happen while you’re still in your lace nightgown.” “Maybe it’s you she’s after,” Gullotti called back.
