SWAT Ed: Fox & Bull (Nothing Special 8)

“Hey, ghost. Sorry about the hour, bro. But I want you to take a look at a scene for me and tell me what you think,” Fox said and turned his phone around to scan the damaged area.

Steele gave a low whistle. “What did that? A rock… a brick or—”

“Yep. It was a brick,” Fox said, walking backwards to show Steele the glass spray. “But the recent storms have knocked out a lot of the security feed, so I got some old-fashioned detective work to do.”

Steele chuckled. “I hear ya. Show me the other side of the window.”

Bull followed Fox outside while he gave Steele another viewpoint.

“The porch is about ten or so feet wide which means they had to stand back and chuck that thing,” Steele said, his grave voice reflecting just how Fox was feeling. “You’re looking for a big guy with a cannon for an arm, Fox.”

Bull bristled beside him, but his pinched expression said he had no clue who Steele could be talking about or how he’d made a formidable enemy in the short time he’d been there.

“How far away you think?” Fox asked.

“I’m thinking the person was about sixty, sixty-five feet away from the house. A run and throw could cause that kind of damage.” Steele was saying exactly what Fox had concluded.

“Thanks, Steele. I knew I called the right man.”

“You good, brother? Me and the boys could ride down there tonight, if you want.”

“I’m good for now,” Fox answered. “But I’ll keep that suggestion in mind.”

Steele rode bikes like most of them and was in a motorcycle club that never assaulted anyone and obeyed all laws. But of course… they didn’t look like they did. Their appearance was sheer bluffed intimidation that often worked.

“All right. I’m out. Let me know if you need anything,” Steele said and disconnected the video call.

That was how the narcotics task force and his and Hart’s SWAT team worked—as one unit. They were a team, so the enforcer didn’t gripe about being woken up on his very rare day off. And Steele didn’t hesitate to offer help without knowing all the details. That was the trust they had in each other, a brotherhood. And he was a part of it, though it’d taken Fox a long time to believe in it.

Bull hated feeling so damn confused. He didn’t know why someone wanted him gone. He didn’t know how he’d made an enemy when he never left his home. He didn’t know who the fuck that man was that Fox was talking to—hell… he didn’t even know how Fox was talking to anyone. Bull put his fist to his mouth but quickly dropped it to his side when he felt it shaking against his lips. God, this was breaking him down, and Bull began to wonder how his karma had turned to hell. How could he lose all he’d built… twice? Bull shook his head. The mere thought of it made him feel as if he was going to be sick… until Fox appeared beside him. Bull exhaled a sharp breath, then straightened himself to his full height, needing to be strong. He had to show the SWAT lieutenant the man he was.

“Hey, Fox said, staring up at him. “I’m going to find who did this… and when I do… I’m going to make ’em pay.”

Bull realized Fox was almost standing on top of him they were so close. But his aura exuded protectiveness and power that Bull needed whether he wanted to admit it or not. “I haven’t made any enemies, Fox. I’m not that kinda man. I don’t go looking for trouble.”

“You don’t have to, Bull. Sometimes trouble comes looking for you.” Fox nodded towards the house where a couple of Bull’s maintenance workers were tacking plywood over the missing window. “Let’s go inside and eat breakfast, then we can work out what you’re gonna tell your employees.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like. I don’t want you to tell anyone I’m a cop. Not yet anyway. It’s best to let people feel comfortable around me, and no one is ever comfortable talking to a detective,” Fox said. “We’ll just say I’m here doing land surveys. No one really knows what those guys do in that line of work. I think their job is to just walk around on land. Besides, you don’t want a small town spreading gossip that you got a detective snooping around your place of business.”

“That would definitely turn people off from bringing their kids around here. I can’t afford to lose any business right now. Especially during the cold season,” Bull said gravely.

“Then let’s hope it doesn’t take me long.” Fox put his hand on Bull’s shoulder and squeezed, the firm, reassuring touch reaching him even through his thick black Carhartt coat.

“Yeah. Let’s hope,” Bull muttered as he followed Fox back to the house because there was nothing else he could do. He’s only been here a few minutes, and he’s already talking about hurrying up. If that wasn’t enough for Bull to get his head out of the clouds, he didn’t know what would be. At thirty-three, Bull was in the settling-down phase of his life. And men like Fox were not catchable.