SWAT Ed: Fox & Bull (Nothing Special 8)

“I’m shot!”

“There’s no blood, idiot! Get up!” one man yelled as the other one took off back the way they’d come. “Hurry!”

Fox and Bull watched the man help his partner in crime to his feet and hobble down the driveway, then cut through the trees. When they were no longer in view, Bull exhaled, breathless from the lack of oxygen. Holy shit. He knew Fox was good, but goddamn. And he still wasn’t done.

Fox laid his weapon on the desk and hurried to the closet. Bull blinked in disbelief when Fox emerged with a high-tech drone that he’d only seen in movies. Fox went to the window and started to manipulate some buttons on the gadget. “Ghost, follow the driver. Get me video and still images. Don’t fuckin’ lose ’em. I want every last one of their identities by dawn.”

Bull felt a thrilling shudder run down his spine.

The motor was whisper-quiet as the rotors on the six twenty-inch arms started to spin. Fox tossed the drone out of the window, and the device took off and disappeared into the dark sky like a stealth bomber. Fox removed his weapon from the desk and began to rapidly disassemble it while Bull sat there staring like a captivated fool.

“Bull. Go get dressed, now,” Fox commanded. “We’re leaving in twenty.”

All Bull managed was a nod as he turned and did what he was told.

Fox dressed in a dark gray sweater, a pair of jeans, his ass-kicking Timberlands, and his jacket. He stood at the top of the stairs waiting for Bull after he’d checked that Amelia and Walker were still sound asleep. Like he’d promised, his violins had made beautiful music. The silencers had been given to him by an ex-special forces officer who was now a bounty hunter with access to the more sophisticated weapons they used.

Bull came out of his room dressed in his usual denim, tight black T-shirt, and dusty cowboy boots. “They okay?” he asked, glancing over Fox’s shoulder towards his father’s room.

“Yes. They’re fine.” Fox started down the stairs; the only sound was Bull’s heavy steps behind him. “We’ll leave a note for Amelia in case we’re not back before breakfast.”

“Where are we going?” Bull asked as he scribbled down the message, then stuck the paper on the door of the refrigerator.

“Just waiting on Free to come back with what hospital I put Robert Abbott in,” Fox answered, leaning casually against the counter. “That name ring a bell?”

“No.” Bull frowned. “I don’t know a lot of families yet because I’ve been building.”

“And I think that’s why you’re having problems.” Fox was staring at his phone while he drank a bottle of water he’d taken from the fridge. “I shot Robert in his shoulder joint with enough beanbags to make it feel like it’s broken and can probably never be repaired. He’ll need to have that ball set back in the shoulder pocket.” Fox chuckled menacingly. “It’s gonna hurt like a son of a bitch too.”

“I have no clue who that is,” Bull grumbled, appearing flustered.

“Hey.” Fox set his water down and walked across the shiny linoleum and wrapped his arms around Bull’s waist. “By morning, I’ll have your answers.”

They stood in each other’s arms in the dimly lit kitchen as Fox tried to assure Bull that all of this was going to be over soon. Bull dipped his head, and Fox angled his chin higher, their mouths only a couple of inches from connecting when Free’s voice sounded in his ear.

“Abbott has just been admitted to Piedmont ER on Standing Rock Road. I am sending you the directions to your phone.”

“Copy,” Fox said, and Bull was confused for a second before he realized Fox was back online and talking to his teammates. He took his heavy arms from around his shoulders and stepped away, and Fox immediately wanted them back. “Is Steele on the driver?”

“Yes. He dropped Abbott at the emergency room doors and burned rubber out of there. Steele’s got eyes on him. Your driver is southbound on Bailey Road.”

“Roger. Don’t lose him.”

“Who are you going after first? The driver or—”

“No. I’m going to the hospital. Send the sheriff my way.”

“Copy,” Free said and disconnected the line.

“How the hell are you doing that?” Bull asked, taking Fox’s wrist and examining the black face of his smart watch. “How do you talk to them? And how come I can’t hear Free if I’m standing this close?”

Fox grinned. “Each one of us has a three-digit code. We can speak to each other individually, or if one of us is in trouble, we can do an all-call, and everyone will hear. My entire team is outfitted with these, and God’s narcotics task force that we provide backup for has them as well. Since we’ve had this device, we’ve been able to execute safer breaches, and the GPS tracking makes getting separated almost impossible. The doors this thing has opened up are endless.”