SWAT Ed: Fox & Bull (Nothing Special 8)

“Lieutenant Tucker, I’m sorry if—”

“I like her.” Fox smiled. “She ever rode a horse? Took any lessons?”

Robby scoffed. “We can’t really afford things like that.”

“Come around tomorrow about five thirty. Bring the girls if you need to.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.” Fox shook his head feeling as if Robby should understand this by now. “Ask for a man named Dale. He’ll be expecting you.”

“I have to work at Louis’ until nine. When his nephew’s on a bender, he lets me fill in washing dishes.”

“Robby. Come talk to a man named Dale tomorrow evening. This place has full-time positions, no experience needed, daycare assistance, family discounts, and benefits.”

Robby exhaled sharply. “That would change our lives. But I don’t deserve to work here. Bull doesn’t have to take pity and give me work when I’ve caused him so much shit.”

“You can keep standing out here in the cold whining and self-inflicting additional punishment. Or… you can do what’s best for your family and show up here at five-thirty,” Fox said in a way that Robby knew made no sense to continue to debate.

“I’ll be here.”

Robby’s taillights disappeared down the long stretch of road, and Fox checked his motion sensors to make sure nothing was disturbed. “Free, give me a quick test on sensor C… it was on the ground, again.”

Fox stood and shoved his cold hands into his pants’ pockets while he waited. The chilly night air ruffled the hair at the base of his neck and made the leaves dance on the bushes around him. He heard nothing but the faint barking of a dog somewhere on the ranch, but no Free.

“Free.” Fox checked his watch and saw Free was disconnected. “Free.” The hell is—

“My engineer is busy doing the job he’s paid to do,” said a voice as jagged as the edges of a saw and deeper than an abyss in the Mariana Trench.

Fuck me. Fox was standing with his back pressed against the base of a tree as if he was being pinned down physically. But it was only this man’s voice.

“Are you done?” God rumbled, his tone brimming with anger. “Because while you’re in another jurisdiction using my department’s resources to land some cowboy cock, we’re here getting fuckin’ stalled.”

Fox checked his surroundings, his heart beating too fast as if God were going to suddenly appear on Highway 74. Lieutenant Cashel Godfrey—well known on the streets of Atlanta as God—was the leader of the city’s narcotics task force with his husband, Leonidis Day. Fox and Hart’s SWAT team provided backup for them when they were serving warrants on dangerous offenders. One, because God and his rogue detectives were so fucking uncontrolled and hazardous that they needed their own SWAT team, and two, the chief of police needed a check on God’s powers. That was Captain Ivan Hart.

God couldn’t mobilize without Hart’s command. And Hart wouldn’t move without Fox at his side. They were in a three-man standoff. And in cases like these, God typically won.

But not this time.

“I’m done,” Fox croaked.

“Good. Have your ass in the meeting Monday morning.”

“No,” Fox clipped out before God could hang up. “I mean. I’m. Done.”

“Da fuck you mean, you’re done?” he growled, sending a feverish chill down Fox’s spine. “Fox. Don’t think I won’t come there, wrap my bare fuckin’ hands around your throat, and drag your ass back.”

God’s words grew fists and punched him hard in the gut, driving all oxygen from his lungs. Sucking in air, Fox bent back the cartilage of his ear and peeled off the silicone device that was keeping him tethered to that world and flung it into the bushes. It was probably a quarter of a million dollars he’d just tossed out like an old piece of chewing gum, but the department could fucking bill him. He wasn’t losing what he had to go back to a precinct that gave fuck all about him.

Fox was getting out of the cold, going into the house, crawling into a warm bed beside a man who wanted him only for him… not for what he could do. Then he was going to get up and go to work with him in the morning, like the majority of his friends were fortunate to do.

What the hell did I just do?

“Where is he? Do you see him?” Bull’s father asked from where he was standing with Amelia in the living room.

“There he is.” Dale pointed.

Fox came into view, and Bull rushed down the porch steps, sensing something wasn’t right. He’d spent months inadvertently learning Fox’s mannerisms from watching him on television and now months of him working on his ranch, so Bull recognized Fox’s posture as he trudged back towards the house. He was upset.

“Hey,” Bull said softly when Fox was few feet from him.

Fox’s steps quickened, and Bull opened his arms, allowing Fox to slam into him, his toned arms clamping around his waist. Bull squeezed him harder, driving one hand into Fox’s hair and tilting his head back, needing to know what was wrong.