SWAT Ed: Fox & Bull (Nothing Special 8)

I wish I could call you and hear your voice, but I’m late for a meeting.

I just wanted you to know that I’m okay. I love you…

and don’t watch the news.

Fox didn’t end with “I’ll see you later” because he wasn’t sure what fucking time he was getting out of there. Because as soon as Fox had walked into the precinct, God gripped him by his bicep and growled at him not to disappear, that they had a meeting in Hart’s office in an hour.

Bull responded just before Fox walked up to the frosted glass doors that read Atlanta Police Department Special Weapons and Tactics Department and punched in his six-digit code to get inside.

I love you too, handsome. Stay safe

That’s it? Fox sighed. Well, he supposed it would have to be enough. What was he expecting? For Bull to beg him to hurry back to his bed, that he missed him terribly and wouldn’t sleep a second without him? His cowboy had more class than that.

“You coming?” God barked from Hart’s office door. “Damn. You act like you’ve never had a fuckin’ man before, Fox.”

I haven’t. Not one that was truly his anyway. But none of them knew that. Fox walked past God and sat with his captain, Day, Syn, and his SWAT commander, Lark, at the long conference table. Before his boss’s boss could speak, Free rushed into the room with his ever-present tablet and sat beside his partner, Hart. He gave Fox a soft wink before he apologized for being late.

“Did you get the information on those two guys from the scene?” God asked Free.

“Tech’s on it. Ro still has them cooling their heels in interrogation two.” Free inched his chair closer to the table. “I wanted to be here for Fox. Thank you. Proceed.”

Lark huffed, then turned towards him as he ran his hands tiredly through his graying hair. “So, according to your captain, Fox, I hear some changes need to be made.”

Fox glanced around the table, meeting each one of their gazes before he reached towards his waistband, unclipped his badge, and placed it on top of the table.

“Fuck that,” God snapped, almost knocking his chair over when he stood.

“Sit down,” Syn demanded. “What the fuck, God? You think you can take people’s lives hostage? Should Fox hold off on what he wants for you?”

“Yes,” God bit back.

“Cash, sit down.” Day patted his partner’s forearm and urged him back down in his chair. “You were run over by a horse a few hours ago. You’re not thinking clearly.”

Fox just barely covered his laugh, but Free and Hart were loud with theirs.

“I’m still considering pressing charges on that guy. What the hell, Fox? Y’all over there using animals as a weapon.” God scowled. “I should fuckin’ call PETA and have them check it out.”

“Don’t be a sore loser. Look at it this way, Cash. It took a two-thousand-pound beast to knock you off your feet,” Day teased.

“Actually, Brandy weighs quite a bit less than that,” Fox muttered under his breath.

“Whatever,” God sneered. “You tell that fuckin’ soon-to-be headless horseman that I’ll be back to see his ass real soon.”

Oh, Fox couldn’t wait to tell Dale the effect he’d had on God. None of them would ever forget the way he went flying. And Fox was sure once Free and Tech finished editing the video, it’d be worthy of all the YouTube hits it was sure to get. They’d probably even add a comical soundtrack to go with it.

“Let me know when you have that footage available, Free… but in the meantime,” his commander continued, “Fox, let’s talk some specifics.”

“Specifics.” He frowned.

“Yes.” Lark nodded. “You don’t have to quit the department to leave the field. We can replace you as point man, but your background in homeland security and emergency management provides analysis to our cases, and God’s, that are frankly invaluable.”

Free spun his tablet around and showed Fox a computer setup that looked as if he could command an entire army from it.

“You can still provide those services for them in Senoia.” Lark tipped his head towards Free. “With the right setup, of course.”

For the first time, Fox didn’t feel he was making one of the hardest decisions of his life—leaving one family for another. Maybe he could have both. “I’m listening,” he said.

Bull lay on his back in his cold bed, staring at the dark ceiling, while the eleven-o’clock news played muted on his old television in the corner. Fox had told him not to watch it, and he hadn’t. Well, actually, Bull couldn’t stomach looking anymore. Not after he’d seen the footage of multiple explosions that occurred in the middle of Mitchell Street on the same black Escalades that had left his property earlier that evening with a huge piece of his heart.

After tossing and turning for another two hours, Bull caved and called Fox at almost two in the morning, but his call went straight to voicemail. Bull threw his phone onto the nightstand, feeling dependent and high-maintenance as hell. Fox hadn’t been gone a whole night yet, and already he was feenin’ like a junkie. He went and used the bathroom, ignoring Fox’s toiletries mixed in with his.