Maybe Swearing Will Help (SWAT Generation 2.0 3)

He named off five more storm drains, for a total of twenty-nine kittens.

“What the hell?” I asked curiously.

“I’m going to go back and look at the feed for the school,” he said. “This is the first place that might actually have eyes on the area that they were abandoned.”

“Wow.” I shook my head. “Let me know if anything comes up.” I paused. “I’m not sure if this is related at all, but there’s been an influx in cat thefts lately, too. I have a list of them all at my house. If you think that’s at all relevant.”

He shrugged. “No idea. But definitely something to think about.”

I got a text, and I walked to my car and picked up my phone to see that it was Ford.

“Y’all are training today?” I asked Dax when I read the text.

“Was supposed to before this came up,” Dax admitted. “I volunteered since I already had enough training hours logged for this week.” His eyes came to me. “So, you and Ford, huh?”

I blinked in surprise.

“Umm, what?” I hedged.

Dax’s grin was swift.

“I heard through the grapevine that you and a certain someone kissed the hell out of each other at a scene.” He laughed. “What do you have to say to that?”

I didn’t.

Because I wasn’t sure that Ford wanted it out.

So I kept my mouth closed.

Once I talked to him, then I would go about confirming rumors.

For now, though? Deny. Deny. Deny.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lied.

He gestured to the cat.

“What are you gonna do with that?”

It was then I realized that all the students that’d been hanging around my car were gone. Leaving me with a cat and nobody to take it.

I smiled. “You know,” I said softly. “Rowen was just saying how much she wanted a kitten.”

His eyes narrowed.

“You wouldn’t.”

I smiled and got into my car, being sure to pick the tiny kitten up off the roof of my car, still wrapped in the towel, as I did.

Knowing Dax was pretty serious about not wanting a cat, and also knowing how Rowen was going on and on about how busy she was at work this morning on the ride in, I realized rather quickly that this cat wouldn’t be for them.

I did, however, stop and drop the kitty off at the shelter with promises that I’d be back later this afternoon to do my part.

Then I drove to the ex-strip club that Dax had informed me that they were training at and stared in shock.

The titties were still up on the billboard.

They hadn’t even bothered to take them off the side of the building, either.

“Wow,” I said, looking at the dilapidated building that looked like it could use a fresh coat of paint.

Movement caught my eyes, and I looked to the side of the building to see that the bay doors were open and there were men flipping tires in the side lot.

Parking my car and grabbing my file folder since it looked like they were busy, I got out and made my way around the side of the building, my mouth going dry at all the sweaty, hard bodies that I could see.

My eyes took in everything, stopping when one body, in particular, caught my attention.

Ford was wearing a pair of sweatpants that were cut off at the knee, a pair of tennis shoes with long red, white and blue Under Armour socks, and a black baseball cap.

That was it.

His bare torso, with his scars, was on full display as he used his arms and legs to propel himself up the length of the rope hanging from the ceiling just inside the bay doors.

My eyes stayed glued on the man who had my heart. The man who, with eleven other hard bodies around, still was the only one to catch and hold my eye.

“Ashe.”

I looked up to see Hayes walking toward me, a half-finished bottle of water in his hand.

“Hayes,” I said. “How are you?”

I looked at him to see that he was just as sweaty as everyone else, but he did look like he’d finished a while ago. Though he was sweaty, he wasn’t actively dripping it anymore.

“Goin’ good. How about yourself?” he asked curiously.

I gestured to a file folder.

“I thought I’d get a little light reading done while Ford does what Fords do,” I teased, gesturing to the tailgate. “Can I sit?”

He gestured at it with a sweep of his hand.

“I’m sure that Sammy Boy won’t mind,” he teased.

I took a seat, taking three tries to get my ass up onto the tailgate since Samuel’s truck was so tall, and crossed my legs underneath of me.

Hayes got up the first try and watched the festivities.

Rope climbs weren’t for the weak of heart. I could see from here that several of the men had bleeding palms. And Ford’s were no better.