Maybe Swearing Will Help (SWAT Generation 2.0 3)

He knew it, too.

“Here you are,” the lady said. “Chief, I have Ashe Trammel for you.”

The graying/blonde older man that looked pissed as hell looked up from the papers that were in his big fist.

He had a pair of reading glasses perched on his nose that made him even more handsome, and he had a smile to die for.

“Thanks, Donna,” Luke said. “Come on in, Ashe.”

He put the papers down onto his desk and leaned back, his eyes taking me in as I walked into his office.

I suddenly felt silly for wearing jeans and a t-shirt.

“Benton Fire Department?” he asked, reading the shirt.

I nodded once.

“My dad works for them,” I answered. “As you know. I had no clue I was getting a meeting with the top dog, or I would’ve dressed a little more appropriately.”

He grinned.

“We’re pretty informal here,” he teased, leaning back in his chair. “Even the cops that we have on staff wear black cargo pants and black polos. It’s too fuckin’ hot in Texas to wear anything else,” he paused. “Pardon my French.”

I snorted. “My dad is a firefighter and part of a motorcycle club,” I told him. “I’m fairly sure that I’ve heard it all from the Dixie Wardens. Not to mention, I’ve heard you say worse at home.”

He grinned.

“How’s Tru doing?” he asked. “Reese hasn’t talked to her in about an hour and a half. I’ve not gotten an update.”

I rolled my eyes.

“She told me that I should come up here and blow your socks off,” I admitted. “I told her that I was staying away from you because I wanted to do this the right way. Which is not going through the chief of police to get a job.”

“Honestly, it took me a bit to realize that it was you that Ford was talking about,” he admitted. “I was under the assumption that he hated you.”

I snorted, “He does.”

Uncle Luke sighed, then addressed the elephant in the room.

“I won’t address you by Ashe here. I’ll call you Trammel,” he said. “That way nobody thinks there’s any favoritism going on.”

I let out a relieved breath. “Thank you.”

He winked. “I heard there’s a big party this weekend.”

I shrugged.

“It’s small, from what I understand,” I answered. “With everyone’s kids gone, they tend to just go on long motorcycle rides instead of having any parties. Now that they’re ‘free’ and no longer ‘forced’ to be at home with their children.”

I gave finger quotes at the word ‘forced,’ causing him to chuckle all over again.

“Forced might be the wrong word to use,” he said. “We realize that y’all are gifts and all, but you were a lot of work.”

I scoffed. “I was a perfect angel.”

His eyes sparkled.

“The last time that I went to a party, you and ‘GMC’ lit each other on fire,” he said, sobering slightly. “Will you and Ford be able to get along well enough to work together?”

I scrunched up my nose. “That setting each other on fire thing was totally him. He was trying to light the bonfire, and a cinder flew up and got caught in my hair. I’d been wearing a lot of hairspray that day because I’d curled my hair, and the stuff just went up like a bottle rocket. He helped me put it out, but in the meantime spilled gasoline all over himself. Yeah… let’s just say that it wasn’t a good day for either of us. I had to cut seven inches off of my hair after that.”

I touched my hair and grimaced.

That day had been awful.

My hair had been down to my waist.

“That’s why my hair is gray, you know,” I said out of the blue.

He looked at it.

“That’s not fake?” he asked. “My wife told me it was all the rage.”

I snorted. “No. All this gray hair comes courtesy of Ford Spurlock.” I paused. “But we’re adults now, so the shenanigans will be held at a minimum while we’re at work. I solemnly swear.”

He grinned. “He told me that you were graduating soon. Reese didn’t make it sound like it was that close.”

I nodded.

“I have the rest of this semester to finish, which is about two more weeks, then next, and I’ll be officially done with my master’s degree in criminal psychology,” I answered his next question before he’d even asked it.

His lips twitched.

“What do you hope to accomplish with that degree?” he asked.

I leaned back in my chair and stared at him. He’d asked me this very same question before.

Multiple times.

Each time I gave him the same exact answer.

Only this time I decided to give him the real reason.

“Have you ever watched the show How to Get Away With Murder?” I wondered.

He shrugged.

“What about Law and Order?”

He nodded once. “A long time ago, maybe. Back when it was new. I haven’t watched in years, though.”

I nodded. “I want to be the person that the cops come to when they need to find a serial killer. I want to dig into a criminal’s mind and find out why they do what they do. And then I want to use those things I learn to help solve unsolved mysteries all over the world.”