May Contain Wine (SWAT Generation 2.0 5)

Reluctantly, I handed him over, causing my dad to grin.

“Thanks,” he said.

My mom, who’d been quite quiet up until now, leaned over and pressed her face against my dad’s shoulder, staring down at the baby in his arms as if she couldn’t believe that he was real.

Beckham sniffled, and I rolled my eyes before pulling her in tight to me.

“So what happened with Romeo?” Calloway asked worriedly.

“We hold him until Tuesday morning until he can get in front of the judge,” I said. “His brother finally got wind that he was here, and he’s not happy. But there’s nothing that he can do. Romeo refused the lawyer his brother tried to get for him, too.”

“Sick.” Calloway shook her head. “What the hell? What did I ever do to him?”

My thoughts exactly.

I wasn’t sure what Calloway had ever done to him but be nice. Which, with the way Romeo was wired, might’ve been all that it took.

Reaching forward, I tugged her into me, too.

Beckham and Calloway giggled and wrapped their arms tightly around me, squeezing as hard as they could like they used to do when they were kids.

They were a little bit stronger now, but definitely not anywhere near as strong as me, even together.

I laughed and pulled them in tight, causing squeaks to leave their mouths. “Call your dad, Callie. Let’s go eat.”Chapter 12

Have you ever wondered what Peppa Pig looks like from the front?

-Louis’ secret thoughts

Louis

“Unit 523, I have a possible house fire on the corner of Simmons and Fuller Road,” the dispatcher said. “The neighbors think it’s coming from the barn, but they’re not sure.”

I groaned as I looked at my watch. My shift literally ended in five minutes.

Of course I would get a call. Son of a bitch.

I flipped on my lights and sirens and headed in that direction.

It took me all of two minutes to get over there, and when I pulled up, the barn was indeed smoking.

And the most god-awful racket was sounding from the barn, causing me to grimace.

Animals.

There were animals in the barn.

Son of a bitch.

Calling my arrival and my intention of entering the barn into dispatch, I started off at a jog for the barn.

The moment that I got the door unlatched, four horses came running out, nearly taking me out.

I cursed and gained my footing, then nearly threw up as I took in a lungful of smoke.

Dropping down low where the air was clearer, I made my way to the peeling screams of what I could only assume were piglets.

Luckily, I didn’t have far to crawl. They were in the first little stall.

Unluckily, there were a fucking lot of them. Over ten, but they were all moving around so fucking fast that it was hard to get a clear count. Not to mention the smoke was becoming thicker.

I cursed when I realized that I wouldn’t be able to get them all at one time. Then turned around to stare around the barn and hoped I could find a way to get them out without them getting lost in the fucking barn only to burn to death.

I spotted a trash can that was half filled with trash and made my way to it.

A goat popped his head out from beneath a stall door, causing me to curse.

At this point, I just opened up all the stall doors because I didn’t think I had enough time.

The fuckin’ roof was now on fire.

Once the stall doors were open, I yanked the trash can toward the stall with the pigs, tossed it over, and then slipped inside.

The next five minutes were spent inhaling smoke, hoping the roof didn’t collapse on top of my head, and wrangling fifteen very pissed off piglets.

Once they were all caught, I hustled outside, dragging the exceptionally heavy trash can and coughing so hard that I was having chest pains.

The moment I got outside, Booth pulled up in his cruiser.

I inhaled a deep lungful of air and promptly coughed up my right lung.

Booth made his way to me, his eyes on the trash can that was thrashing beside me.

“Well…” he said. “That’s interesting.”

He bent down and picked one of the piglets up, causing it to screech in protest.

“Don’t think he likes that,” I panted.

Booth grinned like a fool.

He was just about to put it back into the trash can when a farmer came rolling up in his truck.

I drug the trash can to his truck and pointed at it.

“You may want to let these loose in the back of your truck or something,” I said. “They’re practically smothering in here.”

The old farmer dropped his tailgate, and Booth and I hefted the trash can up into the back.

The farmer closed the tailgate, then unceremoniously tipped the trash can over, causing more squeals.

I could only laugh at this point.

Booth cursed and jumped backward, and I looked down to see the goat from earlier nibbling on his shoelaces.