Chapter 8 #3
Momma Raccoon hissed at Beckett and Hayes like a frightened cat as she waddled over to her babies, and then wrapped herself around them protectively.
“How in the fucking—” Beckett complained, just as the wind blew hard enough to raise the curtains away from the open window that had no screen.
“One dollar in the swear jar,” Lilac chastised as she crept closer to look at the momma and babies, hiding behind Hayes this time.
“I need a raise,” Beckett said, turning to Hayes, who merely cocked his head to the side, as if to say—yeah, that sounds fair.
Hayes called 911, and the cops sent the local animal control services to the house.
But of course, by then, the two boys had gotten out of bed and somehow Beckett ended up entertaining the triplets.
It was almost 7:30 by the time the actual rescue operation was nearing completion.
In the meantime, the children pestered Beckett with an endless barrage of questions.
“Do we get to keep the babies?” Jameson asked, looking over Beckett’s shoulder towards the uniformed officers in charge of Operation Raccoon Roundup.
“No,” he said firmly while watching the animal control officers and the police work together to safely capture the young raccoons and their royally pissed off mother. The raccoons would be relocated to a nearby wildlife preserve, which wasn’t what the boys wanted.
“Why not? We kept Missy when she had babies!” Nathan exclaimed angrily, crossing his arms over his chest as if bracing himself for a fight.
“Because the cops heard Jameson gave Teacup a haircut, and they’re afraid you’ll do the same to the racoons,” Beckett lied—his favourite sort of parenting.
Before Jameson could retaliate, a high-pitched voice interrupted them.
“Oh, dear!” Donna cried out. “Are you okay?” She bypassed Beckett completely, rushing towards her grandchildren.
“Did you see it?” Jameson asked as Lilac threw herself at her grandmother. “It was thisssssss big!” He held his hands about three feet apart.
“Did it hurt you?” Donna asked, ignoring Jameson as she examined Lilac.
“No,” Lilac said, surprisingly forthright as she smiled bravely. “I’m alright.”
“It was a dragon!” Nathan declared loudly and dramatically.
His grandmother turned to him with raised brows.
“No, it wasn’t!” Lilac refuted with a shake of her head. “It was a raccoon!”
Nathan stuck out his tongue at her, which had the intended effect of getting her riled up.
“You can’t do that!” she yelled at the top of her lungs.
Hayes moved to intervene, but Beckett beat him to the punch.
“Alright, enough!” Beckett commanded; his cold stare unrelenting.
“It was a raccoon. It had babies, so it was very protective—but everyone is alright. Now, listen up! We’re gonna go make pancakes, and by the time we’re done eating, the officers will be done and gone.
” His drill sergeant manner worked like a charm to calm everyone down and get them organized.
“They hurt you!” Lilac pointed towards the impressive gash on Beckett’s forearm.
Hayes’ eyes narrowed in concern and he grabbed Beckett’s hand to lift up his arm to get a look at the wound. Beckett yanked his hand away and shook his head. It was too late though, since Hayes had already seen how bad the cut was.
“Only because I screamed like a little—” Beckett said, then stopped to clean up his language. “Like a little dog stepping on Legos!”
Grandma Donna cast a look of disapproval in Beckett’s direction but led the troops to the kitchen.
Predictably, Hayes argued that Beckett should go to an emergency medical clinic to get treatment, but he’d refused, claiming that their immediate priority was caring for the children.
“Monroe—Thérault—What the hell?” a stern, and frighteningly familiar male voice bellowed from the entryway.
Their ears perked up like they were hunting dogs, turning to find their boss—unsurprisingly—literally vibrating with anger as he stalked towards them.
They were saved from having to answer him by Donna.
“Well, well!” She got up from her chair at the breakfast table to face Gill and Riley, still wearing her pajamas and satin bonnet.
Hayes had been forced to rouse Donna since the police and animal control officers had been adamant about searching the entire house for other nests.
In all the excitement, neither Beckett nor Hayes had called Gill to bring him up to speed on their misadventures.
They were about to pay dearly for that little oversight.
“Donna?” Gill’s voice rose several octaves, surprised to see his mother-in-law standing there.
“Daddies!” the kids chorused loudly, as they jumped off the couch and launched themselves at their fathers. They’d settled in to watch the rest of Shrek 2 after finishing a delicious breakfast of homemade pancakes smothered with whipped cream and sprinkles.
“Save your surprise for when I tell you about the raccoons,” Donna advised with a tight smile.
“Raccoons?” Riley asked, looking baffled, as he absently patted the top of Jameson’s head as if he’d been a “good dog,” but Jameson didn’t seem to mind.
“Raccoons?” Gill echoed, his eyes widening in horrified disbelief.
Beckett wasn’t sure how to discreetly signal “it wasn’t me” to his boss. So he went for the same gesture he’d used as teenager when he’d been accused of farting, which was to jam his fist against his forehead, and point his thumb at—anyone else in the vicinity.
Gill’s eyes narrowed in disapproval. He dropped a heavy hand onto Riley’s shoulder and squeezed.
“How about you chat with the children and your mom. I’ll talk with Monroe and Thérault,” he said firmly, leaving no room for argument.
Riley smiled and calmed under Gill’s reassuring touch.
“Alright,” Riley said, and walked over to hug his mother, all three children—and Teacup—trailing behind.
Gill led the way to the formal dining room where they could speak privately. Beckett and Hayes sat down on high-backed white chairs. Their boss stood at the head of the table, gripping the edge of the table so hard his knuckles turned white.
“I need a really fucking good explanation,” Gill said in a deceptively calm voice.
“About the raccoons or—” Beckett replied, trying for a bit of levity.
“How about you start with the fucking bandage on my mother-in-law’s neck?” Gill demanded through clenched teeth.
“Oh—righttt,” Beckett said, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously before glancing at Hayes, eyes begging for backup.
As Hayes watched his boyfriend squirm under Gill’s expectant gaze, he reminded himself that Gill was a ghost—at least, as far as the Internet and most of the world was concerned.
Everything he knew about Gill he’d learned through personal experience, not research.
What little he did know about his boss made him like and respect him in equal measure.
Gill was a retired Special Forces officer who’d decided to become a cog in the wheel of the federal agency machine.
He was undoubtedly goal oriented, and had very few fucks to give.
Yet, he was also a considerate, caring father at home.
When it came to his job, he’d always been willing to go to bat for his employees.
Hayes had seen these admirable traits in action on innumerable occasions.
As a result, it was virtually impossible for Hayes to lie to him, but, perhaps more importantly, to ever want to disappoint him.
Hayes took a deep breath and then rode to the rescue.
“At approximately 1:00 a.m., we heard rustling noises coming from the basement. Beckett and I made the executive decision to split up. I covered the children while Beckett went downstairs to deal with the intruder.” Hayes presented the facts as if he was attending a routine debriefing.
“The intruder?” Gill asked, clearly alarmed.
“We were not told to expect anyone else. The lateness of the hour combined with the use of the basement door made her arrival suspicious.”
“Also—we’d watched Shrek before bed, and that always gets me a little antsy,” Beckett said, because he was a fucker that way.
Gill pointedly ignored him and kept his gaze firmly fixed on Hayes.
“I went upstairs and took cover in the bathroom, where I had a perfect view of the staircase while remaining hidden. Beckett headed to the basement,” Hayes explained as if practicing for the report they’d no doubt have to write after this little shit show was over.
“Why not call me? Or the cops?” Gill said, rubbing his forehead in frustration.
“It could have been nothing,” Hayes replied, with a shrug.
Gill just sighed.
“I went downstairs to assess the situation. I found—” Beckett stopped. He looked up at Gill, his expression broadcasting guilty loud and clear.
“You found—” Gill prompted impatiently.
“A physically-imposing assailant searching along the walls. The lights were off—I thought they were trying to locate a safe, so I—I silently eased my way over and—” he stopped, shot Hayes a speaking look that asked, “How do I say, I held your mother-in-law at knifepoint, in professional terms?” to which Hayes merely shrugged in response.
“I maneuvered the assailant into submission,” Beckett stated confidently.
Gill frowned and looked perplexed.
“Into submission?” he repeated slowly, as if searching for some hidden meaning.
“Yes,” Beckett confirmed.
“Explain,” Gill said, not fooled for a moment by Beckett’s efforts to gloss over his attack on Donna.
Beckett shot Hayes another look, but his boyfriend had no clue how to save him. He hadn’t been there to see that particular incident, so he wasn’t inclined to add anything.
“I put the assailant in a head lock, and pressed my blade to their jugular to assume control of the situation.”
Beckett had said a lot of stupid things in his life. He loved to antagonize people. Get on their nerves. Hayes had watched him run off at the mouth at the wrong time more than once.
This—was close to being the dumbest explanation he’d ever given. Somehow, he just kept digging himself in deeper.