Passion Patrol 2 - a Sexy Police Romance Suspense Novel With a Touch of Humor: Hot Cops. Hot Crime. Hot Romance. (12 page)

Her dad and Mel arrived at 10:30. She saw at once her mum wasn’t there.

“Your mum couldn’t make it. She couldn’t change her shift and they’re so short of cleaners at the hospital. They’re all fighting for their jobs and she didn’t want to look like a rebel.”

She sighed. Their lives were so hard. She hid her disappointment at not seeing her. She noticed the apparition parked by the police jeep.

“What is that?”

“It’s a 1965 Ford Zodiac Executive,” said her dad, standing back to admire it.

She had to admit it was a work of art. It was burnished bright red with fins, whitewall tires and at least a ton of chrome.

“It’s fabulous,” said Mel. “There’s leather bench seats, column change gears and it rolls like a sofa.”

“Where did you get it?” she asked, herself re-finding an oily rag in her soul.

“A guy brought it in for some welding. I gave him a price and he more or less gave me the log book. It was more rust than steel. I’ve been fixing it up after work. It’s not a car, it’s a sculpture.”

She ran her hand along the fins.

“I know a guy who’s gonna love this,” she said, hugging her dad.

She made coffee while he checked out the house. In his cricket whites he was a hunky guy.

“You look beautiful, my girl,” he said.

“She’s totally gorgeous,” said Mel.

Her dad cocked his head with an unspoken question at him.

“So I’m gay. Beauty is universal,” he said.

Her dad beamed at him. He knew Mel was gay and perhaps he’d always been a little conservative. A ride in the car and a chat had brushed away any nonsense. Spontaneously he threw his arm around Mel’s shoulder.

“I’m starting to love you, my man. Watch out,” he said.

“Thanks so much for coming guys. Spencer was in a bit of a fix.”

“Ah, I think you’ve got him in an even bigger one,” said Mel with a laugh.

At once her dad had picked up the flow.

“Shannon, you ain’t tied up with this guy...?”

“Of course not, I’ve only been here a week.”

“A week! I met your mum and you were begun in a week,” he said.

“He’s not a fast mover like you, Dad.”

“Hey, what’s wrong with the guy?”

“Look, he can’t win. Either he’s too fast or too slow. He’s an English gentleman.”

Her dad let out a long sigh.

“And you’re a wild hothead, child.”

“I’ve always tried not to disappoint,” she said. “I can’t help my genes. They were the only ones in the box.”

He held open his arms and she responded to his hug.

“You’re my baby,” he said.

They drove to Bloxington Manor. She could tell the guys were impressed. It looked as if Jasmine’s team hadn’t arrived. Her dad pulled up in front of the pillared front entrance. Spencer strode out to greet them. Her heart pounded at the sight of him. Also in his cricket whites, he looked impossibly male and sexy. His skin was tanned and the V of his open-neck shirt showed his chest hair. Inside she was growling. She wasn’t certain how to greet him in such company. He took the decision and kissed her continental style on both cheeks, letting his large hand slip to her waist and fold around enough to pull her to him. Wow! He wasn’t ducking attention. Her dad noticed in a flash.

“You look so beautiful,” he said.

“This is Mel and my father, Patrick.”

“It’s an honor to meet you. Thanks for helping out. It’s only a bit of knock-about fun. No pressure on you guys.”

Her dad gave him an incredulous look.

“It’s cricket. I don’t know how to lose. I’m such a bad loser I don’t dare test myself.”

“That’s the spirit. I can’t imagine Jasmine’s team will be very organized,” said Spencer.

It was Shannon’s turn to shoot him a glance. She could see his eyes had homed in on the Zodiac.

“It’s a Mark 3, isn’t it? Best by far I’ve ever seen. Who did the restoration?” said Spencer.

“That was me, Sir. All my own work.”

“Patrick, I should shake your hand again. It’s first class. Do you think ... do you imagine I could sit behind the wheel?”

“Sure, you can take her for a spin.”

Spencer’s eyes lit up like a child’s on Christmas morning. Shannon smiled and nodded her agreement. He slid behind the wheel. The old-fashioned controls seemed second nature to him. Carefully he pulled away, Patrick beside him. Already Shannon could catch a conversation about gearboxes and suspension springs. She watched the strangely incongruous flashy car disappear round the side of the building.

“I’ve got that file on Ben you asked for. It looks nothing but routine to me,” said Mel.

“It would do, wouldn’t it?”

“The officer is still at Kingston. I checked. You have the talents to open a man up if anyone can.”

“Thanks for the compliment.”

“You’re welcome. I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

She could see that his loneliness had started to sap the spirit from him. She felt inadequate to help.

She nodded. It was wonderful that Spencer and her dad had made an instant, if oily, bond.

“I bet they’ve already stopped at the D-type and got onto welding,” she said, deflecting the conversation a little.

“He loves you,” he said.

“My dad’s always loved me. It’s one of his jobs. He can’t resign.”

“You know I don’t mean that. Spencer, he’s in so deep he can’t see the light.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Look, I know more than you about men in love, OK.”

She conceded he was probably right.

“Oh Mel, there’s someone for you out there.”

“I’m not worried about finding love. I’m worried about losing it.”

She could almost touch the stone of grief that held him down. She threw her arms around him.

“You came to my side when I was about to run away. You’re so special. I’ll always love you.”

“If you love me I’m OK,” he said with a smile.

She knew he was merely covering a crack he’d not meant her to see.

“If you can be loved, then you’re a sitting duck. And you can be loved. I’m the proof. Love doesn’t knock. It mugs you when you go out or slides under the door if you stay in.”

How strange it was to be ping-ponging the ‘
thing
’word with this man. She had a long way to go in her own life. There was still no sign of the Zodiac. She took Mel’s arm and headed for the stables. Sure enough the two of them were in the workshop. Spencer spotted her.

“We just popped in for a second,” he said.

“You’ll get grease on all those white clothes.”

“What a project. She’s gonna run at Le Mans,” added Patrick.

“There must be things to be doing,” she said, realizing she was beginning to sound like some mother hen.

“Yes, quite. Lunch will be at 12:30. We’re serving game pie, beans, and mustard mash. The match starts at two.

They piled back into the Zodiac, Spencer at the wheel, and drove back to the front of the house. They posed for photos, Mel snapping away at Spencer with arms around Shannon and her dad. Ben joined them and took over as photographer. God, there was going to be Facebook action after all this lot. She sensed a strained false cheeriness as they waited for Jasmine and her team. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, but a storm was coming—on a bus.

They all heard the sound of the engine. Looking down the long tree-lined drive to the gates they saw the black monster ease its way in. The vehicle was immaculate with huge bug-like mirrors. Above the windscreen an electronic display panel was flashing the words “Eleven Elite.” She exchanged a glance with Spencer and mouthed the word
vulgar
. He smiled and nodded agreement. The bus made its way to the house and pulled up. All the windows were blackened. For at least a minute it sat there motionless like a black shark choosing its prey. Music started up inside the bus. It grew louder as Queen belted out “We are the Champions.” Mel rolled his eyes. The door opened with a loud hiss as Jasmine de Montfort stepped out. A glance told Shannon that her dress alone was a month’s police salary. She had to concede that she looked elegant, slim, and stunning. The frock was straight out of the pages of Vogue. It was the palest silver silk bias wrap around design with a subtle indigo floral print.

“Daaaahling,” she gushed as Spencer approached. She threw open her arms to him, inviting an embrace. He stopped short leaving her pouting and flapping. Inside Shannon cheered. Her bear was building up a huge pot of honey for later.

“Jasmine, you look wonderful,” he said.

“Oh, I dug out something....”

She paused and glanced at Patrick, Mel, Ben, and Shannon. She spent a moment looking them all up and down. She brushed her hand down her dress. “I’m so, so, unlucky; none of that cheap High Street stuff ever fits me. It could save me a fortune.”

Shannon maintained a weak smile and her distance.

“Spencer, what on earth is that?” said Jasmine, pointing at the Zodiac.

“It’s a classic.”

“It looks like a pimp’s car.”

“It is. Are you looking for a bit of part time work my dear?” said Mel totally straight-faced.

Patrick gave a deep laugh, sending Ben into a coughing fit.

She scowled while they settled down.

“I don’t know your
friends
Spencer.”

Spencer did the introductions.

“And you’ve met Shannon.”

“Have I...?”

“We had a chat about your illegal number plate. You phoned my boss to complain.”

Spencer looked at her, pleading with his eyes for peace. She watched Jasmine’s face and smiled broadly. “Luckily tons of rubbish from all sorts of nuts and whiners comes across his desk. I don’t think he noticed.”

The team had started to exit the bus.

“They feed these kids too much red meat,” said Patrick watching them.

One by one a race of honed giants assembled in a team huddle.

“I know one guy. He used to play for Surrey. There’s a couple I’m sure played Test cricket for Australia,” added Mel.

Ben was also staring at them in astonishment.

“There’s an ex-West Indian fast bowler and South African wicket keeper,” he said.

The team moved to the field and commenced an elaborate stretch and warm-up session. There appeared to be an older coach.

“They look like a swarm of wasps waiting to snuggle round their queen,” remarked Shannon with an icy smile.

“Buzz, buzz, sting, sting!” said Jasmine sashaying away, nose in air.

“They look remarkable specimens to be lawyers,” said Mel.

“The rules are that they have to be associated with the Fortescue-Marlborough Chambers. They’re mostly clients. I believe a couple of them are international womanizers who hold super injunctions preventing the press from revealing their indiscretions. I seem to recall one of them suing a journalist for alleging he took steroids. He got a million-pound payday and a lifetime supply of free syringes,” said Spencer.

“Spencer, you’re turning into a streetwise cynic, my man.” said Shannon, offering a bro’ fist.

Spencer returned the gesture.

“Now I’ve seen everything!” said Patrick.

They left the eleven elite to their warm-up and bonding grunts on the field and made their way to the marquee. Lunch, tea, and an after-match reception lay ahead. One by one Spencer’s team arrived. There were a couple of strong-looking lads from the village but for the main part they were well-padded middle-aged civilians. Spencer introduced a shy small guy with crew cut hair who looked nothing like a sportsman.

“This is my lovely colleague Tim. He’s a marvelous artist and designer. We work together on UNESCO projects. He’s helping me with Venice at the moment.”

“Spencer flatters me,” he stammered shyly.

At once Shannon warmed to his vulnerability. His eyes were gentle and his smile sincere. He continued.

“I’m a lover of cricket. It’s so savage and noble all at once. I don’t play much. I’m here for the experience.”

“Looking at that lot, just make sure you wear your box and helmet,” said her dad.

“I was supposed to be an umpire.”

“I know,” said Spencer, “but the baby’s due any minute. We can’t expect Kate to sit here watching us lot when her waters could break.”

“My waters could break looking at their team,” said Tim.

Mel laughed warmly. Shannon took a peek at him. He hadn’t sounded so relaxed for a long time.

“I’ll look out for you mate,” he said.

Her dad found her eyes and flicked his understanding. How much she loved him.

Next to arrive was Inspector Lilly.

“I parked next to a red Zodiac. My father had one,” he enthused.

“Mine’s still bloody well got one!” she said. “This is my dad, star of the Leeward Isles and now of Peckham.”