Passion Patrol 2 - a Sexy Police Romance Suspense Novel With a Touch of Humor: Hot Cops. Hot Crime. Hot Romance. (22 page)

“Come in me—You’re making me come—do it deep in me.”

He moaned a profound voiceless grunt of male release. She felt his spasms as his man cum jetted into her belly. Her own juices squeezed and swirled with his in a hot mix of perfect union. He found her lips as his shock waves shook his powerful body. Each flex of his cock thrust more of his seed into some place of her inner longing.

“I’m coming in you, my darling lover. I’m doing it inside you, my angel.”

His words tipped her over into a cry that merged with his male growl. As they resolved together he kissed her lips and held her eyes.

“No man has ever longed for a woman more or found such a woman,” he said.

“I love you, Spencer. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

A film of hot sweat joined them. She breathed in the scent of their male and female sex lust. Some beast in her gut drank it in. This was the musk of baby-maker man.

“I love you more than there is love in the love bank,” he said, moving to her side and pushing his hand through her hair.

“You’d better get an overdraft. I’m a greedy, exclusive, jealous girl,” she replied.

It was a different hunger that awoke her. She’d more or less skipped lunch and dinner. She sensed that he too was stirring. He was lying on his side. She traced her hand up and down his spine.

“Quick, there’s an emergency,” she said.

“What?”

He sat up blinking.

“I’m hungry. I’m a woman of appetites.”

He flicked on a bedside lamp. It was half past midnight.

“We didn’t eat, did we? I’m hungry too.”

He pulled on his trousers and went to a door that she’d assumed was a cupboard. In fact it was a kitchenette with a fridge and an espresso machine. He took out two plates prepared with ciabatta sandwiches and a bottle of Pinot Grigio. He poured two glasses and carried the food to the table.

“Could we eat on the balcony?” she asked.

He went to the bathroom and returned with two luxuriously soft bathrobes. She slipped hers on and carried her meal outside. There was a table and two chairs. The salami and salad was delicious.

“The necklace is so beautiful, I can’t believe it,” she said, idly wondering its origin.

“It has no family history. I chose it for you. Its story started when you put it on.”

“Thank you, Spencer. Just thank you forever.”

The canal was quiet with only the occasional craft passing by. The air was warm and rich with sounds.

“I got that necklace because it is beautiful. In reality I wanted it to be a ring.”

She almost choked on her wine.

“A ring?”

“Yes. We’ve not known each other that long, but that doesn’t matter to me. This situation isn’t just about me. Ben is a sensitive lad. Replacing his mother is something....”

“I understand that....” she said, racing forward with this conversation in her mind

“I just needed a bit more time than was available. Think of that necklace as doing a ring’s job for just a while longer. This coming weekend I’ll be talking to Ben and Saskia’s family. We’re going to be away for a couple of days in Chelsea I’m afraid.”

“Fine, of course. I think I understand.”

I mean, you are the one, Shannon. There’s nothing in our way.”

She sat back. This was heady stuff.

“Since you haven’t asked me a question, I can’t say yes, can I?”

“Since you haven’t said no, I don’t need to ask, do I?”

“That’s fair,” she said.

“You could change your mind. But if you don’t then there’ll be another day in my life even more wonderful than this one when I’ve got a ring in my pocket.”

“I love you, my man.”

“Don’t you hurt me,” he said.

“I’ll always give you of myself what you give me of yourself. That’s Shannon’s Law.”

Faint music and the tap of a vessel against a mooring post reminded her that she was still in a real life. Her mind turned back to Fleetworth-Green.

“I’m gonna get on top of Ben’s file when I get back. I know the name of the case officer.”

“Is it wise? Sometimes it’s best to leave things and accept.”

“Not if the boy was innocent,” she replied hotly. “No. Never, never accept something like that. That record stays on the Police National Computer. It will screw his chances of joining your regiment and all those dreams of his mother and his own pride in you and himself. I don’t want to sound like Maggie Thatcher but No. No. No.”

Spencer sighed.

“It’s tragic. One little thing and he’s branded for life.”

“One of those other boys knows something. I’ll bet my life on it. If there’s something there I’ll find it, believe me.”

“And if there was, what could you do?”

“I’ll get the record removed.”

“It’s wonderful to know you’re on his side. I used to trust him completely. This business caused terrible damage. It was my decision not to send him back to Eton.”

“You know my opinion. No child of mine is going to boarding school.”

“How many children are you going to have?”

“How many do you want to make?” she said with a laugh. She’d said enough. This was now and this was Venice. All other worlds could wait.

Spencer’s meeting was at La Casa Foscari, part of the University of Venice. They ate a breakfast of ristretto coffee, parma ham, fruit, and panettone at the kitchen table. She chose her summer floral pattern dress she had worn for her rendezvous by the lake. She looked up as a tall distinguished-looking man walked in. A pair of red Ferrari sunglasses sat on top of a mane of swept back badger style black and white hair.

“Fabio—let me introduce Shannon,” said Spencer, standing to greet him.

He was about seventy, tanned and wrinkled. He spoke with a musical smoky voice.

“Shannon—even more beautiful than Spencer describe,” he said taking her hand and kissing the back.

“I’ll walk with you to the Universita. Then I show the true Venezia.”

He smiled widely. He wore a pale-blue linen suit, a white collarless silk shirt, and gorgeously elegant pointed shoes. A chunky gold Cartier watch hung loosely from his wrist onto his hand. There was something compelling about him as if all obstacles in life would melt at his arrival.

“This is Dottore Fabio Ceccarelli.”

“It’s an honor to meet you, Sir,” she said.

“Che bellezza e cosi affascinante. So lovely and so charming,” he translated his own Italian.

Shannon beamed at him. This was her kind of guy.

“Spencer, your meeting today. This is molto importante for Venezia. We must controllare the size of these ships. We have a floating block of flats arrive with five thousand peoples. The boat is bigger than San Marco. We are squashed like the flies.”

“I will do my best, Fabio. There are commercial interests against us.”

Fabio turned to Shannon, waving his arms in grand circles.

“We live in Venezia. We don’t live in Venisneyland. Tourism is everything, but so many peoples. It’s like you shit on the food you come to eat.”

She took the arms of both men and strolled in step between them across the Rialto Bridge and along La Riva del Vin. Along the canal, battered but colorful barges unloaded crates, fish, and even a washing machine. Workers called out to one another. It was 8:30 a.m. and the tourists were few. This was the true beating heart of the city. At La Casa Foscari she shook hands, kissed cheeks, smiled, and uttered a bouquet of grazies. Then she left him with as many arrivederci kisses as she could to commence his UNESCO work.

“Now, we get rid of that poor ugly man. You are mine,” said Fabio with a beaming smile and offering his arm. With one hand he produced a pack of cigarettes and a gold lighter shaped like a fish. He inhaled deeply. A few minutes later he stopped at an outdoor cafe where clients stood at tall tables. A waiter brought two ristretto shots.

“A beautiful woman, a cigarette, and an espresso. What kind of fool would die when life has this?” he said.

She thought to mention the ill effects of smoking. She guessed he knew.

“Beauty and cigarettes burn out don’t they?”

“Beauty once seen never fade from the mind. It is a packet always full. It is only the flame of the lighter that fails. Anyway, I hear so much of you. You are Superwoman, yes?”

Shannon felt as if she was blushing. She was glad of her dark skin. Fabio continued.

“You have awards for courage and police work, yes?”

She didn’t know how to respond. She’d never spoken of her record to Spencer.

“There was a man with a knife and a house on fire with a woman to save....” said Fabio.

It was true but she never mentioned these things.

“I’m surprised anyone knows....” she began.

“I see, I surprise. Spencer—he write many lines to me of you. He knows these things. You have quality he say.”

“He’s the true war hero, not that he’d tell you,” she said.

“Yes. You two will make many warriors and saints together.”

Shannon chuckled.

“There’s nothing like coming to the point,” she said feeling a joy bubbling out of her.

“Assolutemente! Now let’s be tourists before the rush begin.”

She strolled with this wonderful warm man down to the Academia Bridge and on to La Piazza San Marco. Her brain buzzed as she tried to absorb the famous sights and the beauty before her eyes. Fabio seemed to sense her saturation point and took a table outside the Cafe Florian. He lit a cigarette and ordered espresso. An accordion struck up and was joined by a clarinet and violin playing “Saving All My Love For You.”

“You have brought great happiness to man who has struggled you know. He has had sadness and loneliness. He is my family and my friend and he is a wonderful man. This I tell you from my heart,” said Fabio, looking at her with his blue charming eyes.” I expect he doesn’t speak of Saskia.”

“A little. I’ve seen her portrait.”

“So cool and such a lady, I think.”

“Yes, very elegant and beautiful,” said Shannon, uncertain of Fabio’s direction.

“Like a fabulous blue mountain lake, cold even in summer.”

“I’m sure she had passion,” she said.

“Maybe she keep it secret, but she not show too much above the water like an iceberg.”

“It was terrible that she died.”

“Spencer always blame himself for not being there.”

“Where was he then? I’ve never asked the details.”

“He was working in the chalet. He had a big deal going through with the USA. He had to wait for their time zone so he stay back. The weather was good and there was no danger. It was just Saskia and that friend of hers who go out to ski.”

“What friend?”

“I didn’t know you that you know nothing. Maybe I am wrong to say....”

She fixed her eyes on his. She wanted to know.

“Okay, it was that woman, the one who always tells the world that she is from the noblest family in England. She says her family came with William the Conqueror. She has pure Norman blood she says.”

“Jasmine de Montfort?” gasped Shannon.

“Yes, her. It was her ski chalet. She is very expert and knows the mountain. At the time she had an instructor who work extra time in the bed if you understand. He gives lessons somewhere else. Saskia went with this Jasmine. They had been skiing in the morning and Saskia, she not expert. She was tired and so they go just for something gentle for some fun. Why they go off piste I don’t know.”

“Off piste? I’m not from a ski type family.”

“Well, you have the prepared track set out and safe, this is la piste. Then there is the wild mountain with ravines and big falls. This is the real ski you understand if you know what you do. Jasmine—she know. She goes all days with lover man. Saskia—she don’t know.”

“So how did the accident happen?”

“Who knows? No one knows. Jasmine leads her friend on fast descent. There are no markers. The light is fading. Sakia is nothing like the same skill and she is tired. She is trying to keep up. There are places you have to turn at speed or you fly into oblivion. This Jasmine arrives at the bottom and Saskia not there behind her. They find the body at foot of three hundred meter fall—maybe that’s one thousand of your feet.”

Shannon stared at him. Why had she never asked about the accident? She hadn’t even dreamed that Jasmine had been involved. She stayed silent. Fabio gave her a shrewd glance and lit another cigarette.

“You’re thinking with your police mind I think. This is the right way.”

“Really, you think so?”

“In my life I was a judge. That was my job. I develop a type of mind that poses questions and learns the patterns of men. A judge sees many cases. A police officer walks the same path of ideas.”

“But there is no evidence.”

“No. There is circumstance. Saskia and Jasmine rode their ponies together as girls. Jasmine hopes to marry a handsome wealthy aristocrat. She got him trapped she think. She would be countess. Her friend snatch him from her hands. My lovely Shannon, what do you know of the jealous woman?”