Passion Patrol 2 - a Sexy Police Romance Suspense Novel With a Touch of Humor: Hot Cops. Hot Crime. Hot Romance. (23 page)

“It’s a dangerous animal.”

“Yes, and even worse, it wait and wait smiling, and never ever forgive. I tell you that’s how I see it. I share this with you because you are someone who would see it too.”

“What have you said to Spencer?”

“Nothing! Nobody ever say nothing. Everyone in Spencer’s life is a lady and a gentlemen. Everyone who smile is friend. No, I say nothing because in reality I know nothing. I know the life, this is all.”

She reached for his hand. She took in the view around her. What deeds, what mysteries and deceptions had this city known?

“I’m very grateful to you, Fabio,” she said.

“You’re welcome. I’m guessing you don’t say nothing to Spencer and that is why I have spoken. He write to me of a conflict you have with that woman. He don’t know it but you must be aware she is ruthless and dangerous. Now he loves you and you have him. That is only my opinion of course. Spencer is a nobler and more innocent man than us.”

The summer sun was rising high in the sky. They dodged the hordes of tourists as they made their way to the Rialto markets.

“I will do lunch of Spaghetti con le Cozze. We need mussels, chillis, and prezzemolo. He pulled a neatly folded carrier bag from his jacket and set about shopping with a machine-gun barrage of banter with stall holders. Shannon stood back to watch the performance and ponder what she had learned. Had Spencer never even slightly raised the question in his own mind? She’d seen Jasmine with the gloves off and all veneer stripped away by animal ambition and jealousy. She was a cop and it was her job to deal in suspicion. But she knew the truth in her gut. She knew.

Fabio’s cuisine was a fabulous confusion of pasta, wine, herbs, and bursts of grand opera. He served the meal in a small courtyard at the rear of the palazzo.

“After we eat I get the boat and we see the town,” he said.

“Thanks so much for looking after me.”

“I simply take Spencer’s pleasure. What a friend he is to bring me such a prize.” He poured two huge glasses of wine from a carafe. “He loves you and you hold his heart. You are a strong woman. Strong enough to break any heart. You have been poor. The poorer the man, the tougher his meat and the sharper his knife. You were a little girl who dared not dream her Christmas morning dream.”

“I won’t harm him. I love him. I promise you that, Fabio.”

“This I can see. I kiss your beautiful generous heart,” he said as he raised his glass in a toast. She responded.

“To love,” he said.

The food was light and delicious. The wine was rich and smooth.

“Now you rest for an hour. I will come to the steps.”

She was glad of the pause. The morning had been a blur of beauty and revelation. Spencer had told her that he’d known Jasmine before Saskia. No one had ever mentioned the details of the accident. Was that deliberate? Only a spiteful cop would read anything into it. Ben had had the chance to tell her. He had said Jasmine told him he would ruin his father’s life by criticizing her. Her instinct was that no one wanted to think the unthinkable. That’s what cops were for. One thing was certain. Fabio had made up his mind and was sending her a warning.

The boat tour was as wonderful as it was surreal. Fabio shouted and pointed at boats, greeted half of Venice, swerved between huge barges, and dodged emergency launches with blaring sirens. He spoke of history, of the plague, of trade with Byzantium, the sack of Constantinople, the art of Titian and Canaletto. He merged seamlessly with Napoléon and the legend of San Marco. She needed a week to digest each frame of film.

“It’s so much. Too much,” she said.

“Chemistry, fermentation, and molecular sugars are too much. Don’t think about it, my lovely. Just drink the wine,” he said with a laugh. He opened the throttles and sped out into the lagoon towards the island of Murano. Even in this warm humid cauldron of life her thoughts turned over a cold darkening mountain and the lonely death of a mother.

Fabio dropped her at the landing stage of the Palazzo Coccolare.

“Sta sera. I have a date. She is so beautiful but I hope not so intelligent she throw me out. I won’t be back,” he said with a wink. We say arrivederci for now, but I know one big day in your life I will be there for sure. He hugged her warmly and kissed both her cheeks. “A la prossima,” he called as he pulled away into the motorway traffic of the Grand Canal.

It wasn’t long before Spencer arrived. He talked of his meeting, tidal barriers, and the problem of huge cruise ships. She lay on the bed beside him, her hand slipped inside his shirt. She could feel the deep vibration of his voice. He had a powerful mind that understood many things above her head. He had not one ounce of her animal cunning. She played with the idea of mentioning her chat with Fabio but let it slide away, maybe forever.

“What were you thinking?” he said suddenly.

“I was listening to you, my big tidal barrier bear,”

“Your mind was juggling, I could feel it. I can’t describe the feeling I have when I’m with you. It’s like I’m tuned in.”

“I was thinking that a kite only flies because it’s tethered. I’m free to fly because you hold me,” she said, pleased to distract him. It was something her dad said about her mum and the idea was somewhere loose in her mind.

He sighed and pulled her to him in a long kiss. He stroked back her hair. Her eyes closed as an image of a kite bearing the face of Jasmine broke free from her grasp and crashed into the water of the Venetian lagoon.

She dressed for dinner in a dusty pink gypsy dress. Spencer fixed the clasp of her diamond necklace before leading her to a waiting gondola. He wore a lightweight navy-blue suit and white shirt. He looked impossibly handsome. His dark hair was beautifully cut and brushed. His strong jaw balanced the softness of the smile on his lips and the love she could see in his deep brown eyes.

“Handsome hero bear,” she whispered as he sat beside her. Sitting so low in the water, barges and larger craft swarmed above them. It seemed to mirror her own situation. These were precious stolen moments. In England a series of events were closing in. A jostling world had no care for her tiny life. She would be returning as the woman of the 11th Earl of Bloxington. Nothing in her life had prepared her for such a role. A dead girl from a ditch cried for justice and a huge machine was cranking up to achieve it. A kid with a life-disabling criminal record had to be saved. A ruthless rival without mercy would be always in the wings and center stage at any opportunity. A twister was about to touch down.

Spencer seemed untroubled and serene. A smile still played on his lips.

“You look like a man who’s heard a good joke,” she said.

“In a way I have. I’ve had a text from Prince Xavier. Do you remember him?”

“Yes, very handsome and young....”

“That’s him. A most charming boy and gorgeous according to the ladies. He’s posed me the strangest question. He’s asked me to keep it secret, as something between men of the world.”

“He’s heard you’re the world’s greatest lover and he wants lessons.”

“Shannon! He’s asked me if I have a romantic bond with Jasmine and if it would trouble me if they were to become—intimate.”

“He must be fifteen years younger.”

Spencer shook his head and took a deep breath.

“I don’t like to suggest that he isn’t in love with her. The fact is he isn’t a rich man. Montenegro is a republic and the royal family was exiled to France. His brother is the crown prince. Xavier tells me he is a younger brother with nothing but a title. He loves to tell one his blood is true blue of course.”

“Does he wear a medi-alert tag ‘Turns purple with common blood. Allow to die.’?”

“I think not my sweet little minx. He has tastes for polo ponies and I believe he has been quite unfortunate at the casino tables. Jasmine is very wealthy.”

“And she would so love to be Her Royal Harness.”

“Her Royal Harness,” he repeated laughing. “You do say some comical things.”

“Jasmine’s a comical horsey sort of gal. She puts me in that mood.”

“I’ve assured him I have no attachment.”

“I don’t want to spoil her chance of happiness but maybe you should warn him.”

“She’s a fine lady. Sadly her family lost its titles but one is no less noble. To be frank Xavier is not the greatest asset to the business. His mind is rather slapdash and may I say, shallow. He’s vain and basically just an old-fashioned playboy. Jasmine is a top lawyer and very experienced in life. I’m sure she can see him for what he is. If he were to retire into wealth I would personally organize his farewell party.”

“He’s a stuck-up vain waster trading off his title?”

“A very direct way of putting things. I believe that my human resources director might not contradict you,” he said with a wicked smile.

“Spencer, I love you so much, my man.”

It thrilled her that he was sharing this kind of thing. She was getting on the inside of his life and there was no one else in sight. The gondola rocked along down the Grand Canal. She took Fabio’s advice and simply drank its wine into her eyes. Venice had changed something of her perception of life and the deep value of knowledge and history. The greatest event in the story of this magic city was when he’d told her he loved her. Anyone who could know the joy in her heart would think that it had been worth building the place as a stage. Her head was resting on his shoulder, his arm around her.

“Give me a few days to speak with Ben. I want to move things along,” he said.

The gondola dropped them at La Piazza San Marco. They strolled hand in hand along La Riva Degli Schiavani. They passed the Bridge of Sighs on the way to the Hotel Metropole. The meal was an exquisite insalata di mare. She sat in the deep richness of the restaurant, the light catching the facets of her diamond necklace.

“Every time I think you couldn’t be more beautiful, somehow you are,” he said.

“You make me feel more beautiful than I am.”

“Impossible, but it goes beyond just looks.”

“Do you worry about the gaps between us?” she said.

“Gaps?”

“Tiny little gaps like money, titles, social position, history.”

She watched him consider the question.

“I worry that it might have troubled you. Much of the Bloxington wealth came from sugar.”

“And sugar meant slaves...”

“Your ancestors would have been exploited in that business.”

“I know that and I have thought of it.”

“And do you care?”

“Sure as hell I care but I won’t judge you on history. To be honest I’m just as moved by the history of Ireland where my mother’s from.”

“There’s a fair bit to reflect on there.”

“There’s evils just as great out there now. Slavery and trafficking isn’t over. Don’t forget I’m a cop.”

“I’m realizing I’ve never asked you why.”

“Because the violent and the evil mustn’t win. I didn’t want to be a cop. I didn’t want to be pushed around by thugs and bullies. I didn’t want to be punched in the face and raped. I didn’t want to spend my life craving for crack. The police is what we’ve got. A decent society would be ashamed if it needed to dress people up in uniforms to tell them what’s good and bad. The fact we accept police says something pretty negative about us all.”

“You could say that about priests.”

“You’re right, but their uniforms are crap.”

He smiled and took her hand.

“If I ever asked you to give up the police, what would you say?”

“I’d say it would depend on why you wanted that.”

“Because I wanted you safe with me—not out on night shifts fighting with drunks in pubs or doing demolition-derby stuntman car crashes.”

“If I gave up being a cop it would be because there’s not enough of that stuff. It’s the endless paperwork and procedures that do me in.”

“Would you give it up for me?”

“You know I would. I’d do it because I love you. I wonder if you’d ever actually ask me to do that.”

“It’s a good question,” he replied.

They walked casually back to the Palazzo Coccolare. The night was once again bringing out the lamps. She caught the voice of a vaporetto water bus conductor calling out the name of a stop.

“Sal-oooo-tay. Sal-oooo-tay,” came the sound on the still air. Arms around each other they wandered among shadows, through courtyards, corners, cats, and canals. She had tasted this place and one day she would feast upon it if life gave her the chance.

“Fabio’s a wonderful man,” she said.

“He’s so wonderful I hate him. He wants to steal you,” he said with a laugh.

“Then you understand my jealous heart,” she said.

They lay calmly in the Venetian bed against a background of lapping water. He kissed her not with desire but with love.

“I’ve never known such happiness,” he said.

She looked into his dark eyes, willing her pregnant question to reach into him.

“Is this forever—really, really forever?”

“For as long as you want to be mine.”