Passion Patrol 2 - a Sexy Police Romance Suspense Novel With a Touch of Humor: Hot Cops. Hot Crime. Hot Romance. (33 page)

Shannon couldn’t comment for a moment. Her man was amazing and no fool at business.

“Dad, he’s getting a first-class man. You’re fantastic at your work. Whatever he’s paying he’s getting a bargain.”

“But what about having your parents on top of you. Maybe we’ll be too close?”

“I’ll just pretend I don’t know you,” she said laughing. “I was so worried about Mum’s work.”

“I hate her being out all night cleaning. It wears her out. The farmhouse needs some love and care. She’s so excited. There’s just the one snag.”

“What?”

“He wants me to help coach the cricket team and play on Sundays.”

“Oh no, Dad. I guess that meant you had to refuse?” she said.

“Your mum’s got a shift tonight so she’s out. I just wanted to tell you.”

“It’s great news, Dad.”

“I’ll see you soon,” he said.

She hung up and let out a long sigh. Maybe Spencer could have mentioned his plans? Maybe it was a matter between him and her dad? He was a brilliant motor engineer and he could not have found a better man. It was for sure that the business would succeed. For now she had one personal priority. Sleep.

She was up and ready at 0330. It was not as good as sex but her adrenalin was pumping hard into her blood. At 0400 hours a police personnel carrier pulled up outside. She walked out and got in. The troops were wearing black overalls and riot helmets. Several carried NCA logos. A young inspector was in the front seat. He turned and faced her.

“You’re Shannon, right? You know your job. We hit the door with the enforcer and steam in. You go in behind us with the arrest team. You guys all know your targets. Do not be distracted by any other action, OK! Identify and arrest as you have been briefed.”

There was a murmur of understanding around the bus.

“We believe there are other persons at this address, probably illegal slave workers. These people may be involved in crime but they are principally the victims of the target criminals. The mop up team will detain any others and we’ll sort it out from there as the fog clears.”

The bus prowled down to Badger’s Knoll. There was an array of other teams and vehicles in the area. She saw a tactical firearms unit, dog handlers, and custody vehicles. A group was already deployed lifting drains and sewers to capture anything flushed down toilets or sinks. The bus killed its lights and moved up to the front of the building. There was less than a minute to go. Her heart was hammering in her chest. She knew that hundreds of other officers would be poised just like her. And all this was down to her. She tightened the chin strap of her riot helmet and pulled down the visor. The seconds counted down. The house was still calm and in darkness. She knew her job. She followed the entry team as they crept up to the door with their enforcer battering ram pulled back. Strong trained arms were flexed and ready to go to work. Behind her, forensic and house search teams were lined up. Her helmet radio was silent. All she could hear was her pumping blood.

“Go, Go, Go!” came the command.

The door splintered. Officers smashed their way through the entrance. A path lay ahead of her to the foot of the stairs. Powerful police seek-and-search lights illuminated the scene. Someone found a light switch. A dog was barking. A firearms unit was ahead of her as she sprinted up the stairs to the landing. There was the unmistakable crack of gunfire and a cry of pain. More and more lights were coming on. To her left a cop was down. To her right two officers were holding a naked youth. He was pug-faced and almost simple in his expression. She flipped up her visor.

“Ashley Arrowsmith?”

“Yeah, what the fuck?”

“I’m arresting you for murder. You do not have to say anything....”

“You can fuck yourself,” said the boy.

“Turn round while I cuff you,” she ordered.

She could see he was trembling and beginning to lose his bravado.

“Murder?” he said.

“Yup.”

An officer produced a one-piece disposable suit for him to wear. He put it on and allowed Shannon to apply handcuffs.

“I ain’t done no murder. If it’s that girl she jumped out the fucking car.”

“I can’t question you,” she said.

“I had the roof down. She jumped out the car. It was dark.”

Shannon had a look around. Paramedics were treating the injured cop. Drug dogs were going wild. A young naked oriental girl was being led out of Ashley’s room. No one was taking any notice of Shannon or the boy.

“You were driving?” she said.

“Yeah. I was showing her around.”

“She had her period. You made her suck your cock didn’t you?”

“She wanted to. I was just driving. She was a slag.”

“She tried to escape.”

“She just fuckin’ jumped out.”

Shannon had heard enough. She’d just wanted to know the truth. An older woman was yelling on the landing. She recognized Sylvie Arrowsmith.

“Where’s my fuckin’ angel? You filth are dead if you touch that boy.”

“He’s been arrested for murder. Pick the bones out of that,” said Shannon.

“You’re finished copper. We’ve got connections,” said Sylvie.

Two officers led her away.

“Mum—that slag jumped. Mum, tell ’em. Tell ’em,” the boy called after her.

Shannon let the woman go out of sight before walking the boy downstairs. Ron Arrowsmith was face down and cuffed on the lounge floor. Outside they both watched Sylvie spitting and and kicking at police loading her into a prison van. Ashley started to cry but Shannon just stared ahead. A patrol car pulled up. She eased his head down as they got in the back. Probably this was the last sight he’d have of his mother for quite a while and the next time there’d probably be guards and prison bars. She felt a stab of sympathy for him as they drove to Croydon to hand him over to custody officers.

Now the real work began. There were statements to write, forms to be filled, records to be updated. No interview was possible without social workers and lawyers. Once she’d booked him in she led him to a cell.

“I saw you in the woods didn’t I?” he said.

Shannon didn’t answer. The boy wanted some shred of human warmth. He was just a kid looking for any kind of friend. This wasn’t the time to play good cop. She eased him into the cell and slammed the door. His sobs followed her back along the corridor as she walked away.

It was 5 p.m. when she assembled with other officers at the NCA Headquarters in Lambeth. All day she’d caught snatches of updates. Before the briefing began, an officer reminded everyone to turn off their mobile phones. Shit! She’d had it turned off all day. Spencer would be going nuts. There was nothing she could do until after the meeting. For once she recognized someone. She sat down next to Chief Inspector Anna La Salle whom she’d met at Croydon and apparently was to be her new boss.

“Shannon, did you get that lad back?” she asked with a smile.

“Yeah, he just walked in like there was no problem.”

“That’s typical,” she said. “We’ve come across a whole mob of women trafficked as sex workers. Our squad’s going to be busy right from the start. I used to work for Interpol just round the corner. At least I know the ropes. God knows where it will all lead.”

Shannon warmed to her potential new boss. Detective Superintendent Mitchell launched straight into the briefing.

“We’ve got two hundred and seventy-one arrests, ninety-four trafficked slave workers, five brothels, sixty-eight premises used for the production of drugs, thirty-six tons of cannabis, half a ton of cocaine. We have Ron Arrowsmith charged with the attempted murder of a police officer. That’s just a holding charge. Sylvie is charged with possession of class-A drugs with intent to supply just as an opener. Their son has been charged with murder of the girl Kakkada Song but we all know it will run as manslaughter. We’ve got illegals and drugs in containers in Antwerp. The wounded officer is serious but OK. There’s going to be far more, but that’s where we are as I speak.”

There was a ripple of applause.

“If there are any more plaudits they should be for someone we’ve got here. WPC Shannon Aguerri is the local beat officer. She’s had a fair bit of bottle and used professional skills to get this job started and we’re enjoying this success because of her.”

The room burst into cheering and foot stamping. Shannon wanted the floor to open up. She shrank away with embarrassment. Anna La Salle squeezed her hand with genuine warmth. Generally she was in trouble in the police. It seemed everyone knew who she was. Despite her discomfort, she felt a little pride. Wherever life took her, this would be her place.

She switched on her phone. There was street riot of missed calls and text messages from Spencer. She called him.

“I’m so sorry....”

“Shannon, it was out on the news that an officer had been shot in Fleetworth-Green. I thought it just had to be you. Luckily I got hold of Brian Lilly. Where are you?”

“Lambeth. Where I was before.”

“Brian tells me you’re a hero as if I didn’t know. I’m still in my office in the city. I’ll get a cab and pick you up.”

He arrived about an hour later. He got out and opened the door. Tom Mitchell walked with her. She introduced the two men.

“My congratulations on your forthcoming wedding,” he said, shaking hands. “Shannon, I know you have a few days leave. Don’t forget our plans for you. Call me as soon as you’re back.”

Spencer’s hand on her back eased her into the cab. This was a journey back into that other world of loving a man and craving the love and security she felt with him.

“I don’t know how I can live always worrying about you being out there in danger all the time,” he said.

“I’m not in danger
all
the time. Anyway, they want me on some soft job at Scotland Yard. I’ve met the boss, Anna La Salle. She’s lovely.”

“Not Freddie La Salle’s wife? She’s a cop.”

“Who’s Freddie La Salle?”

“He made money in boxing and business. He became an art collector—that’s how I know him.”

“Who cares for now? I’m with you, my man.”

“You are, thank heaven.”

His arm was around her. His body and his strength seemed to absorb her and hold her safe. Until him she’d never wanted to feel the need of a man in this way. Men had needed her. She had teased and probably been cruel. Now she was out of her box and would never fold back into her old self.

“I love you,” she said. “Saying that is the biggest risk anyone can ever take. I’m gonna gamble everything every day of my life with you Spencer. Just make sure you keep me safe, OK.”

The cab battled south out of London. It would be a long journey in the traffic. She suddenly realized she was still in her police uniform with steel toe-capped boots with her riot helmet sticking out of her holdall. No wonder the cab driver had looked at her a little curiously.

“There’s a bit of a problem about us getting married,” he said. His tone was serious.

What the fuck was this?

“What?”

“It’s going to take months to arrange everything. There’ll be three future kings of England there, plus all the cabinet ministers and ... well you know ... all the usual suspects. Everything and everyone will have to be security checked.”

She relaxed. She hadn’t really put a time scale on the matter. She was intrigued by his strange smile.

“I’m not prepared to risk ever losing you again. Before anything else can happen in our lives you’re going to be my wife and I want no arguments.”

“No arguments,” she said as she kissed his lips.

“Here’s the solution,” he said. “Wise men say only fools rush in....”

He opened his briefcase and handed her a large envelope. She could see it contained several lumps. She peered inside. They were some sort of tickets. She studied them in the dim light of the taxi. They were two first-class return tickets to Las Vegas.

“It’s the one place on earth we can marry at once. Forget all those other kings. There’s only going to be one true king at our wedding.”

She stared at him dumbly for a few seconds.

“Not Elvis—the true king of the world,” said Shannon.

A stand in, but the king in spirit. We marry at the Elvis Chapel on Friday. We’re booked in at the Las Vegas Venice hotel. We fly out tomorrow, just the two of us.”

“Oh my God!” she shrieked.

This guy had just done the most spontaneous and wonderful thing any man could do.

“You’d better see what else is in there,” he said.

There were two ring boxes. She opened one. It was the engagement ring.

“That’s the copy. It’s identical as far as anyone can tell. You can wear it for your normal martial arts and door splintering work. We’ll keep the other one for state occasions, weddings, and for bed.”

She opened the other box. The label inside was Cartier. There were two gold wedding rings. One was a continuous circle of diamonds. Inside it was engraved “Shannon and Spencer.” The other broader ring bore the same inscription and was the same rose patina gold. She felt like a dumb shy teenager. Tears were pouring down her cheeks.

“Is this all real? You could choose any woman on this planet....”

“I tried all those others. It was a no contest. They only wanted me for my axle grease,” he said.

“My lovely man.... If you’d just been a humble guy fixing up that old car I’d have followed you to the ends of the earth. You didn’t have to be a big city rich guy or an aristocrat.”

“You didn’t have to be a hero cop who rescued my whole life and my son. And you’re far too sexy and gorgeous for an old duffer like me.”

They were still kissing as the cab pulled up in the front of the Manor.

It wasn’t long before they were lying satiated in bed. His love had filled her. He had the strength of a bull and yet he treated her as a flower. Her perfume seemed to melt a rock. In their lovemaking their boundaries were lost and they rejoiced to be alive as one creature. Even her love for him translated back into her own spirit and made her whole. Only in finding what she could give had she been able to seize what she needed to complete herself. She’d been so alone. She’d always welcomed loneliness as a power. It is a weight in the heart. She had trained the proud muscles of her soul to bear it and grow prouder. This man now swam in the flood of her un-cried solitariness. To him it meant her smile, her touch, a sudden tear, or a glance. Her secret strength flowed out into him. His kind eyes drew in everything with which she had covered herself. She was naked and now had nothing but that nakedness to give him. Her trusting hands held up this last of her own wine for him to drink. She would never hold back. This now was her man. There was nothing to add. There was only everything to lose and that had been lost when he had given her his love.

“Just pack the same bag you took to Venice,” he said as he dropped her back to the police house. “The real wedding will be in the chapel at the Manor once all the plans are made.”

“My mother will kill me. I’ve been thinking ... she’ll be so upset.”

“She’ll be at the big posh do.”

She turned it over in her mind. She hadn’t even spoken to him about the job he’d offered to her father. She called her mum.

“I’m getting married on Friday,” she began.

“Same man?”

“Of course it’s the same bloody man!’

“That’s nice.”

“It’s gonna be in Las Vegas. The priest will be Elvis.”

“Elvis is dead, Dear, and he was never a priest. I’m not sure the holy father even likes his music.”

“They both had white suits and tons of bling!” said Shannon.

She was beginning to feel exasperated by her mum’s lack of response.

“The holy father never wears bling, Shannon,” said her mum.

Jesus! What the hell was going on here? She hadn’t called to say there was a special offer on frozen chicken at ASDA. She was getting married the day after tomorrow!

“Well, I’ll see you when I get back then.”

In the background she could hear her father’s voice. He was singing “Crying in the Chapel.”

“Isn’t Dad at work?”

“No, he was a bit under the weather.”

“He’s singing.”

“His voice is OK. It’s his shoulder I think.”

“Give him my love.”

“I will, Dear.”

Shannon put down the phone. Spencer was smiling.

“See? No worries,” he said.

“My dad was singing an Elvis song. That’s spooky.”

“No, he heard your mum say Elvis. Everyone on Earth has got an Elvis song bubbling away somewhere.”

She had to acknowledge he was right. All the same her mother had just been completely nonchalant. She just had to excite somebody. She called Mel.

“Yo! That lover man of mine is making me an honest woman.”

“You can’t get too honest, Shannon. The police still need you.”

“On Friday in Las Vegas.”

“Don’t tell me, the preacher is Elvis. And I bet there’s a pink limo in there somewhere.”

“Well, yes.”

“Don’t lose all your cash in those gambling machines. It’s a cruel world out there.”

“Mel, I’m fucking well getting fucking married on Friday in Las Vegas.”

“What’ll happen to our curry nights when you’re married?”

“You’re just worried about your curry nights?”

“Yeah, it’s been my only hunk o’ burning love.”

“But aren’t you excited?”

“Yeah, but he’s not marrying me, is he? I’ll always love you, Sugar. Just have a lovely trip.”

“I’ll always love you too, Mel,” she said.

Maybe he was a little jealous. Maybe she was so wrapped up in her happiness that she expected too much from others?

“You look a bit down,” said Spencer, taking her into his arms.

“No one seems excited.”

“I am. Aren’t I enough?”

“Of course, that’s enough. Maybe they feel I’m moving on and away from them now?”

“No, it’s not that. Look, Mel has got Tim now. That’s his focus. Your mum and dad have busy lives.”

She nodded. What he said was true. She took a deep breath and tried to put her disappointment behind her. Spencer had his own packing to do and it would take her hours. There was no time to mope.

The Bentley arrived at 12:30 p.m. She looked at it from her window. These were truly her last seconds on her own island. He came to the house and carried out her case. The driver held open the car door and she slid inside. Spencer hugged and kissed her. Tears of emotion ran down her cheeks. If only she could share these moments with the folk who’d stood by her through her rebellious life. She was so greedy. She had more than any reasonable woman could even dream of. She relaxed into the soft leather and held Spencer’s hand. There was a silence in her he didn’t deserve. She could see in his face she was affecting his mood.

“I don’t mean to be moody,” she said.

“But you wanted to share all this with friends and family. I can understand that.”

His kindness brought out a flood of emotion. She just had to stop this and enjoy herself.

“You’ll feel better once we get going,” he said.

He squeezed her hand. She knew how much he wanted her to be happy.

The car drew in at Heathrow Airport Terminal Five. British Airways staff were there to take their luggage and shepherd them through to the first-class lounge.

“This is just a quick smash and grab job to seize you as mine,” said Spencer. “When we have the real thing there’ll be far too many people.”

“I know. I love you,” she said.

The official seated them as a waiter brought champagne. A guy handed back their passports and confirmed they’d been checked in. Complimentary newspapers carried headlines “Biggest Ever Crime Bust.” There was too much to take in.

Spencer was beaming. She watched his handsome face. He wasn’t looking at her, but over her shoulder. There hadn’t better be some airline beauty queen making eyes at him! She was about to turn to look when two strong hands pressed down on her shoulders. A woman was standing at her side who looked a bit like her mother. The hands on her shoulder were dark and familiar. Who would dare grab her like this?

“What?”

She heard her dad’s deep voice.

“When you heard me singing Elvis. I thought I’d blown it,” he said.

She stood up. She saw Mel with Ben and Spencer. They were laughing. There was a guy making a video. It was Tim. She was completely speechless.

“Spencer, you’ve done something she hasn’t got a cheeky answer for. That’s truly a first,” said her mother.

The next minutes were a blur of hugs, kisses, champagne, and utter joy. Her man had fixed all this for her.

“I felt so bad keeping it secret when you were so down. I hope the surprise was worth it,” he said.

As the Boeing 747 lifted off flight BA 275 to Las Vegas, there was a clear sky over London. The first-class cabin exuded comfort and luxury. Over and over again she showed everyone her ring. Ben talked excitedly to her mother about Selena Fontesse. Apparently her mum was a fan of
Kittens’ Kitchens
. Spencer chatted to her dad about the new car restoration project. Mel and Tim explained the cultural and psychological significance of Elvis in the wider context of social history. Somewhere at about 34,000 feet above the Atlantic, Spencer kissed her cheek.

“I think this is about as high as I can possibly go,” she said.