Passion Patrol 2 - a Sexy Police Romance Suspense Novel With a Touch of Humor: Hot Cops. Hot Crime. Hot Romance. (10 page)

Her heart was pounding as she set off on her bike. She was terrified of vicious dogs but she knew she could face up to fear. Far more serious was the risk of getting caught. She’d been warned often enough about lone-wolf missions. Any problems now and she’d be looking for a job flipping burgers. She hadn’t forgotten Ron Arrowsmith had already killed a cop, even though he’d been acquitted at court. She wasn’t carrying any warrant card, mobile phone or ID. If she was captured perhaps they wouldn’t kill a run-of-the-mill criminal out of a sense of brotherhood. She was going to see this through. This was the way she was and this was her life.

She swooped in and out of the Badger’s Knoll development. Neither vehicle was there. She rode back towards the village before turning off into the woods and making her way to the back of the house. A brick wall about nine feet tall stood between her and the back garden. There was no gate. She could hear the dog growling and snarling. She kitted herself up with the anorak and gloves. Then she leaned her bike against the wall and climbed onto the crossbar. She could just reach the top of the wall. Using all her strength she pulled herself up and balanced her body on the single width of brick. She saw the dog below her. It was in a vicious mouth foaming frenzy. Its teeth were bared as it flung itself at her. By leaning right over she knew she could grab it as it reached the maximum height of its leap. The trick was to snatch some fur and pull herself back before it could bite her. She watched the animal run back and charge at the wall as fast as it could run. This was the big one. It was now or never. It leaped with a strangled gurgle of rage. She gripped the scruff of its neck. She was only just holding onto the top of the wall when the beast flipped its head enough to sink its teeth into the sleeve of her coat. It was so heavy. The extra weight pulled her down with a painful thump onto the ground. Its teeth were in her sleeve but so far had missed her flesh. It twisted and thrashed with a wild prehistoric savagery. She had a decent clump of its fur. No way was she going to let it go. She glanced at the wall. There was no escape by trying to climb back up. The fabric of the coat would not hold out for much longer. She only had seconds to act or she was looking at severe injuries, discovery, and disgrace. Adrenalin pumped into her. She spotted a garden fork in a partly dug flower bed. It was her only chance. With the dog ripping the stuffing from her coat sleeve she ran and picked up the fork. More and more adrenalin pumped into her. If it came to it she now held the means to kill the dog. It would be messy and excite attention. She had to get in and out without discovery. In any case the poor bloody thing was no different from her, just doing its job.

The sleeve gave way. For a second the dog tore at it as if it were a rat. She took guard with the fork and jabbed it at its face. The animal seemed to pick up her feral courage and resolve. This could be to the death. As it tried to dive under the fork she gave it a good rap on top of its head. It stood back a little and circled her. There was a flat-roofed building adjoining the main house. Against it was a water butt. It was at least a temporary refuge. She backed toward it. The dog made more lunges. Driven by some primal force and instinct she charged at it. It fell back while she clambered up onto the butt and sprang up to the roof.

As far as she could tell, no one had spotted her. The dog had calmed down and amused itself shredding the half sleeve of her coat. Evidently the neighbors hadn’t been alerted and her position wasn’t overlooked. She still had a good quantity of hairs in her fist. She lay on her back pushing them into a sample envelope and pressing it back into the pocket of her jeans. She considered her options. If the Arrowsmiths came home she was not immediately visible on the roof. If they came out of the back door there would be a route through to the front of the house and she had the martial arts skills to make it to the front door against untrained opposition. She would then flee as if she were a burglar. With the bandanna pulled down she could be anyone and for sure they wouldn’t be calling the cops. As a last resort she could kill the dog with the fork, drag the water butt to the wall and use it to vault over. Any such scenario would alert them to something, even if they didn’t know what. For sure they would cover some tracks once their sense of security was attacked. She checked her watch. It was 6:50 p.m. Spencer would be expecting her.

She looked around. There was no access to the main roof of the house. An hour passed and her choices were narrowing. She rolled to the edge of the roof to check the position of the fork. She would jump, grab it and confront the dog. The water butt was full. She would have to kick it over to empty it before she could move it to the wall. Probably she would have to kill first. She lay with her eyes closed rehearsing her moves and focusing her courage. The dog was pacing around the garden. The next time it was at its furthest point from her, she would commit and go. The animal was at least her own body weight. Unless she could get a fatal head strike or hit the heart, it would take a while to die. If she got it wrong, the converse was equally true. The dog was moving away, she took a deep breath.

She heard a vehicle. The dog re-found its frenzy mode and began to jump at the back wall. Who could be out there? Shit! Her bike was there and could be traced. She heard voices. She heard a deep male voice bark the command “Go!” A figure in dark overalls and a ski mask leaped down into the garden. He was wearing heavy-duty armored welding gloves. The dog sprang for his face. A thought flashed through her mind. She’d seen those gloves. My God, it was Spencer! She watched in slow motion as the beast’s bared teeth aimed for his throat. His fist slammed straight into its open mouth as his other hand grabbed its head. The gauntlet was rammed solidly down its throat. A knotted rope appeared over the wall. “Shannon! Get down and run. Get the rope and climb.”

She sprang down and raced to the wall. Spencer was still gripping the dog which looked to be thrashing in death throes. This man had the strength and courage of two bears.

“How are you getting out?”

“Do as you’re fucking well told,” he shouted.

She grabbed the rope, looking up to see another masked head above the wall. She hauled herself up. The lad was standing on the bonnet of the Land Rover. Spencer looked up at her. She was safe but he was locked in mortal combat. He controlled the animal as if it were no more than a rabbit.

“OK, Ben, stand by. I’m coming up,” he said as he physically threw the dog backwards away from him. It had no will to attack and cowered into a corner as distant as possible. Shannon could see it was lucky to have lived. Spencer took a short run back, caught the top knot of the rope and hauled himself over. Shannon was already loading her bike into the vehicle. Ben untied the rope from the front winch.

“Get in and let’s go!” ordered Spencer.

He was behind the wheel in a flash and they were driving hell for leather through the woods like something out of a war movie. He pulled off the ski mask. He spoke in a fierce military boom. God, he was sexy.

“You young woman are completely out of control. If you had been one of my soldiers you’d have been in front of a court-martial.”

“I’m sorry. I reached my objective. I held the bridge and dug in on a new front,” she said, using everything she had seen or heard on her dad’s collection of war films. She felt like a naughty child being sent to bed. Well, she could always hope....

“What? Couldn’t you see the danger? What the hell were you doing?”

“I was waiting for my hero bear,” she said, knowing that she was pushing her cheekiness to a dangerous limit. Behind her Ben laughed.

“And you can shut up, soldier,” he said.

She could hear from his tone she had soothed him. Surely he loved her. Surely now he had done this for her.

“Better get those fish and chips then,” she said.

“What?”

“An army marches on its stomach. Napoléon said that and I’ve been in his footsteps remember.”

“Army! The bloody army would mutiny if you joined.”

“Mutineers have to eat.”

He shook his head.

“You’ve always got some smart bloody answer haven’t you. I was so worried.”

“You thought I’d run off with another man and fed him your dinner.”

“ Shannon ... oh just believe I cared, OK,” he said with an edge of exasperation.

She could tell she’d been over-flippant.

“Spencer—Ben ... thanks guys. I’m still trembling you know. I was terrified. I don’t like to take fear too seriously in case one day I find it’s bigger than me. Just how the hell did you find me?”

Ben spoke up from the back.

“It was me. I told Father. I know you said not to say anything but I had to make a decision when you didn’t show up. Ashley’s arm was a complete mess.”

“Oh Ben, you did the right thing. Did you guess I was there?”

“It was possible. We saw your bike.”

“All I wanted was a couple of dog hairs.”

“Dog hairs? I’ve got plenty of those around the place,” said Spencer.

“I’ll explain boys. Let’s get that food and a pot of tea. Then I’ll tell all.”

They pulled up at Danny’s Fish and Chip shop. She sprang out.

“My treat,” she said.

She looked a comical sight in her cycle helmet, bandanna and her anorak with about a quarter of a sleeve remaining. No one knew her as a cop in Coulsdon. In her heart she was pure cop and a proud one. But her heart was becoming a crowded place. The smell of hot fish, vinegar and chips filled the Land Rover. She leaned across and kissed Spencer’s cheek as he set out for Bloxington Manor.

“Wow, you’re a real hero bear,” she said.

Ben gave a groan of embarrassment from the darkness behind them. They all laughed.

“I loved the ski masks,” she said.

“We didn’t exactly want to be identified,” Spencer replied.

They all ate hungrily straight from the wrapping on the scrubbed wooden kitchen table. Ben poured mugs of strong tea.

“So, just what were you doing?” said Spencer with an indulgent smile.

She took a deep breath.

“It’s a long story....”

She detailed everything she knew and suspected. She followed their fascinated faces as she described the character of the Arrowsmiths, the skunk weed, the details of the post-mortem, the presence of dog hairs on the body.

“So, what led you to this Arrowsmith family?”

She remembered her assurance to Ben that she would never reveal him as a source. She gave him a flick of a glance to let him know she’d meant it.

“Just a hunch. Maybe I saw a girl in that Chrysler we saw speeding through the village. It was something between a guess and a subliminal flash. I could be wrong. I go over and over it trying to focus on what I did see.”

“And what’s next?”

“That depends. If these dog hairs are a match then I definitely saw that girl in the car and I tell the world.”

“And if they don’t match?” he asked.

“Then I keep trying to fix the picture in my head.”

“So why have you kept it to yourself so far?”

“Because facts are science and truth is art. The bosses want a sane certainty. Some loony loner with half a story is worse than nothing. I’ll get dear old Lupo’s fur cross matched and then we’ll see. If it’s go for gold I’m standing back and letting the big boys play. It’ll all be way above my head.”

“Do you promise me? I want you to promise me and Ben for that matter.”

His tone was concerned and serious. The fact that he was including the lad was strangely touching as if both of them were claiming her as their own.

“I promise,” she said holding their eyes in turn.

Somewhere deep in the house a phone was ringing. Spencer strode off leaving her with Ben.

“Thanks for the rescue. You did the right thing.”

“Father was so worried. I was too. I know you said you wouldn’t tell him it was me who told you about the drugs at Ashley’s house, but it’s OK if you do now.”

“I said I wouldn’t no matter what. That’s why I didn’t. If I give you my word, that’s that.”

“I’ll trust you with anything ... um....”

She realized he was struggling to call her by her name. She was the local cop protected from familiarity by protocols.

“Please call me Shannon. I’d really like that.”

He gave a broad smile.

“God, your dad’s a fearless guy,” she said.

“He was a major in the SAS. He has the Conspicuous Gallantry Cross and the Military Cross. He’ll never tell you that.”

“No, he wouldn’t.”

“I used to want all that, but now, you know, with everything, I can’t.”

“It’ll come good. Never give up.”

The lad nodded but looked glum.

“That’s Jasmine on the phone,” he said.

“How d’you know?”

“Cos Father’s not speaking. It’ll be about the match on Sunday.”

She’d completely forgotten the cricket.

“Are you in the team?”

“Yes, I bat at number five. Father comes in at number three.”

“Will we win?”

“We have to, Shannon.”

“Is it important to you Dad?”