Read Online Passion Patrol 2 - a Sexy Police Romance Suspense Novel With a Touch of Humor: Hot Cops. Hot Crime. Hot Romance. by Emma Calin - Free Book Online Page B

he said. “And just how are you going to find me two cricket players. Ideally I need a first class batsman and a decent bowler.”
    “Did I mention my dad is from Antigua?”
    “Yes!’
    “Have you heard of Richie Richardson?”
    “Of course, he captained the West Indies.”
    “He’s a mate of my dad. They played together as young men for the Leeward Islands. My dad had the chance to come to London to work and he chose that path. I’m glad he did cos that’s how I got made in England.”
    “He can bat?”
    “He sure can. Have faith. The other one is my mate, Mel.”
    “A young lady?”
    “Mel is a bloke. He’s played for the Met Police.”
    “He may have a match already.”
    “He’ll cancel it for me. He’s my absolute BFF. He’s bringing me a curry tonight.”
    “Here?”
    Spencer’s expression conveyed several other questions.
    “BFF—best friend forever, we worked together in Brixton.”
    “Bonds made in adversity are the strongest,” he said.
    She could tell he didn’t want another man in her life. She was enjoying the tease.
    “Am I being a minx?” she said, holding his eyes.
    “I don’t know. Are you?”
    “Look, Mel is gay. He does not do women.”
    “No man could resist you.”
    “You’ll meet him Sunday. You’ll see how he is. I promise.”
    “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
    “You did OK for the first forty-one years.”
    “That’s because I didn’t know I was going to meet you,” he said with a look that nearly stopped her heart.

Chapter 6
    “Wow!” she said, surveying the new Mitsubishi Shogun SUV in the police house car park.
    “It’s very special,” said the garage sergeant. “The police service has decreed that you merit such a vehicle. It is a very valuable piece of kit.”
    “I’ll try not to scratch it,” she said in a girlie voice.
    “Normally an ordinary driver, someone not trained to an advanced level would not be issued with such a machine. I take it you are not advanced.”
    “Some people say I’m a bit forward and cheeky, but I’m not advanced, Sarge. I’m just a regular girl underneath.”
    He looked at her from under his slashed peaked hat. Mirrored sunglasses hid his eyes. She stared back with an expression of insolence. She hated driving specialist snobs. She’d been shuffling cars around the garages under the arches in Peckham since she was about ten. “I’ll soon get some pink fluffy dice and a ‘bitch on board’ bumper sticker so that I’ll feel at home.”
    The sergeant gulped.
    “I imagine that’s a joke. Here’s the keys and remember not to put petrol in it.”
    “Is it a battery car? Where do I plug it in?” she asked disingenuously, well aware of his meaning.
    “It’s diesel. DIESEL. It’s a type of fuel oil.”
    “Oil—ooh yes, you pour that in the engine, Sarge! I’ve seen my dad do that.”
    “No! No! Diesel fuel. It goes in the tank!”
    Shannon started to laugh.
    “Sarge, I was winding you up....”
    “Well, you never know with non-advanced drivers.”
    “I’m sure, but I’ll look after it. I wouldn’t have chosen white as a color and all those stripes are a bit brash—but hey,” she said with a shrug.
    The sergeant smiled feebly, pulled on his backless kangaroo-leather driving gloves and strode to a waiting patrol car. She jumped her bottom up onto the bonnet and swung her legs and waved as he drove away. She needed a shower and there was some work to do.
     
     
    Her computer screen was showing the results on all the checks she had run on the “Bluegrass” house at Badger’s Knoll. Both vehicles were registered to a company “Green Pasture Properties.” The register of voters showed the occupants of the house to be Sylvie and Ron Arrowsmith. She flicked to a company director search and sure enough, the business was their baby. She noted two previous bankruptcy warnings on their credit record. A Criminal Records check at once revealed Ron Arrowsmith to be a very serious villain