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

indeed. Until now he’d been a violent gangster. He had followed traditional pathways of extortion, protection rackets, armed robbery, and a sideline as a fence handling stolen goods. He’d been acquitted of the murder of an undercover cop ten years ago. Sylvie had no recent record but had been locked up for a sexual assault on a female many years ago. The charges were dropped before trial . She had a conviction for operating a brothel in the West End of London in 1987. Since then she had gone off the radar.
    So, there were millionaire criminals living on the edge of rural paradise. Her mind turned to the body in the ditch. She knew, she knew these people were involved. She remembered her childhood days at her dad’s little back street garage. Everyone knew the owner paid money for protection from thugs. Even as a kid her blood had boiled at the humiliation of seeing her dad’s wages docked when the boss had to pay the crooks. As a teenager she’d wanted to stand up to them but her dad had always shaken his head sadly and said, “The weeds will always choke the orchids.” From what she had learned in the police, the victory of the orchids would be a long time coming.
    Even a week before now, her soul would have churned with anger at these thoughts. Now, there was that man in her life. That man who’d kissed her. That man she’d kissed. No, that wasn’t right! He was that man with whom she had kissed. Soon Mel would be coming with the curry. There was time to phone her dad.
    “Hey, are you really my father?”
    “Depends who you are.”
    “I’m the sheriff of Fleetworth-Green.”
    “That’s my girl.”
    “Shall I come to the point?”
    “Is it a nice point or a nasty point?”
    “It’s a big, big extra sweet love for my daddy point.”
    “OK. What do I have to do and how much will it cost?”
    “You have to play cricket for the Earl of Bloxington’s team on Sunday. A cabinet minister and a prince have dropped out.”
    “I guess I could cruise down if I’m free.”
    “I’m serious.”
    “Shannon, I thought I’d never hear you say that word.”
    “I didn’t mean to say it. It just slipped out.”
    “I’m fifty-three. I’m a car mechanic in Peckham.”
    “You’re a star of the Leeward Islands in my heart.”
    There was a silence.
    “OK, what’s the crack?”
    “It’s just a little game down here.”
    “There’s no such thing as a little game of cricket.”
    “That’s why you’re a star.”
    “I’ll get some practice on the balcony outside the flat. I’ll get your mum to bowl some bouncers.”
    “You’ll be here!’
    “Didn’t I say? Yes, I’ll be there.”
    “I love you.”
    She put down the phone. That was one problem solved. She turned over the circumstances of the Arrowsmith family. She had a clue that there was skunk weed cannabis in the house. She had no idea of the quantity. She just could possibly have seen a dark-haired girl in Sylvie’s car. She was a village cop, serving a bit of a sentence on the sidelines for jumping in on a death-or-glory mission. The last thing she wanted was to make the same sort of mistake again. With the zizz of Spencer’s kiss still on her lips, there was no way she wanted a forced transfer out of here. For now a still tongue would make a wise head.
    She saw Mel arrive in his battered old car with the take-away curry. He looked tired and older. His grey office suit was creased and shapeless. At one time he would always have been immaculate. He’d been alone for too long and now even she had left him. She ran out and hugged him.
    “My Sugar baby love,” he said.
    “I’m so happy to see you!” she said, aware that his body was thinner and wiry. He smelled of police stations, prisons, and Brixton.
    They took the food through to the kitchen and opened Cobra beers in the pungent atmosphere of Vindaloo and steaming pilau rice. Mel took a long grateful slug from the bottle. He was a tall good-looking guy. He was a couple of years older than