Passion Patrol 2 - a Sexy Police Romance Suspense Novel With a Touch of Humor: Hot Cops. Hot Crime. Hot Romance. (15 page)

“Help me, Jasmine. I know so little of this world.”

“Spencer will never ever marry you. He will never shack up with some half-breed whore and sire snotty nosed brats called Tyler and Chardonnay. He’ll fuck you because you open your legs.”

“Yeah, and since his wife died you’ve served up your pussy with golden gravy on a silver plate and he hasn’t touched it. You’re a cold, ugly face full of oversize teeth and you’re on the way downhill. Wise up.”

“How dare you?”

“You wanted a girlie chat, Jasmine. It’s another room for self-esteem building.”

“You’re a hard cow, Shannon.”

“Yeah, straight out of Peckham via Brixton. Life’s a merciless punch in the face Ms de Montfort. I bet you keep your doors locked at traffic lights. I bet you don’t sashay along concrete balconies at midnight when the boys are out with leaking dicks needing a girl, eh?”

“I’ll leave the gutter shit to you, Shannon.”

“You already have, Jasmine. I’m a cop. You’re a toff. If you want a hard girl competition I’ll fix you a couple of years on a patrol car.”

Shannon knew she was being absolutely horrid. She appalled herself. On the other hand, she was speaking the truth of life and herself. This woman had presented herself and called her a half-breed slut without invitation. Jasmine had folded herself into a chair to face her.

“I’m sure you could impress me with your prehistoric reflexes. The fact is that Spencer is a peer of the realm. I want to save you from disappointment. He will only ever take a partner from his own social realm.”

Somewhere inside she knew that Jasmine was actually rattling a loose screw that she was well aware of. What she said was true and an obvious issue. She wasn’t about to share her introspections.

“So, why the fuck do you want to help me? If I’m a whore with no way up then why am I a problem to you?”

“You can spoil his chance of true happiness.”

“And that heavenly chance lies festering between your thighs if only he could see it?”

“You really are a common slag.”

“Oh Jasmine, what wit! Shall we just swap vocabulary you shit-breath frigid trollop? Come on ... it’s like a game of scrabble. You have a go, or is the girlie chat getting a bit rank?”

“I came to advise you.”

“Thanks. I never like to accept a gift I can’t return. Here’s my advice to you. Fuck off before I get off this bed, tear your fucking hair out, and stuff it up your stinking diseased cunt.”

Jasmine actually blinked. Her jaw didn’t quite drop but Shannon could tell she’d offered a rough girl vision she hadn’t quite anticipated. She didn’t ever want to show her teeth let alone bite. But the beast was in there. To give her opponent credit, she had a fair bit of front. She composed herself and spoke looking up at the ceiling.

“And you can’t even bring yourself to care about Ben’s life and chances. The boy needs a boarding school to mix with his own class and those who can guide him. The monarchs, governments and religious leaders of this land are only developed in such places. Only people of such quality are fit to lead the brainless mass of plebs. They are born to command. You will condemn him to a life of penniless despair in some lame-brained job – or even worse, the police.”

“You claim to care for him. All you want is him out the way so you can home in on Spencer. You’re an evil witch and most people can see it. He wants me Jasmine, he cares about me, he hugs and kisses me in front of all these people. I’d say eat your heart out but there isn’t one, is there?”

Jasmine leaned back, sighed and smiled.

“Oh you poor simple thick bimbo. I suppose Spencer hasn’t told you he’s sending him back. He won’t have told you while he’s using you as his
receptacle
. Ha! I can see by your face you didn’t know did you. I’ve known for weeks. We haven’t told him to avoid distress during his holidays.”

“Then why bother with all this Jasmine?”

“I want to help you. Think of me as a bringer of tough love.”

“Think of me as someone who thinks you’re a liar and is looking at your hair wondering where to start.”

“You are such a people person, Shannon. Your talents are wasted here and I know the commissioner agrees with me.”

Shannon was stifling an urge to punch her straight in the face. The truth was she would have the upper class connections to move her on and blight her whole career.

“I’ll build your advice into my pillow talk with Spencer. He loves me to talk dirty. If you don’t leave now, I will get off this bed and attack you. Capisce?”

Jasmine swayed her way to the door. “Drunks are pathetic,” added Shannon.

She lay back on the bed. If the bitch had come to hurt her she’d succeeded. Had Spencer agreed to send Ben back to boarding school? At the end of the day it wasn’t any of her business. Was she just a slut in a hopeless affair with an unreachable guy—a guy she was in love with? All her world knowledge told her he would never be hers. All her instincts screamed out that this was her man. His look, his touch, his smell were a fit and a deep need in her. For now she had to appear calm and unruffled. That would boil up Jasmine more than anything. Her mind flipped and twisted like a butterfly trapped against a window pane. Publicly he was acknowledging her and respecting her. So far he hadn’t opened his heart, but in truth she hadn’t revealed her feelings. Her intuition was that Jasmine had lied about Ben’s future or greatly exaggerated the certainty. This affair had exploded in her life and the fragments were still in the air. There was a long way to go and with Jasmine she had probably sneaked the first couple of rounds. At least now it was gloves off and no mercy. That was her kind of fight.

There was a delicious smell of food in the marquee. Spencer was doing the social rounds. He had changed into an open-neck check shirt and blue jeans. His dark hair was still wet from the shower and brushed back. He was just too handsome and somehow magnificent. At his side was a large tall guy in a clerical collar holding a glass of Pimms. His face was flushed and beaming with inner goodness. Spencer spotted her and at once waved for her to come over. Before speaking he kissed her cheek.

“Shannon, do you know Canon Nigel Hoverington. He’s in charge of Saint Bartholomew’s church and also a Queen’s Chaplain.”

“Also human souls of the village ... not just the building, Spencer,” he pronounced carefully in a booming sermonic voice. “It’s a great pleasure to meet you, my dear. Will we be seeing you at a service?”

“I love the bells in the evening. Anything is possible....”

“Ah yes, so it is. Heaven came to us here this very afternoon. The meek inherited the earth before our very eyes. Damn me—I think I’ve got the makings of a bloody good sermon there. Oh—did I swear? Oh Lord ... who cares?”

“It’s been a long wait for the meek hasn’t it?” said Shannon.

“Rather. A spot over two thousand years, what?”

“Don’t you do Evensong on Sundays?”

“Well yes, but everyone’s here. I’ve subcontracted the job to a young curate. Fine chap, very modern, would love to cuddle up with a lady bishop. Destined for the top they say.”

Shannon beamed at him. He was a character and unaware of his natural comedy. A succession of people shook hands and chatted about her police role in the community. She could tell that most women were far more interested in her private life. Now and again she took Spencer’s hand and when he was free, he responded with a touch or smile. Ben modestly accepted everyone’s praise and congratulations until his shoulders must have been sore with hugs and slaps. Although she often caught the sound of Jasmine’s voice, she kept her distance. She appeared to have sobered up or at least stuck her head in a bucket of cold water. Staff toured the gathering with luxurious canapés and tumblers of iced Pimms, lavishly garnished with fruit.

Selena appeared to have taken to Ben with what Shannon imagined was her interpretation of intoxicated maternal caring.

“Ben, my handsome hero,” she began, pausing to plant a bright red lipsticked kiss on his cheek, “you need love. We all need love. Love is the world’s greatest story. And stories are lies! The telling of that story is the unraveling of a fiction truer than reality. This is the true discovery of love.”

Ben looked bemused.

“Bravo!” yelled Vandervell. “That’s straight out of ‘Fandango in Feltham.’ You’ve been learning your lines my dear.”

“I’m a pro,” she said.

Selena kissed Ben again and took a bow. Shannon hugged her.

“He’ll talk about the day he met you for the rest of his life,” she said.

Selena smiled back and held Shannon’s eyes in a way that a woman would not normally do.

“Then I really would have been someone worthwhile. Thank you,” she said.

“Any time,” Shannon replied.

Her guess was that Selena’s life had not picked up too many genuine friends.

Dinner was served from a buffet. There were huge whole salmon, vats of coronation chicken, exotic rice salad garnished with enormous prawns and bowls of green salad. The dessert table was a carnival of trifle in crystal bowls, silver trays of chocolate roulade and a fairground color carousel of tarts. Vandervell held up the line by asking for a working man’s pie. The chef mashed something of everything into a baguette which was close enough. The evening wines were a white and a red Chateauneuf du Pape. They were pure paradise. Shannon sat alongside Spencer with her father on the other side. Ben, Mel, and Tim chatted with Selena about being an actress. She had had a more than a maternal impact on Ben. Shannon had no doubt what the lad would be dreaming later. Vandervell was reduced to silence by the enormity of his pie baguette. Her dad was quiet, probably unused to his daughter supping with an earl. Mel and Tim appeared to have clicked. Spencer rose to give a small speech. He thanked the opposing team for being such sporting opponents. He thanked the umpires for their fair and impeccable application of the rules. He thanked the staff for their catering. He toasted all the beautiful ladies and all their gentlemen for everything he’d left out. She looked up at him. He was confident and relaxed. He’d been born to wealth and power. How different her own life had been. Perhaps Jasmine was right? Nearly every woman here was closer to his social position and class. Every woman here wanted him. Why would he choose her?

He returned to his seat beside her.

“You look a bit down,” he said as he took her hand.

“It’s all a bit overwhelming. I’m not used to stuff like this.”

“We’ll need some quiet time soon. Everyone’s buzzing about you. You’re an absolute treasure.”

Canon Hoverington stood up and presented the “man of the match” award to Ben. There was applause and champagne. Then more champagne and more applause.

A jazz band was assembling at the end of the marquee and a dance floor cleared. Most of the musicians had been in the Bloxington cricket team. Tim was doing a sound check and sang a couple of bars into a microphone. The crowd cheered. Obviously this whole scene had unfolded before. Within a few minutes he began to honey out “Moon River.” Spencer immediately led her to the dance floor and swept her into his arms.

“You’re so wonderful,” he whispered to her, crooning along with the lyrics ... “Dream maker, you heartbreaker—wherever you’re going I’m going your way....”

She rested her head against her chest. She felt buried into her big hugga-bear as if there was no one else in the world. For sure, all the people in their little world of the marquee were watching them. A few other dancers had joined in. Jasmine was smooching with Prince Xavier, not head on chest but gusset on thigh. Inwardly, Shannon was smiling. Spencer was showing her as his woman. She could ask no more of him.

At the end they went back to the table.

“I have a little job to do for a minute,” he said.

He walked into the band and sat down, putting the strap of a saxophone over his shoulder. The band struck up “Careless Whisper.” Spencer launched himself into the sax role. The crowd stamped and cheered. Everyone was on their feet. These guys were amazing. Selena was crying.

Shannon was blown away. “I had no idea he did this stuff.”

“He hasn’t—not since Mother died,” said Ben

“That’s why I’m crying,” wailed Selena.

Spencer returned beaming and took her back to dance. Selena grabbed Patrick. It was evident that Vandervell was not much of a dancer. Mel put intellectual questions about the wider psychological meanings of zombies and vampires. The great director held forth. Over the next hour Selena was an absolute star. She sang Marilyn Monroe’s “I Want to be Loved by You.” The crowd cheered and stamped. This was her real life, those moments of separation into the sublime, when her soul rose to some abstract cloud of joy and she flew back with some to share. She was a wonderful and fragile bird always migrating to a brighter sun. Then she danced with Patrick, Mel, and then with Ben. Shannon wondered if the poor lad would ever get out of bed in the morning. He would want the rest of his life to be a dream.

Spencer danced only with her. He had smiles and eyes only for her. She knew she was being selfish. She should set him free, he belonged to all these folk in some way. He should at least dance with Selena Fontesse. There was some kind of chant going around the place. Probably she’d drunk too much. It sounded as if more and more people were calling for Elvis. Elvis. Elvis. He led her back to the table. She hugged everyone as the chant continued. Tim was at the microphone.

“Elvis. Elvis,” he said.

Shannon stared at Spencer. They were chanting at him. He smiled.

“Sometimes ... in the past, I’ve done an Elvis number.... They seem to want one.”

“Then do it!” she said.

He put his hand to her waist and pulled her to him in a kiss. Then he stepped across to the band as the keyboard picked out the melody of “Can’t Help Falling in Love with You.’ He took the mike. He began.

“Wise men say, only fools rush in but I can’t help falling....”

Some people were singing. Some people were crying, including her and Selena who had come to hug her.

“He’s singing for you, Honey. This is a book. This is a film. This is total braingasm. This is fucking love,” she said.

Through tears she watched him. Was he singing these words to her?

“Can it all be real?” she said into Selena’s ear.

“Only my dreams are real. He loves you so, so much. I can see why. I can feel why.”

He finished the song and took his bows. He returned to the table, kissed her lips and took her back for a final dance. Selena had a last smooch around with the Reverend Hoverington. By the look on his face, heaven had once again come to Earth.

Folk were beginning to drift away. The team monster coach was awaiting Jasmine’s all-stars. Spencer was shaking hands and spreading thanks and bonhomie. For a couple of moments she was alone at the entrance to the marquee. She felt a presence at her side.

“That was a sickly sentimental little show wasn’t it?” said Jasmine.

“Yes, everyone thought you’d rub a hole through your panties on Xavier’s leg.”

“You really are disgusting,”

“You should see my hairdressing skills.”

Shannon gave her a hard stare. Jasmine stepped out of hairdressing range. Spencer saw them and came over.”

“So nice to see you gals getting along.”

“We were just discussing hairstyles. I’m so lucky to be an all over natural blond. Don’t you agree, Spencer?”

“I think you are a very lucky girl, Jasmine,” he replied, keeping his smiling eyes on Shannon.

“Spencer,” she began in her breathy shrill gush, “I must ask a favor of you. I’ve sent the coach away. Most of the players live outside London. I’ve drunk too much to drive and I wouldn’t dream of clashing with the local constable. You’ll look after me tonight, won’t you?”

He glanced at Shannon before answering.

“Yes, of course.”

“Your staff tell me there’s a new wonderful romantic bed to try out. That would be so fun.”

“Do you mean Shannon’s bed?”

“I mean the Empress Joséphine’s bed. I believe she died leaving a vacancy.”

“Too late, it’s been filled,” said Shannon.

Spencer looked between the two of them. He was a natural diplomat and he must have been able to eat the tension. Shannon didn’t want to create a scene for him to deal with. She knew cold disdain would hurt Jasmine more.

“Usual arrangement then,” said Jasmine with a wink at her.

Spencer was saved from having to respond by the arrival of a bleary eyed Prince Xavier.

“Taxi firm have cocked things up,” he complained.

“No worries old boy. Stay here the night. If an earl can’t care for a prince it would be a poor show. My ancestors used to invite Charles II and Nell Gwyn here for some quality romantic time together.”

“There you are Jasmine. You can hone your royal mistress skills. It’s a competitive business,” said Shannon with an obvious sexy wink at the young prince. She sent out a thought beam.
Yes Jasmine. I could take him and you can see it.

A wave of anger bordering on violence flashed across Jasmine’s face. Shannon was ready for her and didn’t blink. Xavier saved the day.

“When a woman is cultured and beautiful enough for a king who could resist her? I believe they’re serving brandy as a nightcap?” he said, offering her his arm and leading her away.

“Top man!” said Spencer.

“Could you guys lend me some shoes? These glass slippers are useless. I’m going to walk home with Mel and my dad. It’s gone midnight and the horses have already turned into rats. One ran off to the woods but I’m afraid I just saw one making for the house.”

“I’ll set a trap outside my door,” he said with a smile.

Ben quickly appeared with some trainers. She collected her dad and Mel. She kissed Vandervell, Selena, Tim, and the Reverend Hoverington. She hugged Spencer.

“I’m in my office in London all day. I’ll be in touch. Thank you so much,” he said.

She kissed his lips, folded her arms around Mel and Patrick and set off down the long drive to Fleetworth-Green.