Page 68 of In Too Deep

“We allowed information to leak yesterday that his family should never have heard through fucking gossip. We failed to find his sister thirteen years ago. And every time he asks questions, someone in this station treats him like a criminal for wanting to know what happened to her.” Harrison held his gaze. “So perhaps we could stop demonising him for five bloody minutes and remember why he’s angry in the first place.”

A beat passed.

Then, “Aye, sir.”

Harrison turned and started walking again.

It took perhaps three steps before he realised what he’d just done. Less than an hour ago, he’d lain in bed asking Jake to trust him. Telling him that whatever the police had done thirteen years ago, whatever reasons Jake had for distrusting the badge, Harrison was asking him to separate the man from the job. Apparently Harrison was having rather more difficulty doing the same.

Because Jake wasn’t simply Robyn Whitton’s brother anymore. Wasn’t the ex-convict whose name kept appearing in his enquiries, or the infuriating bastard who refused to stay out of police business. He was the man who’d slept curled against Harrison’s chest. And apparently that was enough for Harrison’s objectivity to disappear up his own arse.

He shoved his hands into his coat pockets and kept walking. Behind him came the distant clatter of scaffolding, Levenson barking instructions and, unmistakably, Jake’s laugh.

Harrison didn’t turn around.

That, at least, he still had enough professional judgement not to do.

Chapter nine

Coming Apart at the Seams

Jake watched Harrison disappear across the compound beside Calder, stomach doing something fucking stupid.

Bollocks.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. He hadn’t expected that. Not the Mr Whitton. That bit made sense. Harrison was here as a detective, Jake was here as a roofer, and Calder was standing three feet away watching him as if he expected Jake to produce a crowbar and confess to something.

But he had a legitimate reason for leaving?

Jake bit down on the smile threatening to come back.

Harrison had stood up for him. He’d stepped straight in before Jake had even managed to defend himself, then looked faintly horrified when every bastard there turned to stare at him.

Christ. That shouldn’t have felt as good as it did.

Jake looked across the compound again. Harrison and Calder were nearly back at the river. Calder said something Jake couldn’t hear and Harrison stopped, turning towards him. Even from here, Jake recognised the set of Harrison’s shoulders and the rigid angle of his head.

Detective Black was pissed off.

Jake watched another few seconds until Harrison started walking again. He didn’t look back.

And annoyingly, Jake wanted him to.

Just once. One glance across the compound that belonged to the man who’d held him in bed that morning rather than the detective who’d just called him Mr Whitton.

Nothing.

Right.

That was new.

Jake knew how mornings after worked. He’d had enough of them. Usually they involved finding his jeans, locating whichever boot had ended up beneath the bed, maybe a quick kiss if the bloke had been decent, then getting on with his life. If they passed each other a week later and barely acknowledged it, even better. No one owed anyone anything. Jake certainly didn’t go around analysing the way some bloke had said morning to him afterwards.

But Harrison wasn’t some bloke anymore.

There was the fucking problem.

Jake dragged his attention away from Harrison, to the river. Because there was another problem needling beneath his skin too. If Harrison was here interviewing contractors and sniffing around site managers first thing in the morning, then something about this place mattered. Something had dragged CID down to the industrial estate barely an hour after Harrison had climbed out of Jake’s arms.