Jude slipped his glasses on and there was no mistaking the fear behind those lenses. “I’ve got protection. You said I did.”
“You do.” Warren scanned the dark landing. “But I told them to call me if anyone came to your door. They didn’t.”
Jude swallowed audibly. “What does that mean?”
“Means I go first.”
He crept downstairs, every step silent, body on high alert. Training kicked in, automatic. Keep to the edges.Don’t let them hear you coming.His locs swung loose around his shoulders and he tucked them back impatiently, wishing he’d tied them up. At the door he slid the chain across, took a breath, and cracked it open.
The sight on the step made his stomach clench.
“DS Beckford.” Patel folded her arms, her exasperation as clear as day. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I sincerely hope you are here on a personal matter.”
Warren exhaled hard, unlocked the chain, and swung the door wider. The state of him answered for him. Bare chest, sleep-creased skin, boxers clinging low on his hips. Personal, yeah.Very fucking personal.Then Naomi appeared from behind Patel, eyes cutting to him and giving him that look. The one she used to give him when he left the toilet seat up. Shorthand forYou’re in deep shit, Warren.
He stepped back, letting them in, an as he did, he glanced past them to the street. The same patrol car sat parked across from Jude’s. Same uniforms, heads swivelling to watch. Warren lifted his middle finger at them, sharp and unapologetic.
The driver rolled his window down far enough to throw back, “She outranks you, Sarge.”
Warren shut the door with a hard snap of wood on frame.
“Right.” Patel spun on him, sharp as a blade. Naomi stood behind her, arms folded, stare fixed and unflinching. “I don’t think I need to remind you of every protocol you’ve just walked straight over as if it didn’t exist?”
“No. I can recite them.”
“Yet you chose not to follow them.”
“Obviously.”
The silence cracked with the sound of footsteps on the stairs. All three turned to Jude, now in joggers and an old T-shirt, barefoot, scrubbing a hand through his curls as he stepped into the tension brewing in his hallway.
“Hi.” He stopped on the last step, glancing along all three of them but not quite settling on Warren.
“Mr Ellison.” Patel unbuttoned her coat. “I trust you’re satisfied with our laid-on protection. That you feel safe in your home again?” She cocked her head, the weight of the question not lost on anyone.
Jude glanced at Warren. He exhaled heavily, his chest prickling, still feeling half-naked despite the boxers.
“Uh… yes.” Jude nodded quickly, eyes back on Patel. “Safe. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. We’re not always this thorough, mind.” Patel’s pointed glance at Warren made the subtext clear. “Apologies for the early call. We wanted to catch you before school.”
“Right. Yes.” Jude stepped down the last stair and, almost unconsciously, came to stand beside Warren. Too close, given he was standing there half-naked with his senior officer and his ex staring at him. But he didn’t shift an inch. Warren liked him there. “Is there a problem? Should I not go in?”
“If we could have a word.” Patel nodded towards the living room.
“Um… sure.” Jude glanced at Warren, uncertain.
Patel’s tone hardened. “And DS Beckford, you are fully dismissed from this case. Your presence is not required. Perhaps you could…” She rolled her gaze down his bare chest, “…shower.”
“I might not be here under an official capacity,” Warren stood firm, “but Jude may want an advocate.”
“Has he asked for one?” Patel snapped.
Warren turned to Jude.
“Yes.” Jude pushed his glasses higher. “Yes, I’d like him to stay.”
Patel blew out a sharp breath and turned away. “Jesus Christ. At least put some bloody clothes on.”
