Finn stood and moved to Mitch’s side as soon as the ambos gave him the go-ahead to let go of the T-shirt and took over staunching the flow of blood. Mitch wanted to reach out and drag Finn to him, to hold him and offer comfort, but couldn’t, not whena cop car was pulling up in the middle of the street behind them. No doubt there’d soon be press on the scene too. So instead of taking Finn into his arms, Mitch gave him a gentle touch on the shoulder and took the bundled T-shirt from his shaking hands.
Seeing someone so gravely injured before your eyes was traumatic enough, let alone someone you were close to. Mitch had seen some gruesome thingsin his time, due to the job, but he had a feeling that Finn, even though he was attached to the club, hadn’t dealt with something like this close-up.And how close are Finn and Pete?
Pete.
They loaded him onto the stretcher.
Even though his feelings for Pete had long since faded to something he couldn’t entirely put his finger on, it tore him up to see him like this. For all his faults, Petehad tried to beat his addiction, and Mitch understood it was the drugs that had torn their relationship apart. Mitch swallowed past the lump in his throat.
“Go with them.” He nudged Finn. Finn remained silent, but he nodded before walking to the back of the ambulance. He spoke to the paramedics, then climbed into the ambulance. Mitch got one last look at his stricken face before they slammedthe doors closed and the ambulance pulled away in a sharp burst of siren noise.
“Sir?” Mitch became aware of someone speaking his name. “Sir? Let’s get you off the road, and we’d like to have a word with you and any other witnesses.”
He nodded, giving one last look at the already congealing scarlet pool on the bitumen, and moved onto the footpath next to Pete’s damaged car. He could see anotherpolice officer across the road, talking to the small group that was gathered outside the pub.
“I’m Officer Ted Johnson. I need to ask you a few questions.”
“Sure.” He gave the young officer his full attention and kept his voice low. “Listen, this is important. I’m Detective Mitch O’Neill, working undercover as part of an antibike operation. I need you to contact Detective Ross Sloane and SuperintendentSutherland. They can back me up. You’ll find drugs, a small bag that I assume is heroin, down the front of my jeans. There could be drugs and weapons in the HiLux. I can’t be 100 percent sure, but it’s likely. The guy who was hit is Peter Crowley—aren’t you going to write any of this down?”
The officer flicked open his notepad and hurried for a pen. His professionalism finally seemed to kickin, and he ignored the pen and hovered his hand over his weapon instead. “Are you armed?”
“No, not on me. I have a weapon—police issued—in my car. A Range Rover parked around the corner. Keys are in my jacket pocket, which is on the back of a chair in the beer garden of the pub over there.”
“ID.”
“Not on me, and not in my real name.”
The guy frowned. “And this incident, this hit-and-run, isinvolved with your case?”
Mitch nodded. “Peter Crowley is a new pledge to the Soldiers of Fury. He’s pretty close to Rocky Cummings. Acts as a runner and general dogsbody. I can’t be certain, but the hit-and-run could have been a deliberate attempt to target the Soldiers. There was a definite attempt on them recently—a drive-by shooting outside the home of Rocky Cummings.”
“I heard about that.”The cop glanced across the road at his colleague, gesturing to get his attention and beckon him before turning back to Mitch. He only had his eyes off Mitch for a second, and his hand didn’t leave his weapon. “I need to check up on your story. Stay right here and don’t move.”
The two policemen chatted for a bit, the younger one gesturing toward Mitch. He finally returned to the police car, obviouslyradioing for more info and to validate what Mitch had given him. The murmur of the crowd reached his ears, along with the sound of more sirens. He glanced at the place where Pete had lain. Mitch bit back the bile and fought down the emotions. Now wasn’t the time to let his personal involvement get the better of him, but he still couldn’t help the tinge of sadness at the thought of Pete inthe back of the ambulance, and the ache in his heart at the sense of helplessness that had risen at the sight of Finn’s distress.
He closed his eyes for a moment and squeezed his hands tight as he tried to bring himself under control. The coppery scent of blood filled his nostrils. Pete’s blood. He opened his eyes, taking in the twisted and stained T-shirt. He dropped the shirt and stared athis bloodstained hands, then leaned over and promptly vomited into the gutter.
Yeah, keeping his professional and personal lives separate sure wasn’t happening.
