Chapter Twenty-Two Homework Set #2
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 for You’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.”
Then she and Naomi wandered into the living room.
Jude blew out a breath. “Is she always like that?”
“Worse. Imagine Mrs Turner without her morning coffee.”
Jude winced. “Great.”
“I’ll go get dressed and join you in there.”
Jude’s voice was quieter then, almost brittle. “Is this where they take you from me?”
Warren cupped his chin, forced him to meet his eyes. “They might try. But I’m not going anywhere.” He kissed him. “Go put the kettle on. Don’t agree to anything, don’t say a word until I’m beside you.”
Jude nodded, squaring his shoulders as he slipped out to the front room. Warren heard him ask if anyone wanted tea. Patel’s voice carried back, clipped but polite: “Milk, no sugar.” Naomi’s softer: “Same.”
Warren launched upstairs, dragged on the shorts and a polo, tied his locs back fast, then jogged down again. He walked into the living room to find Patel and Naomi side by side on the sofa, heads bent close in conversation. Jude was still in the kitchen, the rattle of mugs and kettle faint.
“You can speak out loud.” Warren dropped onto the coffee table opposite them. The same table that had held his weight last night, only this time he sat rigid, ready for a fight.
Naomi’s eyes cut to him first. “What are you doing, Warren?”
“The right thing.”
Patel straightened, authority radiating off her. “The right thing would’ve been staying clear of him the moment you were pulled off the op. Instead, you’re in his bed, in his house, and jeopardising every shred of work we’ve put in. You think that’s right?”
“I think leaving him alone, treating him like a piece of evidence instead of a person—that’s wrong.”
Naomi shook her head, disappointment cutting through her voice. “You’re compromised. Again. This is Glasshouse all over. You can’t separate the target from the person. And you know what that costs.”
Warren stiffened. “You know about Glasshouse?”
“Yes, Warren. I know.” Her eyes didn’t waver. “I was the one they came to, the one asked if you could still be trusted in the field. I thought you could. I vouched for you here.”
“This isn’t the same.”
“Why not?”
The first answer slammed into him before he could stop it—because I wasn’t in love with Aneesa. The thought jolted him. Too soon to brandish a word like that, but Christ, it was the truth beneath his skin.
Instead, his voice came out rough, controlled.
“Because Glasshouse was about saving a girl from being sold like property. And this—” he jerked his chin towards the kitchen where Jude was clattering mugs, oblivious “—this is about making sure he lives long enough to have a life after all of this. Don’t tell me I’m wrong for protecting him. ”
Patel’s gaze pinned him, hard, unflinching. “He’s not your responsibility, DS Beckford. He’s a witness. A potential liability. And right now, he’s our best chance at Radley. You stand in the way of that, you’re not just done with this op—you’re done, full stop.”
Warren’s chest burned. “Maybe that’s the risk I take. For him.”
The sound of footsteps cut the air. Jude appeared in the doorway, a tray balanced in his hands, three mugs steaming.
“Do you… need me to go?” He tipped his head back towards the kitchen.
“No, Mr Ellison.” Patel gestured him forward. “You’re the reason we’re here.”
Jude glanced at Warren. He gave him the faintest nod. That was enough. Jude stepped further in, set the tray down on the coffee table, and handed out the mugs. Warren’s first. A coffee made exactly the way he liked it. And that tiny detail hit him square in the chest.
With nowhere else to sit, Jude eased down beside him on the table.
Warren shifted up to give him space, their shoulders brushing.
The Ikea surface probably wasn’t built for two, but Warren couldn’t have cared less.
The sight of Jude sitting next to him, shoulder to shoulder, felt like a quiet statement of solidarity.
Patel cleared her throat, setting her mug down on the floor beside her.
“I’ll cut straight to it. This is Detective Sergeant Naomi Delaney.
She’s been undercover with this investigation for some time.
She knows the players, knows what’s at stake, and she’s here because we now have an opportunity to run an operation that could give us what we need to put Graham Radley away. ”
Jude’s mouth curved faintly towards Naomi, but Warren felt the tension in him. He knew Jude hadn’t forgotten who she was. What she once was to Warren. But Naomi’s expression stayed strictly professional, her posture neutral, betraying nothing.
Patel pressed on. “We leaned on Callum Reid hard in interview last night. He knows what he’s looking at.
A fresh conviction, custodial, no support from Radley or his associates this time.
Which means the sentence would be his alone to carry.
We’ve kept the arrest off the books as far as media and local chatter.
As far as Radley’s people know, Reid hasn’t been touched. ”
Naomi gave a small nod. “Confirmed. My cover hasn’t picked up even a whisper yet. Far as they’re concerned, Reid’s still active.”
Patel steepled her hands, leaning forward. “So, we’ve struck a deal. Reid has agreed to cooperate, to help us draw Radley out, in exchange for non-prosecution on the current offence.”
Jude sucked in a sharp breath, rising off the table as though burned.
“Wait.” Warren slid a hand to Jude’s knee. The muscles were tight beneath his palm, tense as wire. “Listen first.”
Jude exhaled hard, forcing himself back down, and Warren withdrew his hand.
Patel’s voice stayed even. “The terms are clear. Reid will be subject to a restraining order against you, Mr Ellison. He’ll be relocated under witness protection, well away from Worthbridge.
He’ll be barred from any contact, direct or indirect, with you.
If he breaches, he goes straight back inside. Those are the conditions.”