Chapter Twenty-One Conflict of Interest #2
Bowen leant forward. “It’s not just about ethics. It’s about safeguarding the integrity of the case. If defence counsel finds out you withheld a personal link—”
“I know,” Freddie said quietly. “It could compromise the whole thing.”
Carrick sat back, arms folded. “And now that personal link is the father of a vulnerable young witness we’re hoping will support the investigation.
A safeguarded child in an active drugs case.
” He paused, letting that sink in. “That creates a potential conflict and undermines our position if it ever comes out in court.”
Freddie braced himself .
“You’ll need to submit a full written account,” March said. “Timeline, rationale, everything that led to your decision not to declare the link. That’ll go on file for the Professional Standards review.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“And we’re placing you on restricted duties pending the outcome of an internal review,” Carrick said. “No field work. No direct contact with operation echelon or associated individuals. You’ll be seconded to admin support at HQ.”
Freddie swallowed. “How long?”
March closed the laptop with a quiet click. “You’ll remain on restricted duties until the conflict’s been formally assessed and resolved. It’s not necessarily a career-ender, but it was a serious lapse in judgment.”
Freddie gave a curt nod. “Understood.”
“I want your written account on my desk before the end of your shift,” she added, her tone leaving no room for negotiation.
Freddie stood. “Yes, ma’am.”
Freddie opened the door, stepped out, and he was halfway down the corridor when Carrick jogged after him.
“PC Webb?”
“Sir?”
“You’re a solid copper, Webb. We all agree.
You’ve been an asset. And yes, you’ve made a serious misjudgement, but we’ve all been there in one form or another.
What counts now is how you manage the fallout.
” He paused, voice dipping low enough to signal the shift from official to personal.
“And, off the record, there was an incident this afternoon. Thought you should know.”
Freddie frowned. “Sir?”
“Alfie Carter was targeted with a knife. Attempted GBH. Suspect fled the scene. ”
The colour drained from Freddie’s face. “Is he—?”
“He’s physically unharmed. His father intervened. Took the injury in his place.”
The floor tilted beneath Freddie, and he wasn’t sure how he would remain upright.
“They’re at A&E now. Alfie’s physically unharmed but visibly shaken.” Carrick’s voice lowered. “CID’s been notified. Safeguarding’s been activated.”
Freddie swallowed hard. “And…how is Nathan? Is the injury serious?”
“We’ve had no further intel.” Carrick gave him a grave look. “It was serious.” He then turned on his heel and sauntered off, having no fucking clue how Freddie’s lungs had seized.
He blinked once. Twice. Still didn’t quite register the gravity of what Carrick had said.
Nathan. Stabbed .
The room tilted sideways, fluorescent lights blurring into white streaks as cold sweat broke along Freddie’s spine. Then a surge of adrenaline, sharp and brutal, slammed through his chest, and he ran.
Down the corridor. Through the double doors. Out into the rear yard, heart trying to punch its way out of his ribs.
Patrol cars. Empty.
Shit. No keys. No wheels. No plan.
He skidded to a halt as a car swung back into the yard, Becca behind the wheel.
Freddie sprinted for the bonnet, sliding across in one motion, and threw open the passenger door.
“Fred, what the fuck?!”
He was already in, yanking his seatbelt across his chest, and grabbed the handle above the window.
“Hospital,” he yelled. “Now.”
Becca blinked. “What? Why? Who called it in? ”
“I did.” He glared at her. “Please. Nathan’s been stabbed.”
She hesitated. Conflict in her eyes. The weight of her record, of every time she’d gone to bat for him and been burned for it. He thought she’d say no. Thought she’d freeze. So he pleaded with her, eyes wide and desperate.
“Please, Becks. I don’t know if he’s even alive.”
Becca straightened in her seat, tightening her grip around the wheel. Then she hit the lights.
The sirens screamed.
Freddie braced a hand on the dash as the car lurched out of the yard, blue lights slicing through the low Worthbridge sky.
They shot into the narrow lanes, Becca behind the wheel with the focused intensity of someone born for this.
She was one of the best pursuit drivers in the watch.
Sharp, reactive, fearless without being reckless.
And as they wove through traffic, blue strobes flashing across windscreens and shopfronts, Freddie’s own training kicked in.
He gritted his teeth and locked in.
“Take the coastal route,” he barked. “South loop’s gridlocked this time of night. We’ll get a straight run along the cliffs.”
“Copy. Which entrance?”
“A&E main. Emergency bay.”
Becca clipped a junction tight, tyres spitting up spray as they skidded through the turn. A van honked as they tore past, pointless noise against the wall of sirens screaming their arrival.
Freddie flicked his gaze ahead, already mapping the route. “Roundabout ahead. Skip it. Filter lane right, through the bus gate. I’ll call it in.”
“Got it. Keep navvying. ”
“Camden Street coming up. Stay inside lane. Outer track bottlenecks past the kebab shop.”
Becca swung in, the patrol car flying through the tight bend with inches to spare. A pair of cyclists flinched against the railings, high-vis jackets blurring in the cobalt flash.
“White van, twelve o’clock,” Freddie warned, eyes locked on the road ahead. “No brake lights. Might drift—”
“Already on it,” Becca cut in, swerving cleanly across the centre line and roaring past, tyres hugging the kerb before cutting back.
Freddie tightened his grip on the handle. “You’re mental.”
“You’re the one who jumped my bonnet.”
“Yeah, well, don’t make me regret it.”
“Then keep calling it.”
They blitzed down Marlborough Terrace usually choked with parked cars. Becca threaded them through.
“Two parked on left after the butcher’s,” Freddie snapped. “Use the right gap, then swing left to line up the next junction. Thirty degree cut, you’ll fishtail otherwise.”
Becca tutted. “You think I can’t handle a fishtail?”
“You handle it, we hit a bus.”
Becca smirked, already adjusting. “Fair point.”
Another junction. Another screech.
The hospital loomed in the distance, A&E sign burning bright in red.
Freddie leaned forward. “Next left. Cut the taxi rank. Emergency lane to the drop-off point. Go .”
Becca floored it.
They hit the turn fast, the patrol car juddering as it ramped the kerb and tore through the coned-off zone. Nurses turned to look, startled in the sudden roar of engine and siren but Becca slammed them into the bay and threw the handbrake.
Freddie unbuckled his belt, flinging open the door before the car had stopped rocking but Becca grabbed his arm.
“Wait. I’m sorry.” She looked him dead in the eye. “They cornered me. I had to tell them about you and Nathan.”
“Yeah. I figured. And it’s okay. Don’t blame you. I shouldn’t have put you in that position.”
Becca smiled. Nodded. Then shoved him. “Go!”
Freddie scrambled out of the car before it had fully stopped, boots hitting the tarmac hard as he tore through the sliding doors of A&E.
Please let him be okay. Please.
The good thing about wearing a uniform? People moved. No questions. No red tape. A nurse at the reception desk turned instinctively at his shout.
“Nathan Carter!”
She pointed. “Cubicle four. Straight ahead, left past the vending machine.”
Freddie bolted, weaving through trolleys and dazed patients, the corridor narrowing around the thunder of his heartbeat. Reaching the cubicle, he yanked the curtain aside and sucked in a breath.
Nathan. Shirtless. Perched on the edge of the hospital bed, sweat-damp hair clinging to his forehead had a nurse kneeling beside him, stitching a jagged gash along his left side, crimson smearing across gauze and gloves.
Nathan blinked in surprise. “Hey.”
“Fuck.” Freddie’s breath caught as he stepped in, chest heaving. “Fuck, fuck …” He doubled over, hands on his knees, trying to breathe through the flood of relief crashing th rough him. “I thought…” he rasped. “I thought you were…”
“I’m okay.” Nathan gave a faint smile and lifted his arm to show the wound. “Just a scratch. Right, nurse?”
The nurse gave a pointed look. “Wouldn’t quite call it a scratch, hun.” She worked steadily, eyes never leaving her stitches. “He’s got a six-inch laceration along the lateral abdomen. Deep, but missed the liver and vitals. No perforation. He’s lucky.”
Nathan smiled. Smug.
The nurse glanced up at Freddie. “You here to arrest him? You can wait til this is done.”
“No.” Freddie hovered in closer the other side of Nathan’s bed. “No arrest. Not this time.”
Nathan leant back against the pillow, wincing as he shifted, but his eyes never left Freddie while the nurse worked. When she finished, she cleared up and gave them both a look.
“Will leave you to it.” She left the cubicle, striking across the curtain.
“Fuck, Nate.” Freddie let it all go, and he dipped towards him, forehead landing on Nathan’s.
“I’m alright.” Nathan cupped Freddie’s face, gliding a thumb through his stubble. “Take more than some kid with a kitchen knife to off me.”
Freddie let out a breath that trembled as it left him. “You could’ve died . Christ, baby. You could’ve left me. Again. ”
Nathan pushed upright, gritting his teeth against the pain, as he slid his hand around the back of Freddie’s neck. “I’m not leaving you.”
Freddie held his gaze. “You better not.”
Nathan kissed him. “Never. Not now I know you’re worth sticking around for. ”
“What happened?”
“Saw a kid going for Alfie. He’d been waiting at the gates. So I put myself in his way.”
“Jesus.” Freddie closed his eyes. “Alfie okay?”
“Shaken up. Understandable. He’s with Ron and one of your lot. Safeguarding team. Has to give a statement. Then after that, he’ll be giving your CID all the intel he has.”
Freddie shook his head, frowning. “You know this could get worse before it gets better for him.”
“Yeah. I get it.”
“Radley lot are big bastards around here.”
“All the more reason to get them locked up.”
Freddie drew in a breath. “You catch the kid who was carrying?”
“No. I saw him. Would recognise him anywhere, but no names and Alfie doesn’t have a name either.”
“Probably an initiation for the kid.”
“Yeah.”
“Hang on.” Freddie pulled out his phone from his pocket, opened the photos and scrolled through. He stopped on the picture he’d taken a few days back. When he’d seen someone waiting outside the gates when he’d been picking Tilly up. He showed it to Nathan. “This the kid?”
Nathan took the phone. “Yeah. That’s him.”
“Fuck.” Freddie fired off a few messages, sending the image to Carrick. “He’s known to us. We’ll get a team out. Although, I say we…” He sighed. “I’m off the team. Desk duty for indeterminate amount of time. They found out I know you.”
“Ah.” Nathan fell back in the bed. “Sorry that came back on you.”
“S’alright.” Freddie tilted his head, drinking in the lines of Nathan’s bare torso.
Every inch was a story. Scars earned, muscles honed, that compass tattoo inked above his heart.
He let his eyes rest there. On that spot.
The one Freddie had laid his head on only that morning.
“You’re worth it,” he said, voice catching.
“The paperwork. The suspension. Bloody prison time, if it came to it.”
Nathan huffed a laugh. Quiet, disbelieving. Then he reached for Freddie’s hand, threading his through Freddie’s as if he’d been doing it in dreams all these years. And when he spoke, it wasn’t with fanfare or fire.
It was soft.
Simple.
“I love you.”
Not a confession. Not even an admission.
But truth. One that had always been there, quiet and certain, just waiting for the right moment to fall into place.
Freddie blinked, eyes burning. “I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember.” He lifted Nathan’s hand to his lips, kissed the back of it. “Since we were kids, throwing punches at the sky and kissing under piers like it meant nothing when it meant everything.”
He looked away, then back. Swallowed hard. “Even when I hated you for leaving… I still loved you. I always will.”
Nathan ghosted a thumb across the back of his hand. “Then let’s not fuck it up this time. No army. No ghosts from the past. And definitely no organised gang criminals.”
Freddie let out a breath that sounded dangerously close to laughter. “Fucking deal.”
He kissed Nathan and let the rest of the world slip away. Because for the first time since Worthbridge had dragged him back, Nathan wasn’t running. And Freddie didn’t want them to hide anymore, either. What he wanted was to build something real. Something honest .
Not something worth waiting for. No. He’d had enough of waiting.
But something worth staying for.