CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Three weeks later, Hull discovered that corruption generated excellent parking problems.
Journalists filled the road outside Humberside Police headquarters and the magistrates' court.
Every pub within half a mile had developed an expert on organised crime.
North End became famous for approximately four days, which Pete considered offensive because none of the newspapers used his best photograph.
Renn, Venn and Terry Pike were charged.
One newspaper printed Terry's list in two columns.
Robert Hale's dead network kept generating live files.
Michael Quinn was charged with perverting the course of justice and misconduct offences. His solicitor told him to say nothing.
For once, Michael followed instructions.
Gareth was remanded after the prosecution described him as a non-trivial flight risk.
Pete read the phrase aloud three times.
Drew banned him from using it at meetings.
Daniel got bail with frozen finances, reporting conditions and a ban on company directorships. He described his house as a low-budget prison.
He complained constantly. Drew enjoyed it constantly.
Leah remained suspended.
That was the part she hated.
Not because she wanted a badge immediately.
Because waiting allowed everybody else to have opinions about her while she was forbidden from doing anything useful.
Two days earlier, a photographer outside headquarters had shouted, "Leah Trent!" across the road.
Her body had reacted before her brain: turn, scan, count exits.
The alias had appeared in one of Terry's released files and then in two newspapers. Shaw called an hour later and said the covert question was no longer theoretical. Too many people now knew both names belonged to the same woman.
Leah had said, "Understood."
Then she'd gone home and broken a paint stirrer in half.
So she painted Drew's kitchen.
He had not asked her to.
That was why she chose it.
Drew came home from the rebuilt tyre unit at six thirty and stopped in the doorway.
The kitchen was green.
Not subtle green.
Confident green.
Leah stood on a chair holding a roller.
He looked at the wall.
Then at her.
"What happened?"
"Your kitchen was depressing."
"It was white."
"Exactly."
"That is very green."
"You're welcome."
He put his keys down.
"Are you bored?"
"Violently."
"Could have gone for a walk."
"I did. Then I bought paint."
Drew took off his jacket.
His cut hung underneath.
President patch still there.
Leah pointed the roller at it.
"Temporary."
"Twenty-one days."
"You're counting?"
"Yes."
"Healthy."
He walked closer.
There was paint on her cheek.
He wiped it with his thumb.
The touch caught Leah off guard.
Three weeks had not made attraction more convenient.
It had made it domestic.
Which was worse.
Guns she understood.
Drew Sayer buying the oat milk she liked without mentioning it was destabilising.
He looked at the roller.
"Put that down."
"Why?"
"Because I don't want green paint on me."
"Coward."
"Correct."
She put it in the tray.
Drew's hand settled at her waist.
"How was the review call?"
The mood changed.
Leah climbed down from the chair.
"Shaw wants me in Leeds tomorrow."
"Good?"
"Maybe."
"You going?"
"Obviously."
"Then maybe good."
She studied him.
"You know if they reinstate me, this gets complicated."
"This?"
She gestured between them.
"Don't be irritating."
"Was checking."
"Yes. This. You. North End. Me still being police."
Drew leaned against the counter.
"Routes are closed."
"North End is still North End."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning your members have criminal records, half your businesses started with dirty money and you still solve disagreements in rooms where nobody writes minutes."
"Sam writes minutes now."
"Of course he does."
"Very professional."
"Does he record Pete calling everyone a cunt?"
"Abbreviated."
Leah smiled despite herself.
Then stopped.
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
Drew stepped closer.
"I'm not asking you to leave police."
"I know."
"I'm not asking you to pretend North End is something it isn't."
"I know."
"And if being with me makes the job impossible, you decide what you want. Not me."
She stared at him.
It was infuriatingly correct.
"You practiced that."
"No."
"Daniel helped."
"Absolutely not."
"Calder?"
"She'd arrest me for wasting time."
Leah folded her arms.
"What do you want?"
Drew did not answer immediately.
Good.
She did not want a prepared sentence.
"You," he said.
Simple.
No qualifying ownership.
No demand.
"And North End?"
"The version that doesn't destroy everyone near it."
"And if you can't have both?"
He looked at her.
"Then I work out why, instead of choosing for you."
Leah breathed out.
"That's annoyingly adult."
"I've had a transformative fortnight."
"Daniel said that."
"Then forget I said it."
She smiled.
Drew kissed her.
Not desperate.
Not the kind of kiss they had used during the operation to pretend fear was urgency.
Slow.
His hand moved to the back of her neck.
Leah's fingers caught the front of his shirt.
She kissed him harder.
Drew pulled back just enough to look at her.
"Paint dry?"
"Mostly."
"Mostly is dangerous."
"You've been shot at this month."
"Paint stains."
"Remarkable priorities."
He lifted her onto the clear section of counter anyway.
Leah wrapped one leg around him and kissed him again.
Three weeks of interviews, lawyers, hospitals and people using the word consequences had left tension inside her with nowhere useful to go.
Drew's mouth moved to her neck.
Her head tipped back.
"Bedroom," he said against her skin.
"Kitchen's closer."
"Green wall."
She laughed.
He carried her out of the room.
"Coward."
"Property owner."
The bedroom door closed behind them.
There were no hidden microphones.
No guns on the bedside table; Drew had surrendered his legally held one three weeks earlier.
No cover identity.
No handler waiting for an update.
Leah pulled his shirt over his head.
Drew stopped for half a second when she touched the scar along his ribs.
"Still sore?"
"No."
"Liar."
"Manageable."
"Better."
She kissed the scar.
His fingers tightened in her hair.
"Leah."
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Excellent contribution."
He rolled her beneath him.
She laughed into his mouth.
Later, much later, they lay tangled in sheets while rain started against the window.
Leah stared at the ceiling.
Drew's hand rested on her stomach.
"If I get Leeds," she said, "I'm taking it."
"Good."
"It's an hour away."
"I own a motorcycle."
"You own four."
"Exactly."
"And if they tell me I can't investigate anything connected to you?"
"Probably sensible."
She turned her head.
"You are meant to be offended."
"I'm trying this new thing where I don't make police corruption easier."
"How modern."
"Thank you."
She looked at him.
"Six months."
He closed his eyes.
"Go to sleep."
"President."
"Leah."
"Temporary president."
He pulled the pillow over his face.
She smiled into the dark.