Gene Hunt strode over to the reception desk, Alex Drake pressed closely to his side. "We're checking in," he said gruffly to the reception manager. "Mr and Mrs Smith."
"Right you are," replied the receptionist, whose name badge identified him as Kevin. He didn't give the slightest trace of surprise that he was checking in yet another 'Mr and Mrs Smith', betrayed none of his suspicion that if the couple in front of him were indeed married, it was probably not to each other. He handed Hunt a registration form to fill in and then handed a chunky set of keys to Alex. "Room 309," he said. "Third floor, turn right out of the lift and it's at the end of the corridor."
Hunt leaned down to pick up their cases. "Come on then, Bolly. Let's go and make ourselves at home."
As they crossed the hotel foyer towards the lift, Alex threaded her arm through Hunt's and drew him closer. She felt him tense at the contact and raised her head to whisper into his ear. "Come on, Gene," she purred softly. "At least pretend you're enjoying it."
Hunt was relieved to reach the lift, thinking they'd be able to grab a moment to themselves, but was disappointed when another couple joined them as they waited. He stabbed at the lift call button in frustration, his bad moved not helped by Alex pressing herself closer against his side. He reluctantly looked down and caught a glimpse of her face angled up towards his, adoration and mischief shining from her eyes, her lips within touching distance of his own. Good God Almighty, had she no idea what she was doing to him?
Finally the lift arrived and the two couples got in. Hunt pressed the button for the third floor, the other man hitting the fourth. Hunt felt suffocated by Alex's physical presence next to him, invading his space. He only let out his pent-up breath as the lift doors opened and he and Alex got out at the third floor. The corridor was empty and Hunt made sure there was as much space as possible between his body and Alex's. "I should never have let you talk me into this," Hunt muttered as he and Alex headed towards their room.
Alex could sense Hunt's discomfort but tried not to show how much it amused her. This undercover operation had been her idea and she knew Hunt had been reluctant to play along. Part of her was relishing the opportunity to push Hunt out of his comfort zone, but her professional instinct told her that their act had to be as convincing as possible and she couldn't risk Hunt's uneasiness giving them away.
They reached room 309 and Alex turned the key in the lock. Hunt followed her into the room, dropping their bags near the door to the en-suite and surveying their temporary living quarters. The room was small, chintzy and oppressive. It was also dominated by a large double bed in the centre.
"Well, it had to be a double," Alex said defensively, noticing how unsettled Hunt appeared at being faced with the reality of their sleeping arrangements. "We'd have looked pretty unconvincing as lovers if we'd asked for a twin."
"We look pretty unconvincing as lovers, full stop," Hunt mumbled to himself, glaring at the bed as if it was a suspect in custody.
"Anyway," continued Alex breezily as she walked towards the offending article, "they're usually just two singles pushed together to make a double. See?" She pulled back the blankets and sheets to reveal one definitely indivisible double bed. "Or, sometimes, not."
Hunt took a deep, steadying breath. He had to get a grip, they had an important job in front of them and he couldn't afford to be distracted by inappropriate feelings for his DI. "Well, we're here now so we'd better just get on with it," he grunted as he took a seat at the desk-come-dressing table. He took a sheet of paper from the pocket of his jacket and smoothed it across the mock-mahogany surface.
"Robert Ward. Head chef of the restaurant attached to this fine hotel. History of petty theft, violent assault and the serving of poncey, over-priced foreign muck to posh tarts with more money than sense. Got himself involved in some small-time drug dealing, escalated through the ranks, now the lynchpin of a major smuggling ring."
Alex looked again at the grainy image of Ward at the top of the photocopied sheet. She saw a young man with blank features and unsettled eyes. "He worries me, you know, Gene. I think he may be sampling the merchandise. He could be unpredictable if cornered."
Hunt shrugged. "His type doesn't bother me. He's just a small time crook with ideas above his station. Should be a fairly straightforward take-down, and I'm betting that once we've got him in custody he'll not only give us a signed and sealed confession, he'll give up all his scumbag contacts as well."
"I hope you're right," Alex replied cautiously, "but we need to be prepared. We're expecting Ward to take possession of a consignment of Class A narcotics tomorrow morning, using a delivery to the restaurant as cover. He may or may not be working in partnership with another hotel employee, possibly the hotel manager Ashley Robinson."
Hunt turned his sheet of paper over to display the intelligence report on Ashley Robinson. The photo of a good-looking, blond man in his mid-thirties looked back at them. Alex recited, "Various allegations of low-level dealing, nothing substantiated but living a lifestyle financially incompatible with that of a mid-level hotel manager." She paused. "It's hardly a smoking gun, but it's the best the combined powers of our snouts and our Intel officers could come up with. We'll just have to go with it."
Alex was standing at Hunt's shoulder, looking down at the report. She was concentrating fully on the tasks that lay before them but Hunt was distracted by her closeness behind him, her warmth and her scent. He was acutely conscious of being alone in a bedroom with his DI. He sniffed, impatient with himself and his inability to keep his mind on the job. He forced his attention back to the objective of their operation.
"Right. So we pose as a hair of punters, sneak out the back after breakfast tomorrow and nail the bastards as the exchange takes place." It had all made some kind of sense when Alex had first proposed the undercover idea but the fact of spending the night confined with her in this small room, play-acting a happy couple, was now weighing heavily on his mind. Not to mention other parts of his anatomy.
It didn't help that Alex seemed so un-phased by the prospect of sharing the evening with him. Hunt could no longer deny the attraction he felt for her, although he'd been able to keep his desires under control until now. He knew that taking things further with Alex, even supposing she was willing, would expose him to the sort of vulnerability he'd spent his life avoiding. Yet spending the night with Alex and not submitting to his desire for her would test his self-control to the limits.
Alex turned away from Hunt and flopped down onto the bed. "So all we have to do now is see what we can find out about our Mr Robinson while convincing everyone who's interested that we're in the midst of a passionate affair." She caught Hunt's eye and added with a smile, "I'm not sure which part of the assignment will be easier."
Scowling, Hunt looked over at his DI. Doing his best to ignore a sudden strike of longing at the sight of Alex sprawled across a double bed, he began to propose his plan of action. "According to the Intel report, Robinson usually spends afternoons checking on the operation of the gym, spa and leisure facilities. You should go and do whatever it is women do in a spa – hang around long enough and you'll hopefully run into Robinson. See if you can't use your feminine wiles find out a bit more about our suspect. I'll recce the grounds."
"Fine," Alex replied, picking up her bag and heading for the door. "I'll meet you in the bar at seven and we can compare notes." As an afterthought, she added, "I'll wear something slutty."