Ta muchly for the kind reviews. More as promised …
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Chapter 3
She was woken much later by a pounding on the door and she shot bolt upright on the sofa, blinking and attempting to focus on her watch. Three in the morning. Heaving herself to her feet, she crossed the room and flung the door open, ready to give him a piece of her mind, but instead her heart contracted and her eyes widened in horror at the sight in front of her. He looked pale and drawn as he leaned against the door jamb for support but it was the large red stain on his shirt front that caused her stomach to lurch with fear.
"Gene! Oh my God!"
"Its' nothin' Bols, just a scratch …"
Gently she helped him over the threshold and out of his coat, noting the slight grimace of pain before he flopped gratefully down onto the sofa. His shirt was matted with dried blood and torn over the left shoulder where a bandage now covered the wound. She shook her head in disbelief.
"What the hell happened, Gene? Corpses don't usually go round shooting at people …"
"There was no body, Bols, it was a soddin' trap and we walked right into it. On the plus side, Baines is now lyin' in the morgue and Scholes is banged up in the cells which means two less scum on the streets tonight."
She didn't press him for more details, reaching forwards to slowly undo his buttons, concentrating on the task even though she could feel his eyes on her.
"Was anybody else hurt?"
"Nope, just yours truely. We were lucky, it could've been a hell of a lot worse."
Tugging his shirt gently from his waistband, she wasn't certain whether it was the sight of his naked chest or the thought of what might have happened that was causing her fingers to shake so much. Gently he placed a hand over hers and she met his steady gaze, swallowing the lump in her throat.
"Any excuse ter get me out of me clothes eh, luv?"
"Jesus, Gene. A few inches lower …"
Her voice cracked with emotion and he pulled her awkwardly against him with his good arm, resting his chin on the top of her head.
"No chance, sweetheart, yer know there's a heart of stone in there anyway. Thank God he wasn't aimin' fer the crown jewels, mind." He shuddered dramatically. "Fate worse than death, that. Specially as I haven't had chance ter … ahem … show off me prowess in that department as yet."
Reluctantly she moved out of his embrace and gave him a watery smile.
"Counting a few chickens there aren't we, Guv?"
He smirked at her, but she saw the weariness etched into the lines of his face.
"Don't know about countin' but there's only one bird I'm interested in stuffin' this Christmas, Bols."
She rolled her eyes, wondering how he could make a joke at such a time and then realising that it was the only way he knew how to deal with it. He didn't complain as she turned her attention back to his shirt, moving him gently forwards in order to free his good arm before tentatively sliding it over his injured shoulder and off.
"Well, somehow I doubt there'll be much stuffing going on tonight so let's get you a hot drink and some pain killers, shall we? Did they give you anything at the hospital?"
He nodded.
"In me jacket pocket."
"Um … where is it? You weren't wearing it when you got back."
He sighed.
"Must have left it there. Never mind, I'll settle fer a cuppa, luv. And stick some whiskey in it, will yer?"
She shook her head in mock despair and allowed herself a grim smile as she went off to put the kettle on. By the time she got back clutching a steaming mug of tea he was sound asleep.
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Alex stirred, her eyelids slowly fluttering open as she tried to engage her brain. Christmas Eve! Rolling over, she grabbed the clock. Ten thirty. God, she'd slept like the dead for once. A shiver ran down her spine at the thought and she pushed it away, rerunning the night's events in her head. Gene's here. I hope he managed to get some sleep. Christ, I can't believe I nearly lost him.
Sliding out of bed, she grabbed her dressing gown and threw it on over her pyjamas as she headed into the living room, only to be greeted by an empty sofa. The blankets she'd placed tenderly over his sleeping form were folded neatly and there was a note written in his distinctive scrawl.
Bolly Kecks. Thanks for dinner. Sorry about the hassle. See you later.
So almost getting killed was just a hassle now? She knew he was a man of few words, but honestly, was he for real? Assuming he'd gone into work she shook her head in disbelief and went to get ready. He might think he was Superman but she knew better and she wasn't going to allow him to handle this one all on his own.
xxxxxx
Half an hour later she pushed through the doors into a deserted CID and spotted him in the office with his feet up on the desk, swirling a glass of whiskey absent-mindedly between his long fingers. Leaning against the doorframe, she crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.
"Why didn't you wake me?"
He shrugged, eyeing her warily, and she resisted the urge to fling herself into his lap and nibble on that pout.
"Yer were dead ter the world, Bols, didn't see any point in disturbin' yer. Just grabbed a clean shirt and left yer to it."
She sighed heavily.
"Guv, in case it's escaped your memory, I'm your DI and you shouldn't even be here today. You got shot last night, or had you forgotten?"
She shuddered at the memory but he just took a swig of his whiskey and held her gaze, his eyes a piercing ice blue.
"I was only a little bit shot, Bols. 'Sides which I wanted ter make sure Bains really was a corpse and put the frighteners on Scholes, the little turd …"
She rolled her eyes.
"And did you?"
"You bet. We'll leave him ter cool his heels over Christmas and he'll be singin' louder than Bing Crosby by Boxin' Day." He smirked. "Only maybe a few octaves higher once I've done with him."
Alex shuffled her feet wondering why his intense gaze always had such a strange effect on her knees.
"So. What do you need me to do then, Guv?"
He leaned forwards and twiddled his thumbs.
"Absolutely nothin', Lady Bols. It's Christmas Eve, go and enjoy yerself. Presumably yer've got plans fer tomorrow, things ter get sorted?"
She could have sworn she caught a glimpse of something in his expression before the shutters came down again and he fixed his eyes on the desk. A little glimmer of hope, maybe?
"Not so's you'd notice. Luigi's invited me to join him and his family but I think I might just spend the day on the sofa with some bad TV and some good wine. What about you? Doing anything special?"
He glanced up at her and then away again.
"Well if yer count pickin' up enough takeaway food and booze ter last me fer two days and then doin' me best ter kip through the whole thing …"
She took a deep breath. It's now or never, Alex.
"Um … if you like, you could come round to the flat and I'll do Christmas dinner for us both. I mean, only if you want to … feel free to say 'no' …"
"Bols, yer babblin' again. And I've never been one to turn down good food. If yer really sure …"
A feeling of joy bubbled up inside her and she tried to school her face to look suitably nonchalant even though she felt like grinning madly.
"Good. Great." She took a steadying breath. "OK, I'd best go and do some shopping or we will be reduced to takeaway food."
His jaw clenched for a second and she wondered if he was having second thoughts, but he squared his shoulders and reached into his pocket with a heavy sigh.
"Spose yer'll be needin' a car, then."
As he passed her the keys to the Quattro, her mouth dropped open in surprise.
"Thanks, Gene. Are you sure?"
He fixed her with an intense stare that went straight to her underwear, but she saw the flicker of amusement in his eyes.
"Yer've got about ten seconds ter get out of here before I change me mind …"
She smirked.
"Right. Yes. See you later, then?"
She shot out of his office and almost broke into an undignified trot, hurtling breathlessly through the double doors before he had a change of heart.
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xxxxxx
Looks like a quiet Christmas, then. Or does it? You'll have to wait and see … ;)
