Page 67 of Worth the Wait
“Reece.”
“Nah.” Freddie shook his head, eyes back out the window. “Reece is a wind-up merch. Plus he has a massive thing for Trent. The paramedic? Bloke won’t give him the time of day, so he tries his luck elsewhere hoping one day he’ll notice him.”
“Whodon’tnotice him? He’s literal presence.”
“Yeah, I know. It’s more Trent doesn’twantto notice him.”
Becca reached behind her to the back seat, rustling in a bag, and produced another bag of Giant Wotsits. Sweet and sour flavour this time. She ripped them open and stuffed one into her mouth.
“How much bloody gear did you bring?” Freddie noted the overflowing stash of junk food on the back seat.
“Shitloads, mate.” She thumbed towards the bag. “Was stuck out on static for twelve hours the other night. Didn’t even get a piss break. Fuck knows what CID are stalling for.”
Freddie shifted in his seat, scanning the street again out of habit. “They’re waiting for the intel to firm up. We get one move wrong, Radley’s lot’ll bolt. We lose everything.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Becca muttered around a mouthful of Wotsit. “Preservation of evidence. Build your case. All that golden hour bollocks.”
“Golden hour’s long gone, love. We’re babysitting the shitshow now until they authorise a breach.”
“Or until the Chief Inspector finishes writing his risk assessment.”
Freddie chuckled under his breath and shifted forward, eyes fixed back on the target house. Babysit. Observe. Wait for orders. Standard playbook. But it didn’t stop the itch under his skin. The part of him thatknewsomething was about to break loose.
A giant Wotsit landed on Freddie’s lap. Freddie blinked, brain still half back at the house they were supposed to be watching, then plucked up the crisp and ate it.
“So was Reece trying to get the greenie to swing at him or you?”
“Huh?”
“On the pitch. When Carter thumped him. Was he expecting Trent to come to his aid. ‘Cause you’d think it would’ve pissed off Mr History Teacher more, right?”
Freddie glanced away. “Jude ain’t the sort of bloke to throw his weight around.”
“Cause he’s got none compared to Reece.”
“Exactly.”
“And that’s why you don’t really like him.”
Freddie glanced down, fiddling with the Velcro on his stab vest. Didn’t argue. Didn’t have to.
Becca laughed, chucked another Wotsit at him, and Freddie caught it on instinct, popping the stray crisp into his mouth with a shrug.
“Would’ve been easier if I did. Less complicated.”
“My motto right there.” Becca grinned, crinkling the packet noisily between them. “Sweet and cute’s all well and good but they can’t lift you up by the arse, shove you against a wall and fuck you senseless.” She then shifted in her seat, squinting out of the window. “Oh, hang on. Got a familiar face.”
Freddie snapped his head round, tension pulling tight across his shoulders.
“Knew we were bang on.” Becca pointed across the road. “That little shit from the skate park’s turned up.”
Freddie followed her line of sight, and his stomach dropped like a stone straight through the floor.
Alfie.
Alfie Carter.
Hood up, hands jammed in his pockets, skulking up the pavement towardsthe house.
