Page 21 of Mann Hunt
Declan said, “My vehicle’s out of commission at the moment and his Pinto isn’t always reliable.”
McKeckran turned away and headed back to his young partner as the paramedics loaded Mr Attwal into the ambulance. The police conversed for a few moments then looked back at Declan and Charlie. McKeckran laughed.
“We’ll be in touch,” the older cop called to them, then turned and headed back to his cruiser, adding a sibilant “ladies.”
Charlie tensed. Declan gripped his upper arm. “Don’t,” was all he said.
They waited until the ambulance had driven away.
“Who was that asshole?” Charlie demanded.
“One of the reasons I got out of the force,” he said, still looking in the direction that the cruiser had headed. “He’s an old friend of my father’s. Let’s get back to the office.”
“Are you sure you want to be seen in myPinto?”
“Ah, I just said that for McKeckran’s sake. So, you got a name for your car?”
“Wha—? No!”
Declan stared at him.
“Francine,” Charlie admitted. “Shut up.”
Declan grinned. “I said nothing.”
* * * *
Constable Luke Fraser turned to Sergeant Gerry McKeckran as the Chevette passed by and said, “You know that guy?”
“Hunt?” Sergeant McKeckran snorted. “Oh, I know him. He’s Sam Hunt’s kid.”
“Declan Hunt?”
“Yeah. The guy was canned from the force for being a fag.”
“I didn’t think you could do that,” said Fraser, shooting McKeckran a quick sideways glance.
“There’s a lot of things you can’t dolegally, but there are ways around everything,” he replied, then laughed.
“Yeah. I guess so.”
Fraser had only been on the force for six months but, in that short time, he’d learned many things. The most important thing he’d learned was to keep his personal life hidden. That was why he had said nothing when Declan Hunt, a man he recognised as the stranger he’d shared a brief dance with outside of The Greek, drove away from the wrecking yard.
* * **
It was late in the afternoon when Declan and Charlie got back to the agency.
“My office,” Declan demanded as he took the lead. Charlie was sure he’d said or done something wrong.
“Your car keys,” Declan said, holding out his hand. Charlie surrendered them. Declan dropped the keys into a dish on his desk. Then he went to a cupboard, pulled out a bottle and two glasses and poured them each a healthy serving of Scotch. He handed one to Charlie.
“You can take an Uber home tonight and back here tomorrow, then you can retrieve your keys. I’ll reimburse you in the morning.”
“Sure.”
Charlie looked at Declan across the desk—his dark wavy hair, the drop-dead-sexy scruff on his face, those piercing blue eyes and the way they bore right into him.Oh my God, he’s staring right at me. We’re staring at each other!
Declan took another sip of his drink. Charlie did the same, but his was more of a gulp than a sip. He choked.
