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smother her with all the hair.
    He did the pick-up without mishap and turned his attention to cutting her free. He’d never get to see her hair, touch her face or feel her lips on his, and that was a very good thing, because that she did not need. Before he tapped on her window, his phone vibrated in his back pocket.
    A text from Stud. A dark-skinned girl dressed in this season’s python. He got in the car. “Driver, we need to take a detour.” This needed to be done quickly. No time now to send her away.
    She nodded, gave him best-in-class professional courtesy and turned the car in the other direction. Stud was at the park first. Leaning against a No Dogs Off Leash sign, in his gang taskforce uniform of torn up leather jacket and filthy looking jeans with the knees slashed out of them. With his tatty cap pulled down over his face and he looked more like a crook than a copper. He waited with his long legs in heavy combat boots crossed at the ankles and arms folded over a thick chest that’d seen him through being beaten, tortured and shot while in the army, before he was shot again wearing a police uniform. They didn’t come much tougher than Stud, or much sharper.
    Fetch got out of the Statesman and followed Stud into the park. “Nice python,” he said, by way of greeting.
    “Bet you say that to all the boys.”
    “Does Mrs Studdley know you’re such a tease?”
    “Mrs Studdley wants me to take early retirement next year. She thinks I’m getting too old for this gang crime taskforce leadership crap.”
    “She just wants to see your fat arse back in a suit and tie.”
    “I wish. She wants to see my fat arse in boardies on a cruise ship.”
    Fetch laughed. “Could be worse.”
    Stud nodded. “Could be.” No laugh. He cut to the chase. “There’s a possibility you’ve been made.”
    Fuck that . “Jesus! How strong a possibility?” Fuck no . That couldn’t happen.
    “We’re trying to work that out now. What went down yesterday? Anything you want to tell me?”
    Stud didn’t have to be so nice about asking for a report, or such a bastard about taking his time getting to the main event. “I got delayed. Ran late on the drops. Broke protocol, took the bike. You know the rest.”
    “But I don’t know why you were delayed. Why you took the risk of upsetting Wacker.”
    “The usual.” He grinned, knowing it would get a rise out of Stud.
    “A fucking woman. You’ve got to be shitting me?” Rise achieved.
    “A girl, not a woman. Sixteen. In the wrong place at the wrong time. I needed to get her out of there. And before you say it I know. She was not the job. I never thought I’d get rear-ended, it was all supposed to sort out in the wash.”
    Stud grunted. “Fucking control freak with a hero complex. I should shut you down for that combo alone.”
    He could, so it was a good time to shut the fuck up.
    Stud jerked his head towards the hire car. “And this driver?”
    “Yeah, another mistake. I’ll cut her free now.”
    “Her?”
    “Yeah. What’s wrong with that?”
    “Nothing. Just you don’t see too many female limo drivers outside of Bond films.”
    Enough with the broader agenda. Only one thing mattered now. “Are you pulling me out?” It was a ‘be careful what you ask for’ question.
    “Do you want to come out?”
    Now there was a thought. Deck of a cruise ship, warm summer breeze, all you can eat, type of thought. He could see himself in a lounge chair, beer in one hand and limo chauffer in a blue bikini and a big straw hat, quietly and efficiently at his side.
    “Not yet. Not until you think it’s too hot.” Was it too hot? Wacker’s response last night rattled him. “Who do you think made me?”
    “Pizza delivery guy.”
    “No fucking way. I mean look at me.”
    “You opened the door to a pizza delivery guy last Friday night, right?”
    “Yeah. Bald guy, skinny dude. Middle Eastern. Pizza Hut cap. Five foot, fifty kilos ringing wet. Didn’t look me in the