Kevin bunched up the greasy chip paper, wound down the car window and threw the vinegar-reeking ball into the bushes.
“Er, Sarge, what’d you do that for?”
“Because, PCW Sharon Toussel, we don’t like our Panda’s smelling of last night’s chips.”
Sharon shuffled her shoulders and sat back in the seat. “Shouldn’t have eaten them.”
“And what else might a couple be doing down this lonely country lane? Undercover, PCW Sharon Toussel, means we don’t let on that we’re cops.”
Sharon shuffled her shoulders again. “Ask me, nothing’s going on in that house, all boarded up.”
“Well that’s all you know. Our tip-off was good. They’re dealing drugs from there.”
“Yea? Dealing ‘em to who? The bleeding rabbits?”
Just then a roar of engine broke the night and a black-leathered rider came into sight.
Kevin sneered at his junior, grabbed her and snogged her.
Sacrifices must be made when undercover.