Tony was about to throw some barb back at him when his radio went off with a call from dispatch. He stepped away so he could answer it, thus leaving me alone with Lee, who leaned against the doorjamb and gave me a heated little look. “I have to say, I like you in uniform.”

“Oh, shut it.” I rolled my eyes. There was nothing attractive about my uniform. It was basically men’s clothing on a woman.

“I’m not lying. How’s about you come up to my room for a bit, and I’ll show you how much I like it?” He paused, eyes flicking to the top of my head as he winked. “You can even leave your hat on.”

Completely against my own will, I snickered a laugh, folding my arms across my chest. “No thanks, Tom Jones.”

“I think you’ll find it was Randy Newman who penned the tune. Tom Jones did the cover,” Lee quipped.

I made a concerted effort to regain my professionalism and throw a bucket of cold water over his flirty banter. “When you see your brother, tell him to get himself down the nick to see me.”

“Fucking hell, Snap, you really are Ross Sheehan’s daughter. Growing up must have been shit for you.”

The empathy in his voice caught me off guard. I swallowed but didn’t say anything. Our gazes locked and held, something thick and unspoken passing between us. He took a step outside, past the threshold of his doorway and onto the street. I glanced down at the toes of my boots and back up again, a strand of hair falling from behind my ear. Lee’s hand reached out, as though he were about to tuck it back in, but then he froze before he could touch me. Touching a constable could technically be considered assault. And technically, I could arrest him for that. Maybe that’s why he stopped. Or maybe it was something else.

His eyes softened when he whispered, “If that cranky string of piss weren’t with you right now, it’d be a whole other ball game.”

I looked to Tony, who had just finished with his call. Lee turned and casually went back inside his house, closing the door softly behind him. Giving me a nod, Tony gestured for me to follow him back to the patrol car.

I was about to do just that when the door to the next house burst open and a little girl ran out. She was only about five or six years old, and somebody was shouting loudly at her to get back inside. I stared at her, from her unkempt brown hair to her blue eyes and ratty clothes. Her gaze was wide and full of fear. She returned my stare for just a second before she hurried to Lee’s door and began knocking furiously. The door opened and Lee reappeared, the girl instantly rushing to his side and hugging his leg. He bent down and gently petted her hair.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he asked, and the girl whispered something in his ear. His expression hardened as he nodded and told her to go on inside the house. When his gaze landed on me, it was only for a second. He didn’t say a word, just stood up and closed the door over again.

There was something about the scene that caused a deep part of my heart to ache. Uncared-for children were my one true sore spot, and there was a reason for that. Seeing the girl run to Lee like he was her golden saviour made me feel things I wasn’t ready to explore. I heard somebody clomping their way down the stairs of the house the girl had fled right before a skinny woman with greasy hair and bags under eyes came out, yelling after her daughter.

“I swear to God, Billie, you better get your arse back in here before I give you something to cry about.”

She stopped in her tracks once she saw me, her eyes narrowing in anger. “What the fuck do you want, pig?”

“Was that your daughter?” I asked, clenching my fist tight. I already hated her. It wasn’t my job to hate people, but in this particular case I couldn’t seem to help it. She stepped out of her house, like she was actually considering putting it up to me. Why did crackheads always think they could take you? They had one swing in them, tops, before their energy dried up. She was pointing her finger at me now.

“That’s the problem with you lot, always sticking your oars in where they’re not wanted.”

I heard Tony getting back out of the car and making his way over to us.

“There a problem here, miss?” he asked the woman.

At the sight of my broad, six-foot-three colleague, the woman’s bravery died a quick death as she shook her head. “Nah, no problem,” she hurried to answer before going back inside her house and slamming the door.

Tony patted my shoulder. “Come on.”

Once we were back in the car and buckled up, I let out a slow breath. “Sometimes I wish I was a bloke. Nobody’s scared of a five-foot-six woman.”

“Hey, I’ve seen you spar. You could take down half the men at the station before they’ve even had a chance to blink. Everybody should be scared of you,” said Tony with a grin.

I shot him a small smile. It was true. I practiced eskrima twice a week, which kept me fit and well able to defend myself should the need arise. And in my line of work, the need usually arose.

“So, how do you know that one?” Tony went on, looking back at Lee’s house while I put the car in gear.

“My flatmate used to go out with his brother. She learned her lesson.” And he makes me feel things, my conscience added, things I have no business feeling.

Tony pursed his lips and looked out the window at the less-than-pleasing scenery. I thought where I lived was rough, but this place was pretty dire.

“I imagine she did,” he said. “Families like that, Karla, they have trouble stamped all over them.”