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“I am.”

“Hm.” Davo rubbed his jaw with grease-blackened fingers. “Can always tell.”

“Can you?”

“Locals learn when to stop poking around certain places.” Davo waved a thick hand. “You lot from elsewhere always think being stubborn makes you untouchable.”

“It’s an occupational hazard.” Harrison held his gaze for another beat. “But I’ll keep that in mind.”

Davo snorted. “Do that, Detective.”

Harrison stepped back out into the heat, and he waited until the office door had closed behind him before loosening his collar as he crossed back to his car.

He stopped.

Jake leaned against his bonnet. Arms folded. Head lowered. Thick curls hanging loose around his face and neck as he stared down at his steel toe caps. Harrison could stare at that sight all day. Then Jake glanced up and their eyes met. And there it was again. That unbearable pull Harrison kept trying, and failing, to get under control.

Jake pushed off the car. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

Jake jerked his chin towards the office behind him. “You get owt?”

“What are you doing here, Jake?”

“Told you. Raff works here.”

“And you just happened to stop by for a coffee after an anonymous caller directed police to this yard?”

Jake shrugged. “Coincidence.”

“Mm.” Harrison clicked the car unlocked. “I’m sure.”

Jake ruffled his hair back. “Alright, Raff told me last night. Said he knows Davo takes in motors off the books. That he does dodgy dealings sometimes. Said he more than likely knows where that car you put out an appeal for was.”

“And rather than leave it to us, you came here?”

God, he hated this.

Hated how drawn he was to this man standing too close in brutal heat smelling faintly of sweat, dust, and spring air baked into skin. That Jake managed to look both exhausted and dangerous at the same time. And how every conversation between them seemed to sit one wrong word away from either an argument or something far more reckless. And worst of all, Harrison hated that he was already anticipating disappointment before Jake even opened his mouth again.

Harrison pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jake—”

Jake held out his hand. “Here.”

Harrison frowned before looking down at the small silver paint fragment nestled in Jake’s palm. Fresh metallic. Automotive.

“Where did you get that?”

“Found it in the lock-up out back.”

Harrison glanced at the office. Davo had emerged from the doorway. He looked across the yard at them, eyes hidden behind mirrored sunglasses. Jake curled his fingers back around the paint fragment and gave him a curt nod. Davo stared for another second before wandering over to the mechanic shed.

Only then did Harrison turn back. “Jesus Christ, Jake, please tell me you didn’t break into his unit?”

“Door were open.”

“When?”