Chapter 1

Daniel glanced at his watch. It had been near on twenty-five minutes since Laura had regally walked through the living room to the front room, then had left, the door closing behind her. He could hear the creak of the boards on the balcony, as Harry remained outside, pacing. Rubbing his chin with the tip of his fingers, he wondered what might have gone awry, foiling his carefully crafted plan.

Whatever it was, it didn't seem Harry would be inclined to come inside any time soon, no doubt vexed with Daniel as well, given his suspicions Daniel was up to something.

Well, until Harry came in, there wasn't much to be accomplished sitting here on the couch. Whereas, a phone call might inspire the next step to be taken.

Returning to his bedroom, he shut the door behind him, then picked up the portable phone and dialed the number long ago memorized.

"The Remington Steele Agency, Krebs here," Mildred answered the phone in a crisp, professional voice.

"Ahhh, Ms. Krebs. Daniel Chalmers, here," he announced. She snapped to attention where she sat at her desk.

"So, how'd it go?" she asked, eagerly. "When's the Boss coming back?"

"Not well, my dear," he answered. "I'm afraid they had quite the row, from what I could make of it." Her initially crestfallen expression righted itself.

"Aww," she poo-pooed, "Don't worry about that." She waved a dismissive hand no one could see. "If those two don't fight at least once a day, that's when you have to worry."

"I suspect it's more serious than that, unfortunately," he disagreed. "I quite clearly heard him demand she take her leave." She flopped backwards in her chair and lifted a palm to lay it against her cheek.

"The Boss," she drew out the words, "Kicked Miss Holt out?" She shook her head, disbelieving. "Uh-uh, he'd never do that," she defended.

"I have to agree it's quite out of Harry's character, but nevertheless, I'm afraid he did." The apology in his voice surprised her.

"I'm telling you, this all goes back to that nonsense with the license," she lamented. "I've never seen them happier than after they were rescued from that cabin, and then that case come along…" She imitated the sounds of an explosion. "I know the Boss owns the Agency, but it's everything to Miss—"

"Slow down, my dear. I'm going to need you to start at the beginning. Rescued, you said?"

Shortly before dawn, Daniel was pried from his dreams by the sound of crashing glass, followed by a string of oaths. Slurred, obviously drunken oaths. Unsurprised, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached for his robe.

He'd been waiting weeks for the boy to tie one on, not that it was a habit of Harry's. Outside of a couple of missteps as a youth when first learning to handle his alcohol, he'd only seen Harry in his cups once before: In the days after Anna's demise. Although Harry had grieved the woman, it was the belief he might have done something to prevent her death that had tormented him. Much like now, he'd prowled the streets for hours each night, until, finally, on one drunken night, he'd released the demons chasing him.

And had been all the better for it.

Hindsight was a cruel mistress, Daniel reflected as he tied the sash on his robe, constantly taunting him with the ways in which he'd failed the man stumbling about in the living room. Here was yet another. Not the drinking, as Harry generally controlled his alcohol consumption with an iron fist, unwilling to dull his wits, should the need to fight or take flight arise.

No, the failure was in accepting Harry's reticence to talk whenever things simply became too… large… for him. While normally the gregarious sort who was not the least bit shy about sharing his exploits, he'd a habit of holding the things that mattered most to him close to the vest, be it to avoid disapproval or to provide anyone an opportunity to exploit it. It was how Daniel was so ably to 'key in,' so to speak, on Harry's devotion to his Miss Holt.

"Ah, Miss Holt is quite a bundle isn't she?"

"Hmm, yes, yes."

"Intelligent, independent, scrupulously honest. In short, everything you ordinarily loathe in a woman."

"Yes…Ummm…But she does have a certain…uh ..."

"Allure?"

"Uniqueness."

"You know for someone who could never stay tied to one place or one of anything for very long, you sound almost domesticated."

"Does that sadden you Daniel?"

"It intrigues me."

And intrigued him, it had. Despite how enraptured the lad had been with Anna, he'd often boasted of her many attributes: intelligence, quick wit, daring… her rubenesque form. But with his Miss Holt? From his very first 'hmm' in answer to a question about her, Harry had been remarkably closed mouth, providing only one adjective about her: 'uniqueness.' But what a telling word it had been, for never before had Harry looked upon a woman as being rare, as the descriptor implied.

Not even Anna.

Still, Daniel had failed to interpret Harry's reticence correctly. He'd thought the lad was intrigued. Perhaps a bit besotted. Most certainly enamored by the challenge his Miss Holt was proving to be. But, Daniel had been confident that once Harry had conquered that challenge, he'd quickly become bored with living the straight-and-narrow, with the tedium of his Miss Holt's constant demands that he live honestly, by the rules and he'd move on.

"You never did get Laura and I quite right, Daniel. Not everything is an elaborate ruse or a conquest to be had. Sometimes… just sometimes… a man is fortunate enough to discover something so rare… so infinitely appealing… that he is willing to go all in should the other player not quit the table."

Those words, by Harry, had caught Daniel unprepared. It was only then he'd realized Harry's reluctance to speak of the woman was because she'd become that person to him, the person upon whom he'd been willing to wager it all…

As Daniel had once been prepared to do.

Linda had become to Harry both his greatest treasure and his Achilles heel.

Now, having meant to or not, she'd taken the boy to his knees.

If he was to get Harry talking, now would be the time. Perhaps it was not the gentlemanly thing to do, taking advantage of Harry while he was in his cups, but it was in times such as these that he let his guard down. And once the cat was out of the proverbial bag… Well…

Reaching for the knob on the bedroom door, he turned it, swung up the door and stepped into the living room.