It had been a long day, out on an isolated Essex farm, rounding up the drug gang, but they had managed it. Dusk was falling and Spikings and the team had already left. Makepeace stood watching Dempsey dabbing his bloody brow. It was already swelling up, and she murmured in sympathy.

'You need to get something cold on that.' Dempsey grinned at her tiredly.

She was still dressed in her disguise: they'd gained access to the farm using their usual married couple routine, and she wore an oversized sweater, skin-tight black trousers, high heeled boots and frosted eye shadow. The big hair that completed the look wasn't really her, but it had helped to convince the gang that they were Mr and Mrs Jenson of New Jersey. Dempsey of course, hadn't had to try too hard.

They were lucky to have escaped with only one bashed-up eye between them thought Harry, as they got into the back of the squad car and the uniformed copper pulled away and headed down the dirt track. Delaney's men were vicious, the worst she had encountered in a while. It was only their quick firing that had saved them and enabled them to overpower the gang. Still, she was deeply satisfied with the day's work.

Dusk fell as the car sped towards London. Neither of them said much. She was exhausted. The warmth and movement calmed her and she let herself loll against Dempsey as her eyelids grew heavy. Without meaning to, she slept.

When Harry opened her eyes, it was dark. Dempsey's arm was around her, her head resting against his shoulder. She stayed still, enjoying the warmth and closeness for a moment. She could feel his cheek resting lightly against her hair. The car made a right turn, and he reached up to hold her steady against the movement. Normally, she would have sat up straight at once, terminated the situation to prevent it becoming any more intimate. But she was so very tired, and nestling into his shoulder made her feel safe and secure.

Finally, she sat up and rubbed her stiff neck. They were crawling through the London traffic, moving slowly along the Embankment. She sighed. It was a Friday evening in November and the pavements were full of people hurrying home, glad of the arrival of the weekend. Rain splattered the tarmac and umbrellas jostled for position.

'Hey partner' Dempsey said softly, quietly enough to be beyond the earshot of the copper who was driving them. 'You were out for quite a while there. Chasing villains in Essex must've got to you.'

She yawned. 'We WERE chasing them a good while. I thought we'd never catch up with Greggs. Good thing there are two of us.'

'Yeah, but you being a woman and all… tired you out's all I'm saying.'

She ran a hand through her hair and shot him a look, feeling too weary to accept the invitation to spar.

'Dempsey, are you trying to provoke me? Well for once, it's not going to work. I'm not ashamed in the slightest to tell you that I'm tired, and I want nothing more than a hot bath and a large glass of red, then bed.'

'Sounds good to me, babe.' He looked out of the window.

She was about to set him straight, but then she softened. He looked shattered himself, and his eye was swelling up dramatically.

'I've got a good first aid kit at home' she said after a pause. 'Want me to fix that cut up for you?'

His smile answered her question. She leaned forward and addressed the driver.

'Tom, straight to my flat, please.'

By the time they pulled into Harry's drive, at was after 8 pm. Tom bid them goodnight and drove away. They stood together for a moment in the chill of the evening. She touched his eye briefly, unable to hide her concern. The cut looked nasty.

'Harry…' Dempsey began. His voice was hoarse. She cut him off.

'Come on let's go inside. I've had about enough drama for one day, haven't you?'

Twenty minutes later, Dempsey was showered and changed into the street clothes they'd retrieved from Tom's boot. Having finished the sandwich she had made, he sat by the fire in Makepeace's front room while she bathed his brow with antiseptic. Although he winced with each touch he was enjoying it immensely, especially the sympathetic little coos she emitted with each sharp intake of his breath. Her face was very close to his; he could smell her perfume and observe the way her brow furrowed slightly in concentration as she meticulously cleaned the wound.

Oh Harry, why do you have to be so beautiful? It makes working with you so much more complicated.

She dressed the cut with tiny strips of plaster. He was disappointed when she sat back and admired her handy work from a distance.

'That should close it up more quickly.' she said. 'It's more superficial than I thought. I don't think you'll scar.'

'Hey, baby, I had plenty of scars this morning. One more ain't gonna make no difference. Now where's that glass of red?'

'Give me one minute.'

She left the room. He sat back and stared into the fire, allowing a sense of calm to wash over him. It had been a tough job, but they had done some good work today. They'd managed to round up three of the four main ringleaders of the drug smuggling gang, and Dempsey was willing to bet that interrogating Greggs and his cohorts would dredge up all sorts of interesting information about other underground criminal activities in London.

It was just unfortunate that Mickey Delaney, the fourth and final member of the team, had been absent. He was bound to go to ground now, thought Dempsey. They probably wouldn't hear about him again until the heat had completely died down – it could be years. You can't have everything all the time he thought wryly. But the missing member of the gang left a bad feeling that he couldn't seem to shake.

Harry returned with the bottle of wine and two glasses. She had changed too, into jeans and a sheer black top that hugged her body. She poured the drinks and handed one to him.

'Cheers.' They clinked glasses. She moved to the opposite side of the hearth and they sat without speaking for a while. The silence between them was comfortable: he realised that they had spent so much time in each other's company over the past six months that they no longer needed to talk for politeness' sake.

Finally, Harry spoke.

'Some day.' She played with her wine glass.

'I thought that Knox guy was going to kill us when he realised they'd been rumbled.'

Dempsey nodded. 'I know, me too. I didn't mean to leave you on your own with him you know, but I figured you could handle it.'

'Of course I could. He was a walkover really. I don't think he could believe it when he saw my gun. The combination of Jean-Anne from Jersey City and a semi-automatic weapon just wasn't registering with his brain. Anyway, I had to have my wits about me. I wasn't at all sure you were going to come out of that fistfight alive. And I'd have been on my own.'

'Were you worried then?'

She took a sip of her wine.

'Honestly? No. I knew you'd be okay.'

She laughed, looked over at him in a way that was both playful and tender.

'He certainly gave you a battering though.'

'He did, but there was no question of me losing that fight.'

'No?'

'My honour was at stake. I couldn't let my wife down.'

He looked at her intently.

'That would never do' she said slowly, her gaze never leaving his. The moment seemed to last for a long time, and he was conscious of his heart pumping. He could feel the electricity between them and leaned forward, not thinking about anything except how much he wanted to touch her. He put down his wine glass and reached out. Suddenly there was a loud crash from the kitchen.

They were on their feet in seconds. Dempsey reached for his gun, and moved silently to the doorway.