Chapter 4
Remington blinked open a single, bloodshot eye, then groaned as a red hot poker plunged through his head. If not for the bladder screaming for release, he'd have burrowed his head under the pillow and returned to sleep. As it was, he pushed himself up from the couch and made his wobbly way towards the stairs, then his room. A relieved bladder and a hot shower did little to improve matters. Visine in both eyes at least stopped the sensation of a sandstorm on their surface, and a couple rounds with the mouthwash, left him still smelling like alcohol, but at least it was of the minty variety. He glanced at his razor then shook his head, fairly certain he'd be able to hear each stubble of hair that was cut as a resounding symphony in his head. As he pulled a comb through his hair and dressed, he debated which cure would be most expedient: A handful of aspirin or a glass full of the hair of the dog that had bit him.
As it happened, he needn't have worried over the remedy.
"Ah, I always said you were a good man, Daniel," Remington told him gratefully, when Daniel handed him a tall glass of cool, red liquid. He took a long pull of the drink as he sat down on the couch where he'd been sleeping. Wetting his parched lips with the tip of his tongue, he looked at his wrist. Well, that bloody well can't be correct. "Happen to know the time?" Daniel lifted his watch and glanced at the face.
"I show five-thirty-eight." Remington's brow furrowed. He'd lost most of an entire day, and he still needed to slog across Cannes to meet with an old associate whose specialty was passport forgery. "Damn," he muttered aloud, then guzzled down the remainder of the drink and set the glass on a coaster awaiting him on the table.
"Head reminding you of the perils of drinking to excess?" Daniel inquired. Remington leaned back and rested his head against the back of the couch. Looking ceilingward, he scrubbed at his face with his hands.
"Ohhh," he half hummed, half moaned, the sound conveying his head was certainly bothering him, "I'd planned to stop 'round Jean Pierre's hours ago," he laughed then grimaced, as someone played a pair of drumsticks on his head. The comment piqued Daniel's interest and he raised his brows, as he swirled the ice in his water around in his glass.
"I wasn't aware you were in the market for a new passport." Remington nodded, his face still pointed to the ceiling.
"Mmmmm," he hummed in answer. "Seems a new one is in order." Daniel nodded pensively, swirling that ice again.
"Tell me, Harry, have I ever shared with you the tale of the most exquisite woman to ever grace my life?" Remington drew in a breath and let it out slowly. He wasn't particularly in the mood to hear the story of one of Daniel's romantic escapades, which inevitably involved separating said woman from something it was Daniel wanted: A piece of art… a jewel… a hefty chunk of her savings. But he respected the man enough not to be so insulting as to say so.
"A member of the Polynesian royal family wasn't she?" he inquired, pulling from his memory a story Daniel had told on more than one occasion. Daniel chuckled.
"Mmmmm. I've many a fond memory of that one, but no," he answered. Turning somber, he focused on the ice floating in his cup, as though it might hold the absolution he'd craved for more than three decades. "Her name was Neve, and from the moment I first laid my eyes upon her, I was …" he waved a hand toward the air "…bewitched." Lost in his memories, he stood and walked into the kitchn. "Oh, she led me on a merry chase, she did. Although she came from a family of modest means, she'd been raised to be a proper young lady, and from the first, she'd labeled me the miscreant that I was."
Remington dropped his hands down, and took the glass of ice water Daniel offered to him.
"Drink," Daniel instructed, before continuing. "For near on a month I found occasion to dine each day, sometimes twice," he laughed softly, "At the small restaurant where she worked. Dozens of times, I invited her on date, but each time she refused. Much like your Linda, she'd settle for no less than a man of character, who earned an honest living. By the end of that first month, I knew I'd do whatever it took to have her for myself. I committed to leaving the life behind, to trodding the straight and narrow. I found myself a nice little, honest job, working in a bank…"
Remington barked a laugh, then groaned and rubbed at his head. Daniel smiled in the direction of his protégé, although the smile didn't reach his strained eyes.
"Surprised?"
"A touch," Remington admitted. Daniel lifted a brow at the younger man.
"You know bank robbery is not found amongst my resume. Much too pedestrian for my tastes, all brute force, little finesse." Remington hummed his agreement.
"You were saying?" he prompted, lifting the glass of water to his lips.
"We were married by the end of that Spring." Remington choked on his water, and looked at Daniel, agog. Daniel continued on, seeming not to notice. "I was too young…" he paused, then added thoughtfully as an aside, "Your age now…. I was too young, to foolish to seize what might so easily have been mine. I made a decent wage at the bank, not much to brag about but enough so that Neve no longer needed to work." He tilted his head and nodded absently. "I'd put back a bit of a nut while living The Life, but before our child arrived I'd hoped to put back considerably more." Remington's face contorted in disbelief. Daniel has a child?! "I wanted Neve, our child to have the world. I hadn't realized, as Neve long ago had, that we'd already had the world in our hand, just in having each other. I tried to pull off the most… wildly… ambitious caper of my career and went to prison, instead. I wrote Neve every day, never once receiving a letter in return. By the time I was released from prison, I'd had nearly two years to think of all I'd lost in a moment of foolishness and was determined to somehow win her back…" Daniel's world trailed off as he relived that long ago day.
"Daniel?" Remington softly nudged. Daniel startled, then ambling towards the doors to the balcony began speaking again.
"The day I was released, I rushed home, fully prepared to do whatever it took to earn back the trust and love I'd once so carelessly thrown away, only to discover she'd long ago left." Stilling, he sighed heavily and closed his eyes against the memories. "The humiliation of having a husband in prison had been too much for her to bear. Unable to bring herself to face her family, she disappeared into the night, telling no one of where she'd gone. Devastated, I wandered around for several years…aimlessly, really," he added with a shrug, his feet on the move again, "Pulling off jobs here-and-there, yet still not fully committed to my return to The Life. But after a few years, I found I was desperate to find my family. I searched for nearly a dozen years, then spent the decade and a half after that regretting every moment I'd lost. After all, even I can't cheat death." Remington rubbed at his face, then dropping his hands, stared at his mentor, stunned.
"How is it you've never told me this before? It's been nearly twenty years, Daniel…"
"Finding you, my boy, plucking you from the streets, giving you a life to aspire to – unconventional as it might have been – is the one truly honorable thing I have ever done," Daniel shared. "I only wish for you to be happy, and I deeply fear history is about to repeat itself. I don't want you living with a lifetime of regrets, as I have." Remington lurched to his feet, his face turning hard.
"Laura is not up for discussion," he ground out, pointing his finger at his mentor. With a disgusted shake of his head he began striding for the doorway of the room.
"She loves you, Harry," Daniel protested.
"I wasn't enough for her, Daniel," Remington retorted, voice rising. "No matter how much I changed, no matter how long I stayed, it wasn't enough for her!"
"Her deeds say otherwise," Daniel countered. "She came for you, same as she's always done."
"She came to find a father for her child, not me!" Remington roared.
"And if that child is yours?" Daniel posed the question. "If you turn your back on your child, my boy, you'll never be able to find it within to forgive yourself." Remington's chest rose and fell harshly with emotion, his hands clenched into fists at his side.
"It's not," he responded, adamantly.
"Given what I've learned, I think you may well be wrong in that," Daniel argued, equally as passionately, "Can you honestly believe that the uptight, morally superior woman with her tedious list of rules, codes, and demands is, in actuality, nothing more than a scheming tart who somehow managed to convince you, these last years, that she was a paragon of virtue? Your instincts are better than that, Harry!" Remington puffed and stared at Daniel for several long seconds, then clenching his jaw, stubbornly, took three strides into the short hallway, and plucked the keys to the Porsche off the credenza.
"Forgive me, Daniel, but I've business to attend to," he announced, briskly.
Daniel watched as Remington strode out the front door then closed it behind him with a resounding slam. With a shake of his head, he retired to kitchen. Another night dining in, it would seem, as he couldn't trust Harry wouldn't pack bag and baggage then disappear should he not find Daniel awaiting his return.
