Yes, I know, I'm mean. Making you all wait. Blame it on real life running small biz and the world out there. I hope some of you like some late 80s escapism still and are enjoying this. Ratings pushing from the start on this chapter, for which I make no apology. The good news is that chapter 17 is almost finished.
"You want this?" Her lover had asked. He looked for confirmation of their dinner conversation as he sat back against the headboard, holding her in his lap. His thumbs circled her hips as she explored the contours of his shoulders, the radius of the muscles of his arms and the strength of his chest. Felt him solid beneath, every sigh and vibration lending a realness to something once imagined.
The sun was winter bright in the bedroom and they'd looked hopefully at each other. There was an eagerness about him that warmed her belly. She nodded. He rolled her onto her back with a determined motion.
A growl started in his throat as he dragged his stubbled cheek down the length of her torso and she arched into him; writhing from the ticklish roughness of his face. He kissed her, right there. "Here."
"Yes." She agreed with a whimper, glowing and rosy on the pillows.
"What about work?" She asked and he shrugged. For a man who once listened to police radio channels, he was surprisingly dismissive and relaxed. His priority was now her, she thought, no longer work.
"We'll figure it out." He moved up her body, sliding up her so they were nose-to-nose and she had giggled with nerves, looking at the breadth and length of all of him, as he settled down in the cradle of her thighs. He was hard and warm against her. They contemplated this moment and she saw only love and trust on his face.
"Okay." She confirmed and the simple word, all it meant, moved him into action. Her legs were tight around him, and she felt lush and powerful. She didn't regret their haste. She never once felt that they should have kissed more or her hands could have tested his passion. This was too urgent, and frantic. They had moved as if the moment might fly away from their grip, that this was one thing they might control in a life that offered little. He slid in, inch by glorious inch, the momentous nature of him and her connecting, almost too much to bear.
DMDMD
Harry tore Demspey's Mercedes through the streets, tracking the armed unit. Thankfully Chas had stayed at SI-10 doing what he did best, and coordinated the team through the streets. Harry couldn't bear to think of Fry in charge. Yet she felt lost without someone next to her. Taking a breath, she smelt cigars and her partner's cologne and felt somewhat better.
She swung the car left, taking a reliable short-cut, pushing over the speed limit until she reached the side street where Owen lived. A row of dull suburban houses lined a street in a long row with an array of sensible Fords and Rovers parked outside. Commuter territory she thought. People leaving early, off to work and not home until evening, it was doubtful anyone knew of the strange man at 30a with its crazy-paved driveway.
Harry sat, torn between racing into the house or waiting as she'd been told. Emotionally, she simply wanted to get Dempsey out of the place, his rule breaking was infectious. Practically, she knew it was too risky, it wasn't just about her. She had the sense that if Dempsey realised she was going solo to save him from a murderer, uncertain if she was on the list of victims, he would erupt.
Ahead of her, discretely parking, she saw the armed back-up team with Watson at the front. Harry slipped from the car as she checked the butt of her gun in the shoulder holster.
"How many in the team?" She asked Watson
"Six, one team at the back and another on the street." He calmly checked the weapon in his hand.
She nodded, "I'm with you then?"
Watson frowned and began to protest but paused at her determined look.
"I'm your best tactical shot in the SI-10, the man we are rescuing is the bravest shooter and you have no idea how he's going to be feeling. You need me." Harry summarised quickly.
"I'm sorry for…" Watson tailed off. "Must been hell on you too."
Harry nodded and swallowed down her emotions, she could deal with those when she was with Dempsey. "I just… we all… want him back on one piece."
Watson nodded. He cocked the gun in his hand and spoke in a manner that reminded her of her partner, "Let's make it happen."
She covered the distance with him. They formed a team around the door and she held her gun, catching her breath and watched as Watson silently counted, and she mouthed the numbers with him.
One…Two….Three. The door gave way with a crash and her colleagues moved forward, alert and watching.
Clear. Clear. Clear. "No sign of Owen.." Watson said as he emerged from one room.
She moved around the hall, spinning to the kitchen which yielded nothing useful. In the hallway, the team moved down to the bedrooms and she turned to the living room.
"Dempsey….. James…. Oh God, there you are."
She breathed out a sigh of relief. The weight of the past few weeks eased at the sight of him, by the bookcase of the gloomy lounge with his ID in his hand and his gun in the other.
He blinked at her with tired eyes, and then wobbled before he flopped onto the sofa. "You took your time."
"You were hard to find." Harry dropped down beside him, her legs reflecting the exhaustion that was palpable in them both. She reached up to stroke his cheek. "You okay?"
Dempsey shrugged, "Better for seeing you."
She nodded in full agreement and brushed her lips against his mouth.
"Ain't that against the rules?" He enquired with a glance to the door, and then back to her with a look of curious anticipation.
"There aren't any rules. I'm the only female sergeant. I make my own." She withdrew her hand with a gentle squeeze to his fingers. "What happened to you?"
"Owen took me by surprise in the alleyway." Dempsey ran his hands over his eyes and palmed his chin, feeling the rough stubble, "He doesn't want to kill me, but he has confessed to killing for me. Kept me locked in last night. He left about twenty, thirty minutes ago, I don't know where he's going."
"Hey bro!" Watson patted Dempsey on the shoulder, "We'll find him."
"He said something about taking revenge. I can't think who." Dempsey frowned and then looked cautiously between his colleagues. "How's the boss? I guess you'd have said if..."
"He's in hospital recovering." Harry replied quickly not wanting to give her partner too much to worry about, hoping Watson would play along. He tactfully left the room.
She observed the trousers that were several inches too short with amusement, only able now to find the space to let go of some of the tension she had felt. "What did you come dressed as?"
"I've been auditioning for God according to Owen." Dempsey ran his eyes over her as they heard Watson stomping down the hall and she withdrew her touch.
Harry remembered; "Your dry cleaning is still in the boot of your car, since well, days ago…I've got it outside, if you want to change?"
"You've got my car?" He frowned. Harry noticed how pale he was. Circles sat under his eyes and the clothes made him look oddly unfamiliar to her.
"Long story." She replied quietly and thought about how the days had become so blurred, it felt a lifetime. They looked up as Watson reappeared.
"I've radio'ed in." Watson confirmed, "You need anything else? Ambulance?"
"First aid kit." Harry suggested, trying to find a compromise.
"I'm fine…" Dempsey began and then almost certainly seeing her concern, corrected himself, "There's a mini bastard Owen banging a jackhammer in my head and I could sleep for a week or eat a burger but I'm doing better."
"Still…" She paused as an officer appeared with a box of basic medical supplies and handed to her. "You need that injury attended to. We can go to A and E or I can clean up what I can here."
Dempsey thrust out his lower lip and looked pleadingly at her but Harry refused to be dissuaded, eliciting a groan from him when she hit a sore spot. "You probably should have an X-ray."
"You're the only nurse I need." He grumbled and she shot him a warning look.
Watson appeared on cue to prove her point. "How is he?"
"Mild concussion perhaps, cuts and bruises." Harry estimated, knowing she'd take Dempsey to hospital to reassure herself if he got any worse. "He'll live."
"Thanks for your concern." Dempsey threw her an amused look that told her later and then asked the question that was on her lips, "Any news on Owen?"
Watson paused, shuffled from one foot to the other, causing her blood to thud in her ears. "He got into SI-10 before we could put a call out, must've got inside just as we left."
"Chas, Fry?" Harry breathed and felt her legs shake. She was thankful to be sitting for she'd certainly have fallen, "Oh God."
Dempsey stood up and she wanted to cry at the very thought he was back on the case.
