Hello again. Thank you very much for the nice comments on the second chapter. I hope you're ready for number three. Please let me know if you like this one as well.

Many thanks to NightOwl22, for the feedback and support! How about another cliffhanger? ;-)

I wish you all a nice Super Saturday, and a splendid weekend!

Chapter 3: Angel eyes

The previous night

It was already late at night. Dempsey felt exhausted as he drove to his apartment, after having a few drinks with the colleagues to celebrate the successful closing of the case. He'd had trouble coping with this last case. The undercover operation had led to a number of sleepless nights of heavy surveillance, but most of all he had missed Harry by his side badly. Good thing she was due back next week. He'd manage to survive another couple of days without her. Although he had wanted to call her or visit her these past days, the case had kept him so busy, he'd barely had time to breathe. Plus he didn't want to disturb her. Or maybe he was just afraid to contact her. He didn't want to put any pressure on her right now. And besides, she hadn't contacted him either, had she? Had she changed her mind about coming back, after all? The thought made him shiver.

He suddenly felt the strong desire to call her, but feared she would be asleep. He made a mental note to call her tomorrow to ask her about the exhibition. She apparently appreciated it when he showed interest in her work. Not that it really interested him in the slightest. Dinosaurs are extinct anyway. He would never understand why she was so captivated by that stuff.

He drove his car in the direction of the Albert Bridge. It was still warm outside, despite the late hour. The streets were quiet and peaceful, and there was no traffic at all. He was totally relaxed, enjoying the drive while listening to his favourite music of Neil Young, when all of a sudden he saw from the corner of his eye a car approaching him at full speed. It came right up to him, ramming into the driver's side. He'd responded immediately by hitting the brakes but was unable to avoid the collision. Thanks to his quick response, the car had missed the door and slammed instead into the nose of his Mercedes. Still, the impact had been huge. Enough to make him lose control of the steering wheel and send his car spinning around over the pavement, to finally come to a brutal stop against the railing of the bridge. Dempsey wasn't wearing his seat belt, causing his head to smash hard against the steering wheel. He suffered a deep cut above his eyebrow, the wet, sticky blood streaming freely down his face. He felt dizzy. Luckily, he hadn't lost consciousness.

It took him a while to come back to his senses. His whole body ached from the collision. He tried to move, but his right leg was stuck. He desperately tried to get out of the car, wringing and pulling his leg to set it free, hurting his knee in the process as he cried out in pain. He was lucky enough not to have a broken leg, but he had to get out of the car as quickly as possible. He wasn't even sure whether it had been an accident or an assault. He suspected the latter.

The railing prevented him from opening the car door along the driver's side, so he climbed over the gearbox and handbrake to the passenger seat, suppressing the pain on his right knee. With great effort, he managed to get out of the car through the passenger door. He remained close to the ground and, drawing his gun, he immediately took shelter behind his car.

He could see the other car a bit further down the road, its nose dented. There was no sign of the driver, and he saw no one else on the street either. The place was deathly quiet and seemed deserted. He waited and spied around for any unusual movement. Everything remained silent. Carefully, he pulled himself up using the car door. He limped around his car, steadying himself on the bonnet, always keeping tabs on the other vehicle. There was still no movement, so slowly he approached it, never lifting the aim of his gun off the car.

Then, he heard a sudden shot and the buzz of the bullet as it flashed past his head. He quickly dove to the ground and fired back.

Another shot echoed from farther away. Dempsey felt a sharp pain in his left shoulder. His hand flew to that shoulder, warm blood seeping through his shirt. He cursed, wincing in pain. He knew the first gunman was squatting behind the car, but Dempsey couldn't see where the second shot had come from. He counted at least two men shooting at him. He had no other cover but his car, and realised he was just a sitting duck. Quickly, he scanned the surroundings in order to find a way out. There was only one way he could see. He aimed his gun in the direction of the car and started firing as he retreated towards the river as fast as he could. It didn't take long for him to run out of bullets. The next thing he knew, his gun was on the ground as he felt a sneering pain in his right forearm. Another bullet had hit him.

Dempsey let himself fall into the river, and dove as deep as he could. Luckily he was a good swimmer. The wound on his shoulder hurt like hell, but he couldn't focus on that right now. He had to swim for his life. He swam towards the bridge to find shelter. Darkness was his companion. Silently, and with extreme caution, he surfaced under the bridge, hiding behind a pillar. He kept still in the water, listening for any sounds. Were they still looking for him?

He soon had confirmation when he heard some muted male voices. He couldn't understand what they were saying, but he could tell they were looking for him. He could only hear a few words here and there, enough to realize something that made him shudder. They were American!

Was his past coming to haunt him again? They certainly knew what they were doing. Were they professionals, sent here to kill him? He held his breath, and stayed still in the water for as long as possible. The water felt really cold even in the summer, but it softened the pain in his shoulder and arm slightly. Then everything became silent, only a sole car passed by. Was it safe again?

It didn't take long for his body to start trembling uncontrollably. He had to get out of the water or he risked going into hypothermia. He listened attentively while he swam to shore. With the little strength he had left he hoisted himself out of the water. For a moment he lay at the river bank catching his breath. Then he got up and stumbled in the direction of the street away from the river, walking along a big concrete wall with buildings above it. He staggered on, leaning against the walls and trying hard not to fall over. His body ached all over. His wet clothes stuck to him, making him feel even colder. He didn't know where he was nor where he could go.

He certainly couldn't go to his apartment, it wouldn't be safe. And a hospital was out of the question. Those would be the first places the killers would be looking for him. The office was not an option either -too far away and probably deserted at this time. He had no clue who the gunmen were or where they could be, so he wouldn't be able to identify them.

He walked around aimlessly for a while. He was running out of strength as he arrived at a smaller bridge, where he found an old blanket and a cardboard. The blanket was dirty and frayed and smelled like sweat and urine. It made him want to vomit, but nevertheless he wrapped it around himself to warm up as best as he could. He flopped down on the cardboard, leaning against the bridge wall and pressing his hand against his aching shoulder to try and stop the bleeding. His muscles started convulsing violently. He was now shivering uncontrollably and his teeth rattled from the chilly temperature. He tried to no avail to warm up by wrapping his arms around himself and rubbing his body.

In New York he would know where to go. He had quite a few hiding places and he could rely on family and friends who would help him out. It'd been two years since he had seen his family. Would he ever see them again? A shiver ran down his spine. As he thought of them, he realised how much he had missed them.

Here in London he didn't know many people. Only Harry might be able to help him, but he dismissed the thought quickly. If indeed they were professional hit men, he would be putting her in danger. He couldn't get her involved in this, he cared way too much about her.

He thought about his partner. He had been really looking forward to working with her again. Despite his discomfort, he couldn't suppress a smile at the thought of the gorgeous looking lady who'd stuck by his side for almost two years. Who would have thought he would actually enjoy working with her? With a woman, for Christ's sakes!

His mind wandered back two years ago, when he arrived in London…

Two days in the stupid city and he was yet to see the sun. To top off, he had pissed off his boss yet again and the rule book that was his partner wasn't giving him a break. It was a fact, now. He had been destined to hell on earth…

Damn you, O'Grady! Couldn't you've picked another country with a warmer climate and some hot chicks instead of this ice queen hovering around him all the time? A barking boss he could cope with, he was used to that in New York too. But a broad as a partner? No he couldn't take that! What the hell do they know about criminals and how to handle them? They were much too sensitive for that, and they didn't know how a criminal mind functioned. And on top of that, they didn't have the physical capabilities that were required for the job.

If he would just annoy her enough she would finally give up working with him, he thought. And then he could get another partner. If Spikings was a little more reasonable he would give him a male partner instead. Surely the boss must realise too, that broads aren't capable of doing this kind o' work!

But to his big surprise she didn't give up. She stood by him where even male partners would have dropped out. Yeah, he had to admit she really had guts! The way she'd backed him up in extremely dangerous situations were beyond his expectations. She followed his wild hunches and learned to deal with his brash and sometimes rude behaviour. He never had expected this from "Lady Harriet".

Besides that, she turned out to be quite bright too, although he would never admit that to her. Between his nose and her brains, her wit and his muscles, they turned out to be a winning team after all. No one could deny that, not even Spikings.

To his delight and Spikings' frustration the rule book had slowly disappeared. Of course they continued arguing and fighting with each other. Their colleagues knew that was inevitable. Their bickering in the office made Spikings go crazy sometimes, but as long as they'd get results he endured it.

Apart from Harry and their colleagues, he didn't bother to meet other people. What was the point, anyway? He would only be here for a short time. But time passed by, and without even realising it one year became two, and he still hadn't heard anything from O'Grady! But he couldn't care less, as long as he had Harry's company at work and recently also in his spare time. She made him forget about his troubled past and, unknowingly, she gave him some joy in life again! It was strange and somewhat confusing, to feel this way again after all these years.

He couldn't deny there was some sort of physical attraction between them. After all, she was a gorgeous looking woman! But having sex with her would spoil everything between them and he had started to respect her too much for that. As for a serious relationship, he realised that she –a high-classed, sophisticated lady- was far beyond his reach. Besides, he had made himself a promise five years ago, that he wouldn't start a serious relationship ever again... And he didn't intend to break his promise. Not now, not ever! But he kept flirting with her. He knew she hated it, and it would keep her on a safe distance. And to his amusement, she always gave a quick retort on his flirting and his suggestive remarks. It really kept him going.

They had been through a lot together and he felt at ease with her, despite their different background. He thought he knew her pretty well. Until the day, like a bolt from the blue, she handed in her resignation! He had no idea what had got into her as there hadn't been any signs or major hassles lately. He tried to talk to her, but she couldn't even give him a plausible explanation about why she left. She only assured him that he hadn't done anything wrong, this time. As if that could bring any consolation…

At work, Joyce Hargraeves tried to measure up with Makepeace, but she failed miserably. And he didn't have it with her…, that unique connection as he had with Harry. No matter how hard Hargraeves tried, it would never be the same. Maybe it was because he didn't give her a fair chance? But even if he did, there was no way that she could replace Harry! Actually, nobody was able to replace her! He'd never met anyone like her before. Was it her stubbornness? Or the way she survived in this men's world? Or the way she was able to handle him? He couldn't explain why, but she had managed to earn his deepest respect. Sergeant Makepeace was quite a personality and she turned out to be the best partner he'd ever had. She even had a good influence on him as she somehow smoothed his rough edges a bit. And she was able to calm him when he was about to explode. Something no one else had ever succeeded.

Rather than to settle in self-pity, he had tried to focus on the job in order not to think about her. But in everything he did and everywhere he went, he felt her absence. And that feeling got stronger every single day! This whole fuckin' city wasn't the same without her. It felt like a part of him was missing. Damn, it was so disturbing how he had become dependent on her. He hadn't even realised it until she had handed in her resignation. Without her, his whole world collapsed. Realising it was one thing, but admitting it to her was yet something else…!

Only after a while, he finally found the courage to confess her that he needed her. But it wasn't until he threatened to resign also, that she decided to come back. In the mean time, he'd already thought about what he would do if she didn't return, and he could only see one other option: he would book the first flight back to New York. For in England, things wouldn't be the same without Sergeant Makepeace.

He still could feel the relief after their meeting with Spikings. It wouldn't be long before she came back and everything would become normal again! The past weeks, he had been looking forward to her return. And now it was only a matter of days…

He woke up from his reverie by the burning pain in his shoulder. He could stand the pain in his arm, but that bloody shoulder was aching terrible! And his head was about to explode! The whole world was spinning around, and he felt so damn nauseous as if he had to throw up any time. He presumed he probably suffered from concussion. He decided to rest for a couple of hours and then go to the office. Spikings would know what to do and how to protect him. He couldn't go to Harry as he didn't want to endanger her and drag her into this mess.

As he was lying under the bridge, he felt really cold and started shivering again. He wrapped the blanket tighter around him, trying to get at least a little warmer. The pain in his shoulder had become unbearable, and he felt his strength going quickly. He felt so very tired, his eyes blinking shut. He desperately tried to stay awake and fought to keep his eyes open, by blinking and trying to focus on his surroundings. He would take some rest, but he couldn't allow himself to fall asleep or to pass out. That would be too dangerous out here on the street, with these killers around! Just a few hours, and his colleagues would be in the office again.

In the mean time, he tried to keep his mind occupied by thinking of Harry. He could imagine her face with her beautiful pale blue eyes and her soft smile, and with her blond hair blowing in the wind… She looked just like an angel. He smiled at the thought and felt the warmth it brought him.

Eventually everything went black…

Some time later footsteps approached him. A man stopped in his tracks when he saw Dempsey lying under the bridge. He was still on the cardboard, wrapped in the blanket. He didn't move. Was he asleep or was he unconscious? Or was he dead? The man bent over him to get a closer look. His eyes opened wide the moment he recognized him!

(TBC)