I thought it would be an easy assignment. Hop a plane to the tropics and entice a felon into returning to the States and giving himself up.
I'd worked with the FBI behavioral team to develop a persona that would create rapport. I confided in Patrick about the quandary I was in. Should I choose a promotion or a life? And he, in turn, felt comfortable opening up to me.
He'd lived other places. Now he lived here. His wife was dead. He'd done some things. Now he was thinking about it all. And he wasn't ready.
From the case file, I had expected a sharpie with hollow eyes and a predatory smile. But he was nothing like that. He was fine and sweet and poetic in his loneliness.
When the tailor touched his face and forced him to stand still in front of the mirror, I couldn't breathe. Two hours and twenty-six minutes into our acquaintance and I knew I wanted him. I wanted to touch that face. To fix that gaze on me and me alone.
I hate the beach. I don't tan. I hardly swim. But I wanted to stay on the island with him. As long as it took.
As long as it took to do what, Kim? I asked myself. To bring him back to stand trial? No. To get him and to keep him.
I had no idea what I meant by that or how to accomplish it.
I'm nice looking enough and I can be personable. But I was the only English-speaking woman in town and that's why he spent time with me. I'm not insecure, just realistic. But it was like I'd washed up on a deserted island with the most desirable man in the world. Certainly the most desirable I'd ever known. Just the two of us. This was my chance.
So I asked him to dinner. Abbott would have wanted me to anyway. Patrick smiled when he saw me in my dress. And instead of stuttering something about how nice I looked, he simply inclined his head and we walked in the direction of the restaurant.
He has such good taste in behavior. Is that a strange thing to say? Just that elegant little turn of his head. So sexy. So subtle. His mere existence makes every other man seem like a clod.
He asked me to go dancing. I didn't feel like dancing. That didn't matter. Would never matter again. As long as he was mine, I'd do whatever he wanted.
The music was loud and good and he looked so happy. My brain was going a million miles an hour. Should I offer to get him off the island to avoid the FBI? I could figure that out. Stash him in some other remote place that only I knew about? Kill Abbott and the other two agents? Would that help? I had to come up with a plan.
Then we left the restaurant and he was jumped by those thugs and I brought him back to his bare little apartment. I should have killed those guys. I will kill them if I get a chance.
I tucked him in. I touched his exquisite face with a washcloth. He fell asleep. Such a deep sleep. I spent all night memorizing him. I ran my hand along the contours of his body. I buried my nose in the nape of his neck. I held one of his hands to my breast. It was the best night of my life.
Maybe if Abbott could convince Patrick to come back to the U.S., that would be the best option for me. He'd have to work for the FBI and I could keep him close. It was a good place to start.