Lee was right; she was wound tighter than a drum. Once again Amanda tentatively turned her neck from side to side in hopes of working the kinks out. The walk through the park was helping but she still felt ill at ease. How could she tell her partner what happened next? How could she tell him what she'd been forced to do? Amanda opened her mouth to start but quickly thought better of it and closed it. She felt him squeeze her hand before she heard his voice.

"You okay?" He guided her over to an empty bench and helped her sit down. His eyes told her he was just as reluctant to hear what she had to say, as she was to say it.

She tried her best to smile, but knew she had failed. "Sure. I'm fine."

"Are you in any pain? Should we head back?" He seemed to be holding his breath while he waited for her response.

"No, really, I'm fine. Thank you. Talking about this is just . . . so hard." She began wringing her hands as she spoke. "I'm not real proud of what I had to do and I'm even more worried what you're going to think of me after you hear all the details."

"Amanda, there is nothing . . ." His voice trailed off when she turned away. He got up and kneeled in front of her, and raised her chin to meet his eyes before continuing. "There is nothing you could do or say that would make me change my opinion of you. Just take a deep breath and when you're ready, I'll listen."

She sat there a few moments trying to collect her thoughts, deciding how much to tell him. Seeing the understanding in his eyes, she knew she had to tell him everything. She cleared her throat and dove in. "We had dinner and drinks the next two nights and it wasn't until the third night that he asked me back to his hotel room." She watched carefully for any signs that Lee was feeling uncomfortable, but all she saw was unconditional support. That fact helped her through the next part.

11:46 p.m. Friday, March 7, 1986

"Would you like to come up for a night cap, Lass?" He pulled her toward him crushing her body to his. Softly, he stroked her cheek and waited for her answer. Up until this point they had only shared a few brief goodnight kisses. Their intimacy level seemed to have grown leaps and bounds tonight.

This was it. She needed to make her move tonight. Time was running out and she hadn't found out any solid leads. Besides, as Francine had so readily told her, if she played the 'Pollyanna' bit one more night, she'd risk losing his interest—whether he needed her or not. "A man can only take so much frustration, Amanda." Francine snidely told her while she helped Amanda get ready.

Steeling herself for what was to come, Amanda captured his lips in a passionate kiss. Surprised by the softness of his lips and the feelings they evoked, she quickly pulled her lips from his. "I'm not really thirsty," she whispered breathlessly near his ear. Grabbing a hold of his lapels, she pulled him toward the elevator.

"Even better," he groaned.

Patrick guided her to his hotel room and quickly ushered her inside. The door had barely closed before she felt his arms wrap around her from behind, and then pull her hair to one side, only to feel his mouth devour the back of her neck. The coarse whiskers that adorned his face felt like tiny needles against her skin. Squeezing her eyes tightly shut, she tried to remember what Lee had told her once before. "Be the character, forget about who you are and feel the person you are supposed to be." With each passing moment she was reminded that this could quickly get out of hand.

Mr. Melrose told her to do her best and if it got too hot, to get out. Of course, Dr. Smyth said to do whatever was necessary to get the information. She remembered sitting in her section chief's smoke-filled office, wide-eyed listening as Leatherneck had explained how to use the so-called "knock-out" drug as Dr. Smyth glared at her disapprovingly as he puffed away on his cigarette. "One dose will knock a normal sized man out for several hours, two and we're talkin' lullaby city, Mrs. K." The way Patrick's octopus arms were moving; she'd better give him two just to be safe.

The thought of Francine and the other agents stationed in the room across the hall listening in on her every move brought back a twenty-year old memory when she and her boyfriend, Jake Hardin were necking on her parents front porch. She knew her mother was no doubt peaking through the curtains, but the feel of Jake's sweet lips on hers helped block out that realization. This wasn't exactly the same. Jake was replaced with an international terrorist and her overprotective mother was replaced with a tiny microphone hidden in her watch. 'Be the character, forget about them.' With new resolve, she turned in his arms and kissed him soundly on the mouth.

His hands roamed over her body and she bit her lip in consternation. Amanda's body and mind were on completely different pages. Her mind knew he was an international terrorist, but her body was reacting to the man she had gotten to know over the past few nights. The man that had told her about his stolen childhood—his father killed in a home invasion, a case of mistaken identity, which she knew to be only partially true. His father was shot and killed in his home in front of him and his siblings, but it was by the British Army in a gun battle with the IRA—and they knew precisely who his father was.

He spoke of his mother working two jobs to support him and his two younger siblings. Sure she'd read the story of his father's death in his file, but it didn't show the humanity-only the cold hard facts. Hearing how it affected him gave a completely new layer to the story. She could only imagine how traumatized her sons would have been if they'd seen their father shot down in cold blood. She shuttered at the thought.

Of course Patrick followed in his father's footsteps; it was all he knew.

As hard as she tried, she couldn't help but like him. Yes, he was a cold-blooded killer; for that, there was no doubt. But he had this child-like quality about him that she couldn't help but react to. She was a mother; she understood the sacrifices one must make to protect their family and the impact those choices had.

Amanda couldn't quite believe it herself. Here she was on her first solo case, in the arms of the enemy, and she was sympathizing with him? She needed to gain control of the situation and her emotions. What would Lee think if he saw the way she was behaving-if he could read her thoughts? 'Thank God for small favors!'

Just as she had calmed herself down and refocused her energy, she felt it-the distinct feel of her bra being unclasped below her blouse. She needed to slow things down and fast before things went further than she was capable of handling. Patriotism was all well and good but self-respect and the ability to look at your self in the mirror were even more important to her.

Reaching behind her she grasped his searching hands and brought them in front of her. "Hey, how about that drink you promised me?" She smiled shyly and squeezed his hands.

"I thought you weren't thirsty?" He started nibbling her earlobe and she shivered.

"Well, I seemed to have worked up a thirst." She grinned as she pulled away and slid past him to the phone sitting on the bedside table.

He followed closely behind. "Allow me to quench your thirst, Lass." He pulled the room service menu from her grasp and laid it back on the table before pulling her down onto the bed with him.

What was she going to do? She had to get those drops into him soon or it would be too late. Love of her country be damned-she was not sleeping with Patrick O'Brien or Sean McGuinnis or whoever the heck he was! Before she could contemplate her next step, she felt him cease his unnerving attack on her throat and ear. Now she'd done it. He was on to her. Soon he'd realize what was happening and she'd have to be rescued by the cavalry hidden away in the room across the hall before her case even got started.

He sighed into her neck. "You aren't going to relax until you get that drink, are you?" he mumbled knowingly.

She sighed in relief, which he seemed to take as affirmation. He grabbed the menu off the bed and then reached for the phone. Not feeling like risking suspicion, she opted not to argue with him about who would place the order. They had a contingency plan for every moment, if he called directly down to room service, she would just add the drops herself.

While he dialed the phone, Amanda excused herself to freshen up. She wondered if it was possible to stay locked in the tiny room until the drinks arrived; where she would be safe from his octopus hands-at least for the time being.

Just as she'd refastened her bra there was a light rap at the door. "Mandy? I think our drinks are here. Come on out. You can't be any more gorgeous than you already are."

She inwardly groaned. Why did he have to call her that? It must be a rule in the 'bad guy/girl' handbook. 'Do they call you, Mandy?' Amanda mentally shook the voice of Lee's former lover, Eva out of her head. There was definitely no room for Eva in this hotel room. She plastered a seductive smile on her face and slid out into the main room.

"For fuck's sake! It's a Goddamn drink! You didn't think to bring ice?" Patrick's voice boomed near the front door. The force of his anger pushed her back and she clutched the door jam for support. This was not the same man she came in with. Obviously there really were two sides to him. Before her was the man she had only read about.

The waiter stepped behind the cart as if to put some distance between them. Amanda met his startled eyes and could see her own shock mirrored there. "I'm very sorry, Sir. I'll go get some ice right away," the waiter's voice trembled. Amanda recognized the young man from Beaman's freshmen class of agents. He was a little paler than she remembered, but it was definitely him.

Patrick followed the waiter's stare and his enraged face quickly changed when his eyes found Amanda's, giving her a most charming smile, he turned back to the waiter. Patrick stuffed several bills into the young man's shirt pocket and practically shoved him out of the room. "No need. It was an honest mistake, Lad."

Amanda knew at that moment that this was not going to be the simple assignment she'd expected when her role had been originally explained. The chill that ran down her spine when his cold glare met her eyes was like none she'd ever experienced. She was just glad she wasn't on the receiving of his tirade.

The relieved waiter nodded to Amanda and backed out of the room, as if he was afraid to turn his back on Patrick.

"Our drinks are here." He responded cheerfully as he shut the door and carried the tray into the room. She could almost see the adrenaline pumping through his body, as if he had gotten a high off of what had just taken place.

He grinned as he handed her the drink. Returning his smile, she placed her drink back on the tray and slipped his drink from his fingers, setting it down next to hers. "Why don't you go freshen up first?" She guided him toward the bathroom and gave him a promising kiss hoping he'd acquiesce, and much to her relief, he did.

As soon as the door closed, she pulled out the small vile that had been burning a hole in her pocket for the past half hour. Her eyes darted to the closed door and then back to the vile. With the pounding of her heart and the rush of blood to her ears, she swallowed hard and pulled the cap off with her teeth. With one last glance behind her she flicked a drop into the clear liquid, swilling it around to hurry the dilution. "Please work!" She pleaded in a whisper. Francine had told her that they could doctor Patrick's drink before delivering it but she was worried she'd drink the wrong one. Besides, she wanted to be sure she gave him enough. There was no room for error here. Knowing her luck, she'd be the one passed out cold, then where would she be?

Amanda's breathing was staggered, it wasn't until an elderly couple walked by them that she realized she wasn't back in Patrick's hotel room. She could feel Lee rubbing her back in a soothing motion and she blinked repeatedly trying to pull herself from the thick of the memory.

"Why don't we walk down by the water, huh?" His raspy voice was full of emotion. From his body language she could see he needed a break as much as she did. Lee helped her from the bench and led her down the small pathway to the water below.

"You know, I always wanted to live on a lake. I have such fond memories of the summers I spent down at Lake Moomaw with my parents. Daddy used to say I should have been born a fish, the way I loved the water. Mother always said I was going to turn into a prune," Amanda reminisced.

"You spent your summers in a place called 'Lake Moomaw'?" He rolled his eyes at her and smirked.

"What's wrong with that? It was quite lovely, I'll have you know." She picked up a small pebble and skipped it across the lake. "Besides, who are you to talk? Didn't you tell me you and your uncle were stationed in Offutt, Nebraska at one time?" Amanda leaned toward Lee and gently nudged him with her shoulder, knocking him slightly off balance. "And that's just one of the odd places you've lived," she added.

"Game, set and match, Mrs. King." He smiled brightly, showing her his trademark dimples as he lowered himself down to the ground not far from the water.

"Giving up so quickly, Scarecrow?" She teased as she quirked an eyebrow then gingerly settled beside him on the grass. "I'm disappointed."

"Oh, I wouldn't say I'm giving up, Mrs. King." They exchanged a subtle look of amusement as Lee picked up a few pebbles and began skipping them across the water as she had done only moments ago. "Haven't you ever heard of the 'element of surprise'?"

Her eyes studied him with a curious intensity. It was times like these that she was the most confused. Were they just exchanging friendly banter or was she supposed to read between the lines? He could be so confusing and so damn charming all at the same time.

Amanda could feel her partner's eyes scanning her after each toss of a pebble. Her breath caught in her throat and she felt her heart pounding erratically. She pulled herself up off the ground and walked closer to the water's edge in an attempt to gain some semblance of control.

"Hey, I was just kidding." Lee's light touch on her arm startled her and she jumped. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sneak up on you."

"Don't be. I mean you didn't. I mean . . . I'm fine." She squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to settle her nerves. With resolve to tell her partner what happened, she let out a sigh and continued with the tale.

"It worked!" She sighed in pure exhaustion as she felt the rise and fall of his bare chest on top of her. The sight of their clothes strewn about the room reminded her of what her fate could have been had the 'knock-out' drops not come through for her. She'd have to bake Leatherneck a double batch of his favorite cookies as a 'thank you'.

Shuddering at what could have been, she extricated herself from under his weight and pulled on his discarded white dress shirt and buttoned it up. Amanda sat on the edge of the bed watching him. He reminded her of a small child. There were no indications of torment on his young face; even the scar on his face wasn't as visible. Reaching to brush a lock of hair that rested on his brow, she abruptly stopped short. What was she doing? This was a terrorist! If she'd had any doubts to the extent of his anger she merely had to think back to the scene with the 'waiter' earlier. He was a different man. His temper ready to erupt at a moment's notice—she would need to be extremely careful.

And that's exactly what she'd be–careful. She needed to begin her search of his things and quickly. There was no telling how long he'd be unconscious. She only hoped there was something there among his belongings that would link him to the expected attack at the British Embassy. Just one break, that's all they needed. The sooner this was over the happier she'd be. But what was she looking for? 'You'll know it when you see it,' reverberated in her head from a case long ago, she sighed and began digging through Patrick's personal belongings. "Right! I'll know it when I see it," she whispered.

Nearly an hour later, Amanda was certain she'd turned the room upside down twice over, and still nothing—what wasn't nailed down was thoroughly searched. Tired and frustrated, she sat down on the couch trying to think of what she could have overlooked. There had to be something she was missing. Her eyes scanned the standard issue hotel room before her. The paintings on the wall held no secrets, nor did the empty dresser and nightstand. Patrick seemed to be living out of his duffel bag – which too proved to be a dead end. The wastebaskets brought nothing, as did the newspapers scattered on the small round table situated in the corner of the room.

Amanda stared at the unconscious man across from her. He looked almost like Phillip or Jamie lying there, young and innocent.

Phillip . . . and Jamie.

Her eyes darted to the bed below him. That had to be it! She shot up and moved over to the empty side of the bed and carefully slipped her hand in between the mattress and box springs. How many times had she found contraband when changing the sheets in the boys' room?

Shoot! Nothing.

She had one last chance—she eyed the other side of the bed and stalked over to it like a cat burglar. Unfortunately, Patrick's weight was impeding her search. In order to get a good look under the mattress she'd have to practically roll him over to the other side.

His body reacted to the slight movement and she gasped pulling back quickly only to find her hand wedged between him and the mattress. Biting her lower lip, she held her breath waiting to be sure he wouldn't wake before she slowly tugged her hand free.

"Ouch." Amanda hissed pulling her hand free and quickly sucking the tip of her finger. As the sting faded, she pulled out the offending piece of paper sandwiched there. Her eyes widening as she read the sheet from top to bottom. Their break! It wasn't exactly what she was hoping to find but would he really be stupid enough to leave step-by-step instructions of his plan to blow up the embassy? Not likely. No, this would have to do.

Pulling her mini-camera from the hidden pocket in her purse, she laid the paper on the table in the corner of the room and hovered over it. One quick snap, then another checking over her shoulder after each exposure to be sure her 'friend' was still down for the count.

Returning the hidden document had been no small feat, but she'd managed. After making a quick call to 'room service' for a bottle of whiskey, she waited and watched. Hoping against hope that he wouldn't wake, her breathing was coming in short gasps as she thought of the possibilities. If he woke up before she got a chance to dump out half the bottle's contents she'd have a lot of explaining to do. How else would she explain his black out? "You don't remember a thing about last night?" she'd reply. "Well, you did drink an awful lot . . ."

Returning from the bathroom she placed the bottle on the tray near their empty glasses. Okay. The hard part was over. She tugged on the collar of his shirt she now wore and began mismatching the buttons so it would look as though she'd just thrown it on in the middle of the night after their 'romp in the sack'. Which was partially true, she mused. She had thrown it on in the middle of the night. He just happened to be unconscious at the time. Could she help it if he couldn't hold his drug-laced liquor?

Wow! She was really starting to think like her partner. But he was right; disconnecting yourself from the task at hand did help to get through the mission. She nearly died of embarrassment when he had worked her dress off of her. Standing in front of him in her bra and panties as he ran his hands up and down her body as his mouth assaulted her face and neck. If she hadn't taken Lee's advice and pretended to be someone else she was certain she would have been frozen in fear.

Now, all she needed to do was bide her time for a few more hours and she could turn the camera over to Billy. Her section chief had warned her not to leave before Patrick came to, lest it seem suspicious. Amanda rubbed her neck; it had been a very long day. She needed to relax even just for a few minutes. She looked to the love seat opposite the bed but decided against it—wouldn't look right if he woke and she wasn't in bed next to him. Reluctantly, she slid in beside him and rolled over, as far away from him as possible. It was silly really, he was out of it and she was fully aware. What could possibly happen?