5:48 a.m. Sunday, March 16, 1986

Lee awoke to the sounds of whimpering and felt Amanda struggling against him. After a moment, he cleared the cobwebs from his head and tried to wake her from her nightmare. "Hey, hey . . . wake up, Amanda. You're having a bad dream." She gasped for air as he held her by her wrists so she wouldn't hurt either of them in her struggle to awaken.

"Lee? Where am I?" The moonlight played across her face and he could see she was disoriented.

"You're with me in my apartment. You're safe. Just relax, okay?" He released her wrists and rubbed her back soothingly. You must have had a bad dream. Do you want to talk about it?"

He watched as her right hand made its way to her swollen left eye and then to her split lip, as if taking inventory of her ailments.

"It wasn't all a bad dream then?" She questioned disappointedly.

"No, it happened. But you're safe now. Why don't you tell me what your dream was about?" He knew from experience that it was best to analyze the nightmares in order to work it all out consciously in order for the subconscious to let it go.

"It wasn't a dream. I was reliving what happened. It all really happened, Lee," she cried.

"It's okay now. Tell me what happened," he soothed.

"I was leaving the embassy Thursday night, we were supposed to meet for dinner, but as I got into my car he grabbed the door just as I was shutting it. It startled me.

"Patrick! You scared me. What are you doing here? I thought we were meeting at the restaurant at six?" She could tell from his dilated eyes that something was very wrong.

"I couldn't wait that long to see you, Mandy." She didn't like the way he spoke her name, almost as if it left a bad taste in his mouth.

"I really need to go home to freshen up. Why don't I meet you at your hotel?" She didn't know what was going on, but she knew she had to get away from him.

"That's silly, lass. You look beautiful. Let's just go together from here." He pushed her a little too roughly over to the passenger seat. "I'll drive."

"Patrick? What's going on?"

When he didn't respond she stared out the windshield thinking over what had transpired since they were last together. Had she said something that gave her away? She was certain she hadn't but ran the mental tape over in her mind just to be sure. She had only driven back and forth to her 'office' at the embassy, and back to the apartment the Agency had set up for her after she had made contact with McGuinnis. Her only contact with the Agency had been in the park with Billy and Efraim, but that had been over a week ago. Since then, she had only spoken with Francine at the embassy in case he was watching her. So what happened? What caused him to turn so cold overnight?

She was drawn from her thoughts as he pulled into a shady looking no-tell motel on the outskirts of D.C.

"Why are we here, Patrick? What's going on?" Her stomach began to twist.

"Didn't I tell you, lass? I switched hotels. The other one had too many people milling about and their drinks tasted funny, don't you think?" He looked at her pointedly.

She reached for the handle of her door, but stopped when she heard the distinct click of a gun behind her. "Uh uh." Shaking his head, he grabbed her left arm and yanked her roughly through the driver's side door. She had the wind knocked out of her when he slammed her against the rear passenger door, her head bouncing off the hard steel of the car frame. She sucked in when he ran the muzzle of the gun down her neck to her breastbone. He grabbed the back of her head and brought her ear to his mouth and he whispered harshly, "Later, lass."

He quickly ran his hand down the outside of her left leg, then moved to the outside of her right leg before slowly traveling up the inside of both legs. Staying a bit too long at the apex of her thighs. His eyes locked with hers as he continued his search, squeezing her hips tightly before running his hand inside the front and back of her shirt. He left no part of her untouched. His stale breath lingered near her ear and whispered, "I guess I was right. You are an actress in a way, aren't you Mandy? Or do you prefer 'Mrs. King?'"

Amanda's eyes closed tightly. The gig was up. How was she going to get out of this? Francine and Efraim weren't planning to meet up with her until six at the restaurant. No one at the Agency knew where she was. She was going to have to rely on herself if she were going to get out of this alive.

He nudged her toward the rickety stairs to the second floor of rooms and she complied. Her eyes darted around in search of a makeshift weapon, but came up empty. Before she knew it, she was shoved into the dark-paneled, foul-smelling room and fell to the floor with a thud between the table and bed.

"Patrick, I don't understand why are you doing this?" she cried.

"For fucks sake, Mandy! The charade is over! Call me by real name! Sean McGuinnis! And you're Amanda King, not Keane! You work as an agent for the Agency, not a coordinator for the White House." His voice dripped of disgust. He reached down and grasped her throat, pulling her to her feet, not caring that she was gasping for air.

"I . . . don't know . . . what you're . . . talking—"

"Quit lying to me!" His hold on her throat only tightened.

She frantically clawed at his hand with both of hers trying to get him to release the hold on her. Amanda kicked at his shin as hard as she could in an attempt to get him to let her breathe. He let go and with fire in his eyes, backhanded her across the face, sending shockwaves up the entire left side of her face. He gave her another smack for good measure. At that moment she was certain she had lost all of her upper teeth.

Amanda fingered her front teeth before relaying to Lee the rest of the events in the motel with Patrick . . . or rather Sean, including how she had escaped.

The entire time that she explained what she had gone through, Lee had been soothingly rubbing her back for support. He still couldn't quite believe that this beautiful, lithe woman in his arms was as tough and resilient as she was. 'That's my Amanda.' He thought proudly. 'Wait, my Amanda?' Yeah, he guessed she was his, just like he was hers. They were partners, best friends, and he hoped they would be each other's saviors. He pulled her closer into his arms and just held her as the sun started to peek through the windows.