by Amy Marie
He did as she said, trying to focus on the mission at hand and not any other reason why she might be grabbing him.
Sylvia sat on the edge of the bed and jammed her forearms under his arms. "On a count of three…one…two…three!"
She pulled on him as he used his good arm to brace himself and push up from the floor. His thighs burned with the effort but he finally got to his feet without passing out or ripping any stiches.
When he settled back on the bed, Patrick leaned against the pillows and let out a long exhale. He looked over at Sylvia, one eye closed and the other open. "Thanks."
She gave a nod. "No problem. Now, let me eat before my stomach digests itself."
Patrick picked up his fork and cut in to the meatloaf on his plate. "What's stopping you?"
Her response was the absolute last thing she expected from an agent of the United States government. Sylvia stuck her tongue out at him. With chewed up chicken all over it.
"So childish." He picked up his spoon and loaded it with one of the crispy green peas from his salad. Pulling the spoon back with one finger, he let go and flung the pea across the room. It hit Sylvia on the nose.
"I'm childish?" She picked the remains of the vegetable off her face. Scooping one of her own peas up, she threw it at Patrick smacking him in the center of the forehead.
"So, that's how you want to play this." He loaded the spoon once more with several of the peas and sent them airborne all at once. Sylvia laughed as she dodged the vegetable onslaught.
Before long, Sylvia was doubled over with laughter and the tiny green balls littered the floor. Her emerald eyes sparkled with mirth and mischief; a good look on her. Patrick raised his one good arm in surrender. "You win!"
"I'm a sharpshooter even with a spoon." She pointed to Patrick's head. "There's some in your hair."
"What on earth is going on in here?" The door flew open and one of the nurses burst in, her hands on her hips. "This is a hospital! Full of sick people. We can hear you all the way down the hall."
"Sorry, ma'am." Patrick flashed her his best boy-next-door smile.
She walked over to the bed and started messing with the machines. "You disconnected something, it's beeping like crazy down at the desk."
He reached over and touched her arm. "Sorry, it won't happen again."
The older women blushed slightly and gave him a little smile. "I think it's about time you sent your friend home and got some rest. She can come back tomorrow."
Sylvia pulled out her badge and showed the nurse. "I'm a U.S. Marshal and this man is in protective custody."
She pressed a hand to her chest, her expression worried. "I had no idea. Are the patients here in danger?"
"The only one that needs to be worried is Patrick. Everyone else is perfectly safe. Once the doctor releases him in the morning, we will be out of your hair. But, until then, I stay put."
As Sylvia talked, the nurse moved toward the door. "Just try to keep it down in here then, please. We have a lot of elderly patients on this floor and you were upsetting several of them."
"Yes, ma'am. Will do."
When she was gone, Patrick chuckled. "She made feel like we'd been caught having sex or something."
"Like that would ever happen." Sylvia shoveled a spoonful of mashed potatoes and gravy into her mouth. "Eww, they're cold."
They finished eating in silence. For some reason he refused to explore, Sylvia's comment had bruised his already sensitive ego. Maybe he didn't know his name or where he lived but he could see he had a pretty decent body, probably worked out and ate well. There was no reason any woman wouldn't be attracted to him.
Except that Sylvia had already proven she wasn't just any woman.
When he ate enough to take the edge off his hunger, Patrick pushed the tray table away. Reaching up, he clicked the switch that turned the light off over his bed. "I'm exhausted. I think I'll try to get some sleep now."
Sylvia nodded, a curious look in her eyes but she didn't say anything. Just ate her piece of chocolate cake and sipped her coffee.
Chapter 4
"Everything seems good. Let's get you signed out of here so your lady cop can try and figure out the mystery of where I should send my bill." Dr. Rivers laughed at his own joke. "I'd say I'm just kidding, but, I'm not." His toothy grin made Sylvia smile. The older man reminded her of her father. He probably had a special arsenal of Dad jokes just waiting to be deployed at a moment's notice.
"As soon as we crack the code, I'll let the hospital know everything," Patrick replied.
Dr. Rivers made a few notes in his computer then closed it up. "Funny thing is, I think you'll do exactly that. I'll send the nurse in with the discharge papers."
Sylvia pulled out her phone and sent a message to her boss. Witness being released from hospital soon. Heading to the predetermined motel site to lay low and try to get his memory back.
She was half through her third level of Candy Crush when she got a reply. Sending you a number for a contact at the FBI. Get one of the behavior people to do that hocus pocus hypnotizing stuff they do.
Sylvia chuckled as she read the text. Her boss went way back; the "new-fangled" stuff, as he always called it, didn't impress him.
Getting desperate? she asked him.
Desperate times call for desperate measures. If I don't get you back here soon, your mother will be in my office raising hell.
He had a point there.
Okay. Send me the info. I'll call once we get settled in the safe room.
"Boyfriend?" Patrick asked, nodding toward her phone.
"Ugh, no. Boss." Sylvia tucked the phone in her bag and then stood up. Walking over to the sink, she ran her hands over her hair and splashed some cold water on her face. "First thing I'm gonna do is take a shower. I've got one change of clothes in my bag so I'm going to need to find a place to grab a couple things. For you, too."
He looked down at the hospital gown he wore. "What? You don't like my wardrobe?"
"While faded pink cotton might be all the rage wherever you are from, it's awfully cold outside for something so light and airy."
"Fair enough. Think they will let me borrow it for a bit though? My other clothes are a little bloody."
Sylvia grabbed a plastic bag from under her chair and handed it to him. "While you were in the bathroom washing up, I went downstairs to the gift shop and found you a pair of sweats."
Patrick hugged the bag to his chest. "Be still my heart. Only two days together and she's already picking out my clothes."
"Why don't you go get changed so we can get out of here as soon as the paperwork is done?"
"Yeah, okay." Patrick went in the bathroom and closed the door.
Sylvia sat back down in her chair and stared at the bathroom door. Something about Patrick had been nagging at her. Something vaguely familiar, like they'd met somewhere at some other time. She just couldn't put her finger on it.
Her phone dinged the announcement of an incoming text. She pulled it from her bag and read the message containing the FBI contact. He's expecting your call today.
Got it, sir, she typed back.
The nurse that brought the discharge papers was much younger and more cheerful than the older, uptight woman assigned to him overnight. "Is our patient ready to get out of here?" she asked, walking past Sylvia and over to a tiny counter.
"Changing his clothes in the bathroom."
"I'm just about done!" Patrick called through the door.
"Are you his significant other?" the nurse asked her.
Sylvia showed the other woman her credentials. "No. Your patient is in protective custody until we figure out who he is and who tried to kill him."
The bathroom door opened and Patrick stepped out, clothed in the dark grey, terrycloth outfit and a big smile on his face. "It feels good to wear something that doesn't fly open every time I breathe. Although, it was tough to get this arm into the sleeve. Hurt like a mother—"
"You look like a prisoner on exe
rcise break in the yard," Sylvia said. The nurse laughed but Patrick looked a little hurt.
"It’s not like I have all the options you do."
Sylvia glared at him. "Options? I haven't changed my clothes since we met!"
The nurse giggled. "You two bicker like an old married couple."
"We do not!" Sylvia and Patrick said in unison.
Sylvia clapped a hand over her mouth. The nurse laughed and handed Patrick a stack of papers to read and sign. As she went over all the wound care instructions and such, Sylvia made a list on her phone's note app of all the things she needed to pick up at the store. When the last paper had been signed to set Patrick free, she grabbed her bag and headed out.
"Stay close, preferably a little bit behind me."
Talk about another hit to his fragile ego. "I'm not helpless."
She looked over her shoulder at him. "I understand that. But I have the gun and you are down one arm."
He nodded but didn't say anything as she led the way to the elevator. Once they were safely on their way to the first floor, Patrick spoke. "I feel a little like I'm in a 007 movie. I half expect to see James Bond drop from the ceiling."
Sylvia gave him her best eye roll. "Are you serious?"
Patrick shrugged his good shoulder. "I don't have much to go on but I suspect my life wasn't nearly this exciting."
The elevator slowed to a stop and the doors slid open. Sylvia stepped out first and surveyed the lobby. Satisfied that no one looked suspicious, she led the way toward the front doors. Mack had left her the rental car parked in the lot so she fished the keys out of her bag and hit the emergency button. The horn honked from about three hundred feet away.
Sylvia scanned the lot and saw nothing unusual. "Stay close once more."
"Yes, ma'am." Patrick stayed so close, she could feel the heat of his breath on her neck, causing tiny little ripples of goose flesh to form on her neck and shoulders.
They made it to the dark sedan that Mack had left her and got inside. She immediately hit the lock and turned the car on.
"Do you know where we are going yet?" Patrick asked.
Sylvia glanced over at him. "Just sit back, relax, and let it be a surprise."
Patrick sighed as he leaned back. "My whole life has become one big surprise."
The traffic stayed light all the way to the motel Sylvia had picked out. Old and run down on the outside, she knew the rooms had recently been redone and that each room opened on to an ocean view.
They'd stayed there once before about a year ago when she and Mack had done another witness transport. It had enough peeling paint and cracked concrete to make a good, safe layover spot.
"Here we are." Sylvia pulled the car into a parking spot beside a faded mural of a navy ship painting on the back of the building.
"Where?" Patrick glanced around. "An abandoned building?"
"The Sunset Motel." Sylvia opened the car door and stepped out, grabbing her bag from the backseat. "Let's go. I don't like being so exposed."
"I hear the waves," Patrick commented as they followed the sidewalk around to the front of the building.
"This place sits right on the sand. All the rooms face the water. It's awesome." Sylvia pulled open the door and motioned to him to go in. "My partner and I have stayed here before on business. It's just nondescript enough to keep us off the radar."
"Welcome to the Sunset Motel. My name is Kassie. How may I help you this morning?" A grey-haired woman, wearing glasses that were at least two sizes too big for her petite size, greeted them with a warm smile.
"We'd like a room for the next couple of nights, please." Sylvia pulled out the identification of her alter-ego, Sarah Smart and showed it to the lady.
Kassie examined it then handed it back to her. "One bed or two?"
Sylvia took the i.d. and handed Kassie a credit card. "Two please. Something on the second floor would be great, if you have anything available."
"The sunsets over the water are beautiful this time of year." Kassie tapped a few things into the computer then pulled out two hotel keys. She handed them to Sylvia. "You're in luck. This is the off season so our best room is available. Enjoy your stay."
"Thank you, Kassie," Patrick said.
"Bless your heart, you do speak." Kassie pressed a hand to her chest.
Patrick looked, and sounded, confused. "What do you mean?"
"I just figured since your friend here—oh, you know what? Don't mind me. I'm just a crazy old woman with a good imagination. You two enjoy Virginia Beach now, ya hear?"
Sylvia bid the woman goodbye and left the office, Patrick close behind.
"What was that all about? Do I look like I'm a mute?"
"Calm down, Prince Patrick. She's just a bored old woman trying to entertain herself."
They climbed the steps to the second level and walked to the room they'd been assigned. When they reached the door, Sylvia went to insert the key but Patrick grabbed her wrist and turned her around, pressing her back to the door. He stepped in so close she could feel the rise and fall of his chest against hers. Her heart rate sped up, matching time with the thumping of her pulse in her ears as he put his hand on the door beside her head, essentially boxing her in against the door. He leaned down so that his lips were next to her ear and spoke, his voice deep and throaty.
"Please stop calling me Prince Patrick. I don't know much, but I know I'm not royalty and I really don't like being mocked."
She could barely focus on the words his mouth formed as his stare pierced straight to her soul. Passing her tongue over her suddenly parched lips, Sylvia inhaled a shaky breath. "Would you please step back so I am not forced to shoot you?"
Or climb you like a tree and shove my tongue into your mouth.
Holy crap. Had she actually thought that about a witness in her custody?
He made no move to step back. The heat mixed with aggravation that rolled off of Patrick in waves had parts of her thawing that hadn't been warm in way too long. It took every single ounce of self-control she could muster not to wrap her arms around his neck and pull his lips to hers.
"I wasn't—mocking you. I'm sorry if you thought that." Even she could hear the shake in her voice.
Patrick lifted his head from by her ear and looked her in the eyes. "Believe me when I say, I don't want to be here anymore than you do. No matter how sexy your green eyes are, this is the last place I want to be. But, I have nowhere else to go and I would appreciate it if you would stop making a joke out of my situation."
He thought her eyes were sexy.
And he practically had her pinned to the steel door. Was he about to kiss her? She wanted him to kiss her. Nope. This couldn't happen. Sylvia sucked in a breath as she placed her palms against his chest and pushed against him. "Could you give me a little space please?"
Taking half a step back, Patrick remained close but at least she could almost breathe.
Fumbling with the key card, she reached behind her and slipped it into the lock after only three tries. The door opened into the room and Sylvia stumbled backward. Patrick tripped and fell against her, knocking them both to the floor. The heavy door slammed shut.
"Ouch." Patrick grunted as his injured shoulder made contact with her and then the floor.
"Are you okay?" Sylvia pressed a palm lightly to his cheek, the roughness of the two days' worth of stubble on his jaw scratching her skin.
Instead of answering her, Patrick rolled to the side, taking her with him so that she now lay on top of him.
Before she had time to think about it, Patrick crushed his lips to hers. Somewhere in the back of her mind a little voice screamed No! He's your witness!
A much louder voice told the little one to eat dirt.
Every hard inch of the complete stranger on top of her felt like it was designed to complement every inch of her body.
The room filled with music as the ring tone she'd assigned to her boss played. The musical interruption snapped her back to the present. She tu
rned her head to the side, breaking off the kiss. "What are we doing?"
Patrick shook his head slowly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—I mean, I have no idea what hit me. Kissing you is the last thing I want to do."
Sylvia sat upright, straddling his waist. "What the heck is that supposed to mean?"
Closing his eyes and exhaling, Patrick frowned. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded."
Sliding off of Patrick's hips, she leaned against the end of one of the beds. "There aren't too many ways to interpret it. Not that I care."
Liar.
Big, fat, dirty liar.
She cared. A lot. Way more than her terms of employment allowed for.
Patrick sat up and leaned against the other bed. "I don't know what came over me. I promise you I won't let it happen again."
Sylvia tucked her hair behind her ears and passed her tongue over her lips. "I need a shower. Desperately." Standing, she walked over and locked the door, slipping the latch closed so no one could get in without her hearing them break in. Grabbing her bag, she walked by Patrick, still sitting on the floor and entered the bathroom, locking the door behind her.
The tiny lavatory barely had space to undress surrounded by the toilet, sink and tub. As she pulled her shirt over her head, Sylvia caught sight of herself in the mirror. Flushed and little wild eyed, she couldn't deny that the kiss had had an effect on her. As long as it didn't happen again, she'd just pretend this one hadn't happened either.
The steady hum of the water running in the shower tempted Patrick in ways he could never describe. Even though they'd been apart for several minutes, he still felt the softness of every curve of Sylvia's body where it had pressed against his. Something fell in the tub and his brain immediately imagined those curves draped in soaps suds and surrounded by the steam from the hot water.
"Get it together, man." He pulled himself up off the floor and sat on the bed, his back against the headboard. The wound in his shoulder throbbed as he waited for the dizziness in his head to subside. All the sudden movements had stirred his bruised brain up.