Free Unknown by Unknown

Every time she breathed in, his fresh morning scent—now mixed with the smell of boot polish— mingled with her senses. 'That's enough.' She stepped back but he just stepped forward so they still had the same distance between them.
    'Patience.' The roughness of his voice made Elizabeth realise that he, too, was affected by their close proximity. Would this friends thing really work? Right at this moment she wasn't so sure.
    He cleared his throat again and took a step back. 'Done.' When she opened her eyes, he read the uncertainty there. Mitch wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and to tell her everything would be fine. He wanted to press his mouth to hers, to feel her body go soft and pliant against his. Instead, he took a huge step away and turned to wipe his hands. 'You'd fit right in at an army camp,' he joked. 'Let's synchronise our wristwatches.'
    'Pardon?'
    'Just getting into the part.' Mitch checked his watch. 'Five past seven. Perfect.' He grabbed a plastic shopping bag from the tray. 'Hide this behind your back.'
    'I beg your pardon?'
    'Hide it behind your back,' he repeated, holding the bag out to her.
    'What is it?'
    'Everything we need. Milk, sugar, plastic bowls and spoons.'
    'Is that really necessary?'
    'We don't want to leave any incriminating evidence.'
    'I see. So why do I need to carry it?'
    'Because Imogen won't be expecting you to be involved.'
    'Won't my face be a dead give-away?' Elizabeth felt so ridiculous she couldn't help but laugh. Mitch joined in.
    'Probably. Let's move 'em out, soldier. We're on a mission to rescue two little boys from health food.' Mitch ducked down and ran quickly towards the door of the hospital, looking all around him as he went. 'Come on.' He beckoned over his shoulder and Elizabeth walked normally up to the door.
    'You look ridiculous.'
    'You have to get into the part, Lizzie.'
    'I am into the part. You smeared polish on my face and I'm carrying the incriminating evidence. That's enough for now.'
    Mitch looked at her, From her flat-footed shoes, up her long, gorgeous legs—glad she'd worn a skirt today—all the way to her perfect hair with the bandanna tied around her head. 'Yes. I guess it is.' He took a deep breath, trying to control his body after the quick appraisal. He noticed the small flush creep into her cheeks and knew she'd felt that unmistakable pull as well. Focus. With a nod he said, 'Here we go.' He opened the door and, still crouching down, scoped out the scene. 'Coast is clear. Go—go, I'll cover you.'
    Elizabeth walked in, cereal behind her back, and headed to the ward. 'Stay close to the wall,' he called, and she did as she was told. Mitch wasn't far behind her and soon he was pressed up against the wall outside the ward.
    'We've made it this far.' He checked around them again. 'No staff anywhere. I'll go first and cover you.'
    'Right.'
    'Hey—remember, Lizzie. This is for the boys.'
    'Right,' she said again, grasping his meaning. She took a deep breath, unable to believe she was about to do this.
    'Go.'
    Elizabeth slipped around the corner into the ward and hurried down towards the two boys' beds. She went between them and ducked down. Both boys looked at her with astonishment. 'Shh,' she said, holding her finger over her lips. 'Look.'
    They turned to watch as Mitch somersaulted into the room before hiding behind a bed at the end of the ward. He then raced over to the other side and hid behind another bed. He kept checking around him, making sure no one was coming. Finally, he reached them. Danny and Timmy were beaming from ear to ear.
    'You came!' Timmy said, but Danny quickly shushed him.
    'We made it,' Mitch said. 'All right, soldier,' he said to Elizabeth. 'You get this breakfast set up while I make soldiers out of these men.'
    'Yes, sir.' Elizabeth pulled over the table trolleys for each boy. She took everything out and poured choc-pops into the bowls, added milk and, to her disgust, heaped some sugar on top. She grimaced, wondering