Adrenaline coursed through her, and her heart pounded, but her head was clear. Zach had made her the best. This situation wasn’t unfamiliar. She’d performed this particular exercise many times before. The only difference was, now it was personal. Pray that one change in circumstance didn’t get them both killed.

She pushed off the fence and ran into the compound. A few soldiers milled around. One she passed looked dazed. When he glanced up, his eyes widened. The edge of her left hand connected with the back of his neck, and he went down.

A jeep raced past her. The officer in the front passenger seat screamed orders. She ignored him and jogged toward the only low, one-story building. The structure next to it had collapsed in on itself, but this one was fine. She pulled open the wooden doors.

Empty interrogation rooms lined both walls. Beyond them were small offices, also empty. The floor was concrete, stained with blood and cracked. The air smelled of fear and suffering, and of the dead. Jamie held her pistol ready and jogged toward the back, where the prisoners would be kept.

The compound was an outpost, its purpose to guard the depot and distribute munitions. There should only be a half-dozen prisoners. The first two cells were empty. The barred opening in the third door showed three starved men huddled together in the far corner. She ignored them and kept moving.

Three minutes twenty-five seconds.

The last door on the right was the one. She felt it in her gut as she approached. She glanced through the barred opening. One man lay on the dirty straw. He was turned away from her, but she would have known him anywhere.

“Zach,” she said softly. He didn’t stir.

She glanced at the thick, ancient lock, then the sturdy wooden door. Despite how easy they made it look in the movies, in real life it was time consuming to shoot open a door. But she didn’t have a key and there wasn’t time to find one. She kicked the door once in frustration, then prepared to fire on the lock.

She didn’t have to. As her foot connected with the wood, the door swung open. She immediately crouched down and moved away from the opening, prepared to shoot whoever was hiding inside.

No one appeared. She held her gun in front of her as she entered the cell. When she cleared the door, she jumped back and aimed her gun. But there was no enemy.

Zach stirred slightly. She heard the unmistakable clink of metal on metal. The unlocked door suddenly made sense. They didn’t need to lock him inside. He wasn’t going anywhere; they had him chained.

She was at his side in less than a heartbeat. His clothing hung in tatters, and there were bruises everywhere. She didn’t want to think about that. She had to concentrate on getting him out of there. She touched his shoulder, and he moaned.

“It’s all right,” she murmured. “You’ll be fine.”

She lowered her backpack onto the dirty straw and flipped open the flap. Her supplies were packed in the order she would need them. Her clippers were on top. As she reached for them, Zach rolled onto his back. Her body stiffened.

She knew about torture. She’d been beaten herself, threatened with death, shot, stabbed. She’d seen prisoners with broken legs and missing limbs. In her head, she’d known what he would look like when she found him. She’d promised herself she would ignore his condition long enough to make their escape. Seeing him now, that emotional distance wasn’t possible. Every fiber of her being rebelled against the truth.

Blood matted his dark hair and stained his face. His mouth was swollen, his lips cracked. He wore a black T-shirt over army-issue trousers. His arms were purple and red with welts and bruises. His skin had been split in dozens of places, and most of those were infected. His trousers were rags. She could see more bruises and open wounds on his legs. Some looked as if they’d been made that morning. He was painfully thin and dehydrated. She touched his forehead. Fever, too.

Next to him was a small bowl of grayish gruel and a cup of water. Neither had been touched.

Four minutes thirty-five seconds.

Time was running out. But instead of moving him, she brushed her fingers against his cheek. “Oh, Zach, I’m so sorry.”

The feelings returned. They sucked her under like a riptide, threatening to drag her out to open sea. She remembered what it had been like to see him that first day of training. Tall, strong and powerful. He’d held the keys to what she most wanted in the world-a job with the agency. How she’d tried so hard to impress him and how discouraged she’d been when he never seemed to notice. She’d fought against her crush and the odds to be a success. In the end, she’d made it because he’d pushed her so hard.

She remembered their week together, the joy she’d found in his arms, then the pain of realizing he didn’t want her. She remembered how long it had taken to forget him and the endless nights when she wondered if she ever really would.

It had been seven years. Why hadn’t she been able to let him go?

Five minutes.

She shook her head to clear it and ignored the lingering memories. No time for them now. She pulled a penlight out of a slender pocket on her thigh and checked his eyes. His pupils responded to light. Thank God. From another pocket, she removed a syringe filled with morphine.

“This is going to be a long, painful trip,” she said as she gave him the shot. He didn’t stir. Next she used the clippers to cut the chains. She didn’t worry about the collar around his neck. They could get that off on the plane.

She grabbed both of his arms and pulled him into a sitting position. He was limp, which would make it harder. She took a drink from her canteen, then slipped on her backpack.

“Let’s go.” She bent forward and drew him up, tugging until she could settle her shoulder against his midsection.

“Please don’t have any internal injuries,” she murmured, then grunted as she took his weight and started to stand.

She cursed several times as she got her balance. Zach had probably lost thirty pounds, which meant he still outweighed her by twenty. She wrapped her left arm around the back of his thighs, holding him securely. She pulled the nine-millimeter pistol out of her waistband and clutched it in her right hand.

“Show time,” she said, and headed for the door.

They made it to the main entrance before she saw someone. A middle-aged man, probably a captain, stepped into the building. When he saw her with Zach, he shouted something. She kept walking toward him. He reached for the gun at his side. She pulled the trigger of hers first.

He slumped to the concrete floor. Jamie was out of the building before the sound of the shot stopped echoing.

Six minutes thirty seconds.

Zach’s deadweight drained her energy. She dismissed the pain ripping through her shoulder and down her back. Her thighs felt as if they were moving through quicksand. She glanced around the open compound, but no one was there. The captain might have been the only one left behind.

She hurried back the way she’d come, clearing the fence without incident. Then there was nothing between her and the jeep but two miles of desert. Two miles with Zach’s dead weight to drag her down.

“Damn you,” she said, more to distract herself than because he was listening. Between his condition and the painkiller she’d given him, he would probably be out until they landed in the States. “All those times you told me I wouldn’t be enough. All those days you tormented me about my lack of strength. Well, look at me now. I’m strong enough to save your sorry hide.”

Sweat poured down her face, chest and back. Her heart pounded. His arms hung loose, his hands gently bumping against her rear. She settled into a medium-paced walk. Her instinct was to run from the compound, but she couldn’t, not with his extra weight. As it was, she wasn’t sure she was going to make it back to the jeep. Of course, she didn’t have a choice. She would find the strength from somewhere. Once she nearly lost her footing in the loose earth, but she staggered a couple of steps, then kept going.

She used the sun to gauge her position. When she figured she’d gone about a half mile, she pulled out her compass and double-checked her direction. Right on target.

Memories from the past returned. She didn’t bother fighting them. What was the point? She remembered everything about their time together, then she cursed him for what he’d done to her. Harsh laughter cut through the silence of the open desert.

“What did you do to me, Zach? Nothing I didn’t want. You made me the best. If you hadn’t done such a fine job, I wouldn’t be here rescuing you today.” Her left arm and shoulder were on fire with pain, but she kept walking.

“You told me I would have to work harder and smarter. I did. I beat them at their own game. I’m stronger and better, and you’re not even awake to see it.”

She sucked in a breath. She felt as if she’d come off a ten-mile run. The temperature had been pleasant on the walk to the compound. Now the air was hot. She paused long enough to drink again from her canteen, then started walking again.

“Even the fact that you dumped me made me a better agent,” she said, her breath coming in pants. “After that I decided I would never need anyone’s approval again. Do you know how many times you’ve saved my life? Not just when we were on assignment together. But since then. A dozen, maybe two. I could hear your voice in my head telling me what to do. All that training. And if that didn’t help, I would ask myself, ‘What would Zach do?’ Then I did it. So I guess I’m grateful. But I still hate you.”

There were other emotions, but she refused to deal with them now, just as she refused to think about why, after seven years, she still hadn’t been able to forget.