Susan Mallery - Surrender in Silk

“Look at me,” she said. “I’m a perfectly trained agent. A killing machine. The dead don’t keep me up anymore. What does that say about me? I want out, Zach. But I don’t know what I’ll do when I leave the agency. Isn’t that funny? I have everything I thought I wanted, and I hate what it’s done to me. But I can’t say you didn’t warn me.”

Her thighs trembled with each step. She had less than a half mile to go, but she was starting to worry that she wasn’t going to make it. Zach was a hundred and fifty-five pounds of deadweight. She stumbled and went down to her knees. Every breath was agony. She waited until the pain in her chest and legs subsided, then forced herself back on her feet and kept walking.

“I don’t know how to be a normal person anymore. I don’t know what it means to be a woman.”

Zach groaned. She wiped the sweat from her eyes and kept going. Ten minutes later, she heard the sound of a boot against gravel. She pulled out her pistol and spun in that direction.

Rick jogged toward her. He was covered with dust and soot, but he was grinning. “You made faster time than I thought,” he said when he was in earshot.

“Why aren’t you back at the jeep?”

“I was heading back to help you. It’s two miles, Jamie. Did you really expect to carry him all that way yourself?”

“If I had to.” But she didn’t complain when he took Zach from her.

Rick grunted under the weight. She stretched her muscles, then walked beside him. She grabbed one of Zach’s arms and felt for his pulse. Faint.

“We might be losing him,” she said, fighting the panic that blossomed inside.

“We’re almost there,” Rick grunted. His face flushed under the soot.

“Hang on,” Jamie said. “Dammit, Zach, don’t you dare die on me now.”

Zach felt something prick his arm. The tiny point of pain was so small compared to what he’d endured, he almost laughed. Almost. He didn’t because he doubted he had the strength left. The last beating had been the worst. They were going to kill him soon. He was counting the hours.

“Get that IV hooked up, nurse,” someone said heatedly.

Zach fought to remain conscious. Nurse? He tried to move, but his arms and legs felt sluggish. Only then did he recognize the pleasant blurring feeling. Someone had pumped him full of painkillers. The roaring in his ears became the discernible rumble of a plane taking off. He’d been rescued.

Gentle hands probed at his body. Clothing was cut away. Something damp brushed against the open wounds. He barely felt any pain, just vague discomfort.

“Is he going to be all right?” a female voice asked.

Zach stiffened. He knew that voice, knew the woman. Then he dismissed the recognition. It couldn’t be her. The beatings might have stopped, but he’d found a new way to torture himself. Just as he’d been doing for years.

Without wanting to, he opened his eyes. At first he had trouble focusing. He could see the ceiling of the plane and a uniformed doctor examining his legs.

“He’s awake,” an unfamiliar voice said. “Zach, can you hear me?”

But he didn’t want to talk to the nurse. His head turned to his right. He blinked to bring her into focus. At first he wasn’t sure. Had his tormentors found a unique way to break him?

Familiar but different. Same high cheekbones, same wide mouth. She looked thinner, honed. Almond-shaped eyes stared at him. Concern darkened the hazel irises to a muted blue. She raised her hand and touched his cheek. So gently. He didn’t want her to stop. He opened his mouth to tell her that, then pressed his lips together. He didn’t have the right. He’d never had the right where she was concerned.

The doctor said something. Jamie turned toward him, and a long, thick braid fell over her shoulder. The soft end brushed against the back of his hand.

She stepped away, or so he thought. Then he realized the blurring was deepening and the walls of the plane were fading. His last conscious thought was that he was pleased she’d grown her hair back.

Jamie brushed her bangs off her forehead, then let them flutter back into place. Winston stared at the letter, read it once quickly, then motioned for her to take a seat. She did so reluctantly.

She’d never considered herself a coward, but right now she wanted to bolt from the room.

Winston looked up at her. His pale eyes gave nothing away. “You’re sure about this?” he asked.

She nodded. “I want to quit the agency.”

“Just like that.”

“You know I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”

He dropped the letter on the desk. “Jamie, you’re the best female operative this agency has ever had. You’re number three in the overall ranking. You don’t get that high up in the standings without a hell of a lot of hard work. Now you’re telling me you want to walk away from it?”

If she was number three, who were two and one? She had a feeling Zach took first place. He’d always been excellent. Funny, seven years ago Zach had warned her what would happen if she stayed with the agency. Now she faced that reality.

“I’m not sure I can explain it to you,” she said.

“Try.”

She leaned back in the chair and rested her hands on her lap. Once the mission ended, she’d changed back into jeans and a sweatshirt. Nothing stylish, despite being in the nation’s capital.

“I know eight different ways to kill a man. I shot one rescuing Zach.”

“I know. I read it in the debriefing report.”

“Did it mean anything?” she asked.

“What? That soldier’s death?”

She nodded.

“No. Why should it?”

“My point exactly.” She stared at him. “I killed someone. I took a life. Not my first, but certainly my last. I didn’t care when I shot him. I still don’t. But I can’t keep doing this. I can’t continue to be a mindless killing machine. I’ve got to find out what it’s like to be a normal person. I want to know how it feels to wake up in the same bed every day. To have a routine. I’m a woman with all the working parts of every other female walking this planet, but I’ve ignored that side of myself for years. I want something different. I want to find balance. I don’t know if I can, but I have to try.”

“There’s nothing I can say to change your mind?” he asked. “You’re not angling for a big raise?”

For the first time since finding Zach, she smiled. “It’s not my style.”

“You’re right, it’s not.” Winston picked up his pen and tapped it on the desk. “What will you do now?”

“Go home. Recover. Think.”

“You’re willing to walk away from everything you’ve trained for? You worked harder than any other operative, Jamie. This agency has meant a lot to you.”

“I know.” She drew in a deep breath. “I’ve thought about this on and off for a couple of years. I have to do whatever it takes to find my way back. I don’t want to end up chained in a foreign prison like Zach.”

“Zach lived.”

“You didn’t see him there, Winston. I did. That’s no life. It’s just surviving. What price did he pay for that?”

Winston glanced toward the window. Silence filled the room.

“That’s what it comes down to,” she said. “No one knows the price. And I’m not willing to pay it anymore.”

Zach listened to the steady drip-drip of the IV and tried not to think about anything but getting well. Even though he knew it was going to hurt, he shifted uncomfortably on the hospital bed. He’d spent three days drifting in and out of consciousness. Three days of people hovering over him, giving him injections, examining him-three days of slipping back into a drug-aided sleep.

He knew it was three days because the nurse had told him when she’d brought his lunch. He was still on a “clear” diet, which meant broth, a flavored gelatin and tea. Although he longed for real food, just getting the broth down was hard enough. He was going to have to wait a couple of days for steak.

“You’re awake.”

He turned toward the sound of the voice and saw Winston walk into the room. As always, his boss was impeccably dressed, from his lightly starched oxford shirt down to his shined wing tips.

Winston grinned as he moved closer. “You look pretty bad, Jones. But at least you’re alive. We weren’t sure there for a while.” He patted Zach’s shoulder. “Welcome home.”

Zach raised the bed so he was sitting up. “Thanks. It’s good to be back. How’s it going?” he asked, and was surprised when his voice came out scratchy.

“That’s my question.” Winston pulled up the cloth straight-back chair in the corner of the private room, then settled next to Zach. “I spoke to your doctor. She said you’ll live.”

“Comforting thought. Did she also say how long I’d be stuck here?”

Winston shook his head. “You’ve been awake, what-” he glanced at his watch “-maybe an hour, and you’re already trying to get out of the hospital? Slow down, Zach. You’re fighting several bad infections, not to mention healing from some nasty bruises that might go down to the bones. You’re suffering from dehydration, exposure and a whole list of other things I can’t even pronounce. According to the good doctor, you’re going to be in here at least three weeks.”

Zach grunted. Figures. He hated hospitals. With the danger inherent in his line of work, he’d spent more time than he would like to think in them, too.

“She says your recovery time at home is going to be three to five months. You’re going to have to take it easy. I know you’re not very good at that, but you’re going to have to make an effort. I need my best agent back at a hundred percent. So don’t even think about cutting your recovery time short.”

“She’s overestimating the time,” Zach said. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fit and back before you know it.”

“Have you thought about what you’re going to do when you leave the hospital? Do you want me to look into private nurses?”