Free Surrender in Silk by Susan Mallery

‘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.
    “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