Surrender in Silk

by Susan Mallery

  A fly buzzed nearby, but he ignored it, as he ignored the scabs on his face and his cracked lips. He hadn’t had any food or water for over twenty-four hours. He knew what was coming. They starved him to the point of weakness and dehydration, then they beat him. They came when his reserves were at their lowest. Then they left him to heal just enough to endure the torment again.

  Every inch of him was bruised and bloodied. He didn’t think they’d broken any bones. At least, not yet. He’d called upon all the training he’d been given in order to survive this ordeal. He hung on to the fact that it wouldn’t continue forever. Either he would be rescued or he would die.

  There was no middle ground.

  After three weeks of being chained, his swollen, beaten muscles had become so weak he couldn’t walk. He could barely feed himself. The fever came and went. Several sores were infected. He was in bad shape. If they didn’t get him out in the next few days, they might as well not bother.

  In his lucid moments, he thought about the various plans they might employ to rescue him. He figured teams had already been sent in and failed. He knew Winston would weigh the cost of his life against the risk to other operatives. Zach didn’t know how much his boss would think he was worth. Maybe that line had already been crossed.

  Maybe no one was coming.

  He opened his eyes and stared at the small window on the other side of the cell. From his seated position, he could only see a rectangle of blue sky. The cell faced south. If he inhaled sharply, he could catch the scent of the outdoors, a flower of some kind, the hint of warmth in the air. Today it was enough.

  He didn’t mind dying. Sure, he had regrets, who wouldn’t? But he could live with them. He’d known it would come to this. Warriors always died in battle. But, dammit, he would like to go out with a weapon in his hand.

  In the distance, a door opened. Despite his desire not to react, he stiffened when he heard the faint laughter of the guards, followed by the metallic clinking of the chains. They had returned to punish him again.

  He cleared his mind, forcing himself into a deeper place. One untouched by pain and blood. His breathing slowed, as did his heartbeat. His superior strength and training had kept him alive this long. It would keep him alive a little longer. Sometimes he was pleased, but most of the time he cursed his inability to find release in death.

  Jamie checked her utility belt for the fourth time. She knew exactly what was there, but the ritual made her feel better. More relaxed. Pressure built in her ears. She swallowed to relieve it, then glanced out the window. They were descending.

  “Nearly show time,” Rick Estes said from the seat across the aisle. “You ready?”

  “Of course.”

  Rick touched the heavy backpack next to him and grinned. “Me, too.”

  Jamie studied him. She and Rick had been recruited into the agency within a few days of each other. They’d gone through training together, under the watchful eye of Zach Jones, then had gone with him on their first mission. They’d been green and scared. When things had started to go wrong, Zach had saved both of them.

  Seven years ago. She and Rick had changed. He’d been a gawky, awkward young man with a gift for explosives. She’d been the only woman in a class of eight. Zach hadn’t given her a moment of special consideration and had nearly flunked her for not having the upper-body strength to complete the obstacle course.

  Now Rick had filled out and matured. He spoke about timers and fuses as if they were intimate members of his family. His red hair was still worn short, but the innocence was gone from his eyes.

  Jamie knew she’d changed, too. The last time she’d tried the obstacle course, she’d beaten every man in her group. She’d honed her body into a lean, muscled machine. It had required hours of dedication, but she’d been determined to be the best. As soon as she and Rick got Zach to safety, she would resign from the agency and have to face the question of what to do with the rest of her life. But for now there was only the mission.

  As the plane slipped toward the ground, Jamie double-checked the contents of her backpack. She had food and water, along with medical supplies. Her knowledge of first aid was limited to crisis management. Her gaze moved past Rick, to the far end of the plane. A medical team sat together, talking in low voices. The doctor had already briefed her on what to expect if Zach was still alive. Dehydration, infection, possible broken bones. All she had to do was get him back to the plane. The team would take care of the rest.

  There was a slight bump, then the engines jerked into reverse as the plane taxied to a stop. Jamie and Rick were already up and moving. By the time the plane came to a stop, they were in the jeep, prepared to back out into the desolate countryside.

  Jamie wasn’t sure how they’d gotten permission to use this private airstrip and she wasn’t about to ask. Winston knew people everywhere. He pulled strings, called in favors, paid whatever sum was necessary and everyone looked the other way. As long as the job got done, the director was happy.

  “Ready?” Rick asked.

  When she nodded, he started the engine. The rear of the plane opened slowly; the floor behind them lowered into a steep ramp. With a salute to the medical team, Rick put the vehicle in reverse, then backed onto the tarmac.

  Brilliant sunshine blinded her momentarily. Jamie grabbed her sunglasses and put them on. It was late March, and the Middle Eastern desert temperature was pleasant. At least Zach hadn’t had to suffer through the summer heat.

  Rick checked his compass, then hit the gas. Within five minutes, they were driving due north and the plane was out of sight.

  “Once we leave the jeep, I’m going to need an hour and fifteen minutes,” Rick said, going over what they’d planned.

  “I brought a book to help pass the time.”

  He glanced at her and grinned. “Loosen up, Sanders. It’ll take a lot more than these guys to kill Zach. You know that. They don’t come any tougher than him.”

  “I know.”

  She tugged her cap lower over her forehead. If their luck was good, no one would see the jeep speeding along the dirt-and-sand-coated paved road. They would get to the compound, blow up the depot, get Zach and be gone. If their luck was bad—

  Jamie refused to think about that. She’d known the risks involved when she’d stormed into Winston’s office. Being obliterated by the depot explosion was the least of her concerns.

  She shifted on her seat, then reached over her shoulder to pull her long braid out of the way. As she fingered the end, she remembered the first time Zach had told her she had to cut her hair before she returned to class the next day. She’d spent the night studying regulations and had reported back that short hair wasn’t one of the rules. They weren’t in the military, after all. The agency’s purpose was to quickly protect U.S. interests abroad—by whatever means necessary.

  She felt her lips curve into a smile. Zach had been mad enough to spit nails. For a second, something had flickered in his gaze. She’d wanted to believe it was respect. He’d leaned so close, she’d felt his breath on her face.

  “Your damn hair is going to get you killed, Sanders,” he’d roared, still inches from her.

  Although she’d been shaking so hard she’d barely been able to stand, she hadn’t backed down.

  “It’s a risk I’m willing to take, sir.”

  He’d grabbed her braid and pulled it around her neck. Hard. “What about the risk to the team?”

  She hadn’t had an answer for that question. She couldn’t risk the others because of her pride.

  He’d given her a cruel, mocking smile and walked away. So much for respect. That night she’d cut her hair. In the past few years, she’d let it grow back.

  Zach. It was always about him.

  Rick slowed down. Up ahead was an outcropping of rocks.

  He parked in their shadow and climbed out. Jamie followed. She checked the sun, her watch, then pulled out her compass.

  “Two miles that way,” she said, pointing northeast
. “Try not to get lost this time.”

  Rick grinned. “Are you ever going to let me forget that one?”

  “Never.”

  They walked together in silence. Thirty minutes later, they parted company. Jamie could see the compound in the distance. High fences should have shielded the inside from curious eyes, but most of them had recently been blown away. There were several buildings, trucks and dozens of armed men. Her heart started pounding in her chest. Dammit, they didn’t have a prayer of making this work.

  Then she forced herself to slow her breathing. Gradually her muscles relaxed.

  The terrorists had chosen this spot specifically. There weren’t a lot of trees or plants, so it was difficult to approach the compound without being seen. She found a shallow depression in the warm earth and again breathed a prayer of thanks that it wasn’t summer.

  Her camouflage uniform was the color of sand and dirt. With her cap and smudged face, she would be difficult to spot unless she did something stupid. She slid off her backpack, then reached for a bottle of water. After taking a sip, she settled down to wait. An hour and fifteen minutes until Rick blew the depot. If he blew it.

  “Don’t think like that,” she told herself. “Everything is going to be fine.”

  She grabbed her binoculars and rolled onto her belly. She could just make out the details of the buildings. She focused on the section to the left. A low, one-story structure with small windows. According to their intelligence information, Zach was in there. Possibly chained. She had small but strong cutters in her backpack. If he was there, she was going to get him out.

  “Just an hour and twelve minutes now, Zach,” she said softly, scanning the area around her. No one had seen them arrive. All they needed was a little luck. “Hang on. Just hang on.”

  She lowered the binoculars and took another sip of water. Her shoulder began to ache. She shifted, remembering the first time she’d lain flat on her belly to scan the enemy’s position. It hadn’t been the desert then. Seven years ago, she’d gone to the Central American jungle. She’d been as green and soft as a ripe avocado, and just as effective. She would have died in that jungle if it hadn’t been for Zach Jones.

  That’s why she was here today. To pay that debt. And maybe, just maybe, to get a few questions answered.

  Chapter 2

  Seven years ago

  Jamie sucked in a breath. She could feel the snake crawling over the backs of her thighs. Zach had already glanced at it and dismissed it as harmless. Her entire life experience with crawly things had been seeing one dead rattler at the end of the block the summer she’d been ten. Even then, the sight of the squashed, dead reptile had been enough to make her shudder. Being this close to a live snake made her stomach churn.

  I’m not going to throw up, she told herself firmly, ignoring the clamminess of her skin. The prickly feeling of heat and dampness had nothing to do with her nerves and everything to do with the temperature and humidity of the jungle. She’d spent the first twenty-one years of her life in Arizona. This was like visiting another planet.

  Slowly, trying to move without making a sound, she raised the binoculars to her eyes and peered into the darkness. It wasn’t night, but the thick, lush foliage and tall trees didn’t let in a lot of sunlight. She studied the path twenty feet in front of them, and the clumps of greenery. She lowered the binoculars and shook her head.

  Zach stared at her. His dark brown eyes bored into hers, until she felt as if he were digging down to her soul. A muscle in his cheek twitched.

  Look again, idiot.

  He didn’t say the words. He didn’t have to. She could clearly read his irritation.

  Once again she raised the binoculars and stared at the trees, then the plants, then the path. There wasn’t anyone there.

  She wanted to elbow Zach Jones right below his rib cage. She knew where and how to do it, too. High and hard, so all of his air rushed out and his diaphragm convulsed a couple of times before relaxing enough to let him suck in a breath.

  Her track coach had shown her how, her sophomore year in high school. She’d run cross-country with the boys’ team because there hadn’t been enough interested females to form a girls’ team. Those long bus rides would have been impossible if she hadn’t known how to take care of herself. She’d learned quickly. It wasn’t difficult. She was a jock by nature, preferring a pickup basketball game to shopping or attending dance class.

  But she knew if she tried to elbow Zach, he would get her in a headlock that would cut off her air so fast, she would see stars. Besides, as annoying and hurtful as she found him, he wasn’t the enemy. He was in charge of the mission.

  When she’d scanned everything a third time, she lowered her binoculars and shook her head again. Zach’s mouth twisted with impatience. He clamped his hand on the top of her head and turned her until she was staring to the far left. He pointed to a tree that had broken in half. The charred trunk looked as if it had been struck by lightning. Or a bomb.

  He gave her a quick, painful squeeze as if to say, There, you dumb recruit.

  She stared hard, then bit back a gasp. Leaning against the trunk of the tree, nearly hidden by the shadows, was a man. Zach had found him without the benefit of binoculars. Geez, he was better than everyone had said, and the rumors made him a living legend. She wanted to scream with frustration. Just once she would like to impress Zach and have the last word.

  Zach motioned for her to slide back. She worked her knees and forearms, crawling along the ground, trying not to think about creepy or slithery things. Thick air swirled around her, making her sweat. A drop fell into her eyes, and she blinked away the accompanying burn.

  They slipped silently through the jungle. When they were about two hundred feet from the man, Zach stood up. Before Jamie could scramble into a standing position, he grabbed her by the backpack and pulled her upright.

  “I don’t need your help,” she said as she staggered a step or two to find her balance, then dropped the binoculars around her neck.

  “Yeah, right.”

  He dismissed her as easily as he’d dismissed the snake. It had been like that from the beginning. Zach Jones had told her the first day of training that he believed women were smarter than men, that they thought faster on their feet and they followed orders better. But that didn’t mean they made good field agents. Women didn’t have the gut instinct to kill. It had to be taught. And more times than not, they hesitated before ending a life. That hesitation was expensive, for them and for the team. If anyone hesitated, everyone might die.

  She’d stood before him then, arms stiff at her side, her chin raised. “I won’t hesitate, sir,” she’d said firmly.

  “You won’t be here long enough for it to be an issue.”

  But he’d been wrong about that. She’d survived the six-month training course. She’d mastered weapons, communications, map reading and an assortment of electronic and computerized equipment. She was one of the best trainees the agency had ever had. She’d worked hard to build her upper-body strength, but she hadn’t known how to develop her killer instinct. She knew it, and Zach knew it.

  He was good-looking enough to tempt a statue. She’d developed a crush the first week of training, then had tried to bury it under hard work. She’d done everything Zach ever asked and more, but he’d never acknowledged her effort. Or her. Occasionally he’d gone for a drink with the guys, but she’d never been invited. She was done trying to make Zach notice or like her. Jamie had been looking forward to seeing the last of Zach Jones. After graduation she’d gotten her first assignment. With him.

  Zach plowed through the jungle. When she would have stopped to study her compass, he moved quickly, as if the path were familiar. She didn’t even see a path.

  Life was all around them. Plants, bugs, snakes, small creatures that rustled the leaves on the ground. Only the birds were silent, alert and watchful. She wasn’t fond of the jungle. Why couldn’t insurrection happen in the desert, which she was familiar with,
or better yet in the mountains? She’d always wanted to go to the mountains.

  She pictured a cool stream washing over shiny rocks. Unfortunately, at the same moment, she stopped paying attention to the path in front of her. She tripped over a half-hidden tree root and tumbled toward the ground.

  Zach caught her before she fell. He jerked on her backpack, pulling at her shoulders. With his other hand, he grabbed her arm. His fingers bit into her sore muscles.

  “That one is poisonous,” he said when he released her. She glanced in the direction he pointed and saw a brightly colored snake slither away.

  She looked up at him. Good manners dictated that she thank him. No matter how hard he made it, he’d just saved her life. Her heart pounded loud and fast in her chest. Her breathing was labored. The physical reaction was as much to seeing the deadly snake as to the exertions of hiking through the killer heat.

  The hell with good manners. “If you dislike me so much, why didn’t you ask to have me transferred to another assignment?” she asked.

  “I requested you, Sanders.”

  Of course. It made sense. “So you could drum me out.” It wasn’t a question.

  Jamie was nearly five-nine, but Zach was a good six inches taller than her. He outweighed her by fifty pounds. He was as friendly as an iceberg and as animated as a building. He was good-looking enough to never lack for female companionship, but Jamie knew that inside, Zach Jones was nothing but a black hole. Which made the slightly romantic feelings she had when she was around him even more frustrating. The man obviously hated her.

  “I don’t think you have what it takes,” he said.

  “You told me I wouldn’t graduate and you were wrong.”