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.
“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
