Surrender in Silk

He clenched his hands into fists and leaned his forehead against the cool glass. He had nothing left with which to fight. He’d been drained of all strength. With a giant shudder, he released the last of the tension from his body and prepared for the onslaught.

His eyes drifted closed. He tried not to think, not to remember, but he didn’t get a choice. The memories came at him, weaving and ducking like ghosts in a low-budget horror film.

Faces of the dead. Men he’d killed, those who had died under his command.

John Alder, age twenty-seven. Killed in a climbing accident near the southern border of the former Soviet Union.

David Weeks, age thirty. Murdered by terrorists in a rebel camp in Central America.

Ronnie Maple, Jeff Harrison, Graham Everett, Albatross. There were dozens of other names, and many more he’d never known. Enemies he’d killed himself, civilians, locals and those with the simple misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The ghosts of the dead surrounded him, mocked him, hurled their insults, and he knew they spoke the truth. His fault. His fault. The smell of death was everywhere. He could feel it on his skin and seeping through his body.

Forgotten moments roared back to life. Decisions he’d made. Times he’d been so sure he was right. How had he known? How had he been so arrogant?

The past was everywhere. He staggered under its weight, moved across the room and fell into the chair. This was what he’d feared. This was why he’d kept a tight cover on his emotions. Feeling anything, even affection or regret, unleashed them all. Sorrow, sadness, anger, rage, fear, horror. They forced him to the brink of madness and threatened to push him off the edge.

Daddy, help!

The voice of a child called him back to sanity. He turned toward the sound, but the blackness of the room smothered him. A child. New life.

A possibility? A second chance? A reward for doing the one right thing in his life-for loving Jamie?

But he’d had to let Jamie go. It had been the right thing. A noble act. A-

He pushed to his feet with such force that the chair shot out behind him and slammed into the wall. Zach stalked to the window and stared out at the heavens.

“No!” he yelled, then hung his head in shame.

She’d been right. He was a coward.

He’d let her go because he was afraid. He’d let her go because he’d feared he would never be enough. That once she knew the truth about him, once she glimpsed the horror and darkness he’d trapped inside, she would be repulsed by him.

He’d let her go because the dream of living a normal life, of loving one person, of trusting in the future, was beyond him. He didn’t have that much left in him. He’d let her go because it was easier to deal with her anger and pain than with her contempt.

He’d let her go because, as the dream had shown so vividly, he would only end up destroying her.

You can be the warrior or you can be the man. You have to choose.

He’d chosen to let her go. Because he was afraid to be a man. He knew how to be a warrior. That part was easy. She’d been right. It didn’t take much courage to risk it all when he had nothing important to lose.

Yet look how much she’d risked. She’d bared her heart, then begged him to accept her love. He’d trampled all over her feelings, yet she’d kept giving, kept offering. Kept loving.

If she knew the truth…

He pounded his fist against the window frame and acknowledged what he’d always suspected. Jamie knew the worst about him. She knew because those same demons lived inside her. She’d experienced the same life, she’d seen death, caused death, had made decisions and had to live with them. She wasn’t afraid of the past or of him. She wasn’t afraid to love. Did he really want to walk away from his last chance ever? Did he want her to go the rest of her life without knowing how much he loved her?

“No,” he said, quietly this time, and headed for the door.

“Jamie?” he called.

He stepped into the hallway and listened. When he’d come back from his run, she’d been in her room. Was she asleep or out on the porch? Silence surrounded him. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep or even what time it was. Somewhere around midnight.

He knocked on her bedroom door, but there was no answer. He pushed it open and flipped on the light.

It was as if she’d never been there. The bed had been tidied, and the dresser was bare. Her luggage was gone. Even the scent of her had disappeared.

He knew the truth instantly, but still he searched the house, hoping he was wrong. Naked, he stepped out onto the porch. The Bronco was gone.

She’d left him, just as he’d asked.

Chapter 16

Jamie cradled the cup of coffee in her hands. When she sipped the steaming liquid, it felt warm, but when she held the mug, her fingers couldn’t absorb the heat. She knew what the problem was-she was turning to ice on the inside. All the hot drinks, warm showers and thick blankets in the world couldn’t solve that problem.

She drew her knees up to her chest and leaned back in the wooden deck chair. She sat on the balcony of her San Francisco apartment. From here she could see across the bay. It was a postcard kind of morning. White, puffy clouds, people out on sailboats, warm air perfumed with sweet-smelling flowers. The kind of days families spent together, or lovers savored as they stole time to be in each other’s company and make love.

Jamie sniffed a couple of times but refused to acknowledge the burning in her eyes. She was finished with crying. She’d done nothing else for the past week. Seven whole days of feeling sorry for herself. Seven days of tears, of second-guessing, of trying not to go back to the cabin and beg one more time.

The only thing that had kept her from hopping on a plane was the thought that Zach was already gone. By now he would be involved in his next assignment. While she didn’t think he would forget her, she doubted he would allow himself to think of her often. He might miss her, but he wouldn’t mourn her as she mourned him.

She still couldn’t sleep at night, so she used the time to relive the weeks at the cabin. She replayed entire conversations, wondering what she could have done differently to change the outcome of the last time she’d seen Zach. There were no miracle answers, no moments of insight or revelation.

She’d left him again. She’d sworn to love him forever and she’d left him for the second and last time. It had been the right thing to do. She knew that. It had also been the hardest thing she’d ever done. Leaving him had been like cutting off an arm or a leg. He was a part of her very being. How long would it take the wound to stop bleeding?

She’d expected to feel pain. What she hadn’t expected was the sensation of her emotional self draining away. And the questions. Had she left too soon? Should she have tried harder?

Jamie rose to her feet and shook her head. She’d run out of words and arguments. The bottom line was she couldn’t make him love her and she wouldn’t be with him if he refused to admit he cared. If he’d given her a hint it might all work out, she would have held on forever. In the face of his stubborn rejection, she’d had no choice but to go.

It was probably the kindest act. In the end, her love would have destroyed him. He wasn’t ready to face his past and let the ghosts go. He had to do that in his own time. Until then, she would survive without him. Eventually she would figure out how to have a good life without the agency and without Zach. If he changed his mind, she wouldn’t be hard to find. Not that she expected him to show up on her doorstep. The coldness in her heart told her he might never show up at all.

That meant she had to get on with her life, which sounded simple enough. If only she had a clue what she wanted to do. Not many of her skills were going to translate to the private sector. Not many companies needed employees well versed in the art of killing.