Surrender in Silk (9 page)

On her way to the kitchen, she poked her head into his bedroom. He’d collapsed on the bed and was sound asleep. Even resting, the lines of pain still bracketed his mouth. He shouldn’t have been traveling, but he was a stubborn man. Fortunately for both of them, she was just as stubborn. She paused long enough to pull the blankets over him and smooth the hair off his forehead. Then she went into the kitchen and turned off the soup.

Zach opened his eyes and tried to peer into the darkness. He couldn’t figure out where he was. For one horrifying heartbeat, he thought he might be back in his cell and the events of the past couple of weeks had just been a soul-destroying dream.

He sucked in a breath, held it, then relaxed. He inhaled again, smelling the mustiness of the room and the biting scent
of trees beyond the walls. He knew this place. The cabin. Another breath brought an elusive scent…something he couldn’t quite place, something—

Jamie.

Memories crashed in on him like a collapsing building. He ducked to avoid them, but there was no escape. He remembered it all. The rescue, his time in the hospital, Jamie coming to visit him and him throwing her out. The argument he’d had with the doctor when he’d wanted to check out early. The difficulty traveling to the cabin. His relief at finding Jamie waiting for him. His
anger
at finding her waiting for him.

“You are one confused son of a bitch,” he muttered to himself, and slowly sat up. He immediately felt better. He was weak, but healing. Pain throbbed from every inch of his body.

He had pills in his bags. Where the hell were his bags?

He reached for the lamp on the nightstand. He might like isolation, but he didn’t want to be without electricity. The lamp clicked on, filling the room with soft light.

The first thing he noticed was the blanket draped neatly over him. He didn’t remember falling asleep and he was reasonably sure he hadn’t taken the time to cover himself. Which meant Jamie had done it. What had she thought while she watched him sleep? She probably hated him, which wasn’t a bad thing. She should hate him. Lord knew, he hated himself.

He allowed himself to experience very few emotions these days, but self-loathing was one of them. He’d lost any of the positive ones years ago.

He threw back the blankets and got to his feet. His cane rested against the nightstand, but he ignored it. He wanted to make it on his own.

By using the wall for support and balance, he slowly walked into the kitchen. A pot sat on the stove. When he lifted the lid, he could smell the soup. Some freshly baked rolls sat
on the counter next to his neatly lined-up pills and a glass of water. His zipped duffel bags were on the kitchen table.

Jamie had obviously gone through his stuff. The idea should have annoyed him, but he didn’t mind. Which meant he was in more trouble than he’d first suspected.

His stomach growled. For the first time since the rescue, he was hungry. He ate standing up, leaning against the counter and not bothering to reheat the soup. He finished the whole pot and two rolls, then downed his pills. He wouldn’t mind a drink, but figured he was in no condition to wrestle with a hangover. Not to mention the problem of combining alcohol with prescription medication. Better to face the world sober, he decided.

He glanced at the clock on the stove. Nearly one. He’d been asleep for fourteen hours. No wonder he felt better. He probably should head back to bed, but he couldn’t. Not now. Not at night.

Without considering the consequences of his action, he made his way through the front door and onto the porch.

He knew instantly Jamie was already out there. He almost apologized for invading her space, then reminded himself that it was his cabin.

The night was still, the sky clear and dark. The stars seemed low enough to touch. It took a couple of minutes for his eyes to adjust, then he saw Jamie sitting in a corner of the swing.

“It’s near freezing,” she said by way of greeting. “Did you bring a blanket?”

“No.” He inhaled the frigid air and felt invigorated.

“Sit down. I’ll get it.”

She stood up and walked past him. He used the front wall of the house for support and limped to the chair sitting at right angles to the swing. By the time she returned, his teeth were chattering.

She’d brought a blanket and a quilt. She dropped both over his shoulders, then returned to the swing.

They sat in silence for several minutes. Zach enjoyed his first night outside since he’d been captured. For a while, he hadn’t thought he would see a starry night again.

This last capture hadn’t been the first time he’d been taken prisoner. He’d been beaten, shot, stabbed and otherwise abused. But this time had been the worst. They’d come after him with chains, which was new, but he didn’t think that was the reason he was having trouble shaking the experience. Some of it was that he was getting tired of the game.

“Better than the cell,” Jamie said.

He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. She could read his mind, and he could read hers. She knew exactly what had happened to him back there. She knew about the pain, the nightmares, the memories.

The silence grew companionable. His breath came out in clouds, and he tried to blow smoke rings. Around them night creatures rustled and called out. He glanced at Jamie, studying her silhouette. In the darkness, he couldn’t make out individual features. She could have been seventy or seventeen. She was, in fact, thirty.

She turned her head away, and he saw the movement of her hair. She wore it loose tonight. Moonlight caught the waves left after the braid had been loosened. He wanted to touch her hair. What would it feel like against his skin? All those years ago, he’d hated making her cut it, but he hadn’t had a choice. His job had been to teach her all she needed to know in order to stay alive. Thank God it had been enough.

“How long since you’ve been able to sleep through the night?” he asked.

She laughed. The sound, so light and pleasing in the still-ness, cut through him like a knife. It caught the edges of old soul wounds and ripped them open, leaving him to gasp at the pain. This ache couldn’t be helped by his pills or even by liquor. God knew, he’d tried the latter enough.

For that moment, before she answered the question, he
longed to tell her the truth. That he’d never meant for it to end the way it had. That he’d never meant to hurt her. Their week together had been a miracle for him, something he’d never thought he would experience. But he couldn’t promise anything else. He didn’t know how and even if he did, he didn’t have the right. So he’d stolen that week, thinking she wouldn’t really miss it. Surely he could be forgiven that one selfish act? But he hadn’t been. Because he’d hurt her badly, then he’d had to let her go.

“I slept at night for the first year,” she said. “Then I’d get some time off and I couldn’t sleep much past one or two. I’d be up until dawn. I thought there was something wrong with me, until I asked around and found out everyone had the same problem. Winston told me it would get better. Eventually I’ll learn to rest like normal people. Eventually I’ll recover.”

“Is that what you want?”

“I’d like to learn how to forget.”

“Good luck.” He’d never been able to forget any of it.

“Other people forget.”

“Not agents.”

“Are you telling me you don’t know one operative who left the agency and made a normal life for him or herself?”

Zach shrugged. “A few have, but not if they’ve been in it for a while.”

“Define a while.”

“Five or ten years.”

“Gee, that’s comforting,” she said sarcastically. “Thanks.”

“I’m just telling you what I’ve seen.”

“Or what you’ve wanted to see. I believe there’s a difference.”

She’d always been quick. “Maybe,” he conceded.

He leaned back in the wooden chair. The blankets had kept him warm for a while, but now the cold seeped through. He
could feel his muscles start to contract, then the shaking began.

He hated weakness. He wanted to get back to work. Being here only gave him too much time to think. That was dangerous. If he thought too much, he might start to feel. Then where would he be?

“It’s a beautiful night,” Jamie said, staring up at the stars.

His irritation at his vulnerability turned to anger, and he lashed out at the only person available.

“Why are you here?” he asked. “I want the truth, not some do-gooder bull neither of us believes.”

“The truth? Are you sure?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “All right. I’m here because seven years ago you told me I had to choose between a normal life and my job. I chose my job. I don’t regret those years. I’m proud of what I’ve done. I’m also ready to make a change. I want to be normal. I want to find my way back.”

Anger bubbled to the surface. “There isn’t a way back,” he said. “There never has been and there never will be. You can’t escape. The job is as much a part of you as your scars and your inability to sleep at night. I warned you, but you didn’t want to listen. You had to have it your way and now you’re paying the price. Don’t come crying to me expecting comfort or solutions. I don’t have either to give.”

Jamie had straightened in her seat and stared at him. He didn’t need a light to know that she was startled by his outburst. He told himself to stop, but he couldn’t. He had to say it all. He had to hurt her because if he didn’t, she might learn the truth.

“If you came back here looking to relive our time together, forget it. I’m not interested in giving any more lessons to rookies.”

She didn’t move. His words lingered in the silence. God, he wanted to call them back, but he didn’t.

Finally she stood up and headed for the front door. “I’m
not fooled. You’ve got to be wounded pretty badly to be lashing out at me like that. My question must have hit pretty close to home.” She fumbled with the door. “How long have you wanted out, Zach?”

Z
ach didn’t speak to her for three days. He and Jamie moved through the house like sharks, circling around each other, silently staking out territory. Neither dominated. It was an uneasy truce at best.

“Not very mature,” she muttered to herself on the morning of the fourth day as she filled the sink with soapy water so she could wash the breakfast dishes. But she wasn’t sure if she was talking about herself or Zach.

She wondered how long they could coexist without having a conversation, then decided she didn’t care how long it went on. Her head told her Zach had been caught off guard by her questions. The way he’d lashed out had proved that. Her heart didn’t care. No words were preferable to the ones he’d thrown in her face three nights ago.

I’m not interested in giving any more lessons to rookies.
The sentence still had the power to hurt her. Just thinking about it made her shudder and want to fold her arms protectively across her chest.

Is that all it had been to him? Love lessons? Not even that, she reminded herself. More like sex lessons. Detailed instructions on the pleasures available to the human female—a hands-on workshop given by a master at the art of seduction.

She shook her head. That wasn’t fair. Zach had never tried to seduce her. If anything, he’d gone out of his way to treat her like one of the guys. Not by a single breath had he given away the fact that he’d been interested in her. If he had been interested. Maybe he’d kept her around for that week because it was convenient. He could have a lover without having to work to get one.

“Stop it,” she told herself aloud. She would make herself crazy if she kept this up. She didn’t know all the facts. As she had no plans to ask Zach to explain his motivation and feelings seven years ago, she wasn’t likely to ever really know what he’d been thinking. Maybe he had just been using her.

But even as the thought formed, she pushed it away. That wasn’t the Zach she knew. And if the rumors at the agency were to be believed, he rarely got involved with women and never made it personal. She knew she was the only one he’d brought up to the cabin. Her presence that week hadn’t been about convenience. It couldn’t be. Convenient was an anonymous hotel in a big city, not a private cabin used as a retreat from the world.

He’d tried to hurt her because she’d hurt him. She’d probed a raw wound.

She picked up the bowls and plates and plunged them into the hot, soapy water. As she did, Zach’s bedroom door opened, and he limped out.

He’d given up his cane the second day. She didn’t turn around to look at him, but she could hear his unsteady steps. He might not be speaking to her, but he was eating everything she put in front of him. Usually he washed up the dishes while she went outside after they ate. While he wasn’t sleeping much at night, he more than made up for it during the day,
so he was going to regain his strength fairly quickly. That was probably his plan.

It would be easier to strangle her with his bare hands if he was physically fit.

Her mouth pulled up in a smile that quickly faded when she heard the jingle of keys. She glanced up and saw Zach heading to the back door with the Bronco keys in his hand.

He wasn’t going anywhere. She knew that. Yet the fact that he wanted to try to leave cut her to her heart. She sucked in a deep breath and felt the pain clear down to her gut. Damn him for being so difficult, and damn herself for caring about him.

She looked out the window. Zach was still too thin. His jeans hung loose around his narrow hips. He walked slowly, but more confidently than he had the day before. His broad shoulders still stretched out the flannel shirt he wore. She’d always thought he was a beautiful man, if men could be called that. His darkness, the way he held himself aloof from the rest of the world, only added to his charm as far as she was concerned.

He slid onto the driver’s seat. After a few moments of silence, he popped the hood, then limped to the front of the vehicle. She knew the exact second he saw the battery was missing. He turned toward the house and glared at her through the window. She met his gaze without flinching.

“Did you hide the battery?” he asked when he entered the kitchen and slammed the keys down on the counter.

“Yes. The first day.”

“Where is it?”

Dark brown eyes deepened with anger. It was like teasing a tiger. Her momentary feeling of self-satisfaction could easily be followed by a quick slash of killer claws.

She grabbed the pot she’d used to cook oatmeal and dropped it into the sink. For a full minute, the only sound was the slosh of water as she scrubbed the pot clean.

“What do you want from me?” he asked at last.

“Surprisingly, nothing,” she said, staring at the bubbles and avoiding his gaze. After all, she lied. There were so many things she wanted from him, she couldn’t begin to list them all. But this wasn’t the time to discuss them. Neither of them was prepared to be honest.

“I take that back,” she continued. “I do want one thing. I want you to get well and I’m going to stay here and make sure that happens.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “Call it something to fill my time until I figure out what I want to do with my life.”

“Domesticity doesn’t suit you.”

Another barb hit its mark. She accepted the sting but refused to flinch. “You’re welcome to take over the cooking anytime you want.”

“I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing.” He exhaled. “Dammit, Jamie, at least have the guts to look at me while we’re talking.”

She stiffened slightly, then carefully rinsed her hands and dried them on a towel. Only then did she turn toward him and raise her head.

The overhead light reflected off his shiny dark hair. He stood with his hands on his hips, his feet spread. Despite the fact that they were in a cabin in the middle of woods that had probably never seen conflict, he was a warrior. Brave, strong, sure.

Something deep inside her resonated with his presence. It had been so long. She should have gotten over him, or at least found an antidote to his lethal charm. She hadn’t. She was just as smitten as she’d been the first day of class. Damn him. Damn them both.

“I’m leaving,” he said.

“It’s a long walk to town.”

“Where’s the battery?”

“I’m not going to tell you,” she said. “I’m not going to let you run off and die somewhere.”

He swore. “What will it take to get rid of you?”

He was determined to make her pay, she thought sadly. “Get well, Zach,” she said. “When you can run to the bottom of the driveway and back up, I’ll know you’re a hundred percent and I’ll be gone. Not before.”

She held her breath, waiting for him to insist she tell him why she was
really
doing this. Surely he could guess the truth. But instead of saying anything, he moved toward the back door.

“You’ll never find it,” she called after him.

“I’m not going to look for the battery. I’m going to run to the highway and get you the hell out of my life.”

The door slammed shut behind him.

Jamie returned to the sink and quickly finished the dishes. She figured Zach would make it maybe a quarter of a mile before collapsing. She wanted to go after him and make sure he was okay, but she didn’t. When the kitchen was clean, she put on her own running shoes and headed out.

The morning air was crisp. On the radio last night, they’d mentioned a late cold front could be moving in at the beginning of next week, but for now it was a perfect mountain spring day.

Overhead the sun rose in a brilliant blue sky. Every morning more and more trees exploded with leaves. Delicate flowers poked their heads out of the soggy ground. The air was heady enough to leave her giddy.

She started out slowly, walking for the first couple of minutes, then breaking into a slow jog, heading away from the driveway so she wouldn’t run into Zach. The sound of her steps and her breathing was her only accompaniment on her run. When she ran at home, she usually used a radio and headphones, but up here she savored the silence.

She’d been at the cabin over two weeks and she could see
why Zach kept it. There was something cleansing and healing about the location. Maybe it was ancient sacred ground. Or a secret spot for lovers.

She quickly pushed away that last thought. Under present circumstances, being Zach’s lover was impossible. He wasn’t going to ask, and she wasn’t going to offer. Even if he did ask—

She broke into a run and headed up an incline between a row of trees. She wasn’t sure what she would do if he asked. She liked to think she would be strong and say no, but it was unlikely.

Her breathing deepened as she broke out into a sweat. Her heart picked up its rhythm. She could feel the energy filling her. Up here, among the trees and the clear sky, all things were possible. If she could feel one with nature, surely she could find a way to be one with herself. She could remember what it felt to be human, and to be a woman.

Easier said than done, she thought. Although she had all the working parts, she wasn’t sure what to do with them. She couldn’t imagine herself hosting teas for the Junior League. She didn’t even know what the Junior League was or why it existed in the first place. But there had to be some kind of middle ground between a cliched female existence and what she’d become.

Another half hour of running didn’t bring her closer to an answer. She turned around and headed back to the house, slowing to a jog. When she spotted a tree with a thick branch about a foot above her head, she stopped and jumped up to grab it.

When her grip was secure, she started doing pull-ups. She worked slowly, thoughtfully, exercising her muscles, keeping them strong.

Her body was still as she slowly raised and lowered herself, her feet together, her legs straight. “Not the most feminine exercise,” Jamie said as perspiration dampened her back and
face. But she couldn’t imagine not being strong. Strength was a part of her now. Her strength made her feel safe.

“Thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty.” She released the tree branch and jumped to the ground. Once there, she shook out her arms and continued walking toward the cabin.

Was she hiding behind her need to be strong? Did she use that part of herself to keep people away, emotionally, as well as physically?

She didn’t want to think about that. As she tried to ignore the thought, she reminded herself she’d quit the agency so she would have time to answer all those questions. She wasn’t here just to help Zach, but also to explore and discover. To find balance. She was going to have to stare down the scary questions and figure out the answers.

When she got back to the cabin, Zach wasn’t there. She wondered how far he’d gone and if he’d hurt himself. She checked the clock. If he wasn’t back in an hour, she was going after him.

Forty-eight minutes later, he came into view. He was covered in sweat and barely able to walk. She moved out to the porch and waited for him to approach. Although her nerves were stretched tight, she struck a casual pose and tried to act unconcerned.

When he reached the three stairs leading up to the house, he raised his head and looked her straight in the eye. “I made it to the road,” he said. “It’s time for you to go.”

She’d expected a lot of lines, but not that one. Without meaning to, she burst out laughing.

Zach surprised her by turning his lips up in a grudging smile. “I didn’t think you’d buy it.”

She was too stunned by the way the smile had affected her to bother responding to his words. The tingling started at her toes and worked its way up. Her breathing increased, as it had while she’d been running, but this time it wasn’t from
physical exertion. Looked as though he still got to her. A dangerous concept.

He sank down on the steps. “I barely made it past the bend.” He pointed to the curve in the driveway. “Then I puked my guts out and just about collapsed. I had to rest all this time just to make it back.”

So he still needed her. The thought should have pleased her, but it didn’t. She knew the truth. He might not make it down to the highway today, or tomorrow, but he would keep trying. And one day he would make it. Then it would be time for her to go.

Zach stepped into the cabin. He preferred spending time outdoors, but an unexpected cold front had arrived and the snow had driven him inside.

He was restless. A good sign. It meant he was healing. He’d been running a little every day for nearly a week. His strength was returning, although it would be another six or eight weeks before he was back to a hundred percent.

As he walked into the kitchen, he saw Jamie had made a fresh pot of coffee. He glanced toward the bedrooms. Her door was closed. They both tried to sleep in the afternoon because neither of them slept at night. As she’d said, insomnia was a hazard of the job.

He poured himself some coffee, then headed for the bathroom. He needed a hot shower to get the chill out of his bones. Before he opened the door, he moved close to Jamie’s room. He imagined her sleeping there and hated himself for the pleasure the image brought. He didn’t want to be connected to her. He couldn’t allow himself to feel anything. The price was too high.

The only way to endure the horrors of the world was to let go of them. Early in his career, he’d wrestled with injustice and hatred. He’d seen the suffering and not known how to ease it. Gradually he’d learned not to feel any of it. Once he
let the feelings disappear, he could do his job. After all these years, it was all he knew.

If he allowed himself one strong emotion, if he cracked the door a little, everything would rush out and overwhelm him. He had a bad feeling Jamie was hoping for a miracle, but she wasn’t going to get one from him.

She wanted to know if he was looking for a way out. He shook his head. He couldn’t leave. This was all he knew.

Still carrying his coffee, he pushed open the bathroom door. Jamie wasn’t in her bedroom sleeping. She was in the bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel.

He stopped suddenly. Hot coffee sloshed over his hand, but he didn’t feel the burning. He stared at her, realized she was practically naked and started to back up.