Susan Mallery - Surrender in Silk

“I like being alone. I’m perfectly capable of surviving without help.”

He might like being alone, but she’d grown tired of the solitude. “You can whine all you want,” she said. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

“Then I’ll take your car and leave myself.”

She smiled. “No problem. First you have to find the strength to get to my car. I don’t suppose that’s going to happen today.”

He curled his hands into fists. “Dammit, Jamie, I won’t put up with this.”

“What are you going to do about it? Try to beat me at arm wrestling? Face it, Zach, you don’t have a choice. You need watching, and I’m the only one here. It doesn’t have to be awful, you know. We could try to be friends.” When he didn’t answer, she shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’m going to make you some lunch. Don’t go anywhere.”

Unintelligible curses followed her out of the room. Oddly his temper lightened her spirits. If he had the energy to resent her, he had the energy to heal.

Once in the kitchen, she opened a can of soup and poured it into a pot. After putting the butane flame on low, she grabbed a crescent wrench from the toolbox by the back door. Then she pulled a large green trash bag out of the box in the pantry and headed outside.

Ten minutes later, she wrapped the Bronco battery in plastic and set it into a shallow hole in the ground. She covered it up, then smoothed leaves in place. When she stepped back to survey her handiwork, she was pleased. No one would know that she’d buried something here. She glanced at the vehicle as she walked back to the house. Zach might want to leave, but he wasn’t going anywhere without her knowing about it first.

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?”

Zach 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.