Surrender In Silk. Susan Mallery
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The air smelled of fear and suffering, and of the dead. Jamie held her pistol ready and jogged toward the back, where the prisoners would be kept.
The compound was an outpost, its purpose to guard the depot and distribute munitions. There should only be a half-dozen prisoners. The first two cells were empty. The barred opening in the third door showed three starved men huddled together in the far corner. She ignored them and kept moving.
Three minutes twenty-five seconds.
The last door on the right was the one. She felt it in her gut as she approached. She glanced through the barred opening. One man lay on the dirty straw. He was turned away from her, but she would have known him anywhere.
“Zach,” she said softly. He didn’t stir.
She glanced at the thick, ancient lock, then the sturdy wooden door. Despite how easy they made it look in the movies, in real life it was time consuming to shoot open a door. But she didn’t have a key and there wasn’t time to find one. She kicked the door once in frustration, then prepared to fire on the lock.
She didn’t have to. As her foot connected with the wood, the door swung open. She immediately crouched down and moved away from the opening, prepared to shoot whoever was hiding inside.
No one appeared. She held her gun in front of her as she entered the cell. When she cleared the door, she jumped back and aimed her gun. But there was no enemy.
Zach stirred slightly. She heard the unmistakable clink of metal on metal. The unlocked door suddenly made sense. They didn’t need to lock him inside. He wasn’t going anywhere; they had him chained.
She was at his side in less than a heartbeat. His clothing hung in tatters, and there were bruises everywhere. She didn’t want to think about that. She had to concentrate on getting him out of there. She touched his shoulder, and he moaned.
“It’s all right,” she murmured. “You’ll be fine.”
She lowered her backpack onto the dirty straw and flipped open the flap. Her supplies were packed in the order she would need them. Her clippers were on top. As she reached for them, Zach rolled onto his back. Her body stiffened.
She knew about torture. She’d been beaten herself, threatened with death, shot, stabbed. She’d seen prisoners with broken legs and missing limbs. In her head, she’d known what he would look like when she found him. She’d promised herself she would ignore his condition long enough to make their escape. Seeing him now, that emotional distance wasn’t possible. Every fiber of her being rebelled against the truth.
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