But Zach wasn’t dead.

She crossed the richly decorated room and sank into one of the leather chairs opposite her boss’s desk. She stared at him, meeting his cold gaze with an equally determined stare of her own. She’d trained at the hands of a master. She knew how to intimidate as well as anyone in the agency.

Surprisingly Winston looked away first.

Before she could pounce on her unexpected advantage, there was a quick knock at the door. Winston’s pretty, young assistant stepped inside and brought them each a mug of coffee.

Jamie accepted the cup with a muttered “Thanks” and took a sip. The assistant glanced at her, then left. Jamie knew she looked out of place. The worn jeans, scuffed athletic shoes, faded tank top and the flannel shirt she wore instead of a jacket didn’t fit the dress code of the office. She had never been the suit-and-high-heels type. She filed away the feeling of discomfort, knowing she would deal with it at another time. All that mattered now was Zach.

“He’s not dead,” Jamie repeated.

Winston raised one eyebrow. “How do you know?”

“I just do.”

“I see. Well, fine. I’ll write up the report and quote your intuition as the source. I’m sure the director will be convinced.”

Jamie set the coffee on the desk and rose. “I’m going in, Winston, with or without your permission.”

“No, you aren’t. You still work for me and you’ll do what I tell you.” He paused and raised his pale eyebrows. “Unless you plan to resign. Isn’t that what you’ve been talking about?”

He was right. She had wanted out. The last mission was supposed to have been her final one. She even had the letter of resignation typed up at home. But she hadn’t turned it in. A voice inside of her, a voice Zach had taught her to listen to, had whispered to wait. Now she understood why.