“That was before I knew about Zach.”

Winston motioned to the chair. Jamie hesitated. Since finding out what had happened to Zach Jones, she’d been on the move. She’d flown directly to Washington on the first flight she could get. Once in the capital, she’d made a few phone calls and come up with a plan. All she needed was Winston’s cooperation.

Sitting down felt too much like giving up, but her boss was stubborn enough not to talk to her if she didn’t at least pretend to go along with him. Grudgingly she perched on the edge of her seat.

He reached for his coffee and took a sip. “I wasn’t aware you and Zach were so close.”

Jamie grimaced. “You know we aren’t. Zach took me through training and my first assignment. He made me the best. I owe him for that.”

There was more, of course, but Winston didn’t need to hear about it. Their boss prided himself on knowing every detail of his operatives’ lives. This was one detail he hadn’t been able to claim. Not that it mattered. Seven years was a long time for anyone to remember. She was reasonably sure Zach had been able to forget, even if she hadn’t.

“According to my records, you’ve never worked with him since. That’s a long time to carry a debt,” Winston said.

She shrugged.

“Interesting.” He leaned back in his chair. “And touching. But the answer has to be no.”

She was on her feet in an instant, her hands braced on his desk. “Listen to me, Winston. Short of arresting me, you can’t keep me from going after Zach. You can make it easy or you can make it hard, but I’m doing this.” She glared at him, ignoring the frosty look in his icy blue eyes.

“You’ll end up just as dead as he is.”

“I’m willing to take the chance.”

“Then you’re a fool.”

“Maybe, but I’m a determined fool. Besides, if you’re right and I do get killed, how are you going to explain my body?”

“Terrorists don’t send bodies home.”