Walker (In the Company of Snipers #21) - Irish Winters Page 0,26

Mark. Especially not Alex.

By the time Mark entered and closed the door behind him, she was composed, back in the game, and ready to work.

“So talk,” he said quietly, as he took his seat behind his cluttered desk. Persia didn’t know all of Mark Houston’s backstory, other than he and his wife now had five kids, all girls, and wasn’t that amazing in this crazy, materialistic world? Plus, Libby Houston was not only a mom and a beautiful, svelte blonde, she was also a practicing physician. To look at her, you’d never guess she’d ever been preggo.

Mark himself was one of those tall, dark, handsome types, and built like a linebacker. He’d taken over for Alex Stewart a couple years back, during that dirty-bomb scare in DC. Which was why Alex could afford to spend time away from the office now. Like today. He had competent, well-trained staff. And he knew how to delegate.

Persia got right to the point. She meant to say just enough to get out of there. “I owe Alex an apology,” she admitted brusquely, “but I need to be honest, Mark. I’m working through a couple issues since I left the Bureau. I’m not saying I can’t work, just wanted to get that out in the open, so you know where I stand. Now, what did you need?” That ought to do it.

He nodded encouragingly. “Anything I can help you with?”

No, just no. She gulped. This wasn’t going like she’d planned. Well, okay then. She’d give him the tiniest bit of intel. Nothing more. Nothing less.

“Could you please tell, I mean, ask Alex not to wear the color combination he had on today? I’m still seeing Doc Fitz.” Mark already knew that; he just didn’t know why. “And she’s helped me realize that those colors, red and black…” A wicked shiver galloped over Persia’s shoulder and right down her spine. It caught her unaware and she wiggled, damn it. “Those colors are triggers for me.”

“Domingo Zapata,” he said. Not asked. “His ink and the way he embellished his face, right?”

Embellished was too kind a word.

“Yes,” she admitted, as a wave of anxiety swamped her. The four walls took a step forward, closing her in. It was suddenly awfully hard to breathe.

Mark was perceptive, maybe even intuitive. He was one of those indirect leaders who knew his people, and because he did, they loved him. Everyone loved Alex, too, just at a distance some days. Like today.

“What else should I know?” Mark asked kindly.

Taking a slow, deliberate breath, Persia rolled her eyes, not budging from her decision to stand fast. “Nothing. I’m fine. Honest. Hey, maybe I need to go shopping and buy something I don’t need, huh?” She threw that feminine stereotype into the mix, still going for broke. Needing to divert Mark from getting any deeper inside her mind and her heart. Not going to happen. Her head had become a scary place lately.

He cocked his head, and man, this guy had the darkest brown eyes. “Take a deep breath, Persia…” His chest expanded, as if she needed to be shown how.

The way he drew her name out didn’t help. She faltered. She liked Mark. He cared about people. That was his greatest strength and quite possibly, her greatest weakness. But her secrets were safer left unspoken. Not shared. She stared back into those brown eyes. Needing to run more than to breathe.

She honestly thought she could pull this act of invisibility off until he murmured, “We’re all crazy, Persia, every last one of us. Some of us are still broken. We’ve seen and done too much. Don’t feel like you’re the only one who’s been in combat hell, because you’re not. And please don’t isolate yourself, when you’re obviously having a bad day.”

A gust of breath burst between her lips. Is that what I’m doing? Isolating myself? Am I that obvious?

Mark nodded, as if he’d heard her self-doubt. Is he psychic? “You accomplished something in Brazil no one else could have done. The intel you provided your handler led US agents directly to Domingo Zapata. He’s dead, and you’re not. What’s more, the work you did inside that hellhole, saved every last woman and little girl, as well as others he had his eyes on. Focus on the good you did. Let the rest go.”

Like an idiot coming undone, her head bobbed and she sniffed. Just once. But he’d said too much this time, and most of it was right on the money. Sucking