Walker (In the Company of Snipers #21) - Irish Winters Page 0,33
blue eyes widened. “Ester Ahmadi? She’s your mother? What a lovely coincidence.”
Persia blinked. “You know Mom?”
“I most certainly do. Who do you think sent the armed guard that facilitated her safe escape during that atrocious war? Mustard gas, for pity’s sake. That was supposed to have ended with the war that ended all wars. Not like that worked either, but really. Gassing one’s enemies is unfair and inhumane.”
“I… I didn’t know you rescued her. Wow. She never said. Yes. Mom and Dad live in Mississippi now. My dad’s Dupree Coltrane, but wow, I wish she were here now. I’m sure she’d love to talk with you.” I’m going to have such a long talk with that mother of mine. Tonight. After dinner. If it’s not too late.
“I’d love to meet her again. She is such a strong woman. Well, then. Yes. You’ll do nicely. Plan to be here by six this evening, and Alex…” She released Persia’s hand and turned to him. “Do bring Kelsey and that adorable daughter of yours. I brought Lexie something, Kelsey, too.”
“Yes, ma’am. Kelsey has been looking forward to chatting with you again.”
Again? This morning kept getting stranger and stranger. Alex and Kelsey Stewart hobnobbed with British royalty? My Mom knows the Queen of England? Who knew?!
“Well, let’s get this foolishness at the UN over with, shall we?” With a smile, the Queen proceeded down the hall with Alex at her side, while her ten bodyguards, not counting Izza and Persia, followed.
Alex looked as if he’d done this before, as if the Queen were just another good friend. He was nothing like the curt taskmaster he’d been in the office the last few days. He almost looked good. The Queen and he chatted at the elevator. Then, while two guards stepped inside once the doors opened, he tipped his head back and laughed at whatever she’d said. Who was he?
“Sure didn’t see this coming,” Izza murmured out of the side of her mouth. “The Boss and the Queen? Sounds like one of those risqué romance novels Ember reads.”
Persia shook her head, not able to reply. What Alex and the Queen had going on between them had nothing to do with romance. He was more like one of her faithful knights, sworn to fealty and prepared to die for her. Like Hotrod would do for someone he cared about.
Damned if that notion didn’t drop like a rock in Persia’s heart. The Queen had a knight like Alex, but who did Persia have? Nobody.
Chapter Eleven
Walker would’ve slept better if he hadn’t stared at the stars all night. Would’ve also helped if he could’ve gotten Persia out of his mind, once and for all. But he couldn’t, and he hadn’t. Instead, he was on his hands and knees in the master stateroom, going through bottom drawers in the long combination dresser/desk, with an LED flashlight stuck between his teeth. Exploring. Investigating. Searching for the elusive explanation as to how Commander Goff’s yacht had been berthed in Florida, instead of sunny California.
He’d shut the engine down east of Grenada, where he intended to refuel come morning. A bill of sale, that was all Walker was looking for. But he had yet to find any official records pertaining to the yacht. Not registration papers or receipts for payment of that registration. Anything with the new owner’s name on it would do. A restaurant receipt. A hotel reservation. Even a captain’s log or address book. A fuel receipt, for pity’s sake!
Tired, Walker rolled off his knees to his butt, needing a clearer head than the exhausted one currently sitting on his shoulders. “Where would I keep records and receipts if I were on vacation?” he mused aloud.
Obviously, not in the master stateroom. Not in the guest stateroom either, though both had enough high gloss cabinetry and closets for ten guests’ clothing, shoes, whatever else guests usually boarded with, as well as enough room for a folder or file or… something. Most yacht owners kept captain’s logs to document maintenance, repairs, or bills of sale. That there was no paper trail anywhere was disconcerting. Normal people left paper evidence wherever they went. Credit card receipts. Maps. But not this guy, whoever he was.
This stately accommodation included a bed right out of the best bed and breakfast, a lavish ensuite bathroom with, not one, but two private vanities. Plenty of storage, although Walker now knew most of the closets and drawers were empty.
It was obvious this yacht had been built for two, everything