Walker (In the Company of Snipers #21) - Irish Winters Page 0,51
to take one illegally. Had to.” His belly expanded with a long, slow breath. “All those little girls… Took one helluva chance. Thought Alex was going to fire my ass for sure.”
“He wouldn’t.”
“Oh, yeah, he would have. I screwed the pooch big time. Made a lot of trouble for him. But the boss is also a sucker for little kids. In the end, I thought he and Kels might adopt one of those girls. I think they were looking into it, but the one they’d fallen in love with had parents who were looking for her and wanted her back, and…” He shrugged. “Things don’t always go the way we want, do they?”
Wasn’t that the truth. “How many kids?” Persia needed to know.
“How many Chinese baby girls, you mean? Hundreds,” he whispered, then coughed and said, “We save big kids and little kids one at a time, Persia. We don’t work miracles. That’s not our job. We just do the best we can every day. Haven’t you always done that?”
She nodded, staring out the front window, finally understanding that Joan of Arc reference. Joan had actually saved the world back when she’d lived. She’d been a French heroine, which had made her England’s enemy. When the English captured her, they’d tried her on trumped-up charges, then burned her at the stake at the tender age of nineteen. She’d been a teenager.
Somehow, all that Persia had accomplished in her years seemed so much less. She was no one’s hero, and she’d done things no one knew about, things she wasn’t proud of. Things she’d never tell. Which was why she slept with a nightlight—when she slept.
Her lungs filled with the fresh air blowing through the window. “I’ve always done my best,” she said resolutely. “I’m no slacker.”
“Never said you were. So, how much do you drink every night? Do you always carry a flask?”
The vertebrae in her neck damned near snapped like a whip when her eyes flashed back to him. Zack kept his focus on the road, as if he hadn’t asked the mother of all questions. But he knew. Damn him, he knew.
“As much as I need to,” she confessed with a titch of attitude. Yet she knew better. Sometimes, that bottle she took to bed wasn’t enough. And lately, she worried she was sinking into no man’s land, where unemployed, unemployable alcoholics roamed the streets, looking for a bed or a bottle—or both.
Zack’s big chin dimpled when his lips pinched. “Been there. Done that.
“You’re…?” This conversation had gotten way too intimate. “You’re an alcoholic?”
“Nah, but I’ve drunk myself stupid enough. Before Mei and the kids came along, I lived to party. Not proud of it, but after what I’d survived, I figured I deserved a break, so I took one. A long, damned hard one. Do me a favor?”
The breath she’d been holding eased out of her. “Sure. What?”
“Invite me over next time you decide to drown the pain. I’ll bring Jake Weylin. He’s been right where you are. We’ll get you through it.”
Tears sprang to Persia’s eyes so quickly she had to look away. “Thanks. I just might do that.” Might not, too. Inviting friends to a pity-party didn’t seem smart, and she’d already said too much. Zack was no dummy, and he wasn’t asking questions just to be nice.
Two motorcycles zoomed past, one on each side of the SUV, the loud clamor of their bikes startling Persia back to reality. Both took to the shoulders, kicking up gravel as they passed the federal van in a cloud of dust.
“What the hell?” Zack stepped on the brakes.
Persia peered out her open window to see if she could get a good look around the van. Both bikes had come to a screeching halt, nearly running over the team of road workers and orange cones lining the road ahead. Only these road workers were all young, white, and covered with enough black ink to rival Zapata’s disgusting artwork. Just as she turned to tell Zack that she thought something was wrong...
BOOM! The federal van lurched off its tires.
Zack jammed the brakes, bringing the TEAM SUV to an abrupt stop. Rapid gunfire popped ahead, as the Marshals’ van’s taillights signaled flashing reverse, get-the-hell-out-of-my-way! Its rear-end fishtailed, its bumper now aimed at TEAM SUV’s grill.
Still cursing, Zack slammed the vehicle into reverse. Throwing one arm over the seatback, he revved backward off the pavement onto the graveled shoulder.
Persia tapped her earpiece to alert TEAM HQ, “Taking fire. Request immediate assist. I