Walker (In the Company of Snipers #21) - Irish Winters Page 0,56
way to warn his good buddy Renzo, aka, the Guatemalan child predator with a basement full of women and children in his fancy house on the beach. Renzo, it turned out, worked for the guy from Cuba, which to Walker, meant the source of Quinn’s trouble probably lay farther north in America. Needless to say, the conversation with Renzo was short and to the ‘point.’ But among all the sputtering, bleeding, sniveling, and lying, he eventually told Walker that his buyer was running late. Guess some business transaction had gone sideways.
Once he’d felt certain Renzo told the truth, Walker had bound and gagged the jerk. Then he’d gone into the basement and assured the women and children there that help was on the way. Once they’d settled down, he’d contacted a friend of a friend who’d instantly put him in touch with honorable men on the same kind of mission. ‘The Good Guys’, an organization of former SEALs, US Marines, and other USA law enforcement officers, who were out to change the world of sex-traffickers. Disgusted with what they’d witnessed happening to children all over the world, they’d joined forces with aid organizations from other countries to recover exploited and endangered children and women. In hours—hours!—the Guatemalan team of saving grace arrived with vans, first-aid, food, water, comfort, and their army of carefully trained volunteers. It took the former SEALs and Marines a couple hours longer, but they’d showed before sunrise. Renzo went to jail that day. Which was too bad. Walker had still wanted a piece of that asshat—preferably his cold, dead heart.
But all those children…
Seeing the condition the frightened women were in was bad enough, but the terror in all those little ones’ eyes had gutted Walker in ways he hadn’t expected. After a short, hysterical talk with Emily, then a heartfelt conversation over the phone between Quinn and his little girl, the Guatemalan authorities put her in Walker’s custody and allowed him to escort her back home.
At first, in Renzo’s crowded basement, she’d been hysterical, afraid to even look Walker in the eye. She’d screamed and cried, and he’d cried with her. It had broken his heart that she’d been so frightened of him. At last, out of desperation, he’d dropped to his knees and told her who’d sent him to find her and take her home. He’d told her how much he loved her daddy. Finally, the elfin three-year-old had sucked up her courage and ran into Walker, burying her skinny body inside the sweaty warmth of his arms.
He’d bowed his head, and there she’d stayed. While ‘The Good Guys’ arranged a flight back to California, via the US Air Force, Walker took Quinn’s baby girl to the beach, needing to move her as far from the house of horrors as he could. For the rest of the day, he’d done nothing but sit in the sand and hold her, because she’d needed that the most. He wasn’t her daddy, but he’d sure as hell called Quinn and made sure Quinn knew his baby girl was finally safe and coming home. Walker’d made sure Emily knew she was safe, too. Just by being there with her. Just by rocking and softly singing every damned song he could remember.
Best, worst, hardest flight of Walker’s military career. Emily’d cried the entire time, and once again, he’d cried with her. Despite what nourishment he’d offered, the gourmet cookies, pretzels, or sodas the guys onboard had brought with them, she wouldn’t eat or sleep. Hadn’t wanted anyone else to touch her or talk to her, either. Didn’t look at anyone, not the worried pilot or the anxious co-pilot. Only Walker. And mile after mile, she’d made sure he knew she didn’t really want him, just “Crissy and Sissy and Mommy and Daddy!” And Walker wanted them, too. For her sake.
“Don’t worry, they’ll be there, sweetheart. They’re waiting for you right now,” he’d assured her a thousand times. Overall, she hadn’t been physically hurt, which was damned lucky for Renzo. But she’d been so thin, and twitchier than hell. Walker was positive she’d been drugged. Her sad blue eyes were faded and sported dark, black circles beneath then. Her pretty, long blonde hair had been cut short and dyed bright red to suit some pervert’s idea of a dream girl. The bastard. A tattooed number had been inked into the delicate skin on the top of her poor left foot. Guess that meant something to Renzo, but not Walker. Pissed him