Walker (In the Company of Snipers #21) - Irish Winters Page 0,63
to choose between Ember and McKenna. One look down at his wife, and he turned that frown into a grin aimed straight at Ember. “You don’t need me. You’re the best, remember? I’m outta here.” Then to McKenna, he declared, “Let’s go, babe.”
And off he went with his wife tucked under his arm. The elevator doors had no more than closed when everyone burst out laughing.
“You guys are so mean to him,” Persia exclaimed. “What’d he ever do to you?”
“Aw, it’s good for him,” Rory replied, his gaze still on his sassy wife. “Trust me, this is nothing. When he first showed up, Beau was a pain in everyone’s ass, but now—”
“We’re pains in his,” Izza said saucily from Ember’s side.
“Oh, look.” Ember pointed at the elevator.
Persia looked, but didn’t see anything. Until Zack shook his head, still grinning like a Cheshire Cat, and muttered, “Those two.”
Then she looked harder. Oh. The elevator had gone up, not down. To the vault? Not to underground parking? But why…? Never mind. Stupid question.
Persia grinned then, too. But what would it be like to look at a man like McKenna had looked at Beau? To love a man so much that your countenance shone with devotion?
“Coltrane! My office! Now!”
“Yes, sir!” she bellowed back at Alex. Then winced so hard her teeth hurt. Damn it. She’d done it again. “I mean…” Oh, hell, who cared what she meant? She was in trouble now. Again. Whatever!
Out of breath, and with everyone in the office most likely laughing at how Alex pushed her buttons, Persia hustled into his office and closed the door. There was no need for everyone else to hear what he said next.
“You growled?” she asked, then slammed her big mouth shut. Did I really just say that? I am so dead.
“Sit,” he ordered, stabbing his chin at the chair beside his desk. Not the one in front of it, which always made her feel inferior for some reason she didn’t want to explore or understand. She wasn’t intimidated by this guy. Much. Until she called him sir… That was a hard habit to break.
“I’ve got a job for you,” he muttered, shuffling over the few papers on his immaculate desk.
Wow. Papers on this obsessive-compulsive guy’s desk. That was odd all by itself.
Persia ran her palms over her thighs to calm her nerves. She’d dressed for spring weather this morning. Light gray linen pencil-skirt with a pink, cotton, short-sleeved blouse, white pearls at her throat, and low pink heels, to avoid more back pain than she already had. Namely, Alex.
“Are you familiar with The Hague Invasion Act?” he asked, still not meeting her eyes.
“Yessss,” she hissed, inadvertently drawing out that reply instead of compounding her error by calling him sir.
“Tell me what you know.”
She swallowed to compose herself, licked her dry lips, then replied evenly. “The Hague Invasion Act is also known as the Service-Members’ Protection Act, and was signed into law in 2002, by then President George W. Bush. The law authorizes the United States to use military force to free any of our citizens or service members from foreign incarceration or hanging by the International Criminal Court, the ICC, in The Hague, Netherlands, for alleged war crimes.”
She took a deep breath and continued. “While its main intent is to protect our military members from indiscriminate trials and persecution, it can and will end all military assistance to any allies who refuse to agree not to extradite American citizens to The Hague. In effect, it ensures our troops are guaranteed immunity from prosecution for alleged war crimes. This law also prohibits the ICC officials from conducting investigations on American soil. For your information, the ICC was established by the Rome Statute treaty in 1998, which gave that court authority to try any individual in the world who had been accused of genocide, war crimes, crimes of aggression, crimes against humanity, or basically any crime that had no statute of limitation. Currently, I believe there are one hundred thirty-eight signatories to the treaty. Anything else?”
“One hundred thirty-nine,” he muttered, still shuffling through those few papers.
She rolled her eyes at the insignificant mistake he’d insisted on pointing out.
“And it allows our military to contract for that protection when necessary.”
Which meant she was going to the Netherlands. “If I may ask, Alex…” She refused to call him Boss. “What are you looking for?”
Another growl. “My contact. Damned thing popped out when I blinked. How the hell am I supposed to find it when I can’t