Walker (In the Company of Snipers #21) - Irish Winters Page 0,90

go international. It’s a big world out there. Shit happens.”

He sank deeper into the chilly water, taking her down with him, his fingers firmly on her backside. “I think my fever’s gone. What do you think?”

Her breasts flattened onto his chest when she wiggled her hands and arms around his neck. “You just want me to say you’re still hot.”

“Well? Am I?” That sexy smile curving his mouth did the trick. Those handsome laugh lines were back in full force.

Persia ran her wet fingers through his hair, careful not to manhandle the bump on his head. When she did, he closed his eyes. But this time, he had the contented look of a ferocious jungle cat that had just been tamed, and that loved being petted. She could’ve petted him all day. Or at least until Izza returned. Which wouldn’t be much longer.

Leaning against his cheek, she whispered in his ear, “You’re still hot. So’s your soup. Let’s eat.”

Persia had prepared a thick, creamy roasted chicken soup, topped off with toasted cinnamon croquets and sliced hard bread on the side. Once again, Walker sank his tired ass to the stool at the breakfast bar, dizzy and not certain he could keep anything down. But going to try.

Dressed in her black outfit again, she’d wrapped her damp hair into a thick braid, then wound it high on her head. Women seemed to work magic when it came to their hair. He couldn’t see a single pin or stick or one of those toothy clasp thingies in those shiny tendrils. Yet her hair stayed right where she’d put it. Only a few strands trailed down her neck. How’d she do that?

She unsnapped the metal clip on the dripping wet, turquoise bottle of water in her hands. “Drink,” she ordered after she’d filled his glass.

Tipping his head back, he emptied the glass. But when he brought his head back down, the world spun. Shit, not now. He refused to pass out.

Yet Persia was no dummy. “Why don’t you just get into bed? I’ll bring a tray with—”

“No.” He waved the notion off as if he were healthy. “I’m good. Let’s eat.”

Persia never sighed or huffed dramatically like she knew better than him, just took the stool at his left and lifted her spoon. “Alex stocks his safe houses with the best. You like?”

Walker nodded, focused more on proving he wasn’t a weakling. “It’s quite good,” he said after one taste. Then another. “Remind me who Alex is.”

“My boss. After college, I worked for the FBI, then crossed over to the Agency for a while. Problem is, when you’re federal, they think they own your soul. I couldn’t live like that, not after that last job in South America.”

“I know, but how the hell did a contractor get you into the ICC? Your boss is just a defense contractor, isn’t he?”

A curious smile tweaked the corners of Persia’s mouth. “Have you ever heard of Jed McCormack?”

“Sure. The billionaire behind most of the failsafe military gear and equipment currently out in the field. Met him in Iraq a while back. Sure wish he’d run for president. Seems like he’s the only real advocate us guys have.”

“Well, word in my office is that Alex saved his son Brady years ago. Jed never forgot.”

Walker took another spoonful, then dunked a slice of bread into his bowl. Not bad. Not bad at all. “I get McCormack. He’s wealthy and powerful, but your boss—”

“If you ask me, Alex Stewart is just as powerful as Jed. He worked a covert op for President Adams a couple years back, and he knows the Queen of England. Might even be able to help you with that false charge of terrorism hanging over your head.”

That reminder spoiled breakfast or whatever this meal was. Walker put his spoon on the counter. “You said you’ve read my trial transcript.”

“Uh huh,” she mumbled as she leaned over her bowl and angled a sopping slice of bread toward her mouth.

And Walker was entranced. Those lips. Every move they made turned his cock into a steel spike, that even now, wanted into that mouth and every last bit of her attention. Thank goodness for the thick cloth napkin on his lap.

Persia didn’t seem to notice his arousal. Daintily, her tongue slipped over her bottom lip, catching that single drop of getaway soup before she turned her attention on Walker.

“Yes, I’ve read your transcript, and I know your background. You have no secrets with me. I know your record,