Walker (In the Company of Snipers #21) - Irish Winters Page 0,92
fuck away from her!”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Persia nearly swallowed her tongue. “Izza! No! This is Hotrod. It’s okay!”
“I don’t care who he is, I said back the fuck off!” Izza kicked the front door closed behind her. “On the floor! Face down! Now, fat ass!”
Obediently, Walker lifted both hands and slid off his stool.
But Persia was quicker. Turning on her companion agent, she grabbed his arm before he made it to his knees. “No, Izza. You back off. You’ve read his transcripts. He’s not guilty.”
“I don’t know that, and neither do you.” Izza’s pistol still aimed at Walker.
“Yes, I do,” Persia declared sternly, her temper up now. “He’s sick. For God’s sake, look at him, Izza. He can barely sit up straight long enough to eat, and he shouldn’t be kneeling. I’ve given him a first dose of antibiotics, but he’s not strong enough—"
Izza’s neck jerked so quickly around, her ponytail flipped over her shoulder. “You what?! You’re playing doctor now? With this joker?”
“It’s all right,” Walker said as he clasped both hands behind his head. “Let me go, Persia.”
“No, it’s not all right, and it’s not fair!” Persia told him even as he tilted forward. When his eyes rolled back in his head, she barely had time to slide beneath his head and shoulders to buffer his fall. With a grunt, he collapsed on her thighs, his face to her belly, one hot arm circling her waist. Man, he was burning up again.
“Damn it, Izza! You’re a mother! You’re supposed to be able to tell if someone’s really sick or not! Can’t you see he’s injured? Maybe even dying?”
“He could be faking!”
Persia had her hands all over Hotrod’s head, neck, and shoulders by then. “Get me the digital thermometer from my first-aid kit. I should’ve taken his temp before. He’s hotter than hell.”
“Why didn’t you if he’s so-o-o-o sick?” Izza had her full swagger on. Sometimes, she could be as dense as a man.
“Because I had to cool him down first, smart ass. He’s been beaten, and he was already hot to the touch when we got here.”
“What the hell have you done?”
“What you would’ve done if you’d been here. What took you so long?”
“That creep went after Hans Koning. I couldn’t just leave him there holding the bag after you and Judge escaped, could I?”
“What creep? Where’s Koning?”
Izza jerked her head toward the closed front door. “Standing outside. Waiting for me to let him in. One of the guards said he helped you and Judge escape. Is that true?”
“Yes. Let the poor guy in. He’s the only reason I was able to get Hotrod out of that place. We need to talk with him.”
Again with the cocky head tilt. “Not until you tell me why you keep calling that bastard Hotrod?”
Oh, shit. Persia’s world was about to implode. She might as well come clean. Okay then. Here goes. “Because that man is Lieutenant Walker Judge, and Hotrod’s his SEAL handle.”
“And you know that how?”
Persia’s heart stuttered up her throat, suffocating her. This was where she lost her new-found career and her hard-won reputation, and where Alex would fire her. But that rep was based on her spot-on instincts, solid undercover work, and the sheer willpower to get the hard jobs done. She could’ve walked away from that mission into Domingo Zapata’s lair any number of times, yet she hadn’t. No matter how ugly or tough that heinous cluster of bunkers he’d called home had gotten, she’d stayed true to the mission. She’d followed her heart and completed one helluva nasty-assed operation. She’d done the damned job!
Swallowing hard, she faced her best friend and answered truthfully. “Because I watched him come ashore in Florida. He’d just swum a hundred miles from Cuba, Izza. Without tether or one bit of back-up support. I saw him get on his knees and kiss America, and then I—”
“You. Kissed. Him.” Every word out of Izza’s mouth was a vicious shot to Persia’s heart.
Squaring her shoulders, she raised her chin. Her mother had always said it was tougher to stand up to friends than enemies. “Yes, Izza, I did, and I’m glad I did. He’s not who everyone says he is. I know.”
“Because you kissed…” Izza’s big brown eyes widened. “You think you know him? Oh, crap, you let him… You and he… You didn’t!” The censure in her hiss could have melted iron. “What have you done?!”
“No, Izza. What have you done? Judge him like everyone else? Condemn him before you know what you’re talking