Walker (In the Company of Snipers #21) - Irish Winters Page 0,132

back and settled on his bare butt.

“That better be Persia touching my ass,” he growled into his pillow.

“Of course it’s me,” she breathed as she climbed into bed with him, then covered them both with the blanket.

Still face-down, Walker breathed in her flowery scent. She’d settled against him, with one hand around his head, which put his face against the side of her breast. There he was within reach of the succulent skin he craved, but once again, his energy was flagging, and everything else along with it. She always seemed to come to him when he had nothing to offer. One of these days, he’d be Johnny-on-the-Spot, ready to perform at her beck and call. He’d jump her bones until he made her scream. But tonight, he was spent. This day had taken everything—even—that.

“I like the way you smell,” he said as he wrapped an arm around her waist, hoping she’d understand. “What is it? Some kind of perfume from Paris?”

“Just the bar soap from the shower.”

“I’m so damned tired,” he breathed. Soap, huh? That meant she’d taken a shower and all that clean, sweet-tasting flesh was now pressed up against him and his for the licking. Damn. If he didn’t have bad luck, he’d have no luck at all. “Raincheck,” he mumbled to his pillow. “I want a damned raincheck.”

“Sleep,” she whispered, her fingers drifting through his hair. Over his head. Petting him. Softly. Tenderly.

He woke up the next morning to an empty bed. The day brought a couple more faces into the group. Another TEAM agent, Jordan Hannigan, who seemed thrilled to see Eric. Guess they’d worked together before, only Jordan had a definite Irish accent going for him. He’d come with a willowy blonde female medic who had no trouble telling Walker he was a “dumb arse and get back to bed, so I can treat you properly.”

Turned out she was Murphy Finnegan’s niece, Elsa Day, soon to be Elsa Day Hannigan. Blonde. Blue-eyed. Obviously smitten with the sturdy American male at her side.

She took her time redressing Walker’s shoulder wound, using antiseptic packing that instantly stilled the throbbing pain of the through-and-through. As if one hole in a man’s body wasn’t enough, now he had two.

Then she patiently stitched the skid-mark the grazed bullet had left on the side of his head. Along with that came a warning: “You, boyo, have a lot of bruises on your back, and you most definitely have a concussion. I recommend you lay low and take it easy the next two days. You’re not to lift anything heavy, nor tackle anything strenuous. You may only rest and sleep and eat. Do I make myself clear?”

“We’ll see,” was all he could promise. Taking it easy wasn’t going to happen, not with the upcoming mission.

Ever since Persia had mentioned Florida and making love for days, Walker’d had his head on straight. He had a goal. No more pity parties. No more worrying about who was taking risks and who wasn’t. With this particular team at his back, he could get to the bottom of the false charges against him. He would finally bring the bastard behind his misery down. Once again, Persia had given him a reason to hope and something to look forward to. Her.

“There you be, you poor, dumb lamb,” Elsa said as she packed her medical bag and lifted from the side of his bed where she’d been working on him. “Miss Coltrane will be in soon with your breakfast. I know you won’t, but it’d be wise if you stayed here with my uncle while your friends go off and do whatever it is needs doing. Two days, that’s all I’m asking. Just rest for two days.”

She kept coaxing, but Walker wouldn’t promise anything. He’d eyed the pistol Eric had given him. Two loaded magazines now rested on his nightstand beside it. A box of ammo and a holster beside them. All he needed was Kenny’s knife back, and he’d be himself again.

“Ah, I knew you’d ignore me. You’re a man, after all, and since I’m just a woman,” —Elsa stuck her chin at him— “you’ll be stubborn and ignore my excellent advice. Okay then, if you have to go, go with God, and be quick about your business. It’d also be wise if you married that sweet thing who can’t keep her eyes off you.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I appreciate all you’ve done for me.”

“Ah, the hard heads of hard men,” she grumbled. “I’d knock on yours