Walker (In the Company of Snipers Book 21)

by Irish Winters

  Something sizzling hot arced between them. He let his gaze drop to the black polo that did nothing to hide her lovely assets. “I’ll always want peaches.” And the rest of you.

  “But not now,” she told him firmly, her pretty cheeks blushing like the skin of a succulent, sun-kissed peach.

  Sending a wave of water splashing over the side, Walker rolled to one hip. “What else do you need to know? Oh, yeah. How I ended up here. It’s been a long journey. Before I found the yacht, sometimes I swam. Sometimes I walked.”

  “Why’d you swim from Cuba?”

  “Believe it or not, I love my country. I… I just wanted to go home one last time.”

  A different kind of light flickered in her eyes. “I saw you kiss the beach.”

  “I didn’t murder those people.”

  “People?” Her head canted as if she didn’t know what he was talking about. “There are others besides your commanding officer?”

  Damn it to hell. She hadn’t known about the other charges. But she did now.

  “Never mind,” he growled, closing his eyes against the inevitable. Christ, he’d had it. How could he stand against additional, bogus murder charges, when he couldn’t even defend himself against the original charge? It seemed pointless to try anymore, and running for his life hadn’t worked. Goff’s ghost certainly had a long reach.

  “I said I believe you, Walker Judge. Do you hear me? I do, but we’re going to have to prove your innocence, aren’t we? And to do that, we need to uncover the lies and find the real killer.”

  There went that trusting ‘we’ again.

  He opened his eyes to the light touch of Persia’s sweet kiss in the middle of his forehead.

  “I honestly don’t know how.” He lifted a hand and ticked his crimes off his fingers. “The FBI wants me for murdering Wallace Goff. After I serve that sentence in Leavenworth, Britain will extradite me for a terrorist threat against their queen. Then, the US Army wants my ass for the deaths of the thirteen Green Berets I allegedly killed during that same event at Buckingham Palace. And now…”

  Walker couldn’t bring himself tell her about all those deaths at the wedding in Jordan. Enough already! “Get away from me! Just go. Leave. I’m bad luck.”

  He would’ve pushed her out of his arms, but Persia pushed him first. Flat to his back, his head darned near going under water. Not breaking eye contact, she climbed out of her black jeans, ripped the black polo over her head, and tossed it onto the chair. Bending forward, she gave him an eyeful when she shimmied out of her bra and panties, her hot gaze still on his.

  His heart stopped beating. “What are you doing?”

  “Sealing the deal,” she replied with a shy glance over his long, naked body. “Move over, Hotrod. I’m coming back in.”

  Walker couldn’t move quickly enough. Extending a hand to make sure she didn’t slip, he held her tiny fingers while she stepped into the tub. As if that wasn’t tantalizing enough, she spread those long legs over him, bent her knees, and sat on his thighs. Which gave him a bird’s eye view that stopped his lungs.

  “I… I…” Damn, he couldn’t speak! “I don’t understand you.”

  “That’s the point, isn’t it? You think you know everything, but you don’t, do you? And because you don’t, you feel out of control and unbalanced. You’ve always got to be the top dog in charge. But this time, you’re not.”

  No kidding.

  Lifting one arm over her head, she closed her eyes and ran a hand over her sleek black ponytail, loosened the tie and—

  Walker damned near swallowed his tongue. He’d forgotten how long her hair was. How luxurious it had felt slipping through his fingers. How much it had soothed him when it brushed over his belly and chest. How much he loved the shine and shimmer. The flowery scent of her…

  Tipping forward, Persia aligned her core over his rigid cock, which, like the brainless idiot it was, still pointed at him, when it really wanted her. He couldn’t make his eyes not watch the way the lush mauve tips of her breasts bobbed into the water.

  “This might not be the best time to… you know. Do this,” he reminded her even as his palms cupped those warm, swaying, seductive globes. “I wasn’t much good in bed last time. Remember?”

  “Men. You all seem to think intimacy begins and ends with an orgasm.”

  Well, duh.

  Persia reached between them, lifting her backside as the water she displaced lapped at his chin, while her fingers curled around him. And Walker thought he’d died and gone to heaven.

  “But sometimes, it’s more about you and me connecting emotionally instead of just physically, don’t you think?” That one long, languorous stroke from root to tip got his full undivided attention. Every drop of blood in his brain went south.

  “If you say so.” He was all ears now. All cock, too.

  “This is just about us, Hotrod. You and me,” she purred, her hair a gorgeous, glossy curtain of ebony spilling off her shoulders, the wet ends of it brushing over his belly and pecs like downy angel feathers from heaven. Tickling. Inciting him. Making him forget… everything.

  “We,” she breathed through lips as red and sweet as the first strawberries in spring.

  “Yeah. Us.” Oh, God, kill me now… He’d turned into a brain-dead moron. Strawberries in spring? Who thought of crap like that?

  Positioning him at the entrance to heaven, where he ardently wanted it to go, Persia lowered her backside slowly. The bathwater stilled. Her eyes fixed on him, she gradually impaled herself to the hilt. Sparks. He could’ve sworn he saw sparks when, at last, her body encompassed his dick, and they melted together. The water wasn’t cold anymore.

  Moaning, that sexy sound coming from the back of her throat, she wiggled her beautiful ass and seated him deep. Again they were one. No borders. No boundaries. No in between. Just skin to skin. Lover to lover. Hot, hard heat to slick, warm heaven.

  His hips lifted, sealing them more fully together, just like she’d said. With him inside as deep as he could go, he watched her head and all that hair tip backward. With a feminine growl, at the same time, she thrust her plump, beautiful breasts more fully into his icy-cold hands.

  Like a heat-seeking missile, Walker took control of the diamond peak within reach. Breathing hard, he sucked her nipple into his mouth and gave her what she needed.

  Squirming over his hips now, she straightened and crossed her arms behind his head, trapping his face to her breast. Friction had never felt so damned good. So hot. Nor smelled as sweet. Tingles ran up the back of his legs, urging one hard thrust after another. Bathwater splashed. Walker didn’t care. He had what he wanted, and injured or not, he would deliver this time.

  Leaning back under water until his shoulders were covered, he pulled her down to his level, laving her other rosy-hued nipple. He hollowed his cheeks and suckled, flicking his tongue over and around it until—Persia’s legs stiffened. That was what he wanted. Her to scream and smile.

  Those amazing pelvic muscles of hers contracted like a fist, and ‘Go time!’ roared up his spine. It was all he could do to hold off and not blow his second chance to pleasure her. He didn’t have to wait long. Groaning now, her frantic body took over, squeezing and melting and—

  Persia growled like a wildcat! Man, he loved the throaty, primal rumbles coming from deep in her chest. It vibrated through her body and into his. When the unspoken command resonating from the depths of her body told him she’d reached her zenith, his body obeyed like the slave it was. With one last thrust, he exploded up and into her. Everything. He gave more and more until…

  The power of that release all but took the top of his head off. He hadn’t come this quickly or this hard since he’d been a horny teenager.

  It wasn’t simply sex, where one woman and one man experienced separate orgasms, this time. This was one magnificent coming. Together. Simultaneously, a cataclysmic clash of two dynamic halves joining into one magnificent whole. The exqu
isite power of it rippled through Walker. Like a powerful tsunami, it began at his toes, then climbed upward through his body, sweeping every last worry, thought, and care away. The oddest surge of tranquility invaded his soul as it ebbed, replacing his fear. He was a man again.

  Like a mermaid out of Neptune’s deepest depths, Persia arched forward, sending the long strands of wet hair over her head in a magnificent arc. Bathwater rained down on both of them as dripping wet black ribbons splattered against his face, and into his eyes. Walker smiled from within the velvet cage she’d just trapped him in. He was so damned bewitched, whipped, and lost. She was his goddess. His North Star. Maybe his everything.

  His hands sank to the delicate curve of her waist, his fingers splayed over the plush globes of the tops of her ass. Her palms balanced on his chest, over his pounding heart. And suddenly, all his aches and pains and worries vanished. There was only Persia and this beautiful thing between them in this shiny, wet, new world. Their world. There was only hope and trust and this gift of the one woman who, somehow, believed in him.

  Tears sprang to Walker’s eyes. Persia Coltrane had saved him. Again. She’d reached out when all others had betrayed him, and she’d jerked his dumb ass up and out of the well he’d dug himself into. A woman he barely knew had just given him precisely what he’d needed to continue the fight. She’d given him hope and faith in himself.

  Damn, she must’ve seen the raw emotion on his face. He couldn’t have hidden it if he’d tried. Hadn’t thought he needed to, not with Persia. Like one of those lofty angels of old, she bowed down from what had to be heaven and pressed the sweetest, lightest kiss to the center of his forehead—like a blessing.

  He closed his eyes, not sure he wasn’t dreaming. It seemed unreal, the woman he’d run out on, kissing him like he’d never been kissed before. So tenderly. With such kindness. Such—love.

  Almost made him believe in happily-ever-after. Too bad he knew better, but for now…

  Walker held everything he’d ever wanted in the palm of his hand.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Easing away from the kisses she’d just rained all over his face, Persia looked down on the man she was beginning to care about enough to die for. Walker looked sad. Tortured. His eyes were closed, and those gorgeous laugh lines drooped down instead of up. She hoped she hadn’t been too rough on his poor battered body.

  But he’d seemed to need her, and she’d gotten carried away. At least this time, he’d had no problems performing. In fact, they’d both come quickly and at the same time, which was a novelty in the less-than-grand scope of Persia’s limited, unsatisfying sexual experiences. Her previous male friends had usually left her feeling used and unfulfilled before they’d rolled over and started snoring.

  Not Walker. She hadn’t ever climaxed so easily or this fantastically before. Not once in her life, and she really liked it. Her entire body still thrummed with rippling waves of the sweetest pleasure. Yet this delicious encounter hadn’t seemed to help him. His entire countenance had gone dark. He seemed totally bereft, lost, and lonely, as if he hadn’t yet found whatever he needed to be whole again.

  Which didn’t sit well with Persia, not after the spectacular high he’d given her. Balancing on her knees and palms, she lifted her backside, intending to distance herself from him and let him finish his bath. She could take a hint.

  But she didn’t get far. “No, stay,” he whispered, his fingers tight at her waist, his voice filled with anguish. “Damnit, Persia, don’t go. I’m sorry it’s over so fast, but I—”

  “You’re what? Sorry?” she asked as she settled back onto his still ready-to-go cock. “For making me smile like a star-struck idiot?”

  He opened his eyes and looked up at her then. “But I thought—”

  She dipped down nose to nose with him again, her muscles still quivering from that spectacular orgasm. “You silly, silly man. Relax. You just made my day in a big way. And I do mean big.”

  His chest lifted with a huff as his lips curled into a hesitant smile. “You’re just saying that.”

  Persia grinned back at him. “Yeah. You’re right; I faked it. All of it. And this amazing body…” An aftershock shivered up her spine from her core. So fast and so hot, it took her breath. She closed her eyes to enjoy the sublime sensation of it. “Whew,” she breathed when it ended. “Wow. Now, as I was saying, my body doesn’t exactly know how to lie, so—”

  A genuine grin lit Walker’s face. “You did?” he asked with amazement in his tone.

  “Yes, I surely did. You did, too. And no worries, I’m protected.”

  His face paled. “Shit, I forgot—”

  “No, you got exactly what you deserved,” she purred, her fingertips fluttering over his flat, do-nothing nipples, teasing him. Wishing this was the start of something out of this world. “I make sure I’m protected because I never know when I’ll have to 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, and that’s where things don’t line up. The timeline in your OMPF isn’t accurate with what the prosecutor told the jury. Yet not once did your attorney challenge anything the Navy brass said. He just kept rolling over, asking them to kick his balls again and again.”

  Walker bowed his head. “I couldn’t afford some hotshot lawyer back then. I’m a frog, not Jed Freakin’ McCormack.”

  “But you’ve got a private attorney now.” She made that a statement.

  “I do. My grandfather left me some money. It’s all I’ve got left, only now…” Shit. He’d need ten times that much to prove his innocence.

  “So where were you during that leave you requested, but which the Navy declares they have no record?”

  And this was where the rubber met the road. Walker debated telling Persia why he hadn’t produced receipts that would’ve, without a doubt, verified his trip into Guatemala. But he’d made a promise to a little girl, and he wasn’t going back on his word just to save his ass. Emily was the important one, not him.