Page 17 of Haze of Obedience
Who are these Global Leaders?
"Dirk, are you bringing the food in, or do you need help?" Malin shouts out the tent flap.
"I've got it."
Why am I sorting through this? Just bring the crate.
I pick up the box and carry it into the tent. Malin has a first aid kit out.
"Make sure you look at Zoe's leg," I say.
She is talking to the other women with her back to me, but she spins when I mention her name.
Yep. You're totally screwed.
I try to ignore her and concentrate on the different items Interpol sent that the women can eat tonight, without having to cook anything.
Malin and Ryker attend to the women's wounds. Axel and I pass out food. When I get to Zoe, Malin is cleaning her cut on her leg.
I scold myself for staring at her perfect dancer's body, and when I tear my eyes away, she arches her eyebrows.
She caught me gawking. Great. Score another point. I'm sure every man in the universe drools over her, and now you've put yourself in the same boat as those morons.
Doesn't matter. Zoe Diego is out of your league.
And a target.
Like a child who can't control himself in the store, I reach out and touch her shin. "That dirt needs to be washed off."
Malin scowls. "Yeah, I'm aware."
She crosses her arms and smirks.
In Spanish, I blurt out, "Sorry, Zoe. Did you want me to speak Spanish?" It's a dickhead comment, and I regret it the moment it comes out of my mouth.
Her face reddens, but she asks, "Malin, do you speak Spanish?"
"No, ma'am."
In a sugary voice, she smiles at me then says, "I wouldn't want to be rude. Let's speak English. And maybe you could be polite and tell me your name?"
"Dirk Zamora."
"Dirk. German descent, right?"
"Some say Dutch. It's debatable."
"Your parents had high hopes for you, didn't they?"
"What are you implying?"
"Dirk. It means a ruler of people."
"Are you a name connoisseur?"
She shrugs.
"That's pretty impressive you know that," Malin points out.
