Sofi protected her girls. Insane offers like the one Davis was proposing always came with strings. In this case, welts and bruises too. “I’m sorry...Mr. Davis, but you know—”“What about you?” He said, cutting her off. “You sound young and pretty. Could you use five grand?”That took Sofi by surprise. “I only answer the phones,” she said, cheerfulness gone.“Fine.” His voice was hard. “I'd like to talk to Mr. Bellick.”Sofi worked her jaw. She had been given many explicit rules. And the most. As it turned out, she didn’t know a thing about western cooking so I sent her to get lessons from my first sergeant’s wife who was a super cook. She was also Vietnamese so there would be no language problems. Two weeks later when I got home she had a big smile on her face. “I cook spaghetti!” she announced. Now I’ll admit that it wasn’t up to true Italian standards, but considering the material she had to work with and her limited training, I thought she did pretty damned good. After that she. More

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