Page 13 of Down and Dirty

He didn’t budge. “What are you doing here, honey?”

“Do not honey me, Zack-hairy.”

His grin at her mispronunciation of his name did not amuse her.

“What am I doing here? How do I know? You tell me.”

“Well, I did sort of pray for you to come here and help me out one night, but I was drunk and didn’t know any better.”

Britta didn’t even crack a smile. She ought to join Lean Mean’s frowny-face club.

“You wish-prayed me here?” Her voice was so shrill, he hit the side of his head with the heel of his hand to make sure an eardrum wasn’t broken. “For what purpose?”

“Uh, to babysit.” The second those words were out of his mouth, he wished he could take them back.

“Babysit? Are you barmy? You actually thought I, a trained warrior, would play nursemaid to your whelp?”

“Well, I did mention that I was drunk, didn’t I?” He flashed her one of his too-innocent smiles.

She was obviously in no mood for humor or flirtation. “And your wife? Did she wish-pray for me to be a nursemaid, as well? By the by, you told me you were unwed, you slimy fornicator. Didst think of your wife on those numerous occasions when you attempted to get me in your bed furs?”

“Uh, I’m not married.” Oooh, boy! Another slip of the tongue.

Britta threw her arms up in disgust, which did amazing things to her breasts. “Why am I not surprised? Dost have any idea how like my father and brothers you are? How many other children do you have, on how many women?”

Zach drew himself up straight, suspecting that comparison to her father and brothers was not a compliment. “There are no others.” That I know of. “Listen, we need to talk… in private. Stay here.”

He walked around her and went over to one of the low platforms surrounding the grinder. Instructors stood there to oversee the exercise evolutions. “Master Chief Uxley, you are relieved of this billet. I’m here to take over.”

“About time, asshole.” Master Chief Frank Uxley, better known appropriately as F.U., was one of the more obnoxious members of SEAL Team Thirteen. A good soldier but a speed bump on the evolutionary superhighway.

“Yeah, I can see you’ve been doing a bang-up job so far, dog breath.”

Close to a hundred women — dirty, battered, and panting like warhorses — stood about fifteen feet away. They were the sorriest class of trainees he had ever seen.

“So, you hittin’ on one of the trainees already?” Uxley inquired in his usual snide manner, motioning his head toward Britta, who had come up behind him. “Can you say sexual harassment suit, big boy?”

“Go away, Uxley. I’ll take over now.”

“My pleasure. Think you can handle a big ’un like her? If not, I’ll be glad to lend a hand.”

Before Zach had a chance to answer, Britta picked up Uxley by the waist and tossed him into the sand. Uxley was fairly short — only five-nine — but he was built like a bull. He had to weigh a solid hundred and sixty. Standing over him, hands on hips, Britta said, “Be forewarned, Chieftain, I am a Viking warrior, more than you ever wagered for in your flea-bitten life. Dost still think you can handle me, knave?”

At first, there was a stunned silence. Then Zach turned to the group and yelled, “Ah-ten-shun!”

Everyone stood in rigid formation, hands at sides, chins forward. Except Britta. He turned to glare at her. At first she balked, but then she went over to stand in line. All of them ignored Uxley as he got to his feet, cursing, and headed toward the Naval Special Warfare Center — or NSWC. He would no doubt file a complaint against Zach.

Welcome to the club, buddy.

“I am Lieutenant Zachary Floyd, the assistant commander of this first class of WEALS. These two gentlemen… ,” he said, pointing to his two buddies strolling toward them, “… are Petty Officer Justin LeBlanc and Ensign Merrill Good.” He’d enlisted them to help him. He also introduced the other instructors standing around.

Zach saw the flicker of astonished recognition on the part of Britta toward his two fellow SEALs and vice versa. They’d all met before in another time and place.

Cage and Geek were grinning like fools as they gave little waves to Britta, but at least they kept their fool mouths shut, except for Cage muttering to Zach under his breath, “You are in such trouble, buddy,” and Geek muttering, “I can’t wait to see how you wiggle out of this one.”

“Now, each of you identify yourselves,” Zach urged the ladies.

One at a time, they did so till they came to Britta, who announced proudly, “Britta Asado.” Her real surname was Asadottir. She glared at him, as if daring him to disagree with her shortening of her name.