Page 8 of Down and Dirty

“I will not send him back… Commander, sir.” It was telling how often he referred to his son as “him” or “the kid,” he realized with an odd sadness.

“I understand that. You better have bodyguards around the kid, though, because, believe me, Mullah Arsallah has friends in low as well as high places. He won’t give up.”

“Two of SEAL Team Thirteen’s inactive members are stationed outside my building, sir, for the time being. Including Scary Larry Wilson.”

His boss didn’t find that reference as amusing as Zach did. Scary Larry watching over Sammy the Snot. Whooboy! Actually, Wilson was a nice guy… a thirty-something SEAL who was on temporary suspension for breaking some ass-backward Navy rule. He’d hired him in the interim to help guard his son.

“I promise I’ll get this resolved soon.”

MacLean rested his elbow on the desk and put his chin in one hand, staring at him as if he were mud under his boondockers. “The Pentagon wants to know why — and how — you had sex during a live op in Afghanistan six years ago.”

Zach grinned. “Under a tarp in the mess tent.”

“Pfff! I’ll be sure to tell them that. Not!”

“I didn’t ask for this situation, sir, but I take responsibility for all of it. And I will resolve all the… issues.”

“Floyd, you’ve got as much sense as an armadillo crossing a four-lane highway.” MacLean shook his head at him. “What a cluster fuck! I hope you have a good lawyer.”

“I do, sir. My grandfather retained Jack Delaney for me.” His grandfather, Army General Frank Floyd, retired, was a notorious World War II ace pilot who still served in the Pentagon as a consultant, despite his advanced age. Delaney was a D.C. attorney with a reputation for winning at all costs.

The bill, which would be monumental, was being footed by his father, an aging lothario who still thought he was Hollywood’s answer to Cary Grant, playing just such a role, Dr. Lawrence Bratton, in one of the long-running TV soap operas, Light in the Storm. Incredibly, the old blowhard thought he could still give George Clooney a run for his money.

His mother, who’d divorced his father about twenty affairs ago, back when they all still lived in Bangor, Maine, had her own life as a senior citizen model. She’d kill him if she ever heard him refer to her that way.

His family, dysfunctional as it was, were there for each other in times of need. And, man oh man, Zach sure was needy now.

MacLean nodded at the mention of Delaney. “Well, for the time being, you’re assigned here at Coronado as an instructor.”

Zach had expected that. In fact, he’d expected far worse punishment as he’d worked out every day, waiting for his sentence… uh, assignment. Gig Squad, at the least.

“Don’t look so smug, Floyd.”

Uh-oh! Zach didn’t like the smirk on his commander’s face. Incoming bomb about to zing me.

“You are the brand-new assistant commander of the Navy’s half-assed, birdbrained, in-your-face WEALS, boy.”

“WEALS? Oh, no! No, no, no! Not that SEAL wannabe bunch of women!”

“Exactly. Women on Earth, Air, Land and Sea. The latest BUD/S class just ended, and another won’t start for three months to accommodate this program.”

“What the hell do I know about teaching SEALs or WEALS or anyone, for that matter?”

“SEAL instructors aren’t professional teachers, as you well know. It’s a temporary duty billet like any other. Behave yourself, and you might be put back on the teams.”

So much for that argument! “Who’s the commander?”

MacLean’s face flushed a bright red. Even his partially bald head was red.

“Wha-hoo! What did you do wrong to get this assignment?”

“Nothing. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Zach knew how that could happen. Best to make yourself as invisible as possible in the military. “Man, I never thought I’d see the day that they’d allow women into the teams.”

“They’re not. Listen, terrorism has escalated so much in the past five years that we can’t keep up with the demand for SEALs out in the field. Same with all the other special forces units in other branches of the military. Women can fill a need.”

“You’re talking about lowering the standards, aren’t you?”