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.
Not bloody likely. She’d probably punch out my lights. “Petty Officer LeBlanc and Ensign Good will take over for a short time. Ms. Asado, come with me to the command center. There seems to be some missing…paperwork.”
Luckily, she followed his order, and he took her not only into the building but into a basement storage room. He slammed the door and turned on her. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“What the hell are you doing here?” she countered. Lifting her arms, she pushed errant strands of blonde hair off her face. The gesture caused her breasts to press against the thin fabric of the