Page 67 of Down and Dirty

Then he rushed downstairs, removing his clothes in the process. While he walked through the house, checking on locks and dimming lights, he studied the display window on his phone and groaned. Twelve more calls to check! Calls that had been made to his house, not cell, phone. He listened to all the messages and knew that he had to answer a few of the more urgent ones.

“Jack Delaney here.”

“Zach Floyd. You called earlier?”

Delaney was the hotshot lawyer his grandfather had hired. He was considered the F. Lee Bailey of international law and high-profile legal disputes, well worth his exorbitant fees. “Yes, glad you got back to me tonight. Listen, can you meet with me tomorrow morning? I can come in on the redeye.”

“Yeah. Sure. I suppose. Is there a problem?”

Delaney laughed. “Boy, there are problems and then there are problems. Arsallah is playing hardball. I won’t go into details over the phone, but you need a contingency plan in case things don’t go the way we want… at first.”

Zach knew exactly what he meant by a contingency plan. They’d discussed it before. Taking Sammy into deep hiding on a short-term, or maybe even long-term basis. How the SEALs command would feel about that was a given. Zach’s ass would be fried.

“Your grandfather’s coming with me.”

Zach groaned.

“I can tell him you’d rather speak with me alone, if you want. You’re the client.”

“No, that’s all right. I just don’t want this to spiral into a lot of other personal shit.” Why don’t you quit the SEALs and come to the Pentagon? When are you going to settle down? How could you have gotten a woman pregnant in this day and age? The usual.

Delaney laughed. “I’ll steer the conversation in the right direction.”

Next he called his grandmother.

“Zach-ar-y Frank Floyd! Why is it I had to hear about this special woman in your life from Daniel?”

“When did you talk to Danny?”

“An hour ago.”

I’ll kill him. Did he have to be on his cell, even on the way to the Wet and Wild?

“Sooooo, are we talking wedding bells here, darling?”

“No, we’re not talking wedding bells. Or engagement rings, if that’s your next question.”

“It’s not too soon to get registered at Neiman’s.”

“You are not registering me anywhere. Do you hear me?”

“When can I meet her?” This was so like his grandmother; she heard only what she wanted to hear.

“I don’t have a clue. At least not for a few weeks, assuming she’s still around by then. She’s in that new WEALS program, and—” Oh, God! Did I just admit there is a woman.

“A military woman! PopPop will be so pleased.” His grandmother was the only person in the world who called the general by that ludicrous name.

“Listen, I have to go.”

“Where’s she from?”

He barely stifled a laugh. Eleventh-century Norselands. “Norway.”

“Oh, that’s nice. Some of your ancestors were from Norway, did you know that? The Floydsson family, but they pronounced it Flewed-son.”

That’s it! “Gotta go. Call you later.” He clicked the phone off before his grandmother could blather on… or ask him where Britta was at the moment.

Before he had a chance to put the cordless down, it rang again. His mother.