Page 87 of Down and Dirty

She hoped she didn’t hurl the contents of her still-empty stomach.

The froggie turned a lovely shade of green… uh, red…

Zach heard a loud buzzing in his ears, and he literally saw red. The feeling was not unlike the berserk rage that sometimes overcame SEALs and other special forces operators before a battle.

Luckily, or not so luckily, Cage and Slick had moved Linda’s chair aside, and they stood on both sides of him, forcing him to stay put.

“Doan even think it, cher,” Cage warned.

“Buddy, you’re already in deep shit. Do you wanna land in the brig, end your career, lose your pretty looks?” That last was said by Slick with a grin.

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about the frickin’ brig, the frickin’ SEALs, or my frickin’ face. That dickhead has his hands on my girl.”

“Your girl?” Linda squealed. “You have a girl?”

“He means that in a collective sense, as in Britta is in WEALS, as in Britta is our girl, to all of us SEALs,” Geek explained… with a straight face, yet.

Zach snorted his opinion of that bullshit, but Linda seemed satisfied with the explanation.

“Calm down, boy.” Cage patted his shoulder. “Looks lak she’s the one got her tongue in his ear and his nuts in hand… so ta speak.”

“Yeah, but Overdorf has his hands on her ass,” Sly pointed out. “And it looks to me like, yep, he’s making Mr. Happy… well, happy, rubbing against her belly like that.”

The roaring in Zach’s head got louder.

He studied Britta for a long moment. She’d cut her hair. Dammit! But it was nice. Kind of wavy blonde down to her shoulders, framing her face. Feminine. She wore regular straight-legged blue jeans, silvery high-heeled sandals — Lordy, Lordy! Britta in high heels! — and a floaty type of blue and silver long-sleeved blouse that appeared transparent in spots. Pink lipstick glistened on her mouth, and mascara lengthened her eyelashes. What bothered him most was that Britta no longer stuck out with her waist-long braids and scrubbed maiden skin. She was changing.

“She should be careful with Dylan Overdorf,” Linda broke into his thoughts. “He’s got hands like an octopus, and he doesn’t take no for an answer. I heard he keeps a record of all the women he’s slept with, and a rating beside each name. He even makes notations of kinky stuff he convinces his partners to do.”

That did it. Zach stood, knocking back Cage and Slick’s hands. “Back off,” he warned the two of them. Then he headed for the dance floor.

Britta saw him coming. He noticed her body go stiff and her eyes widen with surprise. I’ll give you a surprise, all right. With your butt pointing north, right over my knee.

“Britta,” he said, forcibly lifting her hand off Overdorf’s shoulder and hauling her out of his arms.

“Unhand me, knave.”

Surprised at first, Overdorf let her go, then tried to pull her back. “Whoa, who the hell are you?”

“Your worst enemy. Let go of Britta.”

Overdorf glanced at Britta and cocked an eyebrow. “Darlin’?”

“Darlin’? Listen, cowboy, fun’s over. Time for Cinderella to go home.”

“And you would be Prince Charming, right? I don’t think so. I know who you are. One of those Navy SEALs who thinks his shit don’t stink.”

People were stopping their dancing and staring at them. All his buddies were behind him, urging him to come back. Somewhere in his testosterone-broiled brain he knew he was making a fool of himself.

The band launched into a new song. Toby Keith’s “How Do You Like Me Now?” For a blip of an insane second, he thought about asking Britta how she liked him now.

“Come on, cupcake, let’s get out of here. Start on one of those orgasms.” Overdorf was addressing Britta, whose face had the good sense to turn pink.

Zach saw red again. His eyes cut to Britta, telling her silently that she’d betrayed him. She was only supposed to have orgasms with him. At least, that’s what his male pride told him, and a little part of his heart that felt wounded.

“What is the cause of your ill humor, lout?” Britta inquired sweetly.

“You,” he snarled.