Sandra Hill Read Online Free Page A

branch. “Yiiiiiiikes!” She went careening downward once again.
    Britta screamed her outrage to her father, Sister Margaret, and the pretty man who’d caused the chain of events that led to this final catastrophe. For some reason, though, she blamed the pretty man most of all. Unfair? Possibly. But who could care about fairness now? If the lout had not laid a burden on her heart and loins, she would still be at The Sanctuary, safe and sound.
    “’Tis all your fault, you loathsommmmmmmmme…”

Chapter 2
    My punishment will be…WHAT?…
    Zach had been back in the USA for two weeks, but this was the first time he’d been summoned to discuss his “problem” in detail since the original, not-too-pleasant debriefing, which had been more like a “Chew Floyd’s Ass” session. He pushed open the office door in the training compound, knowing full well that he was late.
    Lieutenant Commander Ian MacLean ran his fingers through his receding hair, which had been recently trimmed into the traditional military high and tight, and glared with disbelief at him. “I swear, you would arrive late for your own funeral. Do you have any clue what kind of trouble you’re in, Lieutenant Floyd?”
    “Yes, Commander, sir,” Zach answered, standing at attention before the commander’s desk. “But there was an accident involving my…uh, babysitter, and—”
    “Lieutenant Floyd!” the commander interrupted.
    Protocol required his speaking to a higher ranking officer only in response to questions or when given permission to speak freely. “Sorry, Commander, sir.”
    MacLean breathed in and out, clearly trying to calm his temper, which Zach knew was formidable. MacLean had been his BUD/S instructor, and he hadn’t been known as Lean Mean for nothing. “At ease, Lieutenant.”
    Zach relaxed his stance and folded his hands behind his back.
    “What happened?”
    “Here or in Afghanistan?”
    MacLean literally growled. “Don’t screw with me, dickhead. I can make that hot water you’re dog-paddling through turn to boiling and peel your stupid skin off. While I’m at it, I might as well burn off that wayward dick of yours.”
    Okaaaay!
    Picking up a pile of pink telephone message slips, he began to flick through them, making a comment about each:
    “John Sylvester from the State Department. Wants a meeting with you ASAP.
    “Mullah Ahmed Bejah from the L.A. chapter of Muslims for Peace. They’re demanding that the boy be returned because of his religious background.
    “Admiral George Wilson, CENTCOM. He wants your ass in the brig.
    “Your grandfather, General Floyd, is trying to make it all go away, which is of course impossible.
    “A representative of the Afghan embassy in Beirut—we no longer have one in the United States—is demanding immediate and unconditional return of Samir.
    “Aljazeera TV. Five calls from them.
    “One each from Larry King, Katie Couric, and Diane Sawyer. Not to mention People magazine and the New York Times .
    “If you dare talk to any media, I swear, I will personally take the hide off you. Oh, and did I mention some image consultant at the Pentagon thinks you would make a great poster boy for recruitment…once this brouhaha all dies down?”
    Zach tried to look suitably surprised and outraged, but, frankly, he’d had just as many calls, some even wackier, and some downright scary. Like death threats. How they’d gotten his unlisted number was even scarier. That didn’t count the two attempts to kidnap Sammy, once in D.C. when he first came back to the States and several days later at the airport in San Diego. That was before he’d taken security measures.
    The commander inhaled and exhaled deeply, presumably to tame his temper. “What happened today?”
    “My son kicked the babysitter, who already had a bruised hamstring. We had to call an ambulance because he was unable to walk, possible shin fracture, and then I had to get a backup babysitter. By that time, I was already late, and I