Breaking Point. Lindsay McKenna

they realized she was another gun in the fight. She might not know patrol tactics, but Gabe would teach her and she’d become an asset to them.

      Glancing behind her, she saw the officers and chief applauding. Was it relief she saw in their faces? Bay thought so. She was incredibly grateful that the contest was over.

      Hammer cursed, slammed the toe of his boot into the dirt, raising a cloud of dust. He glared over at her.

      “You just got lucky, Thorn. That’s all.”

      Gabe took the rifle from her, safed it and rested the barrel down toward the ground. “Oh, come on, Hammer, at least be a good sport,” he cajoled, grinning. He stepped over to where Hammer and his entourage stood, holding out his hand. “You owe Doc money.”

      Oz pulled out a wad of cash from his left cammie pocket and bitterly slapped it into Gabe’s palm.

      Bay left Gabe’s side and walked over to Hammer. She offered her hand to him. “That was mighty fine shooting, Hammer. You’re right, I just plumb got lucky. You’re a better shooter than I’ll ever be.”

      Hammer stared at her and then at her hand. Whether he wanted to or not, he reached out, grabbed her hand and shook it.

      “This settles nothing,” he growled softly. “So you can shoot at targets. Big deal. Let’s wait and see how you do in the middle of a firefight.” He turned and walked away, the Win Mag thrown over his shoulder.

      CHAPTER FOUR

      “CHIEF,” HAMMER CALLED, “can we talk to you for a minute. In private?”

      Chief Doug Hampton was just coming in at 0700 to his office when four of his SEALs were waiting for him. “Let’s go inside,” he said, opening the door and gesturing toward the planning room.

      Just then Gabe arrived at their HQ. He halted just inside the entrance and watched as the Chief sat down on the stool. Four SEALs stood nearby. His intuition told him something was up. Hammer lifted his head and looked over at him.

      “You might as well be in on this, too,” Hammer said to Gabe. “Come and join us.”

      Gabe nodded and stood near the Chief.

      “What’s on your mind?” Hampton asked Hammer.

      “That woman. We’ve talked between ourselves last night, and we don’t want her in our platoon.”

      Hampton pursed his lips and nodded. “I see. Your reasons?”

      “She’s not a SEAL,” Hammer growled, exasperated by the obvious.

      “So?” Hampton murmured.

      “So she’s not trained, dammit! She doesn’t know our tactics, our formations, if we get attacked. Hell, what are we supposed to do if we have to fast-rope out of a helo? She’s not trained for that. Do we have to carry her and make ourselves targets in doing so?”

      Gabe dragged in a slow, deep breath. There was genuine concern on the four men’s faces. Hammer was heading up the group, but he had had similar thoughts himself. Bay wasn’t trained in many of the situations where they knew what to do, but she didn’t. And in a firefight, there wasn’t time to teach; it was a matter of survival. He kept his mouth shut as Hammer paced the room from one side to the other. Concern and frustration were etched on everyone’s face.

      Hampton rubbed his hands on the thighs of his cammies. “Your points are well taken,” he said. “It’s a good argument except for one thing, Rettig.” Pierce Rettig was the enlisted SEAL’s real name and Hampton used it when things got serious.

      All four SEALs had the chief’s undivided attention.

      “What’s that?” Hammer demanded testily, jerking to a halt.

      “We routinely have Navy photographers, videographers, CTT boys from the Air Force who call in the heavies and close air support for us, FBI dudes, linguists or cryptologists who are assigned to go out with us,” Hampton said. “They aren’t trained SEALs, either, but we need them on certain types of patrols or direct action or recon missions. You’ve never objected to any of them coming along. So why now? Why her?” He opened his hands, his voice remaining reasonable.

      Hammer cursed. He glared at the other three SEALs and then jerked his gaze back to the chief. “You’re backing her because she did sniper-quality shooting yesterday afternoon.”

      Hampton smiled a little and held up his hand. “Let’s stay on the point, Rettig. You’re pissed because she’s a woman and not a man. You’ve never bitched about any guy who was assigned to your platoon before this, and you’ve been out on plenty of patrols and missions with non-SEAL assets.”

      “Bullshit!”

      “It sure is,” Hampton said quietly, holding the SEAL’s angry glare.

      “Then I want to talk to the LT about it,” Hammer growled. “I’m not done with this, Chief. And I don’t like that you’re not handling it. That’s your job.”

      “I did my job, Rettig. You just don’t like my answer or my solution.” Hampton’s voice dropped. “This is bigger than you, me or the LT. This woman is highly trained in many areas, and none of us can say we don’t want her and discharge her from this squad just because of gender prejudice.”

      “That’s a bunch of crap,” Hammer snarled, walking back and forth in front of the chief, his thickset shoulders bunched with tension. “I don’t care what the Pentagon cooked up.” Hammer stopped and jabbed an index finger at the door. “That woman is trouble. And I guarantee,” he grated, breathing hard, “she is gonna get one or more of us killed because she’s not a SEAL!”

      Hampton straightened a little, holding the angry SEAL’s gaze. “And what if I told you, Rettig, that there have been other women in other SEAL teams before this and that hasn’t happened? That they’ve worked very effectively in those teams without causing casualties? Matter of fact, they’ve saved men’s lives. And some of the women have lost their lives, as well, but not because of ineptitude. They’re in firefights all the time right along with the men.”

      Shaking his head like a bull getting ready to charge, Hammer rasped, “I don’t believe you.”

      The other three SEALs eyebrows went up collectively on Hammer’s challenging grate. It was one thing to be pissed off, but you didn’t call your chief a liar to his face. The three of them exchanged uneasy glances with one another.

      Doug Hampton’s face turned hard. Hammer was pushing his weight around. If he’d been LPO, he’d have taken him out back and pounded some sense into his head. But Hampton was the man in charge of the entire platoon and wielded plenty of power. The buck stopped with him. Gabe wondered how Doug was going to handle Hammer, directly challenging his authority, his face beet red.

      “Rettig,” Hampton said, standing up, “it’s time you and me had a little chat outside.”

      Hammer scowled, no doubt because his superior was six feet three inches tall, thirty-five years old and in top shape. He had five deployments under his belt and knew more about fighting in Afghanistan than just about anyone. Hammer turned and looked at his three friends to see if they wanted to join him. They all backed off, their hands held up, a sign that Hammer was on his own.

      Wiping his mouth, Hammer growled, “And if I don’t?”

      Hampton shrugged nonchalantly. “Then I’ll beat the crap out of you right here in front of them. Your call, Rettig, because you’ve outlived your welcome with me.”

      “Aw, dammit, Chief!” Hammer spun around and huffed and puffed around the room. He kept giving the chief furtive looks, trying to figure out what to do. How to back down gracefully and not come to blows.

      Hampton was slowly rolling up the sleeves on his cammies to just below his elbows. “Ready?”

      Gabe hid a smile. Doug Hampton could be a damn