Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58752 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58752 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Tamsin was used to being underestimated, so she was stunned when the massive biker respected her command after a fireworks display went horribly wrong. Then inventory discrepancies were discovered, and anyone putting Tamsin in the blast radius was going to pay a steep price
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
1
TAMSIN
The minutes were ticking down to the fireworks display, so there was no time to spare as I walked through the launch area to verify every detail was exactly as it should be. This was normal for me. The displays my family’s company dealt with contained multiple pounds of highly explosive chemical compositions that were capable of causing fatal blast injuries, so one mistake could lose us a whole lot more than our federal license.
And this veterans’ fundraiser, hosted by the Black Crowns MC, was bigger than usual.
Past the caution tape, the field had already filled in. More bodies on the safe side of the line meant less room for anybody to get sloppy on mine.
I put my boot against the nearest rack base and leaned. When it didn’t shift, I moved on.
Unused cable was still in a firing lane that was supposed to be empty by now. One of our guys walked past like he didn’t see it.
“Cable out of the lane,” I ordered. “Now.”
He glanced at the coil, then his gaze drifted over my shoulder instead, hunting for Len the way half the older crew still did when I gave an order. “I was just—”
“Out.”
I waited until the lane was clean before I pointed at a crate sitting six inches inside the restricted mark.
“That too. Other side of the paint.”
He muttered something under his breath as he hauled the box back where it belonged.
One of the radios attached to my belt crackled, and I half listened to the conversation between two crew members as I checked the spectator marks next. The crowd had crept close in a couple of spots, but the barricades we’d erected held them back.
Flipping to the launch diagram on my clipboard, I moved toward the racks. Cutting across the packed dirt toward the launch line, I was already counting tubes against the diagram when Len fell into step beside me.
He’d been with the company as long as I’d been alive. My childhood had been filled with shows he’d been in charge of, and he was the one who had walked me through my first inventory count.
“No need to worry,” he assured me. “I completed the final check of the launch racks and firing equipment myself.”
“I still need to—”
“You’ve got a lot of ground to cover today, Tamsin.” His hand hovered near my shoulder and dropped again. “Let me handle this section.”
His tone was almost paternal, which irritated me since I was the safety coordinator for this event. At times like this, I realized he still saw me as a child playing at authority, rather than the competent woman who knew what she was doing, in part because he had a hand in teaching me.
Huffing out a breath, I reminded myself that we were at a public event, so I needed to stay professional. Otherwise, I’d prove him right.
“Thanks. Radio me if anything comes up.”
“Will do.”
I turned away from the launch line and glanced over at the nearest barrier. My heart raced when I spotted the irritatingly sexy biker leaning against it as though he didn’t have anything better to do. He’d been keeping a close eye on me ever since I arrived, and it was darn irritating. Flattering too, although I didn’t want to admit to that part.
Even if I hadn’t caught him staring, he would’ve been impossible to miss at six-three with shoulders that strained the seams of his black leather vest and a chest broad enough that his shirt was stretched taut. His hair was almost black, cut short on the sides but messy on top, and his neatly trimmed beard was the same dark color. His warm brown eyes seemed to track my every step.
If all that wasn’t enough to capture my attention, he had a large black-and-gray demonic skull inked on his throat, with red eyes, nose, and mouth that most people paused to gawk at. But I shouldn’t have been one of them because I needed to focus on my job, not some man who’d caught my eye. Even if it was completely out of the ordinary for me because I’d been too busy to worry about dating.
The fact that he kept shifting my focus away from my job made me want to throw the clipboard at his head. But I somehow managed to resist the urge. Barely.
When I moved to the temporary control station to read through the launch plan one last time, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that his boot was on the wrong side of the painted safety marker. Without looking up, I muttered, “You’re inside my exclusion line.”
“By three inches.”
My lips pressed together in a flat line before I pointed out, “Still inside.”
“Prez put me on site safety.”
“Stryker doesn’t hold the pyrotechnics license.” I finally looked up to glare at him. “Behind the line.”