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)
Her fair skin showed every emotion she tried to contain, warm color spreading beneath the freckles. And her wild dark-blond curls threaded with strawberry-gold had escaped her company cap to twist around her face.
My cock hardened with brutal disregard for the smoke, shouting, and wreckage around us, leaving me painfully aware that once I had her somewhere alone, keeping my hands off her was going to become a serious problem.
By the time I reached the rack, every trace of amusement had dropped away. The assembly lay twisted toward the wash, one support peeled back where it had failed, and the remaining tube hissed with a live, ugly promise. I angled my body away from the crowd and let years of EOD training narrow my focus to the fuse, shell, and movements required to kill the threat.
I worked without rushing, because speed without precision was a damn fast way to build a fucking casualty list. The noise around me receded until there was only the damaged steel beneath my hands and that steady hiss. Then it cut off, and I secured the shell before lifting my head toward the barrier.
Tamsin leaned around the concrete far enough to watch me without stepping beyond it. Her brows pulled together, and her full mouth tightened as she stared at the twisted rack. Then she shifted her blue gaze from the equipment to me. “Why are you smiling?”
I straightened and let my grin widen now that the immediate threat wouldn’t kill anyone. “Frightened people make worse decisions when everybody around them sounds scared. Calm voices keep them breathing, and humor helps them listen.”
Her expression remained mutinous, though curiosity had begun to push through the anger. She tipped her chin toward me. “So everything is a joke?”
“Nope.” I looked directly at her, enjoying the way her breath caught when my attention settled fully on her. “Making you glare at me is becoming one of the best fucking parts of my evening, though.”
Color swept over her cheeks, while her hands curled against the barrier. Anger kept her focused. The blush told me the attraction was mutual, and her gaze kept returning to the equipment. She could function under pressure even while I made it harder.
“You’re impossible.”
“Known me less than an hour, and you’re already learning.”
I checked the damaged support again, then glanced toward her. She was still watching every move I made. “I need to see the launch diagram.”
Tamsin came around the barrier, ignoring my frown, and hurried toward me with the clipboard she’d retrieved earlier. She flipped to the right-side battery, already reading as she straightened. “What did you see before the rack failed?”
I started toward her. “Status indicator on the right-side battery flickered out of sequence. Did that cue have any reason to reach it early?”
She frowned as she looked from the diagram to the rack. “No. It couldn’t have. That battery wasn’t supposed to receive anything until the next volley.”
I plucked the clipboard from her hands to get a closer look.
“Stop stealing my clipboard!” she gasped in outrage, making a grab for it.
She looked like a hissing kitten, which was cute as hell. I smirked as I held it out of reach again.
“You think this is funny?” she demanded.
“I think you’re really fuckin’ pretty when you’re mad.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, and I had to fight like hell not to drop my gaze to her tits. Her chin rose another fraction. “I am not trying to be pretty.”
“Natural talent,” I teased.
Her mouth pressed into a stubborn line, but the corner twitched before she forced it still. I kept the board as we walked, then we stopped beside the damaged rack, and I turned the clipboard so we could both see it. Field lights threw every bent bracket and scorched cable into sharp relief.
“Tell me exactly what should’ve happened when you hit the emergency stop.”
“Every remaining cue should’ve died.” Tamsin leaned closer and traced the programmed sequence with one finger. “That rack never should’ve received an ignition command, and even if the electronic system malfunctioned, the physical safeguards should’ve stopped the shell from launching. The second fuse definitely shouldn’t have kept burning after shutdown.”
She remained close, her upper arm resting against mine, and I kept my palm at her waist. Her breathing changed when my fingers tightened against her side.
I studied the launch diagram again and asked her to walk me through the right-side battery from the power source to the mortar rack. She kept it concise, and I compared her explanation to what I’d watched happen. The flicker in the indicator, early ignition, failed support, and live fuse that kept burning after the board went dark made me think this wasn’t just an accident.
The angle of the rack mattered almost as much as the failed safeties. Its recoil had not simply knocked it loose. The support had given way in the direction that turned the tubes toward the most crowded section of the meadow. The bad launch created immediate panic at the spectator line and pulled every trained eye toward the low-flying shell.