Bombshell - Men of Sanctuary Series, Book Three by Danica St. Como Page A

experimentally, checked for damage.
    “Shit, may have cracked something.” Lucian glanced over at Adam. “Ah’m here ta tell ya, hoss, that boy is some kinda wicked strong. Strong like a freakin’ tank. And by the way, bro, thanks for the assist.”
    Adam shook his head, mustache drooped, expression sad. “Duquesne, ol’ buddy, you’re beginning to worry me. This is the second time you’ve been taken captive. In our own home. The first time, by a woman half your size. You’re losin’ your edge, boy.”
    “Fuck off, Stone.” Lucian continued to test body parts to make sure they were functional.
    “Fellas, enough with the mutual admiration society. I’ve had all the excitement I can deal with for one night.” Lorelei glanced at the wall clock. “For one morning.”
    She pointed at her men.
    “Your own beds tonight, boys.” Patting her belly, she added, “Junior and I need restorative sleep.”
    Keko agreed with the bed comment, although she didn’t need to warn anyone that she intended to sleep alone—she didn’t have any suitable candidates lined up to share her bed.
    “Kamaka, promise to play nicely with the other children so I can go back to sleep.” When the big man didn’t respond, she arrowed a lethal glare at him. “Well?”
    Kamaka grinned up at his boss and best friend. “Promise, Miss Keko.”
    Before Keko turned back to her room, she watched the man mountain gently pat Callie on the head as he headed for the kitchen and the back door—again. “Sorry, cat.
    Next time, stay out of the way.”
    Keko shook her head at the conundrum that was Kamaka, then headed to bed.

Chapter Four
    Sunday morning
    After a quick breakfast with Kamaka, Keko grabbed up her map. “I’m heading out to the camp. Are you coming with me, or staying here?”
    Kamaka popped the last piece of bacon in his mouth, talked while he chewed.
    “Staying here. If you can handle the stuff at the cabin, Lucian said I could use the big screens this morning. He’ll go through the FBI results with me, the stuff that Agent Chandler forwarded to us. Did you see all the intel toys Lucian has? Outstanding!”
    Keko had laughed aloud when Kamaka modeled the black Darth Vader helmet he’d found on a wall-to-wall shelving unit in the satcom center, which was stocked as well as a computer superstore. Shaking her head at their silliness in the midst of potential death and destruction, she left the boys to play with their toys.
    At Smitty’s cabin, Keko examined the explosive device components more closely.
    The agents had nicknamed the bomb The Larsson. The label caused Keko an emotional twinge every time someone said it, but she knew they meant it as a sign of respect.
    Since she’d been introduced as Keko Holokai, the agents were unaware she was the only surviving Larsson. She intended to keep it that way.
    The apparatus of the device had been laid out with great precision on the workbench, apparently in preparation for assembly. It was a complicated piece, with redundant fail-safes. Yeah, fail-safes. A terrible term for ensuring the bomb detonates, regardless of what we do to shut down the mechanism. A terrible term to underscore the certainty that people will be killed, maimed, or mangled, despite our best efforts.
    Keko photographed and diagrammed every circuit, every component, every tiny screw and length of wire for her own files, even though the FBI had completely processed the scene. Special Agent in Charge Will Chandler finally arrived, showed her what they had so far. Gentleman that he was, he even presented her with a whole grain pita pocket stuffed with chicken-pecan-white-grape-salad and yogurt dressing, from the diner in town. They sat in Adirondack chairs on Smitty’s front porch and ate.
    “I don’t know how you people sit on these blasted hard seats. My ass falls asleep.” Chandler shifted again and grunted to prove his point.
    “This situation doesn’t make sense. All our file data, all our interviews,