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

indicate Smith wasn’t the type to work with insurgents against his own country. A dyed-in-the-wool patriot, always had been. Lied about his age to enlist in the Army when he was fifteen, got caught, had to wait until he was legal. The guy was a hero. I don’t see him being a turncoat. That dog just won’t hunt.”
    “Sorry, Agent Chandler. I can only help with the device—I’m no good at profiling. That was my … that was more John’s forte.”
    “Sonofabitch. I’m sorry, Ms. Holokai, this must be torture. We get so wrapped up in the who-done-its that we forget how personal this is to you.”
    Keko fought the tears, but they came anyway. “Thanks. He was … like … a father to me.” And I miss him so much, sometimes I can’t breathe . She tried for a smile when he patted her hand, but they were both uncomfortable with the emotions.
    “I’m fine. Really. I suggest you run any theories past Kamaka, though. His insights border on frighteningly accurate.”
    “I’ll take him up on that. Great tat, by the way.”
    Keko had worn a backless, sky-blue, summer halter-top that showed the brilliantly inked tattoo in its entirety, when she had her long hair pinned up. Which she’d done, to prevent any stray hairs from contaminating the components. “Thanks.”
    Chandler excused himself, headed inside the main cabin to confer with his men; Keko returned to the shop. She had several lengths of wire under a lighted high-powered magnifying lens, when she heard a knock against the doorframe, presumably Chandler, announcing his return.
    “Chandler, there’s something about the composition of these wires—”
    Before she could turn, strong arms wrapped around her. Before she could react, she caught a faint, barely-there aroma, the sweet woody scent of wintergreen. Her heartbeat instantly kicked up spikes on the chart.
    “Damn it, MacBride, what do you think you’re—?”
    ” Shh . Hush, Ms. Kailani Holokai Larsson, explosives expert with the incredible tattoo and who smells like wild honeysuckle. I did my homework. It took some digging, then Lucian verified, so I didn’t ask the wrong people the wrong questions. You’re the real deal. Impressive. John Larsson’s daughter. Imagine that.”
    “The real deal? Is that right? Is that what I am? You are such a jerk. Let me go or I’ll … .”
    “For instance, I now know that both your names derive from seafarers, from the sea, the sky. You’re a water baby, with the strength of the oceans.” He pulled her against him, her back to his front, his muscled arms holding her captive as he nuzzled the black hair she had trapped in a mother-of-pearl barrette shaped like a leaping dolphin.
    “Damn, I missed this. I missed you, Kailani of the sea. I didn’t know how to find you.
    I’ve been going crazy trying to dig up a lead, any lead. Why did you jackrabbit out of L.A.? Why bail out in such a hurry? Those were the best ten hours of my entire life! My God, it feels so good to hold you again.”
    She struggled in his arms. “I said let go of me or else—”
    “Or else what? You’ll take sexual advantage of me? Again?” He shifted to pin her with his groin, sandwiched her against the sturdy workbench. “Little hellcat.”
    She felt his erection through his uniform trousers, his stiff cock pressed against her. Damn it all to hell, her sex heated to flash point so fast any hint of common sense flew out the window. A traitorous groan escaped before she could prevent it. How the hell does he manage to light my fire at warp-speed?
    His hands on her shoulders, MacBride tried to turn her to face him.
    She resisted. “No. This way.”
    “What?”
    “I said, take me this way.”
    “You’re crazy.”
    “That’s possible. Do it now. Quickly. Before someone walks in.”
    MacBride hesitated, so she rubbed her ass slowly, sensually, against his solid erection. “Now or not at all, sailor boy.”
    “I’ll sailor boy you.” He shoved her shorts and panties to her ankles.