Read Online Short Fuse: Elite Operators, Book 2 by Rebecca Crowley - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Rebecca Crowley
Ads: Link
shakily, trying to reassure herself it was true as she tightened her grip on her towel. Oh God, she wasn’t even dressed.
Warren’s exhale carried more relief than she would’ve expected, then he dragged her to her feet. Her knees were weak and her heart pounded, but she stayed upright.
He removed his hard hat, examined the dent made by the chunk of charred metal now at his feet, then put it back on. “I need to inspect the bombsite, and you need to keep everyone calm. The more time I have to look things over without interference, the better.”
“Of course. I’ll get the area sealed and have everyone moved away.”
“Maybe put on some clothes first.”
His smile was lopsided. She managed to return it. “Killjoy.”
“Do you want me to walk you to the office?”
She shook her head. “Go do what you need to. I’ll change back into the boiler suit. I have a feeling I might need it.”
He hesitated, looking like he wanted to say something more. Instead he nodded briskly and left, sprinting in the direction of a billowing plume of smoke. She peered at it, trying to place it in the context of the site. It was on the eastern side, probably among the row of equipment sheds. It wasn’t far from the central office.
And it wasn’t far from their cabins.
She shivered, despite the bright sunlight, then darted inside the outbuilding and slammed the door shut, suddenly full of the creeping feeling she was being watched. As before the door refused to stay closed, slowly swinging forward on its hinges when she released the handle, only now she didn’t have Warren to lean on it. She gathered up her folded boiler suit and underwear and hurried into the nearest shower stall, yanking the flimsy plastic curtain into place.
She’d never dressed so quickly in her life. Her tight breaths echoed off the tiles as she pulled on the sweaty, grimy clothes with trembling hands, straining to listen for movement while she kept her eyes trained on the gap between the curtain and the wall.
She wrenched the front zipper closed, shoved her feet in her boots, plunked her hard hat on her head and bolted from the outbuilding.
Pull it together, she chided herself as she jogged toward the east end of the site. There’s no reason to assume the blast was deliberate. It was probably an accident—you saw the sloppy way those explosives were stored. Don’t jump to conclusions and don’t let fear cloud your judgment. You know what you’re doing. This is your job.
When she reached it, the expansive area east of the office was chaotic, as clumps of gossiping mineworkers trying to inch forward for a better look competed with irritated shift leaders urging them back. The air was still cloudy with dust, and as Nicola moved closer and saw smoke rising into the air from one of the more far-flung equipment sheds, she was finally able to establish the location of the explosion.
She exhaled heavily. According to the site map, that shed stored a lone earthmover that’d had so many mechanical faults it was on its way to being replaced. If there was any spot at the mine that could be blown up without hurting anyone or causing significant material damage, that was probably it.
She elbowed her way through the crowd to stop next to Roger, who held a blood-soaked gauze against his temple. He stood about twenty feet away from Warren, who was shining a flashlight over the crater in front of the shed. The roof and a chunk of the bottom half of the double doors were gone, but the heavy padlock hung intact.
“How’s your head?” she asked without preamble.
“Little knock from a stone, not worth fussing over,” Roger grumbled. “Two aspirin and a shot of whiskey and I’ll be good as new.”
“There was debris falling near the hoist house as well, but that’s too far away to have been from the shed. It doesn’t even look that badly damaged.”
“Your friend over there says the vibrations from the blast probably knocked loose slates off roofs,
Warren’s exhale carried more relief than she would’ve expected, then he dragged her to her feet. Her knees were weak and her heart pounded, but she stayed upright.
He removed his hard hat, examined the dent made by the chunk of charred metal now at his feet, then put it back on. “I need to inspect the bombsite, and you need to keep everyone calm. The more time I have to look things over without interference, the better.”
“Of course. I’ll get the area sealed and have everyone moved away.”
“Maybe put on some clothes first.”
His smile was lopsided. She managed to return it. “Killjoy.”
“Do you want me to walk you to the office?”
She shook her head. “Go do what you need to. I’ll change back into the boiler suit. I have a feeling I might need it.”
He hesitated, looking like he wanted to say something more. Instead he nodded briskly and left, sprinting in the direction of a billowing plume of smoke. She peered at it, trying to place it in the context of the site. It was on the eastern side, probably among the row of equipment sheds. It wasn’t far from the central office.
And it wasn’t far from their cabins.
She shivered, despite the bright sunlight, then darted inside the outbuilding and slammed the door shut, suddenly full of the creeping feeling she was being watched. As before the door refused to stay closed, slowly swinging forward on its hinges when she released the handle, only now she didn’t have Warren to lean on it. She gathered up her folded boiler suit and underwear and hurried into the nearest shower stall, yanking the flimsy plastic curtain into place.
She’d never dressed so quickly in her life. Her tight breaths echoed off the tiles as she pulled on the sweaty, grimy clothes with trembling hands, straining to listen for movement while she kept her eyes trained on the gap between the curtain and the wall.
She wrenched the front zipper closed, shoved her feet in her boots, plunked her hard hat on her head and bolted from the outbuilding.
Pull it together, she chided herself as she jogged toward the east end of the site. There’s no reason to assume the blast was deliberate. It was probably an accident—you saw the sloppy way those explosives were stored. Don’t jump to conclusions and don’t let fear cloud your judgment. You know what you’re doing. This is your job.
When she reached it, the expansive area east of the office was chaotic, as clumps of gossiping mineworkers trying to inch forward for a better look competed with irritated shift leaders urging them back. The air was still cloudy with dust, and as Nicola moved closer and saw smoke rising into the air from one of the more far-flung equipment sheds, she was finally able to establish the location of the explosion.
She exhaled heavily. According to the site map, that shed stored a lone earthmover that’d had so many mechanical faults it was on its way to being replaced. If there was any spot at the mine that could be blown up without hurting anyone or causing significant material damage, that was probably it.
She elbowed her way through the crowd to stop next to Roger, who held a blood-soaked gauze against his temple. He stood about twenty feet away from Warren, who was shining a flashlight over the crater in front of the shed. The roof and a chunk of the bottom half of the double doors were gone, but the heavy padlock hung intact.
“How’s your head?” she asked without preamble.
“Little knock from a stone, not worth fussing over,” Roger grumbled. “Two aspirin and a shot of whiskey and I’ll be good as new.”
“There was debris falling near the hoist house as well, but that’s too far away to have been from the shed. It doesn’t even look that badly damaged.”
“Your friend over there says the vibrations from the blast probably knocked loose slates off roofs,
Similar Books
