Bombshell - Men of Sanctuary Series, Book Three Read Online Free PDF Page A

“Who?”
    He stared at the woman, then shook his head to rouse himself out of the mental haze of their brief time together. “Never mind. And your name is … ?”
    She handed him a business card from a pocket secreted in her sexy vest. “Keko.”
    Then she angled a thumb toward the large Hawaiian. “My comic relief here is Kamaka.”
    Mac read the card twice, turned the card over, read it again, then stared at her.
    “Keko Holokai, Larsson Demolitions? As in John Larsson?” He flipped back a page in his notebook. “I have a message that refers to a Mr. Kyle Holloway.”
    He must have butchered the pronunciation of her name, enough to get a giggle from the Kamaka guy. He soldiered on. “We were never … ah … formally introduced in L.A. Are you the office manager for Larsson Demolitions? I don’t mean to be rude, but we really need your lead explosives expert.”
    He turned toward Kamaka. “You must be—”
    The big guy held up both hands, took a quick step backward. “Whoa, boss. Don’t look at me! I get my ass in enough trouble all by myself. Man, I like you, so I’m giving you fair warning: piss her off at your own risk.”
    In a manner Mac remembered all too well, the petite woman invaded his personal space, jammed a slender finger against his chest.
    ” I amyour expert, Sheriff.” Poke.
    ” I represent Larsson Demolitions.” Another poke.
    “I’m not a freakin’ secretary!” Poke poke . “Why the hell did you think I attended the conference? Did you think I decided to troll a convention center chock-full of powder monkeys to search for husband material?”
    Kamaka could barely control his mirth, obviously at Mac’s expense. ” Ooh , sheriff, dude, you are so righteously busted.”
    Mac couldn’t prevent a sigh as he shook his head. “Ma’am, it’s too early in the morning, it’s been a bitch couple of days, I haven’t had anywhere near enough sleep or enough coffee, so I’m not tracking real well at the moment. Exactly who are you?”
    Kamaka laughed outright, a big booming sound that echoed through the high ceiling rafters of the nearly empty terminal. “You’re on a roll, dude. She likes ma’am about as much as she likes being mistaken for Mister Kyle Holloway.”
    Keko whacked her companion’s arm with an open hand. “Will you shut your poi hole?”
    Her lips tightened, then she addressed Mac directly.
    “Kailani Holokai.” She drew out the syllables. “My fa—I worked with John Larsson as a senior crew chief. He called me Keko, which proved easier than going through the whole pronunciation thing each time. So, there ya have it. In a manner of speaking, I’m your man.”
    Mac took a hard look at her. “We all knew John, either in person or by reputation. Nothing, not even scuttlebutt, about a Keko. Nothing about a Kailani.
    Nothing about a woman working on any of his teams.”
    Keko of the slender sexy body shot back a glare of her own. “John worked on such high security projects that only a few people know about me—or the specifics of any members of our crews. I would greatly appreciate your assistance in maintaining our privacy. We all look alike in helmets, facemasks, and hazmat suits. Just think of me as one of the short guys.”
    She could never be mistaken for just one of the guys, even a short one.
    Then she mumbled something that sounded Hawaiian.
    Kamaka clucked, shook his head. “Oh now, that was naughty.”
    She crossed her arms in a definitely confrontational posture. “Did you actually know John Larsson?”
    Mac looked away, took a moment to collect himself in the face of the red-hot bedroom memories.
    “Yes, I did know John, as a matter of fact. SecNav called him in as advisor on a SEAL mission of … some sensitivity. We had an issue. John bailed us out. Showed me things I’d never seen before, amazing tricks. He saved lives during that op, probably saved me and my team.” He stopped himself, pulled in a deep breath. “I … we …
    admired him