Short Fuse: Elite Operators, Book 2 Read Online Free PDF

nothing further, and in a couple of minutes the yellow-lit windows of the office came into view, leering at them through the darkness like a jack-o’-lantern’s eyes. They circled around to the back, where the doors to the makeshift dining room were flung open. Nicola heard Roger before she saw him, seated at the head of the long, wooden table laid with cheap plastic dishes and dented silverware.
    “Here they are, our new arrivals.” Roger gestured for them to take the two empty seats at one end, then commenced with a rapid-fire round of introductions. “You’ve met Cedric, and these are the other two members of our esteemed executive committee. Alex Johnson, our finance manager. He’s a Yank like you, Nicola.”
    The young, glasses-wearing African American waved shyly.
    “And this is Dan Carmine, our head of operations. He worked in the Calgary office until they seconded him down here. He’s still coming to terms with all the sunshine.”
    The chubby, fifty-something man smiled beneath his goatee and nodded. The slow focus of his eyes and the row of empty beer bottles lined up next to his plate gave some indication as to why Dan found himself moving from one of Garraway’s largest offices to this small, remote operation.
    “Boys, this is Nicola Holt from headquarters. She’s an important lady, so I’ll expect you to keep your hands off her…bonus.”
    He winked. No one laughed.
    “And this is the Warren Copley, black sheep of the esteemed diamond miners. Seems he’s not gay after all.” Roger turned with brows raised. “Unless you are? I guess being a homo and being a cop aren’t mutually exclusive, but—”
    “Nice to meet you all,” Nicola interjected, pulling out her chair. “We appreciate the warm welcome.”
    The meal proceeded the same way it began, with Roger enjoying the sound of his own voice as he made one offensive, unfunny comment after another. Dan’s slurred remarks became increasingly irrelevant, and Alex watched him and Roger with such bald contempt it was clear he couldn’t wait to get promoted out of Hambani. Cedric kept his head down, offering Roger the occasional feeble smile but looking for all the world like he’d rather be anywhere else.
    At her side Warren was also silent, but instead of the subjugated muteness of Alex and Cedric, his quiet radiated power. His wordless presence insisted on itself, promising that when he had something to say, you’d hear it.
    She watched his hands out of the corner of her eye, long fingers dexterously maneuvering the silverware, positioning and slicing and stabbing the dry chicken on the plate. She tried to imagine those same fingers counting out ammunition, tightening the straps on a Kevlar vest, hoisting a shotgun. He’d held death between those palms, armed and disarmed explosives, pulled triggers and thrown punches. What would it be like to have them on her body, on her cheeks, exploring her most private curves and angles? Would it feel different? Would it feel dangerous?
    She sensed his gaze. He’d caught her looking. She raised sheepish eyes to his, expecting reproach. Instead she found curiosity, surprise and the faintest hint of a reticent smile.
    “Maybe you should try to talk to them, Alex. They’re your people too,” Roger bellowed from the end of the table, interrupting Cecil’s soft-spoken explanation of the cultural prohibitions that made the miners reluctant to use the communal showers, and that it was a problem easily solved by installing a few dividing curtains.
    “You mean they’re from Ohio?” Alex asked dryly.
    “I mean you’re all—”
    “I’m done.” Warren shoved his plate away and stood up, leaving plenty of room for ambiguity in his statement. “Nicola, if you’re ready, I’ll walk you back to the bunk.”
    “I’m ready. Excuse us, we had a long journey today, but we’ll see you all at breakfast.” She offered her cocktail-party smile as she crumpled her paper napkin and dropped it on her