Free Short Fuse: Elite Operators, Book 2 by Rebecca Crowley

Nicola squinted into the darkness, straining to find anything out of place.
    “There.” Warren pointed to the space between the back wheels. She took a step inside and leaned forward, peering underneath the machinery. The sun glinted off matte metal, then black plastic, illuminating the edge of what she discerned to be a tall stack.
    She slapped her hand over her mouth as she bolted upright so suddenly that only Warren’s steadying palm kept her from toppling over backward.
    Automatic weapons were heaped beneath the earthmover, piled almost all the way to the undercarriage.
    She spun to scan the mineworkers gathered around them, but it was too late. The light-eyed man was gone.
    “We need to check every shed on the site.” Warren’s voice tugged her attention back to the task at hand. “If someone will go to this extent to get into one, we need to know what’s inside all of them.”
    She nodded, rolling up her sleeves. “Let’s get started.”
    An hour later Nicola swung open the door of the fifth equipment shed on their inspection tour. The four they’d examined previously had no signs of interference, though Warren had noted a couple of places he thought Roger should install closed-circuit cameras.
    “There should be two front-end loaders in here.” She checked the inventory sheet as they walked around the big yellow machines. “The machine in the first shed was more or less out of commission, but these would be in use almost every day.”
    He nodded, and she followed him farther inside the dim building. “These are all spare tires lining the walls, and this high shelf that runs around the perimeter should be extra parts storage.”
    He squinted up at the wooden ledge situated a few inches above his head. “Let’s have a look up there.”
    “I’ll call Dan and get him to bring us a ladder.”
    “It’s not that high.” He stepped onto one of the protruding tires and hoisted himself halfway up the pile. He glanced over his shoulder, motioning for her to join him.
    She wasn’t tall enough to reproduce his single, elegant leap to the top, and had to carefully work her way up a series of wobbly rubber edges. When she was halfway up he crouched to grab her hands, then pulled her to the top of the pile in one quick motion.
    As she shifted her weight to steady herself, her left foot slid down the curved rubber toward the center hole. Her arms wheeled as she tried to regain her footing, but before she toppled backward he grabbed her wrists and pulled her close. She pressed her palms against his chest to steady herself, and his hands encircled her waist to keep her upright.
    Although it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds before they yanked apart, to Nicola it felt like hours. Her senses were overwhelmed, fighting to process the hard contours of his chest beneath the synthetic boiler-suit fabric, the firm pressure of his fingers brushing the tops of her hips, the tantalizing nearness of his cleanly shaven face.
    Their eyes met, and she was sure she saw something burning in those steely depths that reflected the desire running rampant through her body. But then he dropped his hands like he’d touched a flame. She backed up on the tire’s rim, and the moment was gone.
    Without a word he bent down and wove his fingers together. She put one foot into his hands and he boosted her up on to the wooden shelf and then hauled himself up behind her.
    The air was warm and dusty, and beams of hot, bright light shone through the gaps in the planked walls as they picked their way through mechanical parts stored in heaps and groups with varying degrees of organization. She trailed him in silence, having learned from the buildings they’d inspected previously that it was best to hang back and let him look around undistracted.
    She watched as he moved carefully through the clutter, his gaze sweeping swiftly yet thoroughly, clocking every detail. He was methodical and meticulous, which she supposed were essential