Blown Away

By D.L. Jackson

Trios Space Port City is a busy place. MacKay and Boomer must stop a bomber before he strikes again, this time closer to home. Failure is not an option. Success means they get to live another day. But more than the danger is heating up. Their attraction has grown to explosive levels, and it’s become a major distraction. Not good when they need to keep their heads.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Decadent Publishing
• Release date: Nov 10, 2017
• ISBN: 9781683611899

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Blown Away: Detonate

Copyright 2010 by D.L.Jackson

ISBN: 978-1-68361-189-9

Cover art by AlleyCat’s Creations

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC

Look for us online at:

www.decadentpublishing.com

Blown Away was one of my first novels, and one of my favorites. The idea came several years ago as my son was enlisting in the Marines and was considering EOD, Explosive Ordnance Disposal. As an Army Vet, I understood the dangers of this job, but wanted to know more about the process, which led to research, which led to several books in honor of the brave men and women who walk into danger every day, knowing they might not walk out, all to save innocent lives.

Hooah and Oorah— to the real heroes who inspired this series.

Best,

D. L.

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Also by D.L. Jackson

Carnal Desires

Carnal Attraction

Carnal Denial

Cinderella Wore Combat Boots

Seducing Liberty

This Endris Night

Her Boogie Woogie Bugle Guy

Being Prince Charming

Beauty and the Brigadier

Rebel Souls

Last Flight of the Ark

Courtesan Boot Camp

Prepper Romance

Finding Mercy

Shockwave

Slipping the Past

The Willfully Wedded Virgin

Moon Crazy

Dangerous

Bringing Down Romeo

Wedding Moon

He Sphinx I’m Sexy

Trios Space Port City is a busy place. MacKay and Boomer must stop a bomber before he strikes again, this time closer to home. Failure is not an option. Success means they get to live another day. But more than the danger is heating up. Their attraction has grown to explosive levels, and it’s become a major distraction. Not good when they need to keep their heads.

Blown Away

Detonate

By

D. L. Jackson

Detonate

An explosive story of love on an alien world.

Chapter One

Strike one.

MacKay stared at the application and groaned. The name should’ve been the biggest clue for what to expect, followed by his in-her-face prior occupation. A jarhead—just what she needed. She scanned the screen, studying his credentials. Sapper—okay, at least he understood something about explosives, but most of the ex-military who’d handled the high-octane jobs in the service were either insane, cocky, or both.

From his name, she’d say both.

Trusting someone to watch your back in this business could get you killed. Trusting someone from off-world who already thought they were an explosives expert because they’d tinkered with them in the Terran Marines—well, you didn’t do it. Plus, the explosive material combat engineers used to blow things up on Earth didn’t have a tenth of the complexity of the devices explosives ordnance personnel found off-world and had to defuse. It took a whole different kind of personality to disarm instead of destroy.

She lifted her chin. Boomer grinned, an expression she had no doubt had dropped its share of panties in the past. Irritation prickled along the back of her neck. It would take a lot more than a smile to get her to sway from his charm.

This guy has no clue what he’s getting into.

She scooted her chair closer to her desk that all but filled the old, windowless cell in the revamped Trios Port City retired-asylum basement. Hell, her office might have been a speck on the corner newsstand’s tourist map—though she didn’t receive a lot of sightseers or make her money catering to them. But, for some reason, she’d been included on the tour. Perhaps the club upstairs responsible for the ceiling bounce after seventeen hundred hours gave her the distinction of being noticeable, even if nobody partied downstairs. Who knew?

Reviewing the application again brought her molars grinding together. She wouldn’t be hiring anyone if she hadn’t been so backed up. The galaxy was a violent place, and business had been good—so good she hadn’t been able to keep up. With the body count escalating, she had to hire help or watch more innocents die.

MacKay stared until he broke eye contact. . A Sapper. So, you have combat experience. I won’t bother to ask if you’ve blown anything up. Any idiot with a charge and enough explosives can do that. Have you defused anything? Ever worked EOD?

Any idiot? His face lit with humor. Too much sparkle and teeth. Amused? He wouldn’t be for long.

She watched and waited, and, for a moment, her mind wandered to places it had no business going. Not bad—if she’d been shopping for a man and not an employee.

He had hair the color of burnished gold—a recessive shade and a rarity in any sector of the galaxy. He wore it in the all-too familiar flattop of a Terran Marine. Shorter than she liked, but it gave him a bad-boy facade so many men tried and failed to pull off. For him, bad boy seemed natural.

His eyes were also extraordinary. The color reminded her of a Terran summer, a vibrant, bottle-green bringing visions of Earth to her mind with one glance. He wasn’t visually perfect, but, for him, the imperfections worked, only adding to his appeal. A scar trailed across his jaw, the healed wound still pink from a recent injury. From the jagged edge, she’d say shrapnel. An attention-catcher, but it didn’t seem to bother him.

MacKay shook off the attraction and focused on the reason he sat before her. No time to admire the view. Well, have you defused anything?

Enemy threats—an angry mother-in-law.

MacKay narrowed her eyes. This job had risks too high for someone with a family. Anger surged through her, and MacKay counted backward from ten before she spoke. The ad states you must be single to apply. The galaxy didn’t need any more orphans and widows.

"Excuse me. I meant angry ex mother-in-law. He lifted his hand. No wedding band displayed, or mark to show he’d entered into any kind of a marriage contract. That’s a way past-tense thing. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. The front feet came off the floor as he tipped back and leaned the chair against the fresh paint on her office wall. Single and available."

And one second from limping if you don’t get the chair off my wall. MacKay gave him her bitchiest stare. It had taken a great deal of work to get the basement of the old institution clean and the damn mold restrained behind the very expensive, imported paint. Now black marks scuffed the cheery, yellow surface. She’d spent hours poring over samples to find the right color, one that would take the doom and gloom from the converted asylum cell and turn it into a comfortable office.

And why the hell did he think she cared if he was available? Arrogant jarhead.

The chair dropped back to the floor, and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on her desk. No harm done.

Strike two. No interview etiquette.

Have you ever boarded a ship packed with enough explosives to take out half the galaxy or watched a station with over twelve thousand people assigned to it disintegrate because you didn’t understand the alien technology well enough to defuse the bomb?

He whistled between his teeth. No, I can’t claim I’ve been in the situation you describe, but only because I disarm the bomb before it gets to the disintegrating stage. He smiled. I’m really good. He smiled. You need me.

Need him? MacKay snorted. She’d seen his type a dozen times, and he wouldn’t be sweet-talking or charming his way into this job. She stared until his smile died. You think this is funny? There are ordnance techs out there who have seen or been in those exact situations.

No, I didn’t think it was. He shifted in his seat and glanced at the clock. I’m trying to break the ice.

I don’t need broken ice. I need a bomb tech who has a clue.

Then it’s your lucky day. I’m the bomb tech of your dreams.

Doubtful. Strike three. Delusions of grandeur aren’t a qualification.

Not a delusion. I’m really as good as I say I am. Admit it, you want me.

Admit I what? No one had ever accused her of being Miss Congeniality, and she wasn’t about to start playing the part for this guy. Five years before, her life had changed at the clip of a wire. Ever since, she’d refused to let herself get close to anyone. Breaking the ice, making buddy-buddy could never happen. Not again. Too many people she’d cared about had died. When she’d stopped caring, it hadn’t hurt as much when something happened—and something always happened. It couldn’t be avoided in her line of work.

The man was a walking wreck. He hadn’t even bothered to wear a suit. No, he’d come into her office dressed like the next big Hollywood action hero. Khaki cargo pants, black combat boots, and the T-shirt molded to his chest sent shameful images flitting through her mind. Unmistakably Terran. Rugged. Warworn. Well built….

Her heart sped up. Not her type. So not her type. An adrenaline junkie, with a way-too-high opinion of his skills. His list of credentials and battle scars proved he thrived on danger—even if she couldn’t deny there was something sexy about his couldn’t-give-a-shit attitude.

He tilted his head and studied her as though he’d read her thoughts.

Heat rushed to a part of her body she’d sworn to forget about years before. Her stomach flipped, and she shifted in her seat.

The corner of his wicked mouth twitched.

MacKay blinked and realized where her thoughts had strayed. Again. Snap out of it. You don’t need a man or the trouble he drags in with him.

Time to get rid of him. He wouldn’t do. She’d have to find someone else. MacKay typed a quick note, transferring her thoughts to her digital pad. The shitty thing about it? His qualifications blew all her other applicants away.

She scrolled through the other candidates’ applications. She had a fish merchant, clothing designer, freighter mechanic, and four other various professions including a dancer. None came close to what she needed. MacKay had called them in on the off chance she’d get lucky and they’d either be quick to catch on or had experience they hadn’t mentioned on their applications. And the only candidate to possess the experience had to be in his eighties. He might be single, but she needed someone with a little pep. She hadn’t bothered to ask him to come in.

The mechanic might work. He had a grasp on wiring and electronics, plus a good feel for the layout of most of the ships that came into port. Since she’d spent a multitude of hours crawling around in the maintenance shafts and secondary access passages of similar vessels, his knowledge could be a bonus. Disarming bombs would be a leap up from what he did for work, but, certainly, she could train the mechanic.

The Marine—not so much. MacKay brought up his profile again and studied the man across from her.

Arrogant. No, beyond arrogant. He acted as though he already had the job. And what the hell was up with his name? How did he expect her to take him seriously? She returned her attention to the computer and read the name for a third time, unsure if she wanted to ask.

MacKay turned back to him. She opened her mouth to say something and noticed where his attention had strayed. He seemed captivated by her clock.

She cleared her throat. Don’t watch the time. Focus here, on me.

It wasn’t the first time she’d caught him checking the digital readout during the interview. More than once, his she’d seen him glance up to the numbers as though he itched to get out of the chair. Not a good sign. Fidgety equaled nervous—which equaled dangerous.

An even better reason to get rid of him.

His focus drifted back to her. Sorry, I have a hard time sitting still.

Strike four.

He’d already struck out, but she’d toss in a bonus strike. "Pity, because it takes a great deal of patience to do this job, and jittery won’t cut it. You have to have steady hands. I don’t trust anyone. I don’t like working with anyone, and I sure as hell don’t like working with someone who can’t sit still. I posted the ad because I’m buried in jobs, and I need someone good enough to handle this position without getting turned into pâté on