Chapter 20
Three hours and fifty-three minutes.
The bomb was set to detonate during the last show of the evening, the most crowded of the day.
Cowboy was sweating, the still air in the control room now stifling and stale. Harrison had stopped the show and evacuated the theater while Cowboy gathered tools and materials to shield himself from the blast just in case.
If the bomb detonated, the theater was toast. The ceiling was structured in such a way that taking out the control room would knock out the main support beam over the audience. Cowboy had insisted Harrison and the women take cover a safe distance away from the theater.
Some level of explosives training was required in BUD/s training, but Cowboy had taken it one step further and become an explosives expert. There was nothing quite as satisfying as blowing shit up, or in this case, keeping an explosion from happening. At least, that’s what he hoped would happen.
He wiped his sweaty hands on his shorts before picking up the wire cutters. He’d had plenty of time to study the structure of the bomb and it looked simple enough. Problem was, looks could be deceiving.
He’d given Charlotte a casual squeeze before heading back in here alone, but there was nothing casual about that squeeze in his mind. He had every intention of cutting a wire and walking back out of this room, but in his experience, very few soldiers intended to die.
The life or death nature of what he was about to do colored the lens through which he looked at the last two days.
He’d been a solitary man all his life, a solitary man who enjoyed a hell of a lot of company.
But none of those women really got inside, not to the part of him that counted, the part of him that was more than the funny guy who liked to have a good time.
And Charlotte did?
She really had, with her carefree and sexy ways, her foul mouth, and her in-your-face attitude that made him smile. It seemed crazy. Two days ago he’d been pushing her away; now he was afraid he might never want to let go.
Chill out. First things first. Defuse this sucker, then worry about Charlotte.
But since his BUD/s days, he’d had a tradition. He’d make a wish before he made the all-important cut. If he lived through it, he might get what he asked for, a lot like blowing out his birthday candles.
Cowboy took his wire cutters and positioned them over the wire. An image of Charlotte’s sweet face came to his mind. He wanted more of her beyond this week, beyond this ship, beyond just sex. If he made it through this one, he wanted to give them a try.
He kept his eyes open as he squeezed the handles. The cutters snapped together with a quiet click, the timer went dark, and Cowboy exhaled the breath he’d been holding.
The bomb was deactivated.