Shockwave (Calendar Men: Mr. May) Read Online Free

hair sometime in his youth, but the strands he’d swirled to cover his scalp exhibited the “I’m getting older,” denial. Midlife crisis?
    Tanner eyed the man on the bottom. Twenty maybe. Bleached blond. Not Mrs. Goodwell, and why they were in this mess.
    Thank God the bomb hadn’t been rigged to a timer. At least something worked in his favor. But how to get the couple out of the bed, without taking pressure off the spring-loaded plate on the land mine tucked between the box spring and mattress? Good question.
    To further complicate a delicate situation, the bed had to be one of those special, high-tech mattresses. The kind you could set a glass of wine on and jump next to, not tipping or spilling a drop. He’d seen the commercials and had been impressed with the design, until now. Admirable or not, the patented sleep technology kind of threw a monkey wrench into things. So, the weight applied to one spot and one spot only, unable to be dispersed throughout the top, which he could work with, were he dealing with a normal freaking mattress.
    Yeah, he’d braved crawling underneath to get a peek, and had cut some of the fabric away to find a serial number. Military grade—WWII. Unstable as hell, but he doubted Mrs. Goodwell cared much about the safety of her unfaithful husband and his lover. Good chance she’d paid a pretty penny for someone else to set the trap. No other way he could explain how the fuck she’d gotten a Bouncing Betty. Despite the age, the anti-personnel mine would do the trick. The minute they got up.
    Boom .
    Tanner cocked his head. Maybe he’d over-thought this ? He had a serial number. Ultrasound technology. He keyed his radio. “You track down where the bomb came from yet?”
    “Negative. Still working on the source.”
    “Have someone bring the ultrasound up. I want to get a closer look at this mine.” If the mattress dispersed weight the way it did, why hadn’t the bomb gone off while they were getting.... He pointed at the man on the bottom. “How long were you going at it before she called? And before you lie to me, your life could depend on your honesty.”
    Two hours later. Tanner removed his bomb suit and shut the back of the tactical vehicle. Dud. Who’d have thought? When he turned around, he found a handheld recorder shoved within inches of his face. “Is the rumor true you found the CEO of UrasTek in bed with another man—and a bomb this afternoon? Do you have any suspects in custody? Have there been any other cases? Can you give us any details on what kind of bomb you recovered?”
    He narrowed his eyes on the leggy redhead. What a beautiful nuisance. He supposed if a reporter had to annoy the shit out him, he should be at least thankful she wasn’t hard to look at. The woman had proved more than once, she created more than her fair share of trouble. “If you were a serious reporter, Ms. Sawyer, you’d know I can’t comment on an ongoing investigation.”
    “Serious reporter?” She glared, her face going as hot as her hair. “Are you kidding me?”
    “I assure you, I’m not. Why don’t you quit harassing me. Don’t you have some, I Fathered a Three-legged Child with a Mermaid story, to work on?”
    “I write human interest stories, Sergeant North. I’ve never reported on a mermaid or the interbreeding of such, with humans.”
    “Uh, huh.” He plucked the recorder out of her hand and dropped the device, stomping on the case with his boot. An audible crunch told him he’d disabled it. Forever. “So, if you’re writing human interest stories, why are you here, bothering me, when I have real job to do?”
    “I’m here, because somebody called my boss two years ago and got me fired from my war correspondent position. You owe me. Fine. If you don’t want to comment on the bomb, let me ask you about something else. Sergeant Tanner North. Now that you are in the running for New York City’s most eligible bachelor of the year, can you tell me if you’ve been