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  BLONDE DEMOLITION

  CHRIS REDDING

  BLONDE DEMOLITION

  Copyright © 2011 by Chris Redding. All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission from the authors.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. And any resemblance to actual persons, living, dead (or in any other form), business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  http://www.chrisreddingauthor.com

  FIRST EDITION ebook

  Imajin Books - http://www.imajinbooks.com

  November 15, 2011

  ISBN: 978-1-926997-33-9

  Cover designed by Sapphire Designs -

  http://designs.sapphiredreams.org

  Praise for Blonde Demolition

  "An explosive thriller as taut as a tripwire."—Scott Nicholson, author of Liquid Fear

  "Bombs, assassins, lovers and friends all mesh together around the heroine to create a tapestry of intrigue, love, and adventure. Redding has a devoted reader."—Bri Clark, author of Glazier

  "An old flame, a new danger, and just the right number of twists pull you thru to the end of this intense romantic suspense. Hunky firemen notwithstanding, what else could anyone ask for? A great read!"—Linda J. Parisi, author of Noble Heart

  This book is dedicated to the usual suspects.

  And to the men, women, and ladies auxiliary of the Hillsborough Township Volunteer Fire Company Number Two.

  Especially the Beer Gods.

  Acknowledgements

  First, I have to acknowledge my sister who is my biggest fan. If you know her, you can guarantee you will get my book as a present.

  Next on the list is my critique group, The Gems. Kathy and Cathi have been the best critics and friends a writer could ever have. I'd have quit long ago without them.

  I couldn't have gotten this far without Liberty States Fiction Writers and that other group we all were a part of before that. They offer workshops, meetings, and are great supporters of everyone who wants to get and stay published.

  CHAPTER 1

  Mallory Sage's heart raced at the sight before her—a bomb.

  It had all the parts necessary to blow up the beer trailer and everything nearby—including her fellow firefighters at the Coleville Volunteer Fire Company.

  Adrenaline and anger streaked through her.

  She called to her chief. "Jesse, get out."

  I won't lose you. Not now. Not like this.

  Jesse Moran backed away from her, licked his lips, then moved in her direction. "Get out of here, Mal."

  Her heart sank. Even in the face of a bomb, her lover was willing to protect her. She clenched and unclenched her fists, her breath coming out in pants. "Not without you, Jesse."

  Without taking her eyes off Jesse, she shouted to another firefighter. "Call 911. Tell them we need the bomb squad."

  When Jesse reached her, she yanked him out. He had a hundred pounds on her. She had the element of surprise. "Get me wire cutters."

  Jesse looked at her as though she had three heads.

  "Do it."

  He shook his head. "No, you don't know what you're doing."

  She made eye contact with one of the bystanders. "Get me wire cutters and clear everyone out of here. Make sure no workers are on the fairgrounds."

  The last thing the struggling fire company needed was to lose this fair. It was their sole fund raising effort. These guys missed dinners and family events to put out fires and some jerk with a penchant for bombs couldn't be allowed to do that to them.

  What if this is just the beginning?

  Part of her knew it was. She'd seen more than enough in her job with Homeland Security to know that this bomb was part of some larger plot.

  Just when I was thinking about the future…about moving on, finding my birth parents. Just when I was sure that chapter was over…

  Here it was.

  The men moved to do her bidding. Except Jesse. He was still standing in the doorway, his gaze piercing her. "Mal, get out. The timer said only ten minutes."

  She blinked. Still he'll protect me. Shield me.

  Her heart pounded as a thrill danced down her spine. Then the reality of the job at hand crept in and she put on her game face. Her demeanor was slow and steady even though her pulse still raced.

  The bomb squad wouldn't get there in time. It was going to blow. She had no choice but to defuse the bomb herself.

  She grabbed Jesse by the shoulders. "Look at me."

  He did, and his eyes filled with a fear she'd never seen. Even though he could confront a fire, a bomb was out of his league.

  But not hers.

  "Jesse, do you trust me?"

  "Yes."

  "Go. I can take care of this."

  "No." He ran a hand through his red hair. "This is stupid. I'm not losing you."

  The realization cut through her like shards of ice. Oh, God.

  In that moment, she knew she'd never been his to lose. Maybe I've always known the past would resurface. Maybe I've only been on hiatus from that life.

  The dream had come out of the blue for firefighter Cal Stedman. He didn't put much stock in the everyday dreams people had, but he knew this one meant something. He'd been tired. More tired than he should have been and came home early from setting up the fair at his firehouse.

  Maybe that was why he'd dreamed.

  Having lost his wife five years ago, he now lay alone in bed. His bones ached from the physical labor of moving cinderblocks and putting up snow fencing around his beloved beer tent.

  The dream rolled around in his mind. The woman in it...

  I thought I'd put her out of my mind a long time ago. I did worship her. Too bad she left me when I went into the military.

  He shifted onto his side, noting that darkness had fallen while he'd been asleep. He saw midnight on his clock.

  "You have a child," the dream woman had said.

  But he didn't. He and his wife had tried for years with no heirs.

  Why would I dream about a child at this late date in life?

  He groaned at his ailing muscles, feeling his own mortality in their hum. Maybe it was that very sense of his growing old and closer to death that led him to think about a child. One he hadn't had with his wife.

  The whole time I was a cop, I never felt this vulnerable, this...mortal.

  His eyes drifted closed as his mind returned to dreamland.

  What if I do have a child?

  Booth leaned against the wall in the firehouse, his gaze glued to the beer trailer. When the contract had come down, he hadn't believed whom he would have to kill. She couldn't look any more harmless.

  She did know how to defuse bombs.

  Go figure.

  The kill would be easy. Still, he hadn't been given the go-ahead yet. He'd practice his shot until it was time.

  Even if that weren't how he'd kill her.

  For a moment, his heart wasn't in it. He tamped that down. It was unprofessional. Exactly what they'd feared would happen.

  He shook his head. No. He'd do the kill.

  Shifting his shoulders to ease the tension, he wondered if he was getting too old for this life. He longed for a beach somewhere. The millions he'd stashed away would work for many years to come.

  Just one more, he kept silently repeating. One more dead body, then he was free.

  He could feel the sun on his face already. There'd be beautiful women to attend to him. There were no virgins waiting in heaven for him and h
e was fine with that. He wanted his reward in this life.

  He rubbed a hand down his face. The door to the beer trailer opened.

  His mark stepped out.

  Time to put on his concerned face.

  Sweat poured out of every part of Mallory's body. Each drop amplified the adrenaline racing through her system.

  Two wires down. Two more to go...but which two?

  She thought back to all the bombs she'd defused. This is no different. You're in the zone, Mallory. No questions. Just...do it.

  With a held breath, she snipped the last wire. The timer stopped.

  Nothing exploded.

  She dropped most of her tools and released her breath. The bomb wouldn't blow.

  Opening the door to the cooler, the humid New Jersey air hit her in the face. She smelled herself and she was sure she must have warmed all the beer with her body heat.

  She gave a small smile and a wave to the crowd peering out the bay doors. This must be how astronauts feel after they splash down in the ocean. Ragged but relieved.

  The bomb wouldn't blow.

  Her rubbery legs complained at the task of carrying her across the parking lot, away from what weighed on her mind. I've been sucked back into my former life.

  She walked past the bomb squad. "All clear."

  "You don't mind if I check, do you?" a man dressed in a bomb suit asked.

  She shrugged. "Not at all." She handed him her cutters and trudged to the firehouse. The door to the bay opened as she approached.

  Jesse's gaze met hers and his eyes held many questions.

  None she could answer. "Not tonight. I'll talk tomorrow."

  His expression softened and her heart broke. I'm not the person you think you know. I'm not at all who I said I was.

  Her arms didn't move. She stood gasping humid July air.

  "Can I at least drive you home?"

  Some part of her wanted that, to pass on some of the responsibility, to just lie in someone's arms for a few hours and pretend.

  The person she used to be wouldn't let her rely on anyone. "No," came out of her mouth before she could decide. She smiled at him. "I'll be fine, Jesse. I just want to be alone."

  "Wait."

  He pulled her into his arms and whispered in her ear. "Thanks."

  At that, she turned away from him. The bay door closed behind her. The hum of it sounded like a school bell to change classes. I'm not changing classes though...I'm changing lives.

  It seemed the parking lot had lengthened since she arrived that morning. Each step took herculean effort and for a moment, her vision closed to a pinpoint as if someone had turned off an old television.

  One thing she knew was life is short. Her search for her birth parents couldn't wait until after the fair.

  Her body dropped into the car seat as she caught her breath. She closed the door a moment later.

  Before she could start her car, a hand covered her mouth.

  CHAPTER 2

  Mallory bit down, then yanked at the arm. Her meager strength came from another rush of adrenaline.

  "Whoa, Mallory. It's just me."

  The familiar voice froze her before she could do any damage. Oh, crap. As if my day hadn't tanked already.

  One by one, she uncurled her fingers from around his wrist. Her shaking hands grasped the steering wheel, knuckles white.

  If she had a list of people she never wanted to see again, his name would be at the top. Why here? Why now? This is the last thing I need.

  She steadied her breath and scanned the parking lot. No one stirred or walked to their car. I can't be seen with him.

  "Don't turn around. Just drive. I'll be hunkered down in the back."

  She started the car and drove home. Her knuckles remained white. "What the hell are you doing here?"

  "I think you know."

  Of course. "The bomb in our trailer?"

  Emotions roiled her stomach. She'd have to stock up on antacids if Trey was back in her life. And she had just been thinking how nutty this week of fair preparations had been. Now it all looked so easy.

  Her thoughts shifted to the events of the evening. Who could have the bomb? It wasn't a prank if this guy's here. This was bigger than all of Coleville, Centre County.

  She pulled in front of her house, a two-story Cape Cod set down a long driveway.

  "We're here and no one can see you from the road," she said.

  She got out of the car, leaving her guest to follow.

  She had a date with a shower and her bed.

  Alone.

  Whatever he had to say could wait until she wasn't in an adrenaline hangover.

  Maybe the earth would swallow him before he entered her house. She snorted, her gaze searching the sky for flying pigs.

  As she unlocked the door she felt, more than heard him, behind her. A whole host of emotions flooded her, robbed her of breath.

  "There's some microwave popcorn in the cabinet. I'm taking a shower."

  "Ah, you remembered," he said, his voice gravelly.

  She whirled to look at him for the first time. He leaned on the door, his look as wild and dangerous as always. Worn black jeans hugged all the right parts and his black T-shirt did the same. His craggy face sported his usual five o'clock shadow. No matter when he'd shaved, that beard always showed.

  She hated herself for remembering that detail…and how that beard felt against her most sensitive parts.

  His dark gaze held hers like a vise.

  "I eat it too." The sentence sounded lame. She shrugged. "I'm taking a shower."

  Booth stood outside Mallory's house and just inside the shadows. If she'd looked out, she wouldn't have seen him. No streetlights in this part of town.

  The lights were on in the kitchen and her ex-partner moved around in there. Booth figured he could take the guy if necessary. Right now it wasn't.

  If he knocked on the door what would happen?

  Would she stammer that it wasn't what he thought?

  He chuckled.

  Studying his kill had never been so fascinating. No one had ever been so oblivious. Her alarms and security measures were a joke for him.

  He could move like a ghost. God knows he'd been trained by the best the government had to offer.

  Not like Mallory, who'd been trained by a Johnny-come-lately group like Homeland Security.

  He rubbed a hand down his face.

  Time to go home and sleep.

  The hot spray hit Mallory's sore muscles like a thousand needles. Her heart raced. Her mind sped past it. What could he want?

  "Ask me." She heard his voice through the translucent panel of the shower door. A voice that could send a thrill through her, had whispered to her of naked pleasures. A voice attached to a body that could fulfill those pleasures.

  She shuddered, not surprised to see him. He had a knack for pushing through her boundaries.

  "Do you mind? I'm naked, Trey."

  His laugh rumbled from the depths of his amazing body. "I've seen you naked. In fact I could probably draw a roadmap of your body."

  Her mouth went dry. She finished her shower and turned off the water. She let out a noisy breath before she opened the door. He would not get the best of her.

  Trey McCrane held her towel as if he planned to make her barter him for it. A twinkle lit his ice-blue eyes. "Towel?"

  She leaned on the metal frame of the stall, refusing to be intimidated. "Give me the towel."

  He did, easier than she thought. His gaze roved over her as intrusive as if it were his hands. Even if she hadn't been naked, she would have felt that way. Trey could look through people.

  "Don't you want to know why I'm here?"

  "No, but I do want to know how fast you can make it out my front door."

  "Is that any way to greet your former partner?"

  She knew he meant partner in every sense of the word. They'd been partners in Homeland Security and in bed. "Leave, Trey. I have a good life."

  "And a bomb
in your beer trailer."

  She wrapped the towel around herself and brushed past him to her bedroom down the hall. This wasn't how I'd envisioned my evening. All I wanted was a bath and then bed. Alone.

  Her vision had nothing to do with saving the world. "How do you know about that?"

  "Because we were expecting it."

  She dropped her towel and grabbed for a shirt. His hand on her shoulder stopped her. "Let me see you."

  "You don't get to see me." He'd lost the right five years ago.

  Her body betrayed her, tingled at his touch.

  She turned at his insistence and his eyes blazed a path up and down her. He stood close enough that she could smell his masculine scent.

  His hand hovered by her abdomen and some pathetic part of her longed for him to touch her. Trey was her Waterloo and she needed him to leave.

  Now.

  She didn't voice the command, instead she watched as his finger traced the faint scar on her abdomen. She'd worked hard to erase it from her body. The scar in her mind was not that easily forgotten.

  "You can hardly see it now."

  She jerked away and pulled on her shirt. "Trey, leave."

  "Sugar, I can't."

  She tugged on bike shorts, eyed his legs. "Limbs look fine to me. Bet you could even run out of here."

  "Don't you want to know about that bomb in your beer trailer?"

  She did. Instead, she'd hear it from the bomb squad. "I'll find out tomorrow, in the papers. Just like everyone else."

  His laugh surprised her, his breath moving some hair on her face. She couldn't breathe and stepped away from him.