Blonde Demolition Read online

  "Wow, I don't think I could go back now. I'm so used to sleeping in my own bed and things like that."

  Mallory blew out a noisy breath. "Honestly, Jo. I didn't have a choice."

  Jo slid onto the stool across from Mallory. "Well, Trey can be pretty convincing from what Stone said."

  "You ladies talking about me?" Trey strolled into the kitchen. "Stone's putting Liam on the bus. He'll be here in a minute."

  Trey picked up Mallory's coffee and took a sip.

  How dare he be so familiar. "I think that's mine."

  Trey's eyes twinkled. "Didn't anyone teach you to share?"

  Her glare didn't seem to faze him. Jo had a smirk on her face.

  "So what do you guys need?" Stone asked when he came into the kitchen. He stood by his wife, absently rubbing her back.

  Mallory looked away. What does that feel like, to be so comfortable with someone?

  A part of her ached for it even while her rational brain knew she wouldn't have that camaraderie with anyone.

  Trey outlined what they wanted and showed them the ledger.

  "Pretty incriminating," Stone said. "Want me to get it to the FBI? I still have contacts there."

  "We need a copy first, for safe keeping," Mallory said.

  "Sure. We can do that." Stone picked up the book. "I'll make two. One for insurance."

  "I'll be right back," Trey said to Mallory as he followed Stone.

  Mallory sipped her coffee, her bones aching from lack of sleep. She had no energy to argue.

  "You have time for a nap?" Jo said.

  "No, we need to get moving on this. Stanley's put bombs at various carnivals and we're going to check them out today."

  "You defuse bombs?"

  "Yep."

  "Then maybe you should be at your best. Come on. I'll tell Trey it can all wait an hour."

  The offer sounded wonderful but she knew she'd never sleep. "Thanks anyway."

  Joe smiled. "Let's go for a walk. You can tell me all about it."

  Cal sat in front of the computer, once again searching for his child. No library patrons bothered him. The carpeting in the new building hushed all the noises. Not that he would have noticed. He was too intent on his find. The reference librarian had pointed him in several directions.

  He looked at a page that told him his rights in the state of New Jersey. Not many. The adopted child could get non-identifying information. The birth parent could obtain just about nothing.

  Other states had more liberal laws, though this transaction had happened in the Garden State—where he couldn't pump his own gas and he couldn't find his own child.

  "Ugh."

  There had to be a better way.

  Mallory drove again when they got on the road.

  Trey slept in silence, never snoring, not even moving. As if he'd died and she'd need a defibrillator to revive him. But she knew if she even sneezed, or he thought she was in danger, he would be awake and aware.

  She'd never asked him how he'd developed that talent. Some part of her knew he'd been in Special Forces. He just didn't talk about that.

  The first stop on their list was a carnival at a Catholic Church, Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrow. No one would be around at this point. Morning mass had finished an hour ago and the church had no other functions.

  She'd called ahead.

  Just in case.

  With a Glock supplied by the Feeneys, she felt better equipped to handle anything. Except the nuns. She could face down bombs. She could face down houses on fire...but a woman in a wimple intimidated her.

  She exited Route 287 at Weston Canal Road. Several cars exited with her. All turned right toward Bound Brook. She and another car headed to Manville.

  The car behind her rode her bumper. In any other case, she wouldn't think anything of it. New Jerseyans drove like that all the time. This time, the hairs on the back of her neck rose up.

  No cars passed the other way.

  She slowed. The car slowed. She sped up and so did the other car, a vehicle so nondescript it could have been Government Issue.

  "What's up?" Trey said.

  "I think we have a tail."

  "How populated is it here?"

  "Fairly. But I can get us on a back road soon."

  She rounded a curve and then at the last moment took a sharp left onto a one-lane road. She knew where it came out as long as there was no construction closing it.

  The black car came with her. Mud obscured the front plate.

  "Can you lose him?" Trey asked, as if he already knew the answer.

  "I won't dignify that."

  "That's my girl."

  She chafed at the idea of being his girl. She hadn't ever really been, not in the true sense of a committed couple. There would be time to deal with his misconception later.

  She sped up as fast as her Toyota would take them. The other car kept with her. It had four cylinders on hers, but she had more maneuverability.

  She hit the brakes and turned down another street, leaving the chasing vehicle in the dust. Another turn and she thought she lost the car.

  Then it appeared in her rearview mirror a quarter of a mile back. "Damn."

  "Okay. Let me."

  He pulled out his gun.

  She slowed to let them get close. "Can you make the shot?"

  "I won't dignify that either."

  Her heart pounded with adrenaline. She didn't expect to die. She should be deep in fair preparations and the worst crisis would be rain.

  All that seemed miles away as she raced down this country road with a large car in pursuit.

  "Hurry."

  Trey leaned out the window, just his lower body inside the car. Mallory resisted the urge to hold onto his belt. His shorts might fall down. He had no butt to keep them up.

  An odd thought as the bad guys chased them.

  With the ease of a sharpshooter, Trey's first bullet took out a front tire. The other car swerved and shrieked trying to avoid the trees on either side of the road.

  His last shot took out Mallory's back window.

  CHAPTER 16

  Mallory knocked on the church office door without Trey. He might scare them with his unshaven face and long hair. If that didn't bother them, then his ability to stare through them would.

  Sister Mary Alice said it would be fine for them to walk around the grounds. No one would disturb them.

  Mallory snagged her toolbox from the trunk.

  "Let me," Trey said.

  She handed him the box. It wouldn't hurt to let him help. She wasn't giving him a piece of herself. Just her tools.

  He followed her around the fairgrounds.

  Her Spidey-sense tingled halfway across the cluster of kiddy rides. She stopped. "Here."

  Trey stopped behind her.

  The dragon ride again. Same bomb as before.

  "Who is planting these things? It isn't like Stanley is here himself. Besides, can one person do all this?" she asked.

  Trey shrugged as she slid under the ride. The grass crunched under her. It hadn't rained any significant amount in days. The blue sky filtered through the arms of the ride.

  The humidity was stifling.

  "He has an army," Trey said.

  "We can't do all this ourselves. I think we need a well-placed fax with our list to all the bomb squads."

  "Good idea, Mal. Next stop, a library. I've spent more time in them this week than I ever have."

  Mallory snorted as she clipped what she hoped were the right wires. But something didn't feel right. The hair on her neck stood at attention. A sense of foreboding washed over her. "Call the bomb squad."

  "What's wrong?"

  Adrenaline spiked through her system. This bomb was going to blow. "Go tell Sister Mary Alice to phone them. I've screwed up."

  "Get out." Trey tugged on her arm.

  She resisted. She was the sole source of hope. She alone stood between this bomb and destruction. "No, just get the squad."

  "Not without yo
u."

  She gritted her teeth. "Trey, who is in charge when it's a bomb? Go."

  His hands grasped her. "You will not die."

  "I don't know if I'm right," she said. "Everything could be fine."

  "Mallory Sage, do as I say."

  With that, he yanked her out from under the dragon. She grabbed at her tools as she went. She couldn't move fast enough.

  "We'll buy new ones. Come on," he said.

  He flipped open a cell phone and dialed as they ran to the church office. He spoke into it with an urgency she'd never heard from him.

  Her feet led her to the office, where she couldn't find Sister Mary Alice. "Damn."

  Then she covered her mouth. Shouldn't swear in church.

  She ran into the sacristy and found a few women at the altar. The nun was supervising their flower arranging.

  "Sister, you need to evacuate," Mallory said.

  "What?"

  "We found a bomb and it may go off."

  With the forthrightness of a general, the sister rallied the women and ushered them out of the church. A siren blew in the distance.

  A police car pulled into the church parking lot.

  Trey found Mallory heading toward it. "We have to get out of here. We'll do no one any good if we get caught."

  He was right. She just didn't want the cop to die. "Move, Officer. The bomb's under the dragon ride."

  As if not used to taking orders from civilians, he hesitated.

  Trey flipped open his identification badge. "Cordon off the area."

  "Who are you?"

  "Never mind. Just do it," Mallory said.

  The authority in her voice mobilized him. Trey pulled her backwards to where they'd parked their car.

  He jumped into the driver's seat while she buckled her seat belt. They drove away at a reasonable speed, while Mallory's heart was doing double time.

  A wave of nausea passed over her.

  "I'm too old for this stuff."

  Trey chuckled. "You're younger than I am."

  She glanced at him. "Yeah, then maybe you're too old for this."

  "Maybe."

  Mallory directed Trey to the Main Branch of the Centre County Library System. Her heart had just slowed. She had wanted to jog or punch a bag. The quiet calm of the library soothed her.

  Here she faxed the list of carnivals and possible bombsites to each county's bomb squad. She tried to remain invisible. She'd learned the trick from Trey. It was all in the posture. Don't stand up straight.

  It would be their heads if the faxes were traced and someone at the library remembered seeing them.

  When Mallory finished, she paid her bill, then found Trey, who read a magazine as if he'd been waiting for her to buy shoes. His foot rested on the opposite knee. How could he be so calm?

  She plopped down next to him, thankful for the moment of peace. "What now?"

  Around them, library patrons checked out books and read magazines as if there were no threat to their way of life. What I wouldn't give to be that oblivious.

  "We have a meal. One that we don't have to interrupt."

  "I have food at my place. If they don't know who we are, then they won't be watching it. Besides, I need clothes that blend more than a Long Beach Island shirt."

  He looked over her. "You look fine."

  "I'm not worried so much about how I look, just how I feel."

  He put down his magazine. "We need to get back to Paul Stanley. We need to connect him to these bombings."

  She leaned down into the cushion, her energy sapped. She wondered if the fair would open tonight. How was Jesse doing? She longed to sleep in her own bed.

  "What are you thinking?"

  "I should be at the firehouse, covering last minute details. Making sure the right people get assigned. Making sure all the ducks are in order."

  "You really like doing that?"

  "Yes, I do. Not the power, but the sense of accomplishment." And the simplicity.

  He nodded. "Do you fight fires?"

  She shifted to look at him, her head resting on the back of the chair. "I've done all kinds of fires. Mostly interior. I'm small so I can get into lots of places."

  "Have you saved anyone?"

  "No."

  "Any opportunities?" he asked.

  "No. We had an off-duty cop go into a house and get a child out."

  "Then what is your aversion to children?"

  The question surprised her. She couldn't form any word for a moment. His gaze bore into her telling her she couldn't change the subject.

  "I'm not ready to talk about that." She wasn't and wouldn't be for a long time. Maybe because she hadn't come to terms at all with what had happened.

  An eyebrow went up. "I don't understand."

  "Just let it go."

  "You froze when you saw Liam. He's a nice kid. Not scary."

  She stood. "Let it go, Trey. Do you want lunch or not?"

  She left him in the magazine section.

  Trey caught up at her car, which still had no back window. "We'll have to get that fixed."

  "I have another vehicle," she said. "The keys are at my house."

  "No one else can get them for you?"

  "No one will find them."

  "You really are paranoid. I'm sure I can boost another vehicle," he said.

  "Not one that's bulletproof."

  She slid behind the wheel and turned the car in the direction of her house.

  Trey let her stay silent. She scared him with her bravado. It was stupid to stay near the bomb. He couldn't lose her. Not now that she was back in his life.

  He scanned the roads for anyone behind them. No cops. No black sedans. They pulled into her driveway.

  He didn't know how hard he should push. An obstacle sat between them and he had no idea of the magnitude of it.

  She stopped on her front porch. Her back went stiff.

  "What?"

  "Someone's been here."

  The door didn't seem to be open or even unlocked. "How can you tell?"

  "The line on the door and the jamb. They don't match. If you just close the door, they don't line up. You have to lift the door when you lock it."

  "Paranoid?" he asked. So...she hasn't left her career behind. The idea was ingenious. He'd never have noticed it. "Let me go in first."

  Her glare cut a hole through him. "It's my house. You won't know if something is wrong. And don't pull the macho crap on me. We're partners."

  Partners? At least she admitted it. That she belonged next to him. Working with him. Maybe even in bed with him. His heart leapt at the thought.

  She unlocked the door. Nothing came at them from inside the house. No noise, no shots.

  "No one's here." She stood just inside the doorway.

  "Search it anyway."

  "Start down here," she said as if he didn't know how to conduct a search.

  "Right behind you."

  They traversed through the living and dining rooms into her sparse kitchen. Bullet holes still riddled one wall and a window had been broken. The rest of the mess had been cleaned up.

  She picked up a note from the kitchen table. "Jesse's been here." She let out a breath. "He watered my plants."

  "Nice guy." Trey didn't re-holster his gun. "We should keep going. Secure the whole house."

  She glanced into the bathroom off the kitchen. "No one."

  He followed her upstairs. Each room remained empty. "That it?"

  "The attic."

  Up the steep steps, she had fashioned a gym. Weights sat on a bench and a punching bag hung from a rafter. "You use this?"

  "Most days. I'm aching to right now. I haven't since we got on the road."

  "Even the punching bag?"

  She spun around. "I've been studying tae kwon do for five years."

  "Impressive. Explains the roundhouse kick to that big Hawaiian."

  Her voice came out low. "I can take care of myself."

  At that moment, she looked tired, yet full o
f bravado. He wished he were the sort of man that would take her into his arms for protection. He'd never been. They'd been partners, equals.

  Maybe she needed more. Needed comfort he couldn't give. His arms had another thought. They sought her out, pulled her to him.

  She smelled of the hotel soap that had been at the beach house along with sweat and adrenaline, his favorite perfumes. Her body remained stiff. She didn't melt into him as he'd hoped.

  "What are you doing?" she asked.

  "Offering comfort."

  She snorted. "You?"

  "You looked like you needed it."

  "So, you've never done that. You've offered criticism, critique and sex, but never comfort."

  "I've never been a guy who just wanted to cuddle."

  He gazed down at her upturned face.

  "No, you haven't. Cuddling is a good thing. After."

  "Then I should hold off until…after?"

  Laughing, she pushed him away. She stepped back. "There will be no after."

  "You with someone? Jesse? He waters your plants. Does he fulfill you? Does he challenge you? Does he make you think and feel all there is to feel in life?"

  She shrugged. "Maybe feeling all there is to feel is overrated."

  Her hand went to her mouth as if she'd said too much. She hadn't given him an answer about Jesse.

  What would happen if I pushed his buttons?

  He took a step toward her. As he assumed, she stood her ground. She'd never been intimidated by him. He didn't stop until he was up against her. The heat and scent of their bodies mixed. His gaze locked onto hers. He saw no fear.

  She kept her emotions close to her. She'd never done that before with him.

  Stroking her face, he smiled. "Remember those nights...after a case or a collar. We'd never sleep. Too keyed up. I feel that way now."

  "Trey." She choked out the word. "No."

  "What? You'll sleep tonight?"

  "Like the dead."

  He put a hand on the rafter next to her head. If she asked him to, he'd stop. No recriminations. His other hand found the back of her head. He leaned in. She didn't say anything.

  Her lips parted as if he'd never been gone. As if she'd never left.

  When his mouth met hers, it was lightning and thunder. A storm of emotions overtook him. He loved her. He'd known it—maybe forever. But what was he going to do with that knowledge?