Blonde Demolition Page 4

  She smiled back at him. "I owe you a dinner."

  "Promise?"

  "Promise."

  "I'll hold you to it."

  His kiss was full of desperation, as if he knew the forces that tugged her away from him. He studied her for a long moment. Then he left.

  She led the detectives to the office where they would have privacy.

  Trey dialed the number with a shaky hand. "She's in talking to cops. If she reveals who she was, our whole operation could blow up."

  "Was that meant to be a pun?"

  "Huh?"

  "Forget it. Her file says she's a professional. Just like you. So you shouldn't be nervous."

  The phone clicked in his ear. Then the dial tone sounded. "Damn, but I am nervous."

  CHAPTER 5

  Trey watched from behind a fire truck. Hiding chafed him, though he knew he couldn't give himself away.

  At least Mallory had a story for her pre-retirement life, but it likely didn't include her ability to defuse a bomb.

  Her retirement…

  It had happened while he'd been away on assignment. She'd been in the hospital and their boss gave him no choice but to go. He'd jetted off to some godforsaken country to what turned out to be nothing.

  No terrorists. No one related to the cell he and Mallory had tracked for months.

  Then, she was gone. They wouldn't tell him where.

  So he'd thrown himself into his work, although it hadn't erased her from his mind…nor his heart. Her escape from the madness should have included him.

  Why didn't it, Mal? Why?

  Bile rose. He choked it back down, coming back to the moment.

  She wouldn't blow his cover, but he felt like he should be in there with her.

  He walked the perimeter of the three bays and found no one.

  Trey dialed a number, then realized at the last second that the acoustics in the place were not too good. As he stepped outside, the person on the other end answered.

  "This is Trey."

  "You've taken long enough to report in."

  He'd had nothing to report.

  His patriotic boss—who Trey was sure bled red, white and blue—couldn't fathom that not everyone fought for a cause. Not everyone had the energy. Not everyone could keep up that life.

  Trey shook his head as he walked among the rides. Soon they would be populated with screaming patrons—kids covered with ketchup or cotton candy, and smiles so broad you'd think their faces would break. The joy would bubble out of them.

  He aimed to make sure that mirth didn't turn to sadness. For right now, it was still his job.

  "I'm having a little trouble convincing her," Trey said. He'd forgotten how stubborn she could be.

  "What tactics have you used?"

  Electric shock? Cattle prods? "I asked her. Plain and simple. The direct approach."

  "I think it's time to use your considerable charm."

  "It won't work on her." Trey sighed. "She's immune."

  A chuckle flitted through the phone. "No one's immune. Remember that lady from Uzbekistan?"

  "That was different." Trey didn't want to remember what he'd done since Mallory left. "She isn't like the others."

  "She's a woman. You're a man. I'll give you more time, but we have a deadline. Our latest intelligence says he's going to move this month. It's high season for carnivals."

  Trey knew his boss spoke the truth. He had to do what he could to get Mallory on their side. Or…well, he would think about the or later.

  "I have to tell you something." His heart raced, his palms sweating from the surge of adrenaline. "She defused the bomb."

  "Not surprising," he said as if he'd wanted her to.

  Something niggled at the edges of Trey's brain. He didn't like that his boss was so casual about it. "She's in talking to detectives right now. I can't get close enough to hear."

  "The reports I've read about Mallory Sage say that she's a good soldier. She'll tell her story and then send them on their way. She's spent enough time in deep cover."

  "If you think so."

  "I wouldn't bring her back into the fold if I thought she couldn't handle it."

  This guy would sell his own mother to stamp out terrorism.

  "Okay. I'm gone."

  Trey snapped his phone shut. He wasn't feeling any better about the situation. He leaned against the wall and contemplated hiding his large frame in Mallory's compact car.

  Again.

  Booth dusted off his kit. He'd retrieved it from a crawl space behind a closet in his bedroom. Well hidden. Unless you knew it was there, you'd never find it.

  It was a modified suitcase. He'd had it custom made. The case held all the tools of his trade.

  Chefs had their knives. Artists had their paints and brushes.

  Hired killers had just about everything else in their arsenal. Booth had strangled people. Poisoned them and shot them. All the while making it look like an accident.

  Or suicide. That might be his best bet.

  Everyone thought of Mallory as dark and twisted inside anyway. Might be a small leap to believe she killed herself.

  He eyed his tools. He hadn't used them in a few years. No one knew the real reason he'd stopped.

  No one would either.

  "And that's my story," Mallory said.

  The detectives seemed to buy it and she wondered why this had been so easy. She'd never done a test run, yet the words danced off her tongue.

  She'd worked in law enforcement and when they called the number on her business card, someone swore she had been a member of the Williamsport Police Department in Ohio. And that she'd been on the bomb squad.

  It didn't matter that this someone sat in an office with multiple scripts in front of him or her, answering the phone based on which line rang first. Or that the office was nowhere near Ohio. She wasn't even sure where it was located.

  Her fingerprints would come up in the computer as retired law enforcement if they went that far.

  The two detectives stood and shook her hand as if she were one of them. Or maybe as if she were more than they were since she was bomb squad. She was used to that attitude.

  Then they left.

  She sat at Jesse's desk, lowered her pulse and made sure if someone saw her, they would have no idea she'd been under stress.

  Mallory went to her car with the hope that Trey was fast asleep in his hotel room. This time she checked the backseat. He lay there folded up like human origami. She yanked open the back door.

  "Get out."

  "Shh."

  "No. No one's here but the deer. Get out. I'm not doing battle with you tonight."

  He'd come and disrupted her fire company's fundraiser…and her plans to search for her parents. He'd disrupted her well-ordered life. How dare he? He has no right to be here.

  After Trey unfolded his frame, he stood close enough for her to smell him. He must've showered after working all day. Her head buzzed from his proximity.

  She stepped away, cursing herself for her weakness. She wanted to forget that terrorists existed. Forget that bombs in amusement rides existed. She wanted to forget Trey existed.

  Her blood raced in her veins. "I'll give you my answer tomorrow." She slammed the door, started the car and never looked back at Trey.

  He'd just have to wait.

  Trey was waiting for Mallory in her kitchen the next morning. She'd come down in just a robe, thinking no one would see her.

  She should have known better. Trey didn't need much sleep.

  "Your system was way too simple to get past."

  Her house smelled of coffee. He'd figured her system out for a second time. Pretty good. "Made yourself at home?"

  Trey shrugged in the doorway. "My hostess wasn't awake to see to me." His gaze raked over her. He didn't say anything.

  No bother. She didn't care.

  I'm holding all the cards, Trey. You need me more than I need you. In fact, I don't need you at all. Or want you.

 
; She glared at him."I need to get dressed."

  He followed her upstairs. He was so close his warmth radiated to her. His breath fanned across the back of her neck.

  She entered her bedroom. "Do you mind?"

  "No, go ahead."

  His grin grated across her nerves and she resisted the urge to slap it off. He assumes I have feelings for him. I don't want to, so I don't.

  "Fine." She snatched a new outfit and marched into her bathroom, closed and locked the door.

  "I could break this down."

  "I'm fully aware of that. I'm hoping you'll respect my property—and my privacy."

  "Do you have an answer for me?"

  "No."

  "No is the answer? Or no you don't have one?"

  She shrugged into her clothes, brushed her hair into a neater ponytail, then yanked open the door.

  Trey caught himself on the doorframe and a small smile adjusted his face. The planes and angles that were Trey softened for a moment. At least he could laugh at himself, though it didn't happen often.

  "No, I'm not helping you."

  "Why not?"

  "I don't have to give you a reason."

  He grabbed her arm and a homey hearth burned underneath his skin. "Yes, you do. You have a gift and you need to use it."

  "Let go of me."

  Each word came out distinct, as she held back her temper. How dare you tell me what I have to do? You lost that right.

  His stare bore into her for another second before he let go. "Come with me."

  "Trey, I'm a private citizen now."

  "As long as you get a pension, the government owns you."

  "I'll give back the pension."

  "Just like that?"

  "Yes, just like that. If I'd known I'd be forever beholden to this organization, I'd never have taken any money."

  He leaned against the doorjamb, arms crossed. "And what will you do? You have no job skills, no work history other than a made up one. Do you think the government would keep that intact if you left for good?"

  He's bluffing. She fought to keep the smile off her face. "Nope." She checked her hair, wiped a hand on her forehead, then walked out.

  Trey caught her halfway down the stairs. "Nope?"

  "That's my answer. The government isn't going to take away my pension. It isn't going to do anything to me. I'd shout what I know from the highest rooftop."

  "No, you wouldn't. You're too loyal."

  "And look where that got me."

  His eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  She shook her head. "Never mind. I have work to do."

  "Yes. Catching this bad guy."

  "No, running a fair so a fire company can stay afloat."

  CHAPTER 6

  As soon as Mallory walked onto the fairgrounds, she knew something was wrong. Not the kind of wrong that would result in a bomb…just off-kilter. It was too quiet. She almost expected tumbleweed to roll by.

  No one sat under the beer tent. No workers waited for their assignments. A ghost town had appeared where a fair was supposed to be starting in just seven hours.

  A bay door opened and Cal Stedman came toward her, his face unyielding. His cop face.

  "Cal?"

  "The police came."

  This can't be good. "Problem?"

  He released a heavy sigh.

  "Start at the beginning." She pulled him back in the direction of the bay he had just exited. "Let's get out of the sun."

  He sat on the bumper of one of the trucks and took a deep breath. He looked tired too, which was not his usual façade.

  "A few hours ago, the police came and took most of the workers away. Said they had to check their passports." He cleared his throat. "I was just cleaning up the litter."

  She squeezed his shoulder. He'd been a cop so he knew the routine.

  I bet it's different on the other side of the gun. She blinked. Would Trey have moved in already? Doesn't seem like his style.

  "Where's Jesse?"

  "In his office, on the phone. He arrived just after they left."

  "Go home and take a nap, Cal."

  He nodded, then smiled, his game face back on.

  She couldn't get mad at the cops. They were just doing their job. She could get mad at Trey though.

  Jesse sat and stared at the ceiling, the phone attached to his ear. He was either listening to a tirade or on hold. His hand shook. She'd never seen him so mad.

  "What gives?" she asked.

  He put the phone on speaker and dropped the receiver back in the cradle. "INS, I guess. No one is talking to me. Bud Cone's at the Coleville PD trying to get answers. He insists none of his people are illegal and I'm inclined to agree."

  "Damn."

  "What? You look like you know something." He strode toward her.

  "I don't know anything."

  "You didn't get a warning?"

  She looked deep into his dark-brown eyes. "Nope. No professional courtesy. Most likely the detectives that were here had no idea this was going down."

  "What now?"

  "I could try to get in touch with the detectives I spoke with yesterday."

  "Try?"

  "Of course. We need this fair to open tonight."

  Jesse put his hands on his face and rubbed at his eyes. They looked puffy from lack of sleep and his hands kept shaking. "Don't remind me. I've seen the bankbook."

  She put a hand on his arm. "This may not be the time, but you might want to think about the suggestion to form a district and get a tax base. It would mean a steady income, if some loss of autonomy. I don't understand their reluctance."

  He shrugged. "You know how I feel about that and so does most of the membership."

  "I won't go there. Let me see if I can find the detective's business card in my car. I'll call him from my cell."

  A grin broke his face. "You're fantastic. Meanwhile I'll listen to this lady's voice on recording and hope someone answers."

  "Good luck."

  Cal looked at himself in the mirror. The man who looked back had a few miles on his face.

  The dream woman's words haunted him, but that wasn't why he hadn't slept last night. Nor did he think the encounter with the cops earlier had him spooked.

  No. There was something wrong with him. Something big that would have doctors and friends looking at him grim-faced.

  "Damn." He rubbed the back of his neck.

  So, he'd called the doctor. They had an opening tomorrow morning. He'd work the fair tonight…get up in the morning to go see what was wrong with him.

  The phone rang.

  "Cal."

  "Cal, it's Mallory. Sorry to bother you. I wondered if you had an 'in' with the Prosecutor's Office."

  "I don't know anyone up there at this point. I've been retired too long."

  "Thanks anyway." She paused. "You seem tired lately. Maybe you need to see someone."

  Cal smiled. Mallory always looked after him. They had a special bond. She was the daughter he never had. He chuckled. He didn't know her any better than anyone else, but they still looked out for each other.

  "I have an appointment tomorrow."

  "Good. Take care of yourself and if you need tonight off, let me know."

  "I'll be there with bells on, Mallory. I am the beer god."

  She hung up after a quick goodbye.

  His hands shook. What if he was looking at his own mortality? That brought him back to the dream woman and the question he didn't want to ask…

  What if I have a child?

  Mallory drove to the motel where Trey was staying. The squat building, part of a large chain of cheap rooms for lodging, sat on the same road as the firehouse.

  He leaned on the door after he opened it for her. His wet hair hung beside his face in shiny black rows. He was shirtless and she almost gasped at how perfect his body was. Just enough hair sprinkled his chest and came to a line that pointed downward. His grin revealed straight white teeth against olive skin.

 
Her anger returned, stopping her perusal of his assets. She brushed past him into his meticulous motel room. No clothes hung over any furniture. The slack in his laptop cord remained snug in a twist tie. Even the bed was made and she bet she could bounce a quarter off it.

  She spun around. "What's the big idea?"

  "That's ripe from you who's invading my motel room. Did you tell the chief you were coming?"

  The question derailed her for a moment. She hadn't told Jesse where she was headed. Part of her hadn't known until she parked her car. She shoved away her musings and got back on track. "What's the big idea of arresting all of the fair workers right before we open? The day we open."

  His mouth gaped, and for a New York minute, she thought he knew nothing about it. But he'd fooled her before. He could take on any role. Lord knows how well he did in the role as my lover.

  "The whole crew?" he asked.

  "Don't play the innocent. You knew about this. You didn't even bother to tell me. You didn't trust me and you want me to work with you again?"

  "Mal, I mean―"

  "Save it, Trey. And call back the dogs. You must have some idea who the mole in Marvelous Midways is. No reason to arrest innocent people."

  He took a step toward her. Then another.

  She didn't back down. Wouldn't let him talk. He'd try to sweet talk her. When she ran out of words, she'd just leave. "And this had to be done today? The first day of the fair? Oh, wait, I get it. It's blackmail. I don't come running back to the organization—don't come running back to you—and you'll destroy my livelihood? You're willing to destroy what I've built. For what? A case?"

  He stood within reach. Her gaze never wavered from his.

  "Mal—"

  "Oh, wait. It's national security. Which you don't even know about."

  "Stop." He seized her arms, backing her against the wall. His lips pressed hard against hers.

  Her body tingled with anticipation. Trey had been an expert lover, beyond expert. And her anger didn't deter her body's reaction one bit. Instead, it remembered the nights his hands brought her to peaks so high they rivaled Mount Everest.