Blonde Demolition Read online

  "We've got a few minutes. She's coming from two towns over."

  "No, really. Now's not the time. What's our game plan?"

  "Here's what I've got so far," he said.

  Sherry Harper turned out to be tall and willowy, with striking red hair and legs that seemed to go all the way to her neck.

  Mallory gritted her teeth. How the hell did she go undercover?

  Sherry hugged Trey, then shook Mallory's hand when introduced.

  "Nice to meet you," Mallory said, squeezing the woman's hand harder than necessary. She could picture Trey with someone like this.

  They piled into Sherry's Mustang. Trey sat in front and gave the woman directions, while Mallory simmered in the back seat.

  "You need anything from home, Mal?" he asked over his shoulder.

  "My cell was in my car at your hotel. It may not be safe to get it. They'll be watching."

  "Who?" Sherry asked. She immediately placed a hand over her mouth as if she'd said a bad word. "Never mind. Don't tell me."

  "I'm not sure we know anyway." Trey's voice held a hint of exasperation. "Did you bring the change of clothes?"

  Sherry nodded. "In the trunk. Stuff for both of you." She glanced at Mallory. "Some of the clothes might not fit."

  Mallory wore her insecurities like a choker. "Probably not." She looked out the window into the darkness.

  "How about I drop you guys off at my house?" Sherry suggested. "You can spend the night. In the meantime, I'll get some friends of mine to pick up your car, Mallory. Sound good?"

  Mallory had visions of being kept awake by the sounds of passion coming from Sherry and Trey. The alternative was to sleep under the stars. Even with a thunderstorm predicted, that sounded better.

  A pain throbbed between her eyes. "Sure. Can you get my car without being noticed?"

  Sherry laughed. "I was an undercover narc. I know how to be invisible."

  Invisible. Yeah, right. Mallory managed a smile. "Thanks, Sherry."

  Sherry dropped them off at a ranch near Biggin Hill. "Here's my house key."

  "And here's the key to my car," Mallory said, handing the key to the woman.

  Sherry drove away and Mallory let out a relieved breath. "Well, she's nice."

  "Yeah," Trey said as they reached the front porch. "Oh, I should warn you. Sherry used to have a dog." He unlocked the door.

  "I don't hear one."

  She stepped into a modest furnished living room and turned on the closest lamp. Right in front of her sat the biggest, blackest dog she'd ever seen. He didn't bark. He didn't growl. He just looked through her.

  Mallory stared back. She didn't like dogs.

  "Hey, Sir Thumpalot," Trey said with a grin.

  As if someone flicked a switch, the dog broke his stare and lumbered over to Trey. The dog didn't have to jump too high to lick Trey's face.

  "That's a small horse," Mallory said.

  "No, just a Great Dane. Sherry rescued him two years ago. He'd been a stud at a puppy mill."

  Mallory snorted. "Nice work if you can get it, I guess."

  She moved away from the warm reunion between man and dog, and plopped down on an overstuffed, brown velour couch. Exhaustion overtook her and she yawned loudly. Her clothes stuck to her from the humidity. She wanted a shower and a bed. Maybe not in that order. "I have dibs on the shower."

  "Go ahead. I'll get us something to eat." Trey tugged her to her feet, then pushed her in the direction of the bathroom.

  The room was small and cozy, with a shower, sink and toilet. The dog-horse came over to investigate and she tried to shoo him away. "Trey, call him."

  "You're afraid of a dog watching you?" Trey asked from the doorway.

  "No, I'm afraid of a dog joining me."

  "Here, Thump." The dog followed Trey from the room.

  Mallory locked the door behind them, then ran the shower and stripped. When she saw the products Sherry used, she let out a groan. "Lavender? Ugh." It was her least favorite fragrance. Not that anyone was going to be sniffing at her.

  Except maybe the dog.

  The clothes Sherry had given her were too big, so she rolled up the sweatpants and sweatshirt sleeves. They would do for now. A quick brush through her tangled hair didn't help much, but at least she felt clean.

  The smell of eggs brought her to the tiny kitchen. Trey sat with a plate in front of him. He motioned for her to sit next to him.

  Instead, she slid the plate to the other side of the breakfast bar and settled on a stool there. "Thanks."

  Amusement showed in his eyes, but he didn't smile. "Dig in."

  She shoveled two forkfuls into her mouth. "You think they've figured out who you are? Whoever they are?"

  Trey shrugged. "Let's assume they have. They'll probably be watching the motel if they traced me there."

  "Then how will Sherry get my car?"

  "They may not know to look for your car. Sherry's pretty resourceful. She'll get it."

  "We need a base of operations and I need some tools. Lost my best ones when we were arrested."

  "We'll hit a home improvement store tomorrow and a discount mega mart for clothes." He gave her the once-over. "Though you look mighty cute in that."

  She rolled her eyes. "Please."

  Silence.

  She had to ask. Her brain told her not to, but her heart screamed for an answer. Her heart won. "How did you meet Sherry?"

  "Jealous?"

  She took a deep breath. "Yes, but I'm not happy about that."

  "You walked away. Do you think I lived like a monk?"

  "Not at all. I bet you made up for lost time."

  His gaze seared right through her. She'd pissed him off. What did he expect her to say? She hadn't been celibate either.

  "I wouldn't go that far?" He broke eye contact and his shoulders slumped. "You hurt me."

  "And you didn't expect that I mattered that much."

  "Maybe not."

  A car screeched to a halt outside.

  Trey peeked between the curtains. "Shit."

  Before Mallory could respond, he grabbed her and propelled her to the floor—seconds before bullets tore through the front windows.

  CHAPTER 12

  "Out the bathroom window," Trey said in her ear.

  She crab-walked with Trey behind her. The dog followed.

  Pieces of the house sprayed around them until they reached the bathroom. Mallory opened the window and hoisted herself out. A second later Trey dropped to the ground beside her. They ran toward the woods, while shrubbery on either side of the house obscured them from the shooter.

  "What about the dog?" Mallory asked.

  "He's in the shower stall. He'll stay until someone lets him out."

  The woods opened out onto a smaller dirt road.

  Mallory grabbed Trey's arm. "Now what do—?"

  Ahead, headlights illuminated and screeched to a halt. Sherry. She was driving Mallory's car. "Get in!"

  Mallory jumped into the back seat, knowing it was too small for Trey. She smacked her head on the armrest. "That'll leave a mark."

  But there was no time to feel sorry for herself.

  "How the hell did they find us so fast?" Trey asked.

  Sherry gave Mallory and Trey an apologetic look. "I think they did a check on my license while I was there and figured out where you were. Sorry."

  "I'm sorry about your house," Trey said.

  "Insurance will cover it."

  "What will Spike say?"

  "Guess he'll have some home improvement projects when he gets back."

  "Who is Spike?" Mallory asked, the exhaustion replaced by adrenaline.

  "My husband. He's a trucker."

  Husband? "I thought…never mind."

  Mallory closed her eyes. When this was all over, she'd sleep for a week. She leaned back against the seat, waiting for the inevitable crash. Her energy would be sapped and she'd be no good to Trey or anyone else. They had to find a safe place. "How far can you take us?"
<
br />   "As far as you need to go. Don't need to go into work tomorrow and I can call Spike so he doesn't come home. He's not due back for a day or so anyway."

  "What's your idea, Mal?" Trey asked.

  "Jesse has a house down at the shore. May take an hour to get there, but I know where the key is." She gave Jesse's address to Sherry. Then she let her mind go blank.

  Trey nudged Mallory out of a dream. "Hey, babe."

  Babe? She must still be delirious. No one called her babe.

  "Mallory!"

  Her eyes snapped open. "I'm up."

  Trey loomed above her. He moved away and she climbed out of the car. Stretching, she yawned. The sleep had been nice but not enough. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so tired. At least not since she'd left the organization. Another hazard of the job.

  "What time is it?"

  Salty air filled her nostrils and though she couldn't see it, she knew the ocean was about a block away. That thought calmed her. Something about water...

  "Three o'clock." Trey surveyed the building. "Are there tenants upstairs?"

  "It's July. What do you think?"

  "Not a perfect arrangement, but it'll do."

  "It will have to."

  "You kids get settled," Sherry said. "Spike's meeting me at the beach. A big truck might draw some attention to this place."

  Trey nodded.

  "Sherry, thanks for all you've done," Mallory said. "We owe you."

  Normal women would hug now. She just couldn't do it. Instead, she thrust out her hand.

  Sherry took it and pulled her into a hug. "Take care of him. He's got it bad."

  "Got it bad?"

  "For you."

  Mallory shook her head. "No, he doesn't. He just likes to pretend."

  Sherry glanced at Trey and shrugged. "Think what you want, but you'll have me to answer to if he gets hurt."

  "He'd have to care first." Mallory stepped away to end the conversation.

  Trey gave Sherry a quick hug. She glanced back at Mallory, shook her head and walked in the direction of the beach.

  Trey motioned to the door. "Shall we go in?"

  Mallory nodded, Sherry's words playing in her head. With a mental shake, she searched for the key. "We'll need groceries and clothes."

  "We look homeless," Trey said with a laugh.

  "Well, for now we are."

  They went to a store that boasted T-shirts and sundry items. Trey was overwhelmed by the smell of coconut mixed with salt and sweat.

  Mallory had convinced him to buy shorts, something he didn't often wear. And she'd convinced him to buy loud shorts. In his mind that wasn't blending.

  Then he saw everyone else wearing loud shorts.

  "What did Sherry say to you?" Trey asked.

  "When?" She didn't hold his gaze.

  "You know what I'm talking about. Right before she left."

  Mallory's eyes still didn't meet his. She seemed interested in a rack of pink T-shirts. Not her usual color.

  "Girl things," she said.

  He stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "Such as?"

  "She told me she put some tampons in my glove compartment."

  He stepped away. "Oh."

  Her smile told him she'd played him. "So what's our game plan?" he asked.

  "I think we need to get to Paul Stanley or at least find the link between these events and the man."

  "Go undercover?"

  "Yep. He owns a pier down here. And a few arcades."

  "How do you know this?"

  "Did some research. He may not own them anymore, but I doubt he sold them. I think our first stop is the Internet. See what he's been up to," she said.

  They paid for their items in cash and walked back to the house. Several kids played on the front yard. There was even a little boy, probably five.

  Mallory stopped short, so Trey nudged her. "Lots of people will be down here. That was the point of coming, right?"

  "Yes."

  "So act natural."

  He smiled at the kids and put down his bags. They were playing with a beach ball. A cooler sat by the steps to the upstairs apartment. "You guys waiting to go to the beach?"

  "Yep, Mom's taking a long time," one of the older kids said. He tossed the ball to Trey, who caught it and winged it back to them.

  The littlest one laughed and clapped his hands.

  Trey glanced at Mallory. She stared at the boy as if he were a ghost. Without a smile, she gathered the bags and went inside.

  Though her actions baffled him, he played with the kids until their mother came out. With a wave, he headed into the house and found Mallory unpacking clothes and cutting off tags. He put his clothes in one drawer and hers in another. Same bedroom. He didn't think about it until he was done.

  "What was that all about?" he asked.

  "What?" She looked at him as if he were crazy.

  "You didn't even talk to them. They'll remember you."

  Mallory shrugged. "I'm not good with kids."

  "You just have to treat them like you would adults."

  "They are not adults. They're sticky and they smile at you no matter what." She shuddered. "I don't get kids."

  "What's there to get?"

  "I don't know what to say to them."

  "You just talk. They don't bite. Well, sometimes, but not unprovoked."

  He enjoyed rattling her chain. He'd found a weakness he never knew.

  Mallory was staring at something and he followed her gaze. She was looking at their clothing in the drawer.

  Her eyes met his. "Maybe we shouldn't get so settled here. We might have to move again at a moment's notice."

  Trey sighed. "They'll get wrinkled if we shove them in a backpack or leave them in a bag. Besides we don't have any luggage."

  "We'll have to get some or be ready to throw stuff in my trunk."

  "Fine. Let's find the library. We need the Internet."

  Cal sat in the doctor's office staring at the man who'd been taking care of him for years.

  Cancer.

  Pancreatic cancer.

  A death sentence.

  "No chance you're wrong?"

  Dr. Maxwell shook his head. "I won't be offended if you get a second opinion." He lifted his phone. "Julie, make a copy of Mr. Stedman's results so he can take them with him."

  "No need."

  "Yes, there is. You need to be sure before you can embrace your treatment plan."

  "Treatment plan? You forget, my mother had this."

  "But that was thirty years ago."

  Cal shook his head. "A firefighter of ours had it also. He lasted six months."

  The doctor didn't argue. "Go get your second opinion."

  "After that, I'll clean up my affairs." He thought of his child—wherever he or she was.

  "You have a little time."

  Cal snorted. "However much, it isn't enough."

  No one sat in the library, except for Trey and Mallory. The sun shone high and hot in the sky. Everyone was at the beach.

  Mallory let out a sigh. What I wouldn't give to be able to lie on the sand right now, like normal people. Pretend I have no cares. That we hadn't been shot at by some homicidal—

  "Look at this." Trey broke her out of her reverie. "Stanley's having a benefit tonight. Raising money for refugees in Afghanistan."

  Mallory looked at him. Trey's brow was furrowed.

  "Refugees?"

  "Must be his front," he said.

  "Can we get tickets?"

  "Tickets? Us at a gala event?" Trey scratched his chin, his lips pursed.

  "Think about it. We've been the dregs of society when we've done undercover work. Why can't we be a socialite couple?"

  "Because he might know what we look like," Trey said.

  "So. We can change that."

  "We don't have an invitation."

  She groaned. "You are such an obstructionist at times, Trey. We can get one or fake our way in."

  "And once we get in?
"

  "We look for evidence that he is what we think he is and see if we can find out where he'll strike next."

  He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "So how do you plan on getting in?"

  "Trey, money talks."

  "Yeah and we don't have access to much at this point. We're rogue agents."

  Rogue. She'd never thought of herself as that. "Right. Let's find a phone on a private street and let me get to work."

  "I haven't seen you this jazzed since you came back. You were made for undercover work."

  She shrugged. Maybe she was. She wanted to get back to her normal, stable life. Where no one shot at her. Where Trey didn't exist.

  CHAPTER 13

  Mallory spotted the phone at a convenience store on the bay side of the island. "We need to get cell phones," she remarked.

  "Next stop, babe."

  Part of her bristled at his use of babe, but right now they had bigger problems. They had to stop Stanley. This fight was worth coming out of retirement.

  She dialed the number for the Stanley Foundation. A young girl answered on the third ring.

  "This is Jessica Vincenzo. I'd like to make a donation, but I need to know more about your organization." She'd clenched her lower jaw and hoped her voice came out sounding highbrow. Very Princetonian.

  "What specifically do you need to know? Most of our information is on our website."

  "Yes, but I plan to donate a substantial sum of money. I'd really like to meet this Paul Stanley."

  The woman hesitated. "If you're free, we have a gala tonight to raise money for our cause. The refugees in Afghanistan. The event is at the Sheraton at Woodbridge Center at seven. I could have your tickets at the door."

  "Why that would be lovely. Thank you so much. Put them in the name of Mr. and Mrs. Pauly Vincenzo."

  Mallory replaced the receiver. Trey's grin split his face, softening it. She saw the person she'd fallen in love with long ago.

  "I'd forgotten about all those voices you can do."

  "Now, we just have to find a place to rent a tux and a dress."

  "Piece of cake. Woodbridge, huh? How do we get there?"

  "Parkway." She glanced down at her watch. "Right at rush hour. Shall we make a reservation at the hotel?"